So, as some of you may have heard, I have moved out on my own and will soon be “single” again. Its quite a weird situation to be in, and I won’t go into details here, but feel like I need to at least put it out there. I am living by myself for the first time EVER, and I’m still adjusting to the idea. I imagine it will take a while to fully comprehend the situation, but for now, I am keeping busy with work and laundry.

My new place is a cute spacious duplex not far from work (a “scoot ride”, I always say) that is the top floor of an “old money” home in West Nashville. Its at least 1200 sq ft and I have the coolest downstairs neighbors. We’ve already planned a Sunday at the humane society, which I do frequently, and they get regular tickets to the Titans games, so you know I’m excited about that. I was really lucky to find this place and I’m going to make it my own. Which I’ve never done. Every action will be deliberate because I want it to be that way.

Of course there are moments of solace interlaced into this time of change, and if you desire to know that element of my experience, please email me, as it is too personal to put here. I do see this as a new start, but also know that my life is forever impacted by the past 7 years and I have no intention of forgetting that time.

When I was a kid at summer camp, we used to trade in tokens for various “campy” trinkets and toys. Among the selection were rabbit furs and fox tails. I always though those were pretty cool and thought “awww, poor bunny. I wonder how it died”. Never did I think that someone had killed it for its fur.

Then on Sunday I just happened to choose to watch an HBO special on Ingrid Newkirk, the founder of PeTA. I have never really taken an interested in PeTA because of all the negative publicity they generate and their extreme approach to animal activism. To say that animals are, on every level, just like humans and should be treated as such is a bit extreme in my mind. That sentiment was absolutely reinforced through this candid documentary, but I also saw something I will never be able to erase from my memory. As they have a tendency to do, they flashed a graphic video without any forewarning and I didn’t have a chance to look away or even know what was coming. It was a video of an animal being skinned, alive. *shudder* It was one of the most disturbing things I have ever seen and I am still reeling from it. (If you are even a bit curious about the video, google for “fur is murder” and it will take you to the PeTA video campaign site. Its the one about Chinese fur harvesting.)

I don’t know how I thought fur coats were made or obtained, but I guess I just never really thought about it hard enough to care. Surely I know deep down that they don’t take fur from already dead animals, but I never thought about the fact that there are actually “furriers” who raise animals just to kill them for their fur. And to know that in some areas of the world its done it such an inhumane way just so they don’t mess up the fur, it just makes me sick. How are there not rules against this?

And surely my friends who own fur coats don’t know this is happening, right? I mean, I’ve always had an icky feeling about fur coats or mink stoles, enough that I’ve never wanted to buy one, but surely those who have bought them don’t know about this. Or do I have sadistic, shallow friends who would purchase them even knowing the full truth? I just can’t believe that. Surely anyone who has seen this video or images like it would never purchase or want to purchase the product of such cruelty.

Surely.

I just met a relative of the 9-year-old boy mentioned in this article. She was walking from the garage into the clinic at the same time I was and asked for directions to the Children’s hospital. Knowing what a maze this place is, I told her I’d just walk with her so she didn’t get lost, even though I wasn’t going in that direction. After a short silence, she proceeded to tell me, in sporadic short sentences, that her nephew was injured in a car accident last night and that his father died in the crash. I tell ya, I started tearing up as we were walking over there. I felt so bad for her, but also felt proud to work at the hospital that was taking care of her family. I walked her through the Children’s food court and to the hospital elevators. As I wished her luck, she said “Bless you” and smiled a little. I smiled a little too.

I seriously think I can hear the water boiling and the switch going off on the portable water boiler that is down the hall from my office. Yesterday, I thought I heard the click of the switch and thought “no way can i hear that”, but when I went down the hall, the water was boiling and the switch was off.

Not that any of this means anything, just find it interesting.

• letting pedestrians have the right of way
• making eye contact and sharing smiles with a total stranger
• aforementioned smile is most gratifying when shared with another woman, like we’ve bonded somehow
• slowing down in the MAPCO parking lot so the Loomis Fargo man can cross the lot with the loot
• not sitting in the MAPCO parking lot driveway while waiting for my turn to cross 21st, thus letting the woman who rides a tandem bike with her 6 yo son use the sidewalk instead of having to go around me
• not being the first one in the line to turn left from Acklen onto West End (when you’re the first, 1. you run the risk of being hit by the people turning left onto Acklen and 2. the pressure’s on you to make sure you’re over the weight to change the light (or so I believe)

A lot of simple things can start my day off right. That’s pretty cool.

I have to admit, I stare at people a lot. Mostly other women. I’m sure it stems from my own insecurities and perpetuates my paranoia that someone, somewhere is always looking at me, but I can’t help it. Most days, I hide behind my sunglasses, which allows me to glance a little too long to inspect choices in outfits, hairstyles, and such. I feel safe behind the tinted lenses and don’t worry about people seeing me stare.

So its always a little unnerving the first day I wear my regular glasses after having worn contacts and sunglasses for a long period of time. I find myself staring at someone, only to remember they can see me and realize they are challenging me with eye contact. Okay, well, they’re probably not challenging me, but that’s how it feels. Which I’m sure is a reflection of my own guilt on the matter.

Anyway, today is one of those days. I am wearing transparent lenses and will have to be more conscious of my gaze. I guess at least I recognize it, right?

I went out on a limb this morning and purchase a new deodorant. I wasn’t looking for a new one, but this one caught my eye, which speaks to the power of advertising, I suppose. I mean, Secret Platinum and Olay Conditioners? That’s pretty serious. Plus the fragrance is called Velvet Powder. Oooo…nice. I can’t wait to try it.

As much as I know it could suck, I would so love to be a model.

Maybe just once….not for a living.

I was coming back from picking up my dry cleaning and parked in the first level of the parking garage as usual. It is P1 in my building, just underneath the lobby. I had also ordered a rolled sandwich for lunch and needed to go to the Lobby level to get it. I decided to be lazy and take the elevator the one flight up (instead of taking the stairs), but when the door opened, I saw 4 ladies inside who were going to my normal floor, 3.  So, instead of hitting the L button and making the elevator stop on the way up to 3, I just rode it on up and then after they got off, I rode it back down to L.

So, pretty much, I’m okay with knowing I’m being lazy. But I’m not okay with other people knowing it.

Yesterday while volunteering I saw a woman with a shirt on that said “Cancer Survivor” and my recent experience with my aunt sent me into a whole line of morbid thinking. This woman was small, frail, and was walking out of the cancer clinic. So the question that came to my mind was “How does she know she’s a cancer survivor?”. I mean, the only way to really know you are a cancer “survivor” is when you die of something else, right?  I know, this sounds awful. But take the example of my aunt. She found out she had cancer 3 years ago. They went in and got most of it, then did radiation and chemo for the rest of it. She was declared cancer free and went into remission. At that point, I believe she was considered a “cancer survivor”. But then the cancer came back and now she’s passed away. From the effects of the cancer.

I can’t think of how to properly end this post, so I’m just going to leave it at that and see if ya’ll have comments.