clever, how a wave will trill upon earth's surface
like stuck mud in a tire tread
willing its way away from the puddle
(even at its own expense)
stretching to seep into something
other than its destined path of pond swallowed stillness
the way a wave reaches inspires,
like it's alive to find the beach's periphery
upon this edge it crashes
as it knocks on the door of fragments dripping,
sifting in an endless hourglass of stimulation
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
dag
Dagny passed this morning with the support of Ed at Boulder Veterinary Hospital. Ed was very helpful and understanding of the situation Dagny was in. After a rough night back here at the house (not eating, moving or drinking), Dagny slept in my bed with me and mewed sporadically into the night. In the morning, I gave her a hug and brought her back to the vet when her symptoms worsened. They ran some tests on her and found out her red blood cell count was at 10% which is 20% below normal and 3% away from death. Her tongue was nearly grey and she wasn't responding to anything. Although we are not 100% sure, the predicted diagnosis was feline leukemia and that she probably wouldn't make it to the end of the day.
I made the decision only with the help of Ed and Jen, who talked to me on Monday about her thoughts on euthanasia. At the time, it was the last thing I wanted to think about, since I still had my hope filled heart that Dagny just had a fever. But Jen explained that we are lucky to have that option for our pets; when they are enduring so much pain to stay alive and keep us happy, it is our option to not let them make that sacrifice for us. Dagny was doing just that. She was clinging on to dear life for us. Twice she tried to hide and die, embarrassed to have the ones that loved her so much see her in such weakness.
Last night, I kept her on a pillow next to a low blowing fan to keep her fever down and make sure she wouldn't quit just yet on us. But this morning, when we found out what was wrong with her and that her body was fighting itself to death, Ed helped me come to the decision that she shouldn't be in pain any longer.
She was a brave cat. I always said she could take a mountain lion. Unfortunately, there are diseases and viruses that attack our vulnerabilities. It is impossible for me to find a good reason or explanation for Dagny's passing. She was two years old and the happiest, most active, loving and coolest cat I have ever known. I know everybody says that about their pet. I don't think that diminishes the sincerity or truth of the statement when one makes it.
When I calmed down this morning and thought about all the people in this world who Dagny has touched, who would want to know, it made me happy that so many people loved her. She was the kind that cat-haters ended up liking. And anytime hate can be turned into love, there must be a special soul in the works to create such a drastic change of heart.
I want to say she will be missed and at the same time I'd like to say she is always with me. Neither of these statements are completely accurate. Right now I am suspended in between grief and love of my little buddy who blessed my life with her presence.
Monday, December 15, 2008
pyrexia comes from Greek 'pur', which means 'fire'
i am staring at the seafoam green botched paint job wall of my cell. at least that is what i feel like i am in. i am trapped in this rectangular room with jovial voices behind the employees only door, muffled enough to keep my ears from hearing why or how they possibly could be high-spirited while these adorable, obviously loving creatures are aching, possibly dying, at their fingertips. the portraits on the walls are trivial, failing at their attempts to cheer me up.
i switch positions on the bench. i stare at the poster board of the anatomy of my cat. why didn't they be more specific when asking for her symptoms? i want to burst through the employees only door and see what they are doing to her. if she is laying on the hospital bed next to that barking dog. she hates dogs. i am sure that in her hot little body, that insistent little mind of hers will simply give up fighting for life... it just might not be worth it to live through this night listening to this incessantly yelping dog.
the doctor says his piece to me about how bad her fever is and that they cannot possibly know what it is without a series of tests. he sends his technician in a few minutes later to outline the thousand dollars in costs for tests of every kind. of course it could be anything when they haven't asked me about any symptoms, behavioral changes or factors that might have led up to the fever. i ask if they may do one test at a time to see if anything shows up and then we can proceed to medicate, decide how to treat her illness. she has to ask, she says.
the technician comes back in with a new "quote". i feel more like i am haggling with a peddler. like i am negotiating my cat's life. this this and this will cost blah blah and blah. she is using technical terms and when i ask her what she means, her descriptions are equivocal, like she is defining a word using that word in her definition. her explanations are circular and obscure and i feel like i am being given the runaround. i am not doubting her basic knowledge of what it is they are doing... i just want her to speak in layman's terms for me, because i am asking what we can do to help dagny, what we might do to diagnose and treat her without just stabbing at the issue from a thousand different angles, and eventually, maybe not ever, concluding which angle it is that is poking her so to make her lethargic, feverish, piss herself in the basement and sit in it. . .
i am crying again and it is impossible for me to explain myself or clearly speak to this technician when i feel so vulnerable. i am angry and spastically depressed that i might possibly be spending more on my cat than i spend on my own health. i am ashamed that i am thinking this way. i am angry that this process, these doctors are making me feel like this. she continues the negotiations, eventually telling me that we can do a shot and send her home with me for a fraction of the price, but this is highly unadvised by the doctor. i ask her about the sliding scale of testing again. she responds that the doctor advises all testing to find out the trigger of her fever. she doesn't understand. i am not against trying to save my cat's life. i just feel like i am being robbed. used. i am feeling dagny's fever through anger, shaking and irrepressible sniffling.
