The First Morning of Cody: The Individual

I am not ready to post about Ruslan yet. I don't feel that it is something I can quickly whip up before I head off to work in the morning. I cherish that dear boy and I think I want to word that story right. So instead, I am watching the direct aftermath of our loss; particularly the impact on "baby" Cody.

Cody has always been the sick one. The needy one. He followed Ruslan everywhere. If Ruslan barked, Cody barked. If Ruslan marked a tree, Cody marked the same tree. A lot of us felt that Cody could not possibly continue to go on without Rus. But, with his medical issues, we never saw that as much of a reality.

Now it is. I watch with panic, trying to pick up on any hints that he is going to fall apart and follow his beloved brother into whatever place it is that they go to once they tire of being with us. I hope it is a better place. I hope they are happy there. And I hope they get to hang out with the ones they loved in this life. I hope Ruslan has located Nan already up there and jumped on her lap. I hope she is cursing him as we speak, like she always did. Because she "didn't like dogs". (She was lying. Ruslan loved her so much too, it is impossible she could have felt anything negative towards him)

So, it is now 6:30 am; the morning after. Yesterday was a sorrowful day.It was one of the hardest of my life. I expected this one to be worse. I expected my world to be further shattered when I woke up today.I did wake up earlier than I usually do. I lay in bed and thought about Ruslan. Everything Ruslan. Trying to keep them all happy. But the problem with that is that eventually, you reach the end of the story and you realise that no more memories can ever be stored. So of course, I started crying, as I have done so many times in the past 4 days.

At this point I should mention that Cody has not forgiven me for my "behaviour". On Monday and Tuesday, he was dirty with Ruslan as well. How dare he put on his lead and leave him behind, off in the car to somewhere. On tuesday he was especially angry. Ruslan was gone all day. Cody ran at him several times and barged him, growling and barking. Over the past week, Cody has attacked Ruslan at every scream and yelp. It waa something I could never quite fathom; if Ruslan ever indicated he was in any pain, Cody would run at him and bite. Loving!

Somewhere along the way though, Cody must have worked things out. Tuesday night was possibly the worst night of my entire life and the painful, mournful wailing will echo in my head forever. I hated myself for allowing Ruslan to ever get to that point of agony. At about 4:30 am, when he screamed in absolute agony, I expected Cody to instantly run at him. But instead, Cody rolled over and howled. I have already posted on the facbook photo how Ruslan put out his paw and touched Cody on the face when I said it was time to go. I don't think I will ever be able to picture that moment without bawling my eyes out. It was the single saddest, yet touching, moment I will ever experience between pets. I will talk about Ruslan and his paws another time though.

So, back to Cody being angry at me. He is still angry. Both those dogs can hold a mighty grudge. Cody won't be comforted by me for long at the moment. He resists my hugs and he won't look at me. This is tough, but I understand. I went away with his brother and returned with only his collar.

So, with both tears and delight I report on this morning, as I lay there crying about my baby Rus; Cody, had finally acceped my hugs and was stretched out beside my right arm on the bed. As my cries got louder and more distressing, I suddenly felt his little front paws, gripping tighter around my arm. It wasn't just a little stretch; he kept that arm in his grip for several minutes, until my crying sudsided. The little baby has stepped up!

Then we went to get up and he has ignored me again ever since. I will take that. He will forgive me at some point.

So does he miss Ruslan? I am sure he does. He goes out the back to go to the toilet and he has noone to follow. It was such an adventure before. Now, he walks a few steps, finds a spot, comes back inside. He drinks from Ruslan's water bowl. He has dragged Ruslan's pillow across the room. And this morning, he walked to every room in the house, looked in and barked. Just checking. Seeing if he will come out of any of them. He won't.

I don't doubt that his heart is broken. I am sure it is broken worse than mine. But so far he is holding together better than me, by far. I actually thought, as I went to bed last night, that I was in a better place. But this morning I can see that I won't be there for some time. But that is what grief is.

I wish cody could tell me what he is feeling. But he can't. I just have to presume he is trying to tell me that he is heartbroken, angry and in despair. But being brave and trying to look ahead. Which is where I hope I can be in good time.

Shifting Groups

I had a phonecall from one of my oldest adult friends. As in, one of the friends I didn't have going through school or Uni. And oldest as in one I have known for the longest period of time. He isn't yet 40. So not the oldest.

