Children & Reality

I had a guy at one of my tables today who reminded me of someone I used to know. I felt like he did, anyway. Older gentleman, tall, big ears, long nose. When I dropped off their drinks, it struck me. The BFG.

(This is the cover that I read with, and it’s the only one I could find like it. Ignore the caption above. :P)

Who remembers the big friendly giant? The man who reached through a window, snatched a little girl out of her bed, and drew her into a fantasy world. I don’t remember the details, but I do remember one thing: the magic I felt as a young kid, feeling the little girl’s wonder and amazement at someone so big yet so friendly and sweet, different from her but just like her as well. This book was one of my all-time favorites.

Thinking about it as I went about my tasks today I realized that if I were to reread this book right now, at age 21, enrolled in college, the book would not be the same. It would be…. less. Less magical, less captivating, just less. And that saddens me. At what age do we lose the wonder of the world that a child has. There is no age, it’s experience that does it. Experiencing life and her trials and tests. The cruelty of the world revealing itself as you begin to understand more about it.

The womb is safe, warm, cozy, and peaceful. A baby is thrust into the world. And as the baby grows and develops, learns and comprehends, the safe, warm, coziness disappears. Suddenly the world isn’t so peaceful anymore. It’s cruel, cold, dark, restless. Is it good or bad to lose our child innocence? Does it do us any good either way?

I wish I could go back and read this book with the same eyes as I had as a young girl. It’s like watching movies I enjoyed as a kid. Something about them is different, off…. and less. Just less.

It almost seems as if we know more about the world at a young age, through the eyes of a child, than we do when we grow up. Could we ever get that perspective back? I doubt it.




I got my heart broken tonight

There are a few things in life that cannot be expressed in words, only felt and seen with the heart. I believe this is why dogs – and all animals in general – weren’t given the ‘gift’ of speech. They don’t need it. They already have every single slice of wisdom on life and love that is possible, the amount of which a thousand more centuries of human advancement could not even come close to attaining or ever understanding.

Dogs are remarkable things.

I went into Angel’s kennel tonight, to say hi and give her some loving. This pure white setter/retriever mix had come in a week or so earlier, tail squeezed tight between her legs, body as low to the ground as she could get it without completely laying down. Her ears clamped to the sides of her beautiful feminine head, her gaze constantly skirting down, every step a seemingly giant leap. She had come from a guy who beat her and his other dog with table legs. Now she can walk through the kennel runs without too much cringing. I stepped into her kennel, holding her back as I did so, and she dropped to her belly instantly. She doesn’t resist, she doesn’t fight back, she doesn’t look up. I sat down beside her and gently pulled her head up to my lap, and lifted my leg over her so I was cradling her. She rested her head in the crook of my arm under my elbow, as if she was hiding. She didn’t move a muscle. We sat there like that for about 10 minutes before I shifted my weight to get up.

This dog, this wonderful, sweet, soulful, absolute angel of a dog, who hadn’t responded to any of my whispers or touches the entire 10 minutes, lifted her head up. Before I could get up, she put her head on my arm farthest from her, and then laid her paw over my lap, as if holding me there with her.

The thought of those small movements from a practically unresponsive, formerly abused dog, still give me goosebumps. There are really no words to describe what went through me.


All of those dogs there, touch me in some way. Whether I poke my fingers through the bars to say hello, or go inside the kennel itself to cuddle a bit more, they each have a story to tell if only someone would listen. And that story is one us humans could never understand, the love they describe and the heart they tell it with are unique to them alone. I truly believe each and every single dog is a living, breathing soul, something untouchable and forever mysterious to us mere humans.

Tell me, would you be this happy if you were locked in a kennel for 2 weeks straight?


I don’t like social interactions… so what?

I’ve always known there was something different about me. I never understood why my peers got so hyped up about school basketball games, football games, dances, etc. I wasn’t interested in going to school activities. I never knew why that was, when my sister was eagerly getting decked out in the Raider orange and black colors, I would rather stay home. At first I labeled myself a loner, just accepting that I didn’t want to hang out around a bunch of people who I really didn’t care about. Then a few years back I took the Myers-Brigg Personality Test, and I began getting interested in what was really ‘wrong’ with me. I figured it out shortly after that but it’s taken me quite a while to embrace and be proud of the fact that I am an introvert, through and through.


Author of "Quiet"

I put myself through the checklist:

– Do you prefer working by yourself rather than in groups? Yes

– Do people often wonder why you’re so quiet and ‘aloof’? Yes

– Do you dread being in the spotlight or being called out in class? BIG yes

– Do you prefer listening over talking? Yes

– Do you feel uncomfortable or nervous in groups of people? Kind of yes

……..and the list goes on.

I’m pretty good at putting up with people. But true to my nature I only have a few close friends, I like to think things over before acting, and I get exhausted in long, drawn-out social interactions. When I’m pushed to my limits (usually at work this happens, because people are always around) I get crabby, annoyed, tired, and snappy. And good grief, don’t touch me! (People are always poking and prodding and playing with my hair and tickling me and rubbing my shoulders. Wears me out!)

Of course on the other side, I do enjoy some social gatherings, small ones, just not for as long as most other people do. At night I (usually) like to be at home, hanging out in my room or watching a movie. It takes me a while to warm up to people but once I do I’m fine. I’m not shy, as I used to label myself, I just don’t care for putting in my two cents in every single conversation.

This is an interesting link: 10 Myths About Introverts

I went outside with the dogs today, like I usually do, and Dustin came out after me. I let him throw the ball, and I took off my jacket,  sprawled on the ground, and closed my eyes. It was so nice. I was laying there thinking about my dogs, but my thoughts also drifted to my personality trait, introversion. I’ve been thinking lately that I don’t give myself enough ME time. In other words, I don’t respect my needs like I should. I let myself get brought to the point where I snap and lash out at others, and myself sometimes, instead of stepping back before that and giving myself some breathing room to recharge.

I get enjoyment from being around people, particularly Dustin, Ashley, and Amber, but there comes a point where I just want to be by myself – like any introvert. Is that so hard to do?

Here are a couple more links I found interesting to read. They’re from the same blog so if it interests you, search around and read more.

And this is so true…

If you made it through, thanks for listening to me ramble. (: Leave a comment and let me know what you think!