Vent Post.

People who turn a blind eye to the suffering and hardship of others really grind my gears. Like people who find it so necessary to take control of others that their level of interpersonal understanding is likened to that of a small child. Nothing frustrates me more.

Having a person of this nature in such close quarters is slowly whittling away the layers of resistance I have built up over the years. I think moving out then moving back in might be the deviator here. I almost punched her in the head just now. The worst part of it is, I hate feeling like this. Thinking like this. Snapping. Biting. I just can't help it.

Funnily enough, the central theme of this debacle seems to be my dog, Millie. I've had her since I was nine years old and she's been with me ever since. Mum and I got her together and she's like a family member. Not like a daughter or a sister or anything like that, but some role unnamable but nonetheless very important. Over the past month I have watched her seize and fit, watched her bag legs collapse beneath her as she soils herself, had to look her in the eye as she cries and moans in confusion. She has become old quickly. The inevitable decision is approaching rapidly.

To one particular inhabitant of this household there is one symptom of Millie's condition that is particularly irritating and apparently a cause for insensitivity. Firstly, I have been barked at to clean up her mess many times and mostly I just suck it up and do it. This time was different. She called out that Millie had wizzed in the kitchen and I let her know I heard her. Minutes later, again, "Hey. Clean it up, /please/." Which seems polite enough, but there's an exasperated tone that comes along for the control trip. She then proceeded to map out the whole process for me step-by-step, watching me bend over in ways I shouldn't (bad knees) and sniffle through a nasty headcold and grief.

Now, as I'm writing this I feel as though I am being a whiney git, which is probably half-way right. But my issue is not that I had to do it, I'd clean up after Millie forever, it's that this woman has very little respect for me and never offers a helping hand. I would've appreciated nothing more than even an offer, but instead I was dictated to and once the need to control is out of her system, I am left there to feel degraded, stupid and scrubbing the floor. It's a nice metaphor, really.

I know she's my dog and my responsibility, but sometimes I think things go beyond ownership. There's the concept of helping other people out, offering a shoulder even just the suggestion would have been nice. A bit of sensitivity and kindness goes a long way and I see these qualities so rarely in this person that I feel sorry for her.

I don't want to lie down and take this. Things are always 50/50. So, perhaps if I communicate this then I can grasp where she's coming from too. Maybe.

Season Finale of Dawson's Creek Season Four.

I would just like to say that I have a new found sense of optimism and hope in witnessing the kids of Capeside graduate from highschool.



I'm not drunk, either.

I've had a headfull.

Tag.

At this point, nothing scares me quite as much as being forty two minutes into the last day of the first half of the year.

I'm sitting here watching Duff from Ace of Cakes feed fondant noodles through pasta machine and listening to the slow and laboured breaths of my sick dog. My elbows are pressing so heavily on to my thighs that I can feel tingles in my toes. I've had two sandwiches since I got home from the family premiere of Animal Kingdom with my cousins and I feel queasy. This is not where I want to be.

I don't want to dwell on the past but I can't help but live on the cusp of a before and after photo. So here comes the determination to move beyond the evolutionary limbo into something better. Something creative and satisfying. Imaginative.

"Happiness means something to be savoured, celebrated, discussed, consumed, painted, sculpted, photographed, written about and shared."

Time flies when you waste it. Thank you, Angus Sampson.