e-collar & drool: pants goes to the emergency room.

Without getting into the nitty-gritty details, let me tell you a story.

Last night, Pants spent the night in the emergency room after getting into a serious scrap with a much larger dog. After we pulled them apart and had a chance to assess the damage, I saw a hole an inch across in my little dog’s right shoulder, and so I scooped him up and took him directly to the emergency vet. He seemed mostly fine, not in terrible pain, but the wound itself looked pretty gnarly.

Once we got there, they checked him out, determined he wasn’t urgent, and had us fill out paperwork and wait while they tended to more urgent patients. Somewhere around midnight, we finally got to talk to a vet, who told us that they’d have to drain the wound and stitch it up, which would probably take another 2-3 hours. I (reluctantly) left my little fur baby there and went to try and get some sleep (which, of course, didn’t really happen). At 4:30 a.m., I finally got the call that he was okay and would be ready to go home soon.

When they brought him out, he was wrapped in a hot pink towel with a clear cone around his head, looking stoned and drooling everywhere. His right shoulder was shaved bare, with stitches and a little rubber tube sticking out to drain the fluid from deep inside the wound. Despite that, he looked relieved to see me and tried his best to crawl into my arms so we could go home. I got him into the car, where he laid down and whimpered the whole way home.

When I got him home at 6 a.m., I took him directly to my bed, where I spread out the hot pink towel and gently laid him on it. He settled in, trying to get comfortable despite the cone, and laid there whimpering and fighting sleep. For hours, he whimpered and slept and whimpered and slept, and I tried to get a few hours of sleep before starting my work day. Since then, he’s pretty much slept all day. When he needed to go to the bathroom, he got up and weakly walked to the door, and I took him out and set him on the grass, where he did his business and came right back inside (minus the part where he decided that since he couldn’t even walk around in the sunshine with that stupid cone on his head, he was just going to pull it right the fuck off, and that’s what he did.) He will drink water, but I’m having trouble getting him to eat and take his medicine. I’m applying warm compresses to the wound a few times a day to help with swelling and keep it clean, I’m taking care of his needs before my own, and I’m finally understanding what being a parent must feel like. Because despite my exhaustion, I had to make sure he was comfortable and taken care of before I could even try to sleep. Every time he made a sound, I woke up to make sure he was okay. All day, I’ve checked on him obsessively to make sure that he’s not licking his wound, he’s at least drinking water, he’s not bleeding or oozing, and that, all things considered, he’s doing alright. And then I took care of what I needed.

But something about the pitiful look on his face, and the way he tried so hard to cuddle up against me while we were waiting in the emergency room on that awful stainless steel table, and the way he looks to me for everything he needs, and something about the fear of seeing the thing you love most in the world in a scary situation and feeling completely helpless, then hearing his whimper and knowing that means he’s hurt, and seeing the bloody hole in his side, and realizing that honestly, it doesn’t much matter what the estimate says because, what? Am I not going to do everything humanly possible to fix him? Something about these moments makes me realize that at some point in my life, my priorities shifted. The day I brought this little dog into my life, I made a promise to him that I would take care of him the best way that I can, and moments like this can feel like a challenge, and a success, but at the same time, an overwhelming failure.

I’ve never had a kid, and I don’t know if I ever will. For now, this is the only way I can relate, but even though it’s on a different level, I get it. And I know that, really, it could have been worse. I think we got off easy, and the emergency room was full of people and pets last night who weren’t quite as lucky. Seeing one girl whose cat had been hit by a car have a complete breakdown in the waiting room made me very thankful that this little dog is gonna be just fine.

things i love about portland, a healthy dose of emotion, and an announcement i bet you never saw coming.

When I decided to move to Portland, I had never been here before. I knew that I wanted to leave Houston and I wasn’t quite ready to go home yet. I knew that California was expensive, the Midwest was cold, and New York was crowded. I knew that Portland had a lot of parks, a laid-back attitude, and yes, a lot of rain (but could it really be that bad?), but most importantly, A JOB. And so Portland won.

