Updates By Subject...
School: Gah. I have no words for school. After three years of hardcore university, college is hard to take seriously. I have one class for which there are no assignments, and another which is purely chatting. Seriously. Chatting.
And, you know, its not like I'm complaining. I love chatting. I could chat from when the cows come home until they go back out again after milking. And I'm so, so glad that I'm not poring over my computer until five a.m. three days in a row trying to down enough Red Bull to keep my eyelids from dropping shut so I can get a paper done. But at the same time, I'd like a little more substance and text to my education.
Work: Loving it. I feel like I'm really asserting myself as a worker in this field. AND, I think I have whiplash from an incident with one of the kids the other day. No word of a lie, my neck is killing me and I can't really turn and look to the right. Good times, all 'round.
Zydo: I have now not ridden my horse in over a month, and the guilt is eating away at my soul. I love that horse more than words can say, and I love to cuddle and pet him and scratch his ears and comb his mane while he eats his grain. I could write a love ballad about this horse.
The problem is that he is unsure on his feet in this snowy, icy weather we've been getting. I have anxiety just walking beside him from the barn to the pasture; I simply do not have what it takes to hop on in icy weather in case he tumbles and falls, squashing the life out of me in the process. So for now, Zydo is an overgrown kitten, who can't sleep in my bed.
BoyGuy: We are working together on the issues I have towards dating. Such a positive step, no? I've been painfully honest about the people I've dated in the past, the drug abusers and chronic liars and the guys who live lives that they keep secret from me and the ones who never call and the ones who leave notes to other girls in their trucks for me to find....
But still, I'm working on trusting him and he's working on dealing with the fact that I'm a cold hearted, jaded old bitch.
And, I still refuse to call him my boyfriend. Even though we talk about nothing almost every day.
Dixie: My little Muppy Muppy has recovered from her surgery wonderfully; she is back to her chipper old self and lives to take a nap with me on the couch every afternoon that I am home to do so. Kami, who is not allowed on the couch due to her size and irritating short hair that gets caught in the cushions, has caught on to this phenomenon call napping. Every day when I come home, Kami barks and jumps around me while I get settled, and Dixie joins her by howling, whining, and wiggling until I get settled on the couch. Then they both race across the room, dive into the blankets, and hide their heads so they can pretend I didn't see them climb up. Dixie lays beside me on the pillows, and Kami lays on my legs, frequently causing them to lose mobility and sensation.
And then, when I'm curled up in the blankets and the dogs and the warmth, I shut my eyes and heave a big sigh. Sometimes when I do this, Dixie again explodes into a fit of whining and licking, and when all I can smell is foul, beagle-y breath on my face, I think, Man, this life is pretty damn good.
And, you know, its not like I'm complaining. I love chatting. I could chat from when the cows come home until they go back out again after milking. And I'm so, so glad that I'm not poring over my computer until five a.m. three days in a row trying to down enough Red Bull to keep my eyelids from dropping shut so I can get a paper done. But at the same time, I'd like a little more substance and text to my education.
Work: Loving it. I feel like I'm really asserting myself as a worker in this field. AND, I think I have whiplash from an incident with one of the kids the other day. No word of a lie, my neck is killing me and I can't really turn and look to the right. Good times, all 'round.
Zydo: I have now not ridden my horse in over a month, and the guilt is eating away at my soul. I love that horse more than words can say, and I love to cuddle and pet him and scratch his ears and comb his mane while he eats his grain. I could write a love ballad about this horse.
The problem is that he is unsure on his feet in this snowy, icy weather we've been getting. I have anxiety just walking beside him from the barn to the pasture; I simply do not have what it takes to hop on in icy weather in case he tumbles and falls, squashing the life out of me in the process. So for now, Zydo is an overgrown kitten, who can't sleep in my bed.
BoyGuy: We are working together on the issues I have towards dating. Such a positive step, no? I've been painfully honest about the people I've dated in the past, the drug abusers and chronic liars and the guys who live lives that they keep secret from me and the ones who never call and the ones who leave notes to other girls in their trucks for me to find....
But still, I'm working on trusting him and he's working on dealing with the fact that I'm a cold hearted, jaded old bitch.
And, I still refuse to call him my boyfriend. Even though we talk about nothing almost every day.
Dixie: My little Muppy Muppy has recovered from her surgery wonderfully; she is back to her chipper old self and lives to take a nap with me on the couch every afternoon that I am home to do so. Kami, who is not allowed on the couch due to her size and irritating short hair that gets caught in the cushions, has caught on to this phenomenon call napping. Every day when I come home, Kami barks and jumps around me while I get settled, and Dixie joins her by howling, whining, and wiggling until I get settled on the couch. Then they both race across the room, dive into the blankets, and hide their heads so they can pretend I didn't see them climb up. Dixie lays beside me on the pillows, and Kami lays on my legs, frequently causing them to lose mobility and sensation.
And then, when I'm curled up in the blankets and the dogs and the warmth, I shut my eyes and heave a big sigh. Sometimes when I do this, Dixie again explodes into a fit of whining and licking, and when all I can smell is foul, beagle-y breath on my face, I think, Man, this life is pretty damn good.
posted by Amanda at 00:50
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