The Trebuchet

Okay, so this post is inspired by Dana’s post over at Mamalogues  and it’s just an all around awesome idea. I know I rant more than is necessary and, for the life of me, I don’t know why you’re still reading this considering how much I complain BUT…there are some things that need flinging these days. Have at it.

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To Fling:

•  Monday mornings. Look, we’ve all bitched about Mondays. Mondays suck. But wintery, blustery, monday mornings? When the first thing you hear is the weather report saying it’s not supposed to get warmer than 25 degrees? When you’ve gone to bed too late and your bed is so cozy and perfect and the wind outside is enough to freezer burn your face? No. Just…no.
• Certain people’s overinvolvment in the relationships of others. I get it, I do. I’ve done the same to my friends or to people in my own family. Someone has a rough break up, gets their feelings hurt and their heart broken and–as their friend or their sibling or cousin–you stand up for them. You tell them they can do better, they don’t deserve the hurt they’ve been dealt. It’s not always because you dislike the person they were with; it’s simply that no one with a heart and a lick of compassion wants to see someone they care for hurt so badly. But then–all too often, it seems–they end up back together. To give it another try. And you have to find a way to offer your warnings and precautions but also try to be supportive. I understand all of this, but when I’m the one people are warning someone else about? When it’s my relationship people have become a little too involved with? It makes me want to tear my eyes out. Let me–let us–live our lives and figure out where we stand and how we feel. I’m not asking for people to like me all over again; I’m not that pig-headed, really. But try, just try, to keep an open mind. Please.
• Anniversaries of terrible events. I’ve moved on from the person I was then, but I can’t forget the day I got a phone call saying a good friend had died. He’d overdosed; the people he was with laughed at him. They thought he was kidding. They let him die. It’s been three tumultuous years, but I haven’t forgotten how helpless I felt at that moment, nor have I forgotten the guilt of the last time I saw him; we had it out over something so insignificant I can’t even remember what instigated the argument. I will reiterate: no one should be dead at nineteen. No one.
• Doctors without any bedside manner. I’m not asking to be coddled at all, but I’m also not a lab specimen. I understand that a doctor’s job is to deal with the facts; the possible effects and side effects, the risks and benefits of every little action. I understand that I require being jabbed by needles and asked the same question fourteen times, fourteen different ways. But, my god, you could at least treat me like a human being.
• My dog’s fear of, well, everything. Mae was badly, badly abused before she came to us in July. When she first found herself at my parents house, she’d sit in the corner and shake, afraid to make eye contact with anyone and ready to kill my parents dogs for a little bit of food. She’s come so amazingly far since then and has blossomed into a crazy quirky dog with a resilient personality. She’s finally warming up to my brother and a few coworkers and she loves snuggling next to me constantly. There are, unfortunately, some things that just set her off and terrify her that will probably never go away. I guess what I’d really like to fling is anyone’s ability to beat an animal to that point, to chain them until they have broken all over their teeth trying to get away from their heavy restraints. If I could find the person who hurt her so badly, I’d do to them everything they ever did to make my dog so afraid of people who care for her and would never hurt her.

Not To Fling:

• A certain warm body to sleep next to. At one point this weekend, I looked over in the middle of the night amazed that we’d found ourselves here again, that he hadn’t left or changed his mind; that the person I’m most familiar with in the world still had his face pressed so close to mine and that this was where he wanted to be.
• Homemade Indian food for dinner. At eleven at night. There’s nothing like half heartedly deciding it’s finally time to eat, only to whip up something that tastes So. Effin’. Amazing.
• My best friend’s epic happiness. My best friend, my partner in sarcasm and snark and absolute misery is in California right now with a girl who makes him happy; happier, in fact, than I’ve ever seen him. And that glow on his face is contagious. It’s spread across the contiguous forty-eight and it’s keeping me warm over here in the Arctic Tundra we call Connecticut.
• My security blanket of friends and lovers and family; the people who require no explanation as to who I am and what I like and what I find funny. That’s pretty simple and obvious, I guess.
• Hearing that certain someone go from “I hate it” (regarding everything) on Friday to “I…like it.” this morning. It makes all the drama and bullshit and yelling and screaming and hell we’ve endured that much more worth it.