Three years later, I’m on my third job (plus five months without one), I’ve put in four semesters at Portland Community College exploring new areas of interest, I’ve made some amazing friends, ventured around this corner of the country (though not quite as much as I probably should have by now), explored this beautiful city and learned things about myself I doubt I’d have ever learned if I’d never left home.

Here are some of my favorite things about this City of Roses:

1. This city is breathtakingly beautiful, rain or shine.
2. Summer here feels like heaven. For nine months out of the year, we get clouds and rain (although this year has been kind of an anomaly), but for the other three, it’s perfection.
3. There is SO MUCH good beer in this city. SO MUCH.
4. There is also really great wine to be found pretty much in all directions from here.
5. The food is amazing. I could go out to eat at a different place every night for a year and probably still not try everything good in this city. Food carts, restaurants, diners and brewpubs — whatever you’re looking for, it’s here. Sometimes it’s hard to find (ahem, real tacos) but if you know where to look, you will find it.
6. It’s weird as fuck. Like, weird for the sake of being weird, and sometimes it doesn’t even feel like it’s authentic weirdness, just everyone trying to out-weird each other. And sometimes that can be really annoying, like, Jesus, I just want to go one day without seeing someone that looks like they stepped straight out of an episode of Portlandia, but then I remember THEY MADE THAT SHOW FOR A REASON, because I’m not even kidding you guys, that shit is no joke. But you know what? The city really wouldn’t be the same without those people. And there are the so-called “normal” ones, and they’re cool, but there are also the ones that you won’t find anywhere else, the city’s own brand of Honey Badger. They really do add character to the place. So I’m cool with whatever, as long as you’re nice. You know? And for the most part, people here are really nice.
7. This city has everything, really. If I want to go out and dance, I can. If I want to sit in a dark corner in a dive bar, I can. If I want to spend my whole day in a coffee shop, I have hundreds to choose from. If I want to hike, smell flowers, take pictures of the most perfect architectural landscaping, visit some animals that I feel like I can bond with, check out a museum, go to a basketball game or a soccer match, drink specialty cocktails or find case after case of obscure craft beer by the bottle, I can do it here. If I want to go roller skating or dance to 90s music, I know exactly where to go. If I want to cross ten different bridges in one day, I can. If I want to pick fruit, I barely have to leave the city limits. And sure, there may be plenty of places where I can do any number of those things, but how many cities have them all? And more importantly, how many of those cities have Portland’s flavor? None, that’s how many.
8. The roses. And the tulips. And the roses.
9. The Oregon coast is like nothing else I have ever seen.
10. I love the greenness of this part of the country. The weather might suck for a large chunk of the year, but do you know what that gets you? It gets you this in January, when the rest of the country is barren. And it gets you beautiful roses and streets full of cherry blossoms in spring and summer, and sure, the rest of the country is getting pretty then, too, but even my mom acknowledged that flowers grow here even in the heat of summer in a way that they just don’t anywhere else.

But here’s the thing.

(There’s always a thing, isn’t there?)

I’m homesick. I’ve been homesick for the better part of a decade. Even in college, I was four hours away, which isn’t really that far, except that I wasn’t there for a lot of the important stuff. And I also couldn’t call up my sister to go to a movie. I couldn’t just decide on a whim to take my niece out to lunch (if she had been old enough at that point to take out to lunch). I couldn’t go to Mom and Dad’s house for dinner, or grab a beer with my brother.

And then I moved to Houston, which wasn’t too bad, because it was only a few hours away by plane and I could usually find a direct flight, so I went home a couple of times a year. I could make it for most of the Big Important Things, but I still missed the little things. And my sister had more babies.

And then I came here, where I’m three hours behind my family (which makes phone calls challenging), a $600 overnight, never-direct flight away from everything important, and with everything I found myself going through once I got here, I went a whole year without going home at all. And guys, that was hard. When I finally got off the plane in Richmond at Christmas that year, my mom and I practically ran to each other and I didn’t care if I was in anybody’s way, I was hugging my mother until I was good and ready to let go. And then in 2012 I got to go home three times — I got to be there to watch my cousin marry the perfect girl in April, I was there for a family reunion and for my childhood best friend’s wedding in July, and I was there again for Christmas, as promised. And that was great, but it was also expensive. And when I was home at Christmas at the end of the year, it became very clear to me that this is where I belong. 

