Food for thought

I'd like to start this blog by saying that I love food.

and not in the normal "I eat this stuff to survive It's pretty cool shit" type of love either.

I *really* love food, honestly, the thought of not following a stranger with food was just totally foreign to me...
I can get distracted by a bar of chocolate.

In fact, the only reason I go on 2-3 miles jogs and lift weights and do yoga is so I can eat more food and not gain weight.

If I could, I would always be snacking.

But one of my biggest pet peeves is when someone comments on what I'm eating.

People around me always seemed surprised that I actually eat.
I will usually get a comment like this:

"You eat pizza? How can you possibly eat pizza? Look at you!"

What I always fail to mention to these people is that this is probably my 4th piece of pizza and I ate a bag of Jelly beans on the car ride over.

Now, I don't go into how I stay thin, because in the past this has gotten me into quite some trouble when my work out plan hasn't worked for others.

What I always find odd however, is that these people who supposedly know me think I'm some strange Alien life form that feeds on souls and lettuce.

I mean what do you people think I do? Eat this stuff and then just magically not take on the calories?

This train of thought has also gotten me into some trouble in the past when someone spread a nasty rumor that I had an eating disorder.

Note: I'm not having children ever because of the whole throwing-up business, there is no possible way I would ever have an eating disorder.

And so I'm stuck in this awkward predicament where I'm having lunch or something with friends, and as women, we seem to have this sickness where we have to comment on whatever the people we are dining with are eating.

"I honestly couldn't eat that, that would go straight to my hips!"
Or
"I thought you were on a diet,"

And someone always manages to leave me feeling guilty as I nod awkwardly and look around for the check.

And what I really feel like saying in this situation is something like this:
"I'm thin because I work out! I'm thin because I work out A LOT, I'm sorry you arent as motivated as me to stay healthy and you play World Of Warcraft in your basement every night, maybe THAT'S why you're packing on the pounds, because you sit there eating donuts everynight,"

I think this is one of the reasons I prefer male friends over females, because the only time a guy will ever care about how much the girl next to him is eating is if he's paying for it.

My question is, What is this sickness that girls seem to have with food? Why are we constantly making excuses or comments for how much or how we eat?

Why is it I hear "Well I ate a pint of ice cream last night, But only because Craig broke up with me and finals are coming and I don't usually do it...but...but....but,"?

Why can't we just leave it at, "Oh yeah, I went through a whole pint,"?

Apparently eating has become another thing we all should be self conscious about.

The media tells me so

So it has to be true.

Busy/Dogs/Zombies/Dreams/Kenny

So the reason my blogging has slowed down so much is that my brand new MacBook Pro died, and it’s costing $750.00 to fix it.

It’s been waiting all healthy and clean at the Apple store for about 3 weeks now. I’ve been insanely ill for the last few weeks and I’ve had no healthy days where I would have been able to go pick it up.

Another reason is that I’ve been getting so much inspiration for the three novels I’m working on. I’ve been spending a good four hours a day writing.

And my last reason, is that I’ve started Sport and Protection training with my dog, Uma again. I've been working with her by myself for a while, but I really wanted a more experienced trainer to help take her to the next level. So after my week long course down in Florida with her and a world champion, I finally found a trainer I trust to work with her.

Here's a nice little picture of our bite work:


Anyway, in my rushed/drugged/tired state, I’ve been experiencing some very, very strange dreams.

One type of dream I’ve had has been coming to me for years. They always center around these two people, who are always the same. The dreams are different, and set in different time periods, but it’s like watching this set of peoples life story. I’ve recently started writing about the two, and believe me, these two are pushy characters.

But my really odd dreams have just started recently.

They are very lucid dreams, all revolving around the Zombie invasion.
Yes, that’s right.

Zombies.

The Undead.

They eat you.

Think Dawn Of The Dead.

Now, that’s not even the really strange part, what with me watching every zombie movie known to man.

The strange part, is the things I’m doing in these dreams. Last night, I was with a group of other survivors, and we stopped all epic like with guns drawn and shit at a CVS.

Because if you’re going to loot, why not loot a CVS?

Anyway, the odd thing is what everyone was looting. Why the heck I’m the only one smart enough to steal drugs is beyond me, but I remember thinking “Why is everyone stealing holiday chocolate?” I mean, chocolate? Really?

And then there are the cut scenes.

Oh yeah, I dream with freaking cut scenes.

Every time a zombie would show up, everyone would turn into a cute little chibi anime character with big eyes and adorable faces.