We were chatting about a number of non descript and random things, people, events. Nothing life changing. Our ailments and injuries were as close to life changing as we got.

However, one of the random sentences stuck with me. One that should not bother me, historically. But it left me thinking nevertheless.

The sentence; "I caught up with the guys for Yum Cha this morning." That's all very nice. It's ok that I wasn't asked; 11 am dining in the city is not for me any more. It's over an hour away for me and I do enjoy a sleep in.

However, it is sometimes hard to accept that the people that you were closest to have drifted away, and that there is very little left to salvage. Too many things have changed.

I thought this the last time we went to dinner. I wasn't sure if it was my paranoia or not. But it seemed that things had completely changed. Six years have passed since my last significant relationship ended. Back then, these friends were our mutual group and so the break-up caused a few issues in relation to that. Events transpired. Events that I will cover at another time.

At this point none of it really matters. The past is past and the future is still to be written; I would like to think that these friends will still be in that future, in some form. I guess that will be up to me. My hope would be that they would have my new partner as the same part of our lives as the old one; that those stories would still be as funny as they once were. Who knows.

I will have to organise a dinner. At a time I can get to and still have my sleep in.

Six Feet Under Moments

The main problem with my post heading is that the majority of people out there in the world have no idea to what I am exactly referring. Which is a great shame. Six Feet Under moments never fail to make me giggle, or at least smile.

I haven't been up to actually doing anything for several weeks now, since I did strange damage to my lower back, ending up with a bulging disc and a strange gait. Several people at work currently call me hoppy. This does not bother me at all and it is nothing to do with the title of this post.
The point of the back injury part of this is that, I don't think I have actually done anything worth speaking of for that long but I felt that I should try to write something... for all my readers. So to all two of you, hello...
Actually my blog has 202 views so that's better than nothing. Keep reading lovely people.

But back to the Six Feet Under moments.

Six Feet Under was an amazing piece of television. It was five completely compelling seasons of dysfunction, misery, pessimism and death. Plus a lot of sex. It was the last thing that I can remember happily sharing with my ex. When the show ended, as the main characters' stories all tied themselves up, I wept and wept. Sia's "Breathe Me" was on high rotation. Sia was very underrated back then too.

Six Feet Under made me look at normality differently. I had never thought that I was a normal human being. I felt that my own misery, my negativity and tendancy to allow myself to become a victim was something warped and abnormal. The characters in this show spoke directly to me. They were more like me than anybody I had ever seen on television. In reality, as I have found by really speaking to people personally since those days, very few people are Hollywood normal. People are screwed up in many ways. In a way I have found solace in this reality and I have become a much more functional person, I believe, since.

The shows' highlights, however, were not found within the morbid storylines. They were more within the Comic Relief portion, provided by the downtroden and pitiful mother, Ruth Fisher. Ruth really was a soppy and fairly useless housewife. No self confidence, no presence, no respect or affection even from her own family.
You just wanted her to explode!

And whenever she did, I laughed. And laughed. And laughed. The first time she did it I was shocked. Could a lifetime of this family drive you to say THAT? No. No it couldn't. She never said what we heard her say. The rant would finish and we would see Ruth, dull as dishwater, smiling to herself at the thought of what she COULD have said.

Ahhh... Ruth's Six Feet Under Moments.
I wish I could have Six Feet Under Moments... but I wish people could see it too.

What would I say in my Six Feet Under Moments? Hmm... well... for starters...

* You could not be more mundane if you tried. You are so mundane that half of my students find you mundane. And most of them have never left Blacktown.

* Noone is going to find your babble quite so interesting when they see what you really look like and have to listen to it at the same time.

* The only thing bigger than your ass is your ego.

Ah... smiles. I wonder how many people would have loved to Six Feet Under Moment me over the years?

Misfiring Missile

Eventually I was going to write about the Olympics. Even if you hate it, you can't avoid it at the moment.

And I do love it. But I am not loving it so much this time around. Perhaps because I am never awake to see medals being won and lost. It takes away the excitement when you wake up after the event.

What I do see each morning, as a result of watching an Australian coverage, is the disappointment of Australian commentators with our swimming results. You may be mistaken for thinking the entire Olympics is a swim meet based on our coverage. But I guess it has always been our thing.

