Requiem for Angel

     One year ago today, Angel died. I've been putting off talking about it here for a long time (about a year to be exact). She was a part of our family for thirteen great years, and I couldn't asked for a sweeter, kinder, moochier dog. I miss her. I love her. I don't know if dogs go to Heaven, but a friend of mine told me that God created animals and put a lot of care in them (in Matthew 10:29, Jesus says that not a single sparrow falls to the ground without God knowing and caring), so it's possible they go to Heaven. But either way, she is at rest, and I have found peace with that.

     It was around noon, my brother came into my room and woke me up, ordering me to get downstairs. I ignored him because he was rude and went back to sleep. A moment later, Mom came in crying and woke me up, saying "Come say goodbye to Angel." Panic struck my heart. Angel was old, and her hips were bad and she couldn't even walk up and down the stairs without Mom holding her every step of the way. It was sad watching her deteriorate physically like that, and I knew it was only a matter of time before she would eventually run out of strength to keep going.

     Apparently, she had fallen down the stairs that morning, despite Mom's help. Then she voided her bowels in front of the couch. Mom cleaned it up and before she could take Angel outside, she collapsed in the middle of the kitchen floor and wouldn't get back up.

     When I came down, she was breathing heavily and frothing at the mouth. I couldn't help but think how traumatizing this would've been for a younger person. Mom, sister, and brother were there with her, petting her and comforting her, all crying. I joined them. I haven't cried like that in ages. I didn't even cry that much at my great grandpa's funeral. Right in front of my, struggling for breath, was the dog who had been such a huge part of my life, our family's life, since before I could remember, dying.

     I still remember the day we brought her home. We had seen her a while before with her mother when we picked her out. I don't remember this much, but apparently she sort of picked us. She instantly bonded with my oldest sister and that was basically settled. We were so disappointed that we wouldn't be able to bring her home for a long time. Then, a week or two before we thought we'd get her, Mom came in the back door, with a little yellow ball of fur wiggling and wagging its tail in her arms. We were all so excited. From the very first day she was with us, she was family.

     She was loads of fun. Very finicky, but would eat just about anything (wasn't too crazy about lettuce though). I remember once, I was going to make a sandwich, and as soon as I grabbed the bread, Angel, from all the way upstairs, heard the plastic shaking and bolted down the stairs at record speed, ran to the kitchen, and slid right up to my feet, looking up at me and panting happily. Needless to say, I had to give her a bite.

     I have so many fond and happy memories of that dog that I can't even begin to tell my favorites. I remember when I was a kid, I would lie down on the floor and she would stand over me and look down, the skin on her face sagging down and she looked so silly and so cute. I remember we came home from church and she came slinking up to us like she did when she was in trouble, and all she did was knock down some fake flowers from a rickety table. She loved us, I know this. She was a great dog. Obedient and eager to please.

     We sat down, petting her, comforting her, telling her we loved her. Her breaths became more ragged. We called Dad and my oldest sister. Dad got to talk to her and say goodbye, but Bri was busy. Dad stopped by during his lunch to see her, but by then it was too late. She had breathed her last. With one final sigh, her beautiful spirit left her body, and one of my best friends in the world was dead.

     Dad covered her up in her favorite blanket (an old Barney blanket my brother and I used when we were little). We went to Mom's parents house to bury her. It was dark out. I couldn't say any last words to her. I couldn't speak at all. It was so strange waking up the next morning, walking down stairs, and not seeing her wagging her tail and panting happily, like she had missed me so much since just a few hours ago. It was so strange not having her in the house, chewing on her rope or her bone, lying down at our feet, mooching from us in the kitchen.

     It's been a year, and we have Lily now, but there's still a hole, a vacancy, in our lives.

     So, my baby girl, prettiest girl, Angie Bear, Monkey, Punkie, princess, precious, Angel... I miss you so much. I still love you. Wherever you are, I'm still thinking of you. I don't know if you're looking down on me, or mooching off the angels in Heaven (who can't find it in their hearts to deny you), or what. But I love you. So much. You'll always have a special place in my heart.