So, I guess my real question after all of this ranting is:

If you were looting a CVS, what exactly would you steal?

Another note on Zombie movies:
Am I the only one who's noticed that in these movies, there's always that person Kenny or whatever that gets bitten, and then there's this other person who's all
"NO! WE HAVE TO SAVE HIM!"?

And am I the only one who, in this situation would just be
"They're busy with him! Keep running!"

You can't save Kenny people.

I guess my morals are just really odd, because you know how in horror movies, there's always that person you know is going to survive, and then there's that other person who's just tagging along?

Then the hero character says something like:

"Don't worry, we'll get out of this, I won't let you die!"

Now see, if I was ever in this situation, I think it would go down more like this:

"Listen dude, you're really slowing me down, you can't keep following me,"
"What?"
"Go find another place to hide because you're slowing me down and I'm not going to die because of you,"
"But Brianna, we've been best friends for years-"
"Yeah I know, Good times. Now be my best friend and distract the bad guy while I get away, Kthxbye"

Which do you think is a more accurate description of what would happen in real life?

Am I just a bad person? Would you go all out guns a blazing to save that annoying tag-along Kenny?

Because really, there's always that tag along who fucks everything up later on, he gets bitten or becomes a hostage or runs too slow or does something stupid like open the door... Maybe we should just take out Kenny ourselves.

Also, does anyone else actually think about these things day-to-day? Because I always have a mental list of who Kenny would be and who would actually have a chance to survive.

It's not that I don't love my friends, but really, you just can't save Kenny...

So with these dreams comes crushing fear. Because a Zombie invasion is so, so, something that could happen any day now. I never said I was rational.

Anyway, this fear was so bad that two mornings ago I wouldn't get out of bed until my mother came to get me.

Because yes, I'm one of those people who lives by the rule that nothing can get you if you're hiding under the bedsheets.

Honestly, how could a zombie or a serial killer ever attack you if you're under your reinforced anti-bad guy bedsheets?

If you don't see them they can't see you...or something like that.

Maybe I *am* the only one who thinks this way.
Don't think like me.
I'm not all here.

I'm a romantic.

I’m one of the only friends I have not in a relationship, and I’ve realized over the last few months that I’ve truly missed out on something. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve dated several people off and on but I’ve never had a relationship.

Everyone’s in love, and they have someone that’s in love with them too. I’m not saying these relationships don’t have pitfalls or fights, because they do. But that doesn’t change the fact that these people are in love.

I don’t want to go into the debate on whether or not teenagers can indeed and in fact be in love, because from my point of view that doesn’t even matter. The point is, they think they’re in love and in the end that’s all that counts.

My age group has the prime falling in love years, and I feel bad that I’ve miss out. Not that I’ve missed out on *loving* people, because I have. I just haven’t found anyone that’s shared the affection.

High school and summer romances always got me.

I just feel like I’ve missed something special, something I'd really rather have not missed.

I guess in the end I’m just a lonely romantic, pining for things that weren’t meant to be.

But I wonder if these childhood romances, (no matter how fleeting) help shape our futures.

These relationships which, although we may not think so, are so simple compared to those of our parents who have gone through death, life, mortgages and children together. Maybe the thought that a relationship can be as simple as it was when you were in high school keeps you going, keeps you working on it.

I guess I’ll never know.

<3

Brianna

PUPPIES

I didn’t sleep last night.

I tried to sleep last night. Really, I did. But after being going to bed around 10:30, I was woken up at 11PM, Midnight, 3AM, 5AM and 7AM.

Really, whats the point of sleeping if someones just going to wake you up?

See, my mother and I are those weird animal people. There’s fur all over the insides of our cars, paw prints and animal rights bumper stickers on the outside. We always have extra leashes, water bowls, food, collars and biscuits packed up with us just in case.

I used to do a lot of dog and cat fostering, before my animal family grew to a large size for a tiny apartment. I started taking more classes and more trips, leaving me less time to socialize or work will neglected, injured, untrained or otherwise skittish dogs.

Anyway, recently I’ve been pushing myself back into the animal rescue community, much to the pride (and dismay) of my poor mother. I work with one rescue called Help Save One (http://www.helpsaveone.org/) Marissa, the CEO/founder of the group is a wonderful, dedicated women who would probably save a dog over a human. She rescues all of her dogs from down south, where they still use the torturous gas chambers to euthanize shelter animals.

Most of the dogs are given only two days to find a home. Young, old, cute, normal looking, purebred, mutt, big, small, pregnant, injured. Doesn’t matter. Two days.