You guys, I probably won’t ever feel like I’m ready to move back home. I’ll probably always feel like there were other places I’d like to have lived, other things I’d like to have done, before I went back, because I’ve always had a feeling that once I go back, I’ll stay. But the truth is, I don’t know if that’s going to happen. I can always come back to those dreams — I’ve got plenty of time. But what I don’t have plenty of time for is telling my grandparents how much I love them. I don’t have plenty of time to ask them all of the questions I’ve always wanted to ask. I don’t have plenty of time to learn everything from them I possibly can, because guys, they’ve done it right. I also don’t have plenty of time to see my nieces’ dance recitals, or surprise them at school for lunch, or take them back-to-school shopping or have sleepovers with them before they’re too cool for me. I don’t have plenty of time for my nephew to show me his toy trains or smile that sweet little smile and run to hug me when I walk into a room. The time for those things is going to pass, and it’s going to pass quickly. And missing out on one more second of that is something I know I’ll regret way more than never getting to live in San Diego, or go to Hawaii, or Alaska, or anywhere else I haven’t been but want to.

So on June 8th, I’m leaving Portland. I’m shipping whatever I can fit into one U-Box and loading up my car, and then my dog, a friend and I are driving cross-country, arriving in Richmond in time for Father’s Day.

It’s bittersweet. I love it here, and I’m going to miss it, but I’m also very excited about all the things I won’t have to miss anymore. And I know that this is the right decision, for a lot of reasons. But, just as an example, here are three of them.

{Photo credit: Daniel Toney Photography}

spring cleaning, a random list and finally finishing something i started.

Today, while I was doing a little spring cleaning around the “drafts” section of my WordPress dashboard, I came across this one from October of last year and decided, fuck it. I’m posting it. I’ve added some updates, too, since this was written over six months ago. So, here is a list of random thoughts I had one night and some strong opinions I have on certain really unimportant topics.

1. I would like to slap the next person who posts a spam comment on Instagram. Note: this is a separate reaction from the one I’ve reserved for people whom I’ve dubbed “Instaspammers,” which are the people who post eleventy billion photos of the same damn thing in a row. I get it. You’re on vacation. Or you had a great day at the park. Or maybe you saw a really great sunset and couldn’t take just one picture. You know what’s great for that? COLLAGES. Multiple photos, one post. Then my whole feed isn’t full of one person’s photos of the same thing from different angles. Or maybe you could at least do us all a favor and SPREAD THEM OUT A LITTLE. Am I alone in this? Update: sentiment is still the same.
2. I’m pretty sure I’d be best friends with Mindy Kaling, Jennifer Lawrence and Emma Stone, if only we had ever met, and the fact that this will never happen is on my list of Life’s Greatest Injustices. Update: still totally unfair.
3. There are currently four books on my bedside table, all of which I’ve started, but only one of which I’ve finished. Update: This is still mostly true, except now there are five and I’ve finished two of them. This also includes the floorspace around my bed.
4. This weekend I’m going to the pumpkin patch. Because I tend to attach emotions to inanimate objects, believing that things like pumpkins have feelings, I’m probably going to feel sorry for all of the pumpkins and wind up buying more than the one up-to-twenty-five-pound pumpkin that my LivingSocial voucher allows. I can’t just leave them behind, you know? It would be too sad. Update: This totally happened, except I promised myself I wouldn’t pay for an extra pumpkin (because, really, where would I put it?) so instead I had to force myself to leave one behind, and I may or may not have whispered, “I’m sorry little pumpkin,” to it sadly as I walked away.
5. I am physically incapable of typing “pumpkin” right the first time. It always winds up being “pumpking.” Update: still true.
6. I find it really upsetting that I can’t eat an entire row of Oreos dunked in milk without getting a tummy-ache. Update: DEFINITELY still true.
7. I have so many thoughts/ideas/opinions/other-things-I-really-want-to-say-because-I-think-people-really-need-to-hear-it regarding this election and the current state of affairs, and even more so the way in which any and all dialogue on the subject has completely disintegrated into nothing more than finger-pointing and name-calling and pretty much nothing that does anything to help people even have a productive discussion, much less make an informed decision, but I can’t make any of those thoughts slow down long enough to put them into actual words and cohesive sentences, because I’m just so frustrated. Update: still true, but given that the election has passed I’ll expand it to say POLITICS IN GENERAL. People are just SO MEAN ABOUT IT ALL.
8. I used to be one of those people who could say, “I don’t really watch much TV.” And it wasn’t a total lie. Now? Now I watch ENTIRELY TOO MUCH TV and it’s becoming a problem and I need to stop. I have more shows that I regularly keep up with now than perhaps I’ve ever had in my entire life, COMBINED. Who am I? Update: slightly less true. Now I mostly just watch the same TV shows and movies over and over again because I can’t multitask but I also don’t like to just sit and watch TV, so I can’t focus on what I’m watching because I’m also doing something else and that makes new stuff really hard to follow. Make sense?
9. I think part of the reason why I stay up so late at night is because as a kid, whenever I wanted to stay up late, there was always someone telling me that I couldn’t. “You have school tomorrow,” or “It’s past lights-out” (summer camp), or “IT’S BEDTIME, NOW, MEGAN” (my parents when they’d had enough of my shit). Now, even though I have work and other responsibilities and I know I’ll regret it the next day, I honestly think part of me stays up late just because I can. Like, sure, I have work, but there’s no real grown-up here telling me that I have to go to bed right now. Not really. Update: still true. For example, RIGHT NOW.

