1. My parents bought a dog for my little sister, on (or very close to) my 20th birthday. I saw this as an inexcusable slap in the face, and boy did it sting.
You see, I asked my parents for a dog from right around the time I moved in with them until I went away to college (approximately 13 years). The answer was always "No, this family will NEVER get a dog."According to them dogs were to hard to take care of. Still, I asked every birthday, every Christmas, every time I saw a stray, and I even used to visit the shelter and moon over all of the dirty mutts, I would have taken anything from a Chihuahua to a Saint Bernard, as long as it was mine. Then one day Joan came home with Penny, an alien-dog hybrid that someone had found on the street. I thought, "There's no way we are keeping this, my family hates dogs." (I was like eight and very fond of dramatic yet simple logic.) I was wrong we kept Penny, and I kept asking for a dog of my own, one that I could pick out, that I could name, that would sleep at the foot of my bed. The answer was always a definite and unyielding "No. This family will NEVER get a dog, except for Penny." Despite my persistence, my letters to Santa, all of my reasoning, crying and arguing, it was the same answer every time.
Then when I was about eleven I was informed that a new little bundle of joy would be brought into the family. I distinctly remember using this as my passionate argument for a dog later that year, the exchange went something like this... "No, you can't have a dog!" "How come you guys got to get a dog AND a baby?" "You'll have fun with a new baby in the house." "I don't want a baby, I want a dog damnit! You want a baby, babies are harder to take care of than dogs, WHY CAN YOU GET A BABY BUT I CAN'T GET A DOG?!" Ok I toned it down for this, I believe I actually said things that were rather inappropriate at the time... Moving on. I cried so hard when I found this out, and although I love my little sister, I still don't see what logic they had in thinking that a baby would be easier to take care of than a dog.
Damn near every book I ever read growing up involved a dog as an influential character, as such I did (and secretly still do) believe that a childhood is not complete without a dog. Because of this I am still pissed that I never got one.
Flash forward to five days ago, I am on Facebook the day after my birthday, and what do I see? Pictures of a cute, BIG, puppy sitting on my parents floor. I quickly read the caption to discover that the dog was their new gift to my little sister, apparently in exchange for her not getting a little brother.
I was already in a vulnerable state after just having faced down my scariest birthday yet, and to see that just overwhelmed me. To be honest it was all I could do not to start crying. Literally the most important thing to me throughout my entire childhood was getting a dog, and it had been denied me year after year, only to be given to my little sister, on my birthday. (This is something that my generation calls a "Bitch Move.")
Instead of crying however I analyzed my thoughts (how Adult of me), what exactly about all of this made me so upset? Once I realized why, I wrote my dad a very thought out letter about my feelings, calling it "Are you shitting me?" (What can I say, the dramatic little kid came out in me.)
Now since most people in my family probably think that I have shared too much information already, I won't share the whole letter, but I will tell you the gist. The fact that my little sister got a dog on my birthday, upset me so much because it made me feel like she is loved more than I was. (It also made me feel like she already acts too spoiled, and this wasn't going to help.) Now whether or not this is true isn't the issue, the issue is that my heart broke when I saw those pictures of the cute puppy that I never got to have, and as much as I love my dad and the response I got back from him regarding my email, I seriously don't think I will ever completely get over that feeling.
Now, this is the eclectic part of Story Time that I mentioned...
2. I received an email from the Stage Manager of a very prominent show regarding my request to observe what goes on "behind the curtain" so to speak, in the theatre community. The response essentially said that I was welcome to pick some shows that I could attend, and we would go from there to pick one that fits in with the "rotations" (I'm only vaguely aware of what this term means, but hopefully that's one of the things observing will help me understand better). In other words, I now have a theatre to observe for my Ethnography project. This. Is. Awesome. End of story.
3. I had to write field site notes about the community that I chose for my Ethnography, my Professor edited it, leaving comments and such and her main concern was that she thought I spelt theatre wrong. No, I lived in a theatre for four years, it is actually one of the few words I know how to spell without expunging massive amounts of brain cells. Although apparently expunging is one of those words as well. Weird. Instead of telling her though, I decided to let it slide (I still got a perfect grade) and instead include why I end theatre with re in my final Ethnography.
4. I originally planed on going to bed three hours ago. Instead I spent a great deal of time looking up the costs of flights from New York to essentially everywhere, and then after a text from my dad I spent about an hour writing this over worded, ridiculously long shlop. Sorry dad, I know this probably wasn't what you had in mind when you mentioned my next blog update two and a half hours ago. Ya win some ya lose some.
Tomorrow I will actually edit this, I know I made a lot of stupid mistakes in my writing. I may also just update it a bit with another little story in hopes of childishly and ineffectively getting back at my parents.
Oh, also it should be noted that I am going to Reykjavík for Spring Break, just FYI.
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