     She died as she lived: happy, at peace, and loved, surrounded by her family. May your death, baby girl, though full of sorrow, bring peace to you. Requiescat in pace.

So beautiful.

This is... annoying.

     Having seen a lot of movies, played a lot of games, and read a lot of books, one thing I noticed is an obnoxious use of the ellipses. Ellipses are generally used as signs of omission, like when you're quoting something but take out a part that's not relevant. Or when I call you a... man. Haha! You'll never know what terrible cusses I put before the word man. You might not even be a man! Joke's on you!
     Anyways, it's really annoying how a lot of people use ellipses (written or spoken [yes you can say an ellipses, JRPG characters do it all the time]). If your character is struggling to find the right word, that's one thing. But usually, it's like they're forcing drama. Drama should never be forced. Drama should be shown through the plot, the conflict, and the characters. Not by the author. Neeeeever by the author. Or speaker.

This is not a conversation, Japan.

(Photo Source)

     Here's a quote from a fellow named Strangeluv I found whilst looking for pictures of people saying "..." (I didn't find any). "I don't know about you but I am tired of reading that dialogue that goes like this... I get all emo when I read it... I wish they would stop doing it... So stop doing it. It's meant to convey sadness but it doesn't. It just ends up being the same as melodrama." (Source)

     And he (or she) is right. Pausing before saying something ("This may be... problematic") is meant to convey tension, drama, evilness, or whatever. In super small moderation, it can be okay, but after seeing it in so many places (The Dark Brotherhood in Skyrim does it more frequently than necessary) it gets really irritating. Especially because they usually overemphasize the word that comes after it. And sometimes they even pause after the overemphasized word.

     "I have a... proposition for you." Oh! This means it something nasty or wicked! I would never have guessed that for myself. This is just a failed attempt at some manner of gravitas. You have a proposition, we get it, just say it. The pause just sounds like a cheesy cartoon villain trope.

     "He needs to be... terminated." Oh no! Not terminated! You want the guy dead, and the pausing shtick just makes it sound goofy. It's hard to take a villain... seriously... if he talks like... this... all the time....

     "I'm sure I can think of... some way you can repay me." You can tell it's about sex, because of the pause! This is like using the winky face online. It just makes it painfully obvious that there's a double entendre or euphemism of sorts. If this were a real life interaction, it would be about as overt as nudging someone, winking furiously, raising your eyebrows, and whispering "I'm talking about us doing it" in their ear.

"Get it? GEEEEEET IIIT?"

(Photo Source)

     In conclusion, it's cheesy and contrived to create dramatic tension by having people pause before saying a certain word. It's lazy writing. And worse than that, I don't like it. And neither does the creepy winky guy.

Delinquent Squirrels

     Today I went to the Taylor library to return some books.  About a week before the last day, I had checked out the Prose Edda and the Poetic Edda for a paper I was writing for British Literature.
     On my way out I saw a squirrel digging in the mulch by the bushes. I don't know why. He was just digging away. Burying his nuts, maybe? I forewent the semi-obligatory Freudian analysis on the subject and decided that, whatever the squirrel's reason was, it was insufficient grounds for him to be digging up university property.
     I yelled at him to stop. He looked up at me curiously and backed away a few decimeters (this is a no inches zone, no actually decimeters sounds stupid I'm not using those never mind, scratch that) inches. He stared me down. Tumbleweed rolled across the sidewalk. My fingers twitched, aching to whip out... well my cell phone was the only thing in my pocket. Maybe I would've taken a picture of him, he was kinda cute, I guess. You know. For a squirrel.
     So I asked him what depravity caused him to stoop to this level, digging in the mulch, hiding food from the world. He ran away a little, but didn't answer. "GET A JOB!" I shouted. I had no patience for his type.
     What causes a squirrel to do this? What terrible tragedy in his life caused him to go this low? Maybe I could never understand that sort of desperation. I dunno. Maybe I want to know, so I can reach out to squirrels with the hand of love and giving instead of the foot of get away from me. Maybe I don't want to know, to preserve what little innocence I have left. I don't know. Either way, he left, and the sad (or is it happy?) part is, I'll never see him ever again. Sic est vitae. Thus is life.