We hype our athletes as soon as they show promise. Especially swimmers. Some live up to the hype and expectation. Many do not. Many Australian athletes enter into competition with a ready made excuse for failing before trying. Injuries and illnesses are given as excuses before the first heat is run. It is really irritating to me. If you lose it is because you were not as good on the night. Get over it.

James Magnussen has especially annoyed me this week. He was hyped to buggery. He was on Commonwealth Bank ads that have suddenly trickled to a stop since he did not quite achieve the glory that the Australian media, and the man himself, blindly believed.

There is an easy explanation for his lack of gold. On two occasions, he has been defeated by swimmers that were better on the day. No excuse needed. Any person in any competition knows, there are no sure things.

But James, arrogance is not pretty. And you have showed yourself to be an extremely ungracious and unsporting individual in the past days. Little hissy fits and standing apart from the relay team after a 4th place finish. Not shaking the hand of the faster swimmer after 100 m race. (Yes he did eventually but not without begrudgement.)  Making faces like silver wasn't good enough on the podium. Mate, silver as good as you were on the day. Stop being a child.

The failure to win gold medals bothers me much less than the failure to be a fair sport. Why do we look up to sportspeople again?

Photos

Someone sent me a message on a "meeting" website the other day. This means very little to me. I don't particularly care. I don't need to pay attention. But I open each message and will generally reply if someone took the time to send a message to me.
But not to this one. The message in a nutshell said that my photos are not "good enough" and it would be a good idea to get off the site.

Now, anyone who has seen my self pictures on Facebook would probably have to agree that I do not take them overly seriously. In fact, I celebrate the strange and obscure. I am not ever going to be a model, and I am never going to try hard enough or eat little enough to make the attempt worthwhile.

So, to this message I responded in the actual sensible and worthy way. I deleted the message. And then worried for about half an hour that, yes, maybe I am a fool and I give of the impression of just being ridiculous. That I am not using the web to my advantage. Oh... and then I got over it again.

But it occurs to me that other people are far more serious about what they look like. Or more what they aspire and want others to believe they look like. Sexiness equates to popularity which equates to self worth.

There is a person on my Facebook who encapsulates this perfectly. He has been on my friend list for several years, I believe. I have met him. I don't believe many others have. This person has about seven or eight photos, and these pictures rotate as profile picture, making sure that they pop up on everyone's feed to make the comments keep on flowing.

Except, they are not photos of him.

As I said, I have met this guy. But I think, even so, that he does not think I realise the photos are not him. That I will just blindly swallow the concept that they were taken by a professional photographer some years ago.
It's a big concept to swallow. Especially as the seven pictures are not even of the same person. One is clearly a different person to all the other shots.

Anyhow, recently this person added some actual pictures of himself. They were every day, relaxed shots. The sort of photos I would and probably do take of myself. The kind of photos I happily post whenever.
However, this person lost several (as in double digit) friends off his page, following the posting. He was incensed. He felt betrayed and hurt by these people. With their rejection of him, because they didn't like him as much because he was not in the same shape as he used to be in.

I hold my tongue and that is difficult.
What I really want to say is:

"Noone knows what shape you used to be in, you dickhead, because noone has seen any photos of you. People have deleted you because they have realised that you played them for fools. That you made yourself out to be a model like man and that is all untrue."

I find it amazing that this guy does not see that his deceit, which is ongoing even after his actual pictures appeared, does anger other people. That when you lie to people and make them feel that they have been foolish, they generally want to cut ties with you. He honestly sees it as other people being shallow.

True fact. People are shallow. People appreciate beauty. People can be cruel about people that they do not find to be figures of beauty. That doesn't make invention of your own image and theft of other people's property acceptable. And you have noone to blame but yourself when these people turn away from you.

I feel thankful that I overcame my own issues with my own looks. Some days I feel ugly. Some days I feel awfully overweight and old. And some days I think I am doing pretty well. Some days I want to wear tight shirts and go hang out in a public place.
I will warn people the next time I feel the need to do that, don't worry.

But this person's story, as well as many others, regarding anorexia and other eating disorders, depression and obsessions, highlights how damaging self image and worth can be. To convince yourself that you are this totally other person; to avoid the reality looking at you in the mirror, to feel anger that people don't accept the truth once revealed; it's all very strange.
And sad.

So, dear people, this is why I embrace the ludicrosity (If it isn't a word it should be) of my own photos. Love yourself and enjoy what you do.