that one time my dog rolled in poop and something that sounds like a complaint about the weather but isn’t, i swear.

So today I was working from home, and while my lunch was heating up I decided to take the dog for a quick trot outside. It was a beautiful sunny day, delightfully warm if you were standing in the sun, and so I can’t really blame the dog for succumbing to the urge to roll down a grassy little hill. I let him do it, because a) I often feel the urge to do something similar on nice days, and b) I knew that he wasn’t expecting to roll all the way down so quickly, and the look of surprise on his little face when that happened was really quite entertaining for me.

Until I realized he had rolled downhill IN POOP.

I’m not sure why, but rolling in poop doesn’t faze this animal in the slightest. It’s actually one of his favorite things to do, probably because he knows how much I hate it.

So I quickly led him inside, where I immediately grabbed a towel and his shampoo and started running water in the kitchen sink, which was a mistake because at this point he knows that whenever I leave the kitchen faucet running and come after him, it’s bath time, and he retreats into the very back of his crate.

For a while, I would try (unsuccessfully) to coax him out of the crate before resorting to outright trickery — going to the door and picking up his leash fooled him into coming out. But eventually, he started figuring that out too, and now even that trick doesn’t work. So instead I’m forced to drag his bed out of the crate and scoop him out of it (super fun when he’s covered in poop, btw) while he sprawls out to use his paws to keep me from pulling him all the way out. He’s clinging to his crate for dear life (the best he can, anyway, lacking opposable thumbs) and when I finally get him out and take him to the kitchen sink, he’s completely defeated and resigns himself to sinkbaths with absolutely no dignity whatsoever. He mostly lets this happen without protest, with a few exceptions.

Like when there’s poop in or around his ear, and I have to spray water almost directly into his ear to clean it off.

I don’t know if you’ve ever had to clean poop from around a dog’s ears before, but let me go ahead and tell you that dogs don’t like that shit. With a normal bath, I can manage to get enough water around his ears to clean them without upsetting him. But when there’s poop involved, it takes a little more effort, and this was the part where he started to freak out and the next thing I knew there was water all over my kitchen counter, the floor, my clothes, my hair, and for the love of God all I wanted was to eat my leftover stir fry in peace.

I finally got him cleaned up and toweled off and he ran in circles around the entire apartment like he always does after a bath, and he’s fluffy and handsome and doesn’t smell like poop anymore, so really I should count it as a win. But I got up from my desk thinking I was going to heat up my delicious lunch and instead I came back with a bowl of withered stir fry (because I had to reheat it again after that whole debacle) and a shirt that was drenched and a spirit that was crushed and I couldn’t help but think that, handsome pup or not, none of this would have happened if it was raining outside.*

freshly de-pooped.

