Little Lucky

See the little dog to the right? He's the newest member of the family. His name is Lucky, and while his medical records show him to be a mix of both small dogs and medium dogs, he's predominately a Papillon with the yelpy bark of Jack Russell. He's house-broken, neutered, and has had most of his shots. (We found out from the vet yesterday that he still needs a few more.) His personality is documented as friendly but shy, however our observation since we adopted him on Saturday have been very different. He's very much a homebody dog, likes to sleep most of the day away if there is someone in the house to keep him company, hates being alone even if the radio is left on, enjoys just following you anywhere you go, is a light and very picky eater, and right now probably depressed because he's been away from his older brother for a while now. He'll get over the depression given how much affection we are giving him between myself and Dad.

And that is where our problem is.

It only took three days, and I've become so attached to the little mutt to the point of my parental side kicking in. In fact, he's been my little distraction from school more so than anything I have mentioned before this post. It's gotten to the point where I can't help but spoil the little guy every chance I get even if it is just petting him on the head.

This may be seen as a good thing to most people. And I would agree that it is. I could use a pet like this that is easy to care for and wants nothing more but company in the same room it's in. A little responsibility could be a good thing for me and could gently push me into the right direction I need to go in so I can learn to drive, find a better job, and move out. In the last few days, Lucky has already made me feel better about myself in a way I can't really describe in words. Those of you that own a dog would probably be able to relate to this feeling and be better at describing it than myself.

But he's not my dog. I'm just taking care of him until my sister can come home to take care of him herself. This is her dog to replace Shadow, whom we are all still missing to some degree.

I don't know how the people at the Humane Society do it. They probably have pets of their own. Most of the workers if not all of them mentioned something about their own pets when we were looking at dogs to adopt. But I'm not them. I can't seem to get it into my head that this is my sister's dog given past history and not my own dog or the family dog.

It's been suggested because of my behavior as of late that maybe I should get a dog of my own. While a good idea, I don't know how well I would be able to handle that. I like Lucky's personality and the way he just sleeps in the middle of the hardwood floor where we photographed him. I like the fact that he doesn't really bark unless he doesn't get enough attention. I love the fact that he's house-broken! But what are the odds that I'll find another dog like him that is right for me? On top of that, I don't think I'm responsible enough to take care of a dog of my own, or any animal for that matter! The birds we own right now aren't really getting any mental stimulation from me and are probably going mad with boredom. I can only wonder what's going through Lucky's mind right now while I'm typing this. (He's just looking at me from across the room. I think he may need to go potty.) And yet, something this easy, something that doesn't ask very much from me in terms of supplying essential needs, may be very good for me and my mentality.

One of my co-workers over the summer said that there are many psychological cases where doctors have prescribed getting a pet for emotional support. These people can get away with bringing their dogs on places we normally can't for very understandable reasons. The last thing I want to happen on my next plane flight to wherever is for the person next to me to have a panic attack because they are unsure how their pet is doing down in the cargo bay. I should probably ask him or do some research on my own time (HA! Like I have any of that now...) about this and all the things that involve it. This could be very well something that I've needed for a long time.

Or it could be something else entirely. I don't like thinking that Lucky triggered some kind of parental drive in me, given how many crazy cat-ladies there are in the world that call them "her babies." But that's also a possibility of what's going on.

In the meantime, until I'm ready for a dog of my own, I'll be testing my own level of responsibility with Lucky while I take care of him. I'm currently trying to crate train him so that he doesn't run up to my parents' bedroom door asking to be let out in the middle of the night. Hopefully, Lucky will teach me something in process.

Stress Test

I'm (hopefully) recovering from what appeared to have been a stress-induced flu. Basically, the last month of deadlines and other things has caused my body to slowly come crumbling down like a building with bad maintenance. I made the mistake of going to school while under this, thinking all I needed was some down time and I would be fine. I ended up catching everything that everyone else had at the time forcing me to miss a class. The class that day was a major project due date, which meant by the syllabus, I missed two classes. And that's just the stress of the immediate moment.

This whole last month has been one painful ride. Life has diarrhea and is sitting on top of an industrial-size fan. I don't even know where to begin to complain let alone where to start with this update.

I've been feeling so dead inside that I've stopped caring about things. Trying to talk to me and get an intelligent conversation out of it is an impossibility. I'm so worn out, and it's only a month into the semester! I've been like that since the dog died. I don't know if I'm still mourning subconsciously or if it is something else. Everyone else got over it and are looking at new dogs to adopt. And yet, here I am, not wanting to even get out of bed in the morning. I literally have to force myself to do anything.