So yesterday, she posted a few photos of some dogs she needed foster homes for. Two of them were small Shepherd mix puppies. I ended up taking them off the transport truck 7AM this morning.

My mother and I will pretty much take anything, from Yorki's to Pit bulls, I don't usually like male dogs. Simply because they have penises. So they're usually messier, more excited and more pushy.

However, the two pups are both males. One, Jefferson, is a black 10-12 week old pup, smaller then my ten pound cat.

The other Jelly, has typical Shepherd markings (Very nice ones I may add) and is a little smaller.

They brought a whirl of activity into the house as soon as I carried them in. The cats hadn’t expected visitors, and they ran quickly when they realized puppies had once again been admitted into the household.

Jillian, a tired looking but friendly transporter had told me to feed them and water them as soon as possible, as they hadn’t had much in their 16-20 hour trip up north. I let them run around in abandon as I grabbed them some food bowls.

I can honestly say, I was worried about Uma, my adult female Shepherd. Recently she hasn’t been too friendly to dogs she’s met on walks, I’ve been trying to remedy this, but sadly, none of my friends have dogs, never mind dogs they’d let me use in a training session.

But Uma surprised me, she wasn’t at all aggressive towards the pups, she ran up with her own puppy attitude and wanted to play. She has a good forty pounds on the pups, but they didn’t seem to mind rough housing a bit with her.

It’s been five hours since the pups have arrived. They’ve eaten, messed, chewed, and done everything else a puppy is supposed to do.

Turns out the two of them are pretty smart. Almost as soon as they calmed down I started housebreaking them, and they’re getting it, slowly, and Jelly has already learned sit!

Jefferson is running just a bit behind, but he’s doing wonderful.

They’re both incredibly sweet dogs, their only real goal is having a lap to lay on.

I had a lot planned for the little guys today, but I’m exhausted, and all I want to do it cuddle up and go back to bed. I think they feel the same way. They’re laying on each other in a heap on my floor. Fast asleep.

They’re settling in wonderfully, and I can see they’ll be VERY easy to adopt.

So, my only goal now is getting both of them walking well on a leash and getting them started on all of the basic obedience commands.

Maybe I’ll write a bit more about the two of them later, after a nap.

In the mean time, anyone want a puppy?

They aren't dead. I promise.

"If you eat all your kibble, you can grow up big and strong like me!"

Ulterior motives

I’m very good at figuring out peoples ulterior motives. I’m one of those quiet people who will sit back and just pick people apart. I’d make a great psychologist.

I’m great at just sitting down and figuring people out. Alcoholic parents? I’ll know about it way before you come out and mention it.

I guess it also helps that I’m that person that people gossip too. It doesn’t matter how long I’ve known you, or if I ever know your name, doesn’t matter. I’ll sit there with complete strangers and get their complete life stories in a matter of minutes. I don’t know if it’s because I have the air of already knowing, or if I’m just very easily trusted.

I used to think manipulation would be a great skill to have, but I never put much work into figuring the whole thing out. I learned what questions to ask instead.

Maybe not a psychologist, maybe an interrogator.

I’m a curious person. The people close to me have come to accept the fact that I ask odd questions, and go through their bags (with their permission!).

Most people are boring, normal, uninteresting. There’s no real use getting to know them, because in the end I already do. Their just like every other John, Jane and Sue.

There are other people, who are just creepy. I tread lightly with them. No need to get to deep into that subconscious. I try to stay far away from these people.

Then there are the people who become my friends. They're the people I can never just figure out. Those people interest me. The people with lots of secrets, or scars.

The only problem I have with these people, is seeing as I can’t figure out what they want, what ulterior motive they have, I tend to wonder why they want to spend time with me, or have any sort of relationship with me.

Maybe they’re just like me? Trying to find people they just can’t figure out?

Because of this I never expect anything from anyone. I sit back, and get through whatever I have to get through by myself. It always greatly surprises me when someone actually shows some interest in my life, and then I’m sitting there wondering

“Why....are you here...talking to me?”

Every single one of us has an ulterior motive.

I just need to figure out mine.

Another day

I spent all day trying to rescue a German Shepherd in a gassing shelter down south. I spent hours on the phone, leaving messages for rescues, transporters, vets, volunteers that pull dogs. I sent out email after email, I really wanted that dog.

Finally, after hours of not hearing from anyone a shelter worker called me, and basically tried everything he could think of to talk me out of adopting this dog. I told him I’d call him back, and later I checked my email and a volunteer in the area had contacted me about the pup.