*This is the kind of thing I immediately regret thinking, because I live in Oregon where it rains ALL THE TIME and this week’s weather forecast is full of sunshine and magic and warm weather and I shouldn’t complain EVEN FOR A SECOND about the nice sunny day that caused my dog to want to roll around on a grassy hill that just happened to be covered in poop because, really, isn’t that all any of us want to do on a nice day? I mean, the part about rolling around on a grassy hill, not necessarily one covered in poop. Anyway, I’ll stop now, just, please Weather Gods, I didn’t mean it, thank you for the sunshine. Amen.

valentine’s day isn’t just for suckers.

For the past week, my Facebook feed has been filled with people who proclaim that Valentine’s Day is the worst holiday ever invented, that it’s just a reason for greeting card, candy and teddy bear manufacturers to make more money (not incorrect), and that it’s a horribly painful day for anyone who may have the great misfortune to not be in a relationship (or the uncomfortable position of having been dating someone for a few weeks and therefore being obligated to spend Valentine’s Day with them).

To these people, I say, QUIT WHINING.

Seriously. Do you really think that whining about not having a Valentine this year and moaning about all of the pink and red hearts everywhere is going to make anyone feel sorry for you? Guys, I’m a professional whiner. Seriously. If I could get paid for complaining, I’d be rich by now. Well, maybe not rich, but not broke. And even I am not one to complain about this.

Is Valentine’s Day kind of a stupid holiday? Of course it is. If you’re focusing on the cheese factor.

The teddy bears, the balloons, the candy, the cards, the pressure to create some sort of romantic experience for someone you may be madly in love with but also someone you maybe just think is only sort of okay, and don’t even get me started on people who get engaged on Valentine’s Day — all of that is super cheesy, and I get why it’s annoying and laughable. And yes, I’ve always felt this way.

But if you look a little closer, Valentine’s Day is a little bit different than what it’s become on the surface. It’s a day to celebrate love – not just romantic love, but love in general. And it’s a day to celebrate kindness and to show appreciation. I love the idea of buying a box of kids’ Valentine’s Day cards and handing them out with a piece of candy to random people all day long. The person who makes your coffee. The person who delivers your mail. The bus driver who takes you to work, or your kid to school. The person who rings up your groceries or brings you the fancy dinner that you didn’t have to cook for yourself. A random person on the street, just because why not? And one of these years I’m going to actually get my shit together and make this happen. This year wasn’t it.

It’s also a day to celebrate the love you have for the other important people in your life. See, regardless of whether you’re single or in a relationship, you definitely have special people in your life who deserve to know that you love them every day, yes, but also on Valentine’s Day. And don’t give me the crap about, “I don’t need a holiday to tell me that I love the people in my life, I tell them every day.” Great. Good for you. Do you want a medal for that? No one is saying that you only need to express your love and gratitude for the special people (or special someone) in your life on Valentine’s Day. You should do it every day. But Valentine’s Day is a reminder not only to express it, but to acknowledge it and be grateful for it as well. It’s like Thanksgiving — yes, you should be thankful for the blessings in your life all year long. But what’s wrong with taking a day to really focus on it?  We’re so busy and so preoccupied most of the time that it’s easy to forget that we are so blessed, and it’s great to have a day or two every year where we’re reminded, hey, you have something special. And if it takes being knocked over the head with glittery pink and red balloons, well then so be it.

So here are a few lovey notes for my Valentines:

For my mom:

You are one of the strongest, most fiercely loving  people I’ve ever met, and I know that I’m incredibly lucky to have you in my life. Your support and your guidance are irreplaceable.

For my dad:

You were the first man to ever be my Valentine. One of the most important jobs that a father has in a girl’s life is to set the bar high for any love she will ever experience, and between your love for me and the love you share with Mom, it’s going to take someone very special to ever come close. You have no idea how valuable that is, and I know that I’m very lucky to have it — a lot of girls don’t.