But what about the things I want to do? Well, as much as I like to do those things, I find myself doing other things instead. I would like to get back to my fireworks project and maybe even finally buy an iMac with Final Cut on it since I made back what I loss in spending for my Study Abroad trip. But instead, I find myself wanting to go to sleep or play mindless video games. Right now, I'm more excited about Spore finally having a release date than I am about the fact I only have one semester left of college if all goes according to plan!

The stuff that needs to get done, I'm half-assing my way through. I don't really care nor want to explain why I'm making images in Seminar that probably don't have anything to do with contemporary art theory so much as they have to do with the iconographic of cartoons. I'm making what is in essence a very simple steel shape in Sculpture 2 because any other complicated ideas or things that I would like to do end up getting shot down by the project goals. And I'm technically behind in Public Art class right now because of the day I had to spend in bed after catching everything that everyone else had.

To further complicate things, I find myself lusting over guys I know I don't have a chance with hooking up with even for a one-night stand. It's gotten to the point where I find myself trying to make sure that I don't get caught by someone other than myself. Yet the sad part about that is the fact that I know all I want is someone to just make me feel good at the end of the day. I can't do that for myself, and I'm starting to expect that the old saying is true. If I can't believe in myself, what are the chances that someone will be able to believe in me? None. And still, that sexual desire gnaws at me to the point where I'm viewing pornography daily and resorting to looking up even the raunchiest of straight porn on the internet just to slake my want to see really hot men naked and having sex. It's a mind-numbing perversion that resulted in a shopping list totaling nearly $1,000 worth of DVDs, toys, and lube.

That said, I have about $500+ worth of DVDs bookmarked on Amazon.com that I would like to have. Partly out of research, as they are all animation related, but mostly because they are long overdue purchases that I've been wanting to get. It's putting a real dent in my wallet right now, and I haven't even bought them yet!

I'm approaching the end of my rope. I have nobody to call, nobody who is willing to put up with me long enough to hang out with me, and no sign of relief anywhere! The desperate cry of release continues to be muffled because, let's face it, I have no real outlet for it where people can hear it. This is it, people. This is the only way I can get all that out, and even this isn't enough! I'm practically the definition for the Internet Emo!

And yet, I know that nobody gives a fuck. Why? Because I don't. I'm just so tired of life that I want it all to go away.

Dead on the Inside

As much as I like the idea that humor can mask over anything, even something as dry as what I attempted to write, it cannot hide the fact that I'm feeling very much dead already on the inside.

I don't know how to describe it, but if my exposure to contemporary Japanese anime has any kind of content to relate to the feeling, it is this. The closest example I can use to describe how I feel are those lifeless shells the non-descript throw-away generic humans look like when some paranormal force sucks their life energy away. (See Sailor Moon) The only difference is that I'm very much conscious as to what is going on around me. My reactions, however, are minimal yet explosive. In other words, I don't have much of an emote range any more, but what I do emote is very violent in nature.

Case and point, I was commanded to help move a large piece of furniture from one area of the house to another that, in my opinion, didn't needed to be moved to begin with. A combination of past experiences merged into one huge miasma of frustration and aggression that can only be justified and stereotyped by my gender role in the Asian family model. The ancient one, that is, where if you are male you are automatically more capable of doing male roles such as heavy lifting and supporting your household. To not be able to do so is to bring dishonor to your family. Or so I've come to believe given my experiences with my personal family dynamic. Long story short, I got frustrated because I didn't want to help so much as I knew I would just get in the way. Push came to shove, and I shoved back hard to the point of being seen as disrespectful.

And people wonder why the moment I learn to drive--whenever that moment may be--I say that I'll never return home. I never once called home while I was abroad. Thought about it, mostly out of respect and because it is the proper thing to do, but that's about it. I never got home sick while I was living in Seattle for those three short months. I sometimes wonder how I can get home sick when I don't feel like I have a home to being with.

I don't know where I am in my current downward spiral, but I have a feeling I've past the point of no return.

No motivation
No drive to do anything
No want to do something

No feeling
No knowing what to feel
No knowing what should be felt

Nothing
Not a thing done
Not a thing completed

No thinking
No doing
No...

Just sleep
Forever...