the doctor is okely-dokely-ing behind the employee's only door. i suddenly hate him. i want to take dagny and drive her to denver. find a doctor who wants to save animals, not poke around with my cat all night. i want her to sleep in my bed with me tonight. i don't trust these car-salesmen vets.
i leave dagny locked up to her IV in the pet emergency room with those cackling vets and obnoxious dog. i hope she hangs on because so many people love her and because i would and will spend more money on her than on my own health. she is the light that brings me home when i am on the road and the breath that susurrated me to sleep last night. i cathect her.
i switch positions on the bench. i stare at the poster board of the anatomy of my cat. why didn't they be more specific when asking for her symptoms? i want to burst through the employees only door and see what they are doing to her. if she is laying on the hospital bed next to that barking dog. she hates dogs. i am sure that in her hot little body, that insistent little mind of hers will simply give up fighting for life... it just might not be worth it to live through this night listening to this incessantly yelping dog.
the doctor says his piece to me about how bad her fever is and that they cannot possibly know what it is without a series of tests. he sends his technician in a few minutes later to outline the thousand dollars in costs for tests of every kind. of course it could be anything when they haven't asked me about any symptoms, behavioral changes or factors that might have led up to the fever. i ask if they may do one test at a time to see if anything shows up and then we can proceed to medicate, decide how to treat her illness. she has to ask, she says.
the technician comes back in with a new "quote". i feel more like i am haggling with a peddler. like i am negotiating my cat's life. this this and this will cost blah blah and blah. she is using technical terms and when i ask her what she means, her descriptions are equivocal, like she is defining a word using that word in her definition. her explanations are circular and obscure and i feel like i am being given the runaround. i am not doubting her basic knowledge of what it is they are doing... i just want her to speak in layman's terms for me, because i am asking what we can do to help dagny, what we might do to diagnose and treat her without just stabbing at the issue from a thousand different angles, and eventually, maybe not ever, concluding which angle it is that is poking her so to make her lethargic, feverish, piss herself in the basement and sit in it. . .
i am crying again and it is impossible for me to explain myself or clearly speak to this technician when i feel so vulnerable. i am angry and spastically depressed that i might possibly be spending more on my cat than i spend on my own health. i am ashamed that i am thinking this way. i am angry that this process, these doctors are making me feel like this. she continues the negotiations, eventually telling me that we can do a shot and send her home with me for a fraction of the price, but this is highly unadvised by the doctor. i ask her about the sliding scale of testing again. she responds that the doctor advises all testing to find out the trigger of her fever. she doesn't understand. i am not against trying to save my cat's life. i just feel like i am being robbed. used. i am feeling dagny's fever through anger, shaking and irrepressible sniffling.
the doctor is okely-dokely-ing behind the employee's only door. i suddenly hate him. i want to take dagny and drive her to denver. find a doctor who wants to save animals, not poke around with my cat all night. i want her to sleep in my bed with me tonight. i don't trust these car-salesmen vets.
i leave dagny locked up to her IV in the pet emergency room with those cackling vets and obnoxious dog. i hope she hangs on because so many people love her and because i would and will spend more money on her than on my own health. she is the light that brings me home when i am on the road and the breath that susurrated me to sleep last night. i cathect her.
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Prop 8 - The Musical
See more Jack Black videos at Funny or Die
I wrote a paper in college against a similar proposal in New York back in 2005. I wish I had just written a musical with Jack Black as Jesus. Genius!
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Duck Conquers Colorado, Then World!
This blog began as a place to type up and store my poetry. It has proven very useful for that, as I have had to deal with the death and disappearance of two full-loaded laptops.
When I moved to Colorado, it started to morph into a virtual world of "what's meghann up to?"
Then it again turned into something new... I wanted to make it a place where Leland's adventures were drafted, organized and subsequently turned into a miraculous series of Duck Conquers Colorado, Then World! He has also since disappeared. (Check every single Crane-Operated Claw Animal Vending Machine!!!! He was produced by Sugarloaf Creations and they said all their ducks are specifically sold for Crane-Operated Claw Vending purposes...)
Since I lost my buddy, it has become more and more about posting up photographs, random thoughts, long blusters of uninsightful meghann-head and whatever else a blog can possibly be. To put it simply, this blog is out of control!
It has no discipline, direction, exact purpose... and the reason I am concerned about these things at all is that I want it to have a purpose and direction - which can only be achieved through discipline! I will save my "This is how life is going" for mass-emails or whatever.
I almost think this blog site has had it's day and might continue to be the babble that it is, for my own enjoyment and a few scattered readers out there.
However, a new project is in the making. I want it to be a webSITE, not a blog. So I am projecting it will take a few months. I have started to look into learning more about computer graphics and HTML and anyone (that means you George, Tim, Kansky, Patrick...etc.) who wants to impart their computerly wisdom on me, I am all ears eyes and smiles.
I just want to take this inconclusive conclusion to thank everyone who has read and commented on this raggedly ole blog all these years. You all mean a lot to me, which is why you were invited to read my scattered thoughts in the first place.