“If there is any blood in the stool at all they put the dog down as soon as possible, I’m sure they just didn’t want to tell you,”

This is what I hate about being in the rescue business. One, you can hardly ever get a straight answer out of anyone. Two (and this is the bigger one) there will always be that dog or cat, who no matter how many phone calls you make, or how many emails you send, or how much money you raise, will just miss the mark on being rescued.

One of the first things people who have been in the business will tell you, is that you can’t save them all.

I’d like to add to that.

“You can’t save them all, but you really fucking want too,”

Because no matter how ugly, dumb, crippled or old a dog is you still want to save them. You don’t want to think about how their last days involved laying on a wet concrete floor terrified and confused, before being dragged out of their kennels and shoved into a box to be pumped with carbon dioxide.

You don’t want to think they suffered or died for no good reason.

So I did the only logical thing I possibly could do. The thing I always do when one of my rescues dies, or when I’ve read the latest animal abuse cases.

I sat on my bathroom floor in the dark and cried my eyes out.

Later on, a friend of mine, Trina called and we talked for a bit. She told me how the other day, when she was walking towards her car downtown after dark, she really wished she’d had my dog Uma with her to deter the three men who were following her.

Uma is my 65 pound personal protection dog, a pure bred German Shepherd who I purchased in early August.

She then started talking about Uma, mentioning things I’d never really thought about.

I had told her earlier in the conversation that, when a good friend of mine had come over earlier in the week, Uma had been surprisingly excited and not-at-all suspicious.

So she made a comment about how, the last time Bunny had come over while our friendship was slowly breaking down, Uma had sat on the couch unmoving barking and growling for a good half an hour before calming.

“I think she just acts however she thinks you want to act,” Trina mentioned, more offhandedly then anything else.

Which got me seriously thinking about Uma. Uma and I bonded immediately on meeting, unlike my other dog Teah, who will bond with anyone if they’ll pat her head.

She follows me everywhere, and usually knows where I’m headed before I do. I realized how quickly I’d forgotten the cardinal rule with dogs taught to me by Kevin Lanouette, a Schutzund trainer and dog handler.

“You must always act the same around your dog, they are very selfish creatures. They don’t think about how your unhappy at work or how you got in a fight with your wife. They immediately think they’ve done something to upset you. It’s all about them,”

No wonder while I’m sitting on the bathroom floor crying, I can hear Uma on the other side of the door crying as well.

So I guess it’s time to get up, dust myself off and get myself back into a better state of mind.

I can worry about other dogs tomorrow.

But right now, I have to take care of my wonderful, safe, loving friend.

It’s time for both of us to stop crying.

Goodnight all,
Brianna

Little Things

“Often little things bring back memories that were once very fond” Sunshine tells me over our computers as I tell him about my day.

It’s true. With me it’s scents. One whiff of a scent can bring me back a good five years to a memory that makes me feel completely at ease. This quickly turns to nostalgia.

Like tonight, I was at my local supermarket stocking up for whatever storm we’re supposed to get tomorrow. There I was, waiting for my friend to finish shopping in the *eek* spam section, making sure, of course to stand a good five feet away and pretend I wasn’t with him.

So I’m there, pacing between aisles, pretending to be interested by a sale on cereal when someone walked behind me and I got hit in the face with a strong scent that brought back image after image of one of my ex-boyfriends.

The scent and the images were so strong I stopped pacing and looked around, just in case. Of course, he wasn’t there, I hadn’t expected him to be there. But the idea that he *was* there was so strong I just had to check.

These things happen to me occasionally. The scent of Peach essential oils bring me straight back to a summer day when I was eleven when I got my first official dog.

The scent of chocolate reminds me of my mother, the smell of pine trees bring me back to a winter day a few years ago when my mother and I took forever digging a hole into the frozen ground in our backyard to plant our eco-friendly Christmas tree and the scent of puppies (they all the smell the same) brings me a feeling of great happiness.

I’m so sensitive to scents, that I’ll sometimes make a complete idiot of myself over them. I’ve made the mistake several times of blurting out things about them.

Blurting “You smell nice” while hugging someone without thinking really isn’t something someone should get in the habit of, and trying to explain any of this to someone just makes me seem all the weirder.

I know another girl who can be brought to her knees just by hearing a certain noise, that’s her thing. One noise can bring her five years back to whatever she was doing last time she heard it.

So whats your thing?

What “Little thing” brings back memories for you?