For my sister:

You were my very first frenemy, but you eventually became one of my best friends. You taught me how to fight (and fight back), whether it was against you or with you against someone else. You got me in trouble sometimes, but more than once you also got me out of it. And I’m so impressed by the smart, strong woman (and wife and mother) you’ve become, and for the friendship we have despite the miles and the very different lives we live.

For my brother:

Infuriating as you may be sometimes, you also manage to surprise the shit out of me with the things that you say. You’re incredibly smart, you take very little crap from anyone, and I know that one day you will find your version of happy and live the shit out of it, and you’ll do it your way. I admire you for that.

For my lady friends:

Whether you’ve been in my life for a month, three years, or always, you’ve played a very important role. Girlfriends are an incredible support system, especially when you’re away from family. Some of you have seen me through heartache, others have reminded me that I’m awesome when I needed to hear it the most. You’ve been my family, my home away from home, my shoulder to cry on and the tough love I needed from time to time. From weeknights cooking dinner together and watching TV, to weekends out dancing, to weddings and babies and all of the ups and downs in life, I have been so blessed to have each of you, and I love you to the moon and back.

For my nieces and nephew:

The three of you are so incredible in your own ways — Rachel, for your smarts and the way you love your younger siblings so fiercely; Haylie, for your sass and your remarkable fashion sense; Evan, for your sweet smile and kisses, your red hair and your love of trains. I am constantly amazed by the little people you are becoming, and I can’t wait to not have to miss you so much.

I hope you all find a way to express some love today, and always. For me, tonight I’m going to show myself some fierce self-love (that’s not as dirty as it sounds — I’m talking about yoga, idiots) and then tomorrow, I’m going to buy myself a half-price box of chocolates and treat myself all weekend.

Happy Valentine’s Day, loves.

Yeah, this photo is from last year’s Valentine’s cookies post. So what?

random thoughts greater than 140 characters.

These were written over a period of like, a week or so, so you know… whatever.

1. Now that you can get grown-ass women’s multivitamins in delicious gummy form, I’m finally taking my vitamins on a regular basis. So, on behalf of my overall health and well-being, I’d like to thank the person who finally decided that gummies aren’t just for kids.
2. For the past few days, I’ve had the worst sore throat. And you know how when you’re sick and have a really sore throat, you’d do pretty much anything to make it feel better? You can try hot boozedrinks (a personal favorite remedy of mine) or super cold foods, like ice cream and popsicles. But, as I found out today, the problem with using a popsicle to numb the pain in your throat is that you can’t chew them too much before you swallow them, or else they’re not cold enough. So basically I’m left with deep-throating strawberry fruit bars to try and get some relief.
3. Speaking of being sick, this week I feel like every single person on my Facebook friends list is leaving for some sort of glamorous tropical vacation, like a cruise or a week in Mexico or something like that, and meanwhile I’m stuck here in cold, mostly rainy weather, too sick to leave my messy apartment with cramps and no food and a grumpy, needy dog who can’t seem to imagine any sort of comfortable position to be in where he isn’t physically connected to me at all times, and it’s like, life just seems really unfair, you know? These are really minor problems, and you can tell I’ve been couch-locked for too long. I’m sorry for whining, but for the love of God can’t I just go on vacation?
4. I finally took down my Christmas tree today. Yes, you read that right. On Saturday, February 9th, I TOOK DOWN MY CHRISTMAS TREE. I know, I know. But see, I got back from my trip home on December 28th and then it was New Year’s Eve. And I thought, you know, I was gone for two weeks and didn’t really get to enjoy it, so it’s fine to leave it up for a little longer, and I’ll take it down in a couple of weeks. And then, a couple of weeks later, I went to Seattle for the weekend. And then things got really busy with work and so on the weekends, I just kind of wanted to chill out. But then I’d be like, okay, tomorrow I’ll take this down. And then tomorrow would come and something better would come up, like maybe I’d run errands or the weather would be nice so I’d want to do something fun. Or maybe just sleep all day. And then the next thing I knew it was February and the first Sunday I was all, I’m going to take it down today. And I started cleaning and organizing EVERYTHING IN MY WHOLE APARTMENT and before I knew it, it was time to leave for this thing I had planned to do, so it didn’t happen then, either. And then I was sick all week, so it didn’t happen on a weeknight, and finally, today, February 9th, I took down my Christmas tree. Except I can’t take apart the bottom half of it, and so now I have an undecorated Christmas tree halfway taken apart sitting in my living room floor, and until I can get someone to come over and help me pull the goddamn thing apart, it will stay there. This is one of those times when living alone is a real pain in the ass.
5. UPDATE: I was really fed up, and knew there was no fucking way my Christmas tree was going to win this battle, so I rubbed a little bit of olive oil on the part where the two sections meet, wiggled it a little, and then pulled it apart with every bit of strength I could muster, and it worked! I WIN, CHRISTMAS TREE. I WIN. BOOM.
6. Last night, I came home to find that my mischievous little dog had knocked over the trash can, dug out a plastic sandwich bag containing a slightly old cooked chicken breast that I had tossed out of the refrigerator earlier in the day, and carried it to the couch to consume it. Tonight, I came home to find that my mischievous little dog had pooped everywhere. And by “everywhere,” I mean, of course, on my white rug. Because with an entire apartment full of hardwood floors — nice, smooth, easily-wipeable hardwood floors — why wouldn’t he choose the white rug as the prime location for his liquid poo? So then I spent half an hour trying to clean the stains off the rug and as I sat in the floor with a roll of paper towels and two kinds of carpet cleaner and stain remover, blotting NOT rubbing, I just thought, OH, good, I’m twenty-seven years old, and I’m spending my Sunday night cleaning up the fecal matter of another living creature. Isn’t this why I don’t have children? Turns out, it’s just the reason why I don’t buy expensive rugs.