Cheers!
890 sq ft of Reality surrounded by Boulder
As has been stated recently on this blog, I am hardly ever in Boulder anymore. There is a huge part of me that feels incomplete and sad never seeing Dagny, hanging out at my house with my awesome roommates and just catching up with old friends in town.
Late last night, I flew into Denver from being home for a Thanksgiving visit with family and Dan. I say these two separately because it was definitely my intention to visit both of these people I love very much. I had such a great time spending time with them and enjoying endless leftovers, not to forget dad's famous turkey stew.
And on the plane ride home, I read and read and wrote and wrote. I am reading a book called The Road Less Traveled by Scott Peck, and anybody who has spoken to me in the last few weeks is familiar with the summary of it. In a sentence, it is a depiction, through the eyes and experience of a well-educated psychiatrist, of the attributes that make for a fulfilled human being through the application of genuine love. There are a few reasons I've delved so deeply into it, one being that he breaks down and defines terms we all too often believe have an umbrella definition, when they are actually inherently interpretive: Love, Discipline, Balance, Suffering, Truth... etc.
When I returned to Boulder, Chelsea called to hang out and just talk. It was late, but I realized I have been lazy with my relationships, hanging out only when it was convenient or easy for me. Peck says genuine love takes work, and I felt that work in my Boulder friendships has been lacking lately. So Chelsea and I sat in my living room. We talked and listened. I missed her more than I had even known.
I am living three different lives. In terms of spreading oneself too thin, I have certainly done it in the past year. I cannot love everyone all the same amount all of the time, especially because of work, distance and time. I essentially live in three separate realms, all of which are known to the ones I love, but not fully understood. I attempt to slap some adhesive on these realms by inviting people to visit or tag along in my traveling world. I think that this helps, but I am glad I have finally become fully aware of its existence so I may take the necessary steps to actually fix it.
This morning Chels, Tim and I went to The Village diner. We had "intellectual" conversations about the world, life, love, choices, the future... all these things that plague the inquisitive mind on a daily basis. Most only have their minds to marinate it in; I am lucky enough to have friends like these two to spill it all out onto. After the morning enjoyment of each other's thoughts and wisdom, we concurred that it is one thing to figure all these things out and say what we will do, it is all together another thing to apply them to our realities.
And that is when we noticed that we were sitting in The Village Coffee Shop, whose motto is "890 square feet of Reality surrounded by Boulder"
We are in reality, where ever we are. We must live like that. Live our to-do lists. Live our dreams. Proverbs and adages are proverbs and adages for a reason; time and time again they have proven useful and true. And with that optimistic thought, we went about our day of work with thoughtful minds.
I will finish my to-do list today.
Late last night, I flew into Denver from being home for a Thanksgiving visit with family and Dan. I say these two separately because it was definitely my intention to visit both of these people I love very much. I had such a great time spending time with them and enjoying endless leftovers, not to forget dad's famous turkey stew.
And on the plane ride home, I read and read and wrote and wrote. I am reading a book called The Road Less Traveled by Scott Peck, and anybody who has spoken to me in the last few weeks is familiar with the summary of it. In a sentence, it is a depiction, through the eyes and experience of a well-educated psychiatrist, of the attributes that make for a fulfilled human being through the application of genuine love. There are a few reasons I've delved so deeply into it, one being that he breaks down and defines terms we all too often believe have an umbrella definition, when they are actually inherently interpretive: Love, Discipline, Balance, Suffering, Truth... etc.
When I returned to Boulder, Chelsea called to hang out and just talk. It was late, but I realized I have been lazy with my relationships, hanging out only when it was convenient or easy for me. Peck says genuine love takes work, and I felt that work in my Boulder friendships has been lacking lately. So Chelsea and I sat in my living room. We talked and listened. I missed her more than I had even known.
I am living three different lives. In terms of spreading oneself too thin, I have certainly done it in the past year. I cannot love everyone all the same amount all of the time, especially because of work, distance and time. I essentially live in three separate realms, all of which are known to the ones I love, but not fully understood. I attempt to slap some adhesive on these realms by inviting people to visit or tag along in my traveling world. I think that this helps, but I am glad I have finally become fully aware of its existence so I may take the necessary steps to actually fix it.
This morning Chels, Tim and I went to The Village diner. We had "intellectual" conversations about the world, life, love, choices, the future... all these things that plague the inquisitive mind on a daily basis. Most only have their minds to marinate it in; I am lucky enough to have friends like these two to spill it all out onto. After the morning enjoyment of each other's thoughts and wisdom, we concurred that it is one thing to figure all these things out and say what we will do, it is all together another thing to apply them to our realities.
And that is when we noticed that we were sitting in The Village Coffee Shop, whose motto is "890 square feet of Reality surrounded by Boulder"
We are in reality, where ever we are. We must live like that. Live our to-do lists. Live our dreams. Proverbs and adages are proverbs and adages for a reason; time and time again they have proven useful and true. And with that optimistic thought, we went about our day of work with thoughtful minds.
I will finish my to-do list today.
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