EPILOGUE: When I walked away, I saw someone else on the sidewalk. With as echoey as Taylor's campus is, he undoubtedly heard me and is probably convinced that I'm thoroughly insane, shouting at rodents and stuff.
Stupid delinquent squirrels, it's all their fault.

Upset the Balance!

It's so upset.

Squid Squad!

Oh man, I just got a great idea for a novel.


SQUID SQUAD!


Anthropomorphic squids in the Atlantic form a squad of hardened mercs who don't play by the rules in order to stop the greatest terror of the seas: humans, and their big boats and oil spills. In the end fishermen catch all the Squid Squad members and eat them, reminding the viewer that people are super evil and squids are poor helpless unfortunate beasts, eliciting a strong emotional reaction from the audience so that they'll be outraged and become social activists. It'll have all the great stuff, you know: contrived, forced, nonsensical plot; memorable, obnoxiously "quirky" characters; an in-your-face pro-environmentalist viewpoint; blatant condemnation of capitalism, industry, and humankind; tons of action, and explosions! UNDERWATER. Oh yes, there will be blood (also there are about an infinity of outdated, overused, out of character, out of context pop culture gags, jokes, and references).


No wait! You know what would be better than a novel? An over-produced, excessively promoted and advertised CGI blockbuster that costs half a billion dollars! And they'll say they'll donate like, two percent of the proceeds to a wildlife foundation or something. Even though they could've just donated all the money that went into the movie. But you know, screw that, right?


Hold on to your belt, ladies and gents, because I just got another squidtastic idea (oh yeah, forgot to mention it'll have a lot of squid-based puns that are really forced and don't even make sense, and a whole lot of ink jokes just for good measure)! Let's make it a trilogy! The second will have almost nothing to do with the third, will retcon a few things from the first (like the fact that they're all dead) to go in a different, more ridiculous direction. The third will just be straight terrible, desperately trying to squeeze as much money from moviegoers as possible, and everyone will see how pathetic the attempt is, but will still go to see it because it's Squid Squad and everyone will totally love it, believe me.


This is turning out to be really great. I'll crank out a screenplay or a script or something soon.

Hey, I have a blog!

How about that?


I should really get back into the swing of doing this. A lot has happened since I last used this.


Angel, my baby girl, died last summer. She was 13 years old. I wanted to post a requiem of sorts, but I still don't want to face it.


We got a new puppy, another golden, her name's Lily. She's super smart. Haaaaaaaaa.


I looked back on a lot of the stuff I've written. It's amazing how much I've changed. I even edited some things so they were less crass.


That video project I mentioned earlier is a no-go. Ended up being more trouble than it was worth. It was called "Finger Puppet Ninja Kitty." The world shall never know its glory.


Here are some things I plan on doing in the future with this blog:
1. Retract a few opinions from previous posts. I'll let them stay, of course, but will post revised editions of them, clarifying some things, not being such a horrible person (my goodness, I was a mean little cuss), etc.
2. Post a requiem for Angel.
3. Post about Lily girl.
4. A post about some goings-on in my life.
5. Edit previous posts for a less rude tone. Possibly some deletions as well (which I've already started).
6. Start posting, either weekly or bi-weekly.
7. Making this blog more of an Asylum, its namesake. And making it live up to its tagline.
8. Why is tagline squigglied? Tagline is too a word.
9. Squigglied isn't a word either? I guess I can see that.
10. Thou shall not represent Jesus as a white guy with blue eyes and perfectly coiffed hair.


So yeah, stuff. Here's week one! It's nothing exciting. But. You know. I'm lazy, remember?


Remember how I used to close with a moral of the story? I'm probably not going to do that. Or maybe I will. I don't know okay? Get off my back, Dad.