choice vs. chance

Everybody knows at least one person who goes through life with a laid-back, “take things as they come” mentality. For a little while, I’ve tried to be that person. Granted, that was a difficult lifestyle for a control freak like myself to adopt, but I started to get good at it — I knew that the life I was supposed to live was the life I was going to live, regardless of the choices I made. Either way, whatever happened was what was meant to happen.

Recently, however, I’ve decided that that attitude kind of sucks.

Don’t get me wrong, it can be very liberating to be able to relax and stop stressing over every tiny detail of your life, to not get too worked up when little things don’t go as planned. But when you relax too much, you stop living your life, and instead you start letting life happen to you. You become a victim of your own life, whether that’s good or bad, and you remove your free will from the equation. And free will is part of what makes us human, and the ability to exercise that free will is one of the most beautiful benefits of living in this day and age.

I think this transformation started to take place before I realized it was happening. I made a couple of key decisions — decisions that I’ve put off for months, even years, waiting for them to happen on their own, knowing that they eventually would and being okay with not knowing when. I’ve gotten to the point where I’m not okay with waiting for those things anymore. I’m tired of waiting and sitting and watching life happen, and yes, I’m enjoying my life — I love where my life has taken me — but everything that’s led me to where I am has required a choice. An opportunity comes along and I make a choice. Sometimes the choice is “Do I move here? Yes or no.” Sometimes it’s “Do I end that relationship? Yes or no,” or “Do I quit my job? Yes or no.” Sometimes it’s “Do I say how I really feel? Yes or no.” And sometimes it’s “Do I make a decision, do I act? Or do I wait and see what happens?” And I’m finding more and more that I’m no longer choosing “wait and see.” Because “wait and see” leaves too much to chance. “Wait and see” puts me at the mercy of every imaginable outside force, so that if things don’t work out, I have plenty of other people/things/circumstances to blame. But really, I should blame myself, because maybe if I had taken action, instead of deciding to “wait and see,” then things might have turned out differently.

Also, “wait and see” just takes too fucking long. And I’m impatient. And also life is short.

So in 2013, I’m adopting an attitude of choice, of being an active part of my own life, and making decisions instead of just seeing how things fall. I want to maintain my relaxed attitude to the extent that I can take things in stride and not let the little things derail my day (see “choose happiness“). And I acknowledge that sometimes it’s fine to just “see what happens.” But taking that approach to everything in life will leave you just sitting around, waiting for your life to happen, and being just a passenger instead of being the driver. By making active choices, by taking action, you’re living your life on purpose. I want to live my life on purpose.