Steam Me Up, Kid...

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

A meme is a wish your heart makes

Sister: Listen, it's okay. You have so many talents. You should focus on the things you can do, not the things you can't.

Me: I'm bad at everything. (kicks dirt)

Sister: No, not true, you're just feeling defeated right now. You're good at lots of things.

Me: Like cartwheels?

Sister: Right, cartwheels. But what I was thinking was something like, for example, your discerning attention to detail. You're an excellent judge of character, too, and a keen observer of the world around you. You're sensitive, punctual, and...

Me: Hey, remember that morning I made you all pancakes in the shape of two people having anal sex?

Sister: Right. I remember. You fed them to the kids. I had to teach them all what leapfrog was afterwards, to try to explain away what they'd just seen. But when I said you're good at things, I was thinking not so much of sodomy pancakes, but more along the lines of your intellectual assets, like...

Me: ...like my wordless impression of Scott Scanlon, the 90's Beverly Hills 90210 character who accidentally killed himself in Season 2 while playing with his father's gun? Because, not to brag or anything, but seriously. Spot on, right? (twirls imaginary handgun, insecure eyes, twitchy smile)

Sister: ...or your ability to remain calm in times of medical emergency. You can be a source of comfort during difficult moments.

Me: Yes, pillar of strength, plus yesterday I had a nostril-whistle with such incredible range that I performed almost five verses of Mariah Carey's "Vision of Love." I was all (finger on earpiece, eyes closed in concentration, up-down Diva hands) and my nose was all hewwwwwwwww! hewwwwwwww! and then I exhaled too hard and it was all hewwwwwWOOOSH!! God. I wish you'd been there.

Sister: Oh, me too. Definitely sad about that. My point is, don't feel badly about not being able to come up with a viral meme or a fun Tumblr idea. It's not for everyone, you know?

Me: I was making such progress though. I even learned how to pronounce meme! It's "meem" not "mey-mey" just so you know. And then I almost learned what a meme is. And then I found Tumblr on the Internet, which is not easy on account of it's missing the "e". Did you know that?

Sister: Yeah, the "e" is a huge hassle for young people. It's the most cumbersome of the vowels.

Me: And then I started doing some research; I read all of Courage Wolf...

then Pick-up Panda

And then I found Garfield Minus Garfield, which consists of Garfield comics with Garfield edited out, leaving Jon muttering to himself, alone and mentally deranged. It may be my favorite thing ever.

...and I figured, how hard could it be to create my own meme? Well. Very difficult, apparently.

Sister: I first realized you were kind of off-track when you told me about your idea for Impatient German Alpaca. What was his catchphrase again?

Me: You know, I honestly can't for the life of me seem to recall at this particular moment. Let's move on.

Sister: I remember now! It was...

Sister: ...and that was all he ever said!

Me: What else does an impatient German alpaca say besides schnell? I didn't have much to work with there, did I.

Sister: And Eminemone, the rapping water polyp?

Me: That was the most brilliant idea I've ever had, for about 30 seconds.

Sister: And Ostrichard Dreyfus? And, what was it, Holocaust Reductionist Barnacle? Haha!!

Me: Sensual Donkey, he was a good one.

Sister: I was partial to Unsolicited Parenting Advice Trout.

Me: I felt pretty good about Tough Love Personal Trainer Emu, myself.

Sister: Had you pursued it, you might have had something special with Sensitive Gorilla, too.

Sister: Although, I didn't really get your whole "Literal Animal Captions" idea. I don't know. Maybe it's just me.

Me: It's just you. Trust me. Those were comedy gold.

Sister: They're just saying hi. Is that it?

Me: Shh, wait. There's more.

Me: They're funny because it's TOTALLY WHAT THEY'RE SAYING!

Sister: What happened here? Looks like you got a little lazy with these last ones.

Me: Really? Why would you say that?

Sister: Just a feeling. I dunno.

Me: So, remember how I received all that positive feedback a couple weeks ago after I posted that photo of me holding a fake gun to my dog's head?

Sister: Um. No.

Me: Everyone thought it was so tasteful. People were emailing, begging for more implied animal violence. They just couldn't get enough!

Sister: Really? Cause I remember it differently.

Me: No they were like, "Bravo! This is just the kind of image that makes us all feel comfortable reading this blog today! Spare the gun, spoil the dog! Hooray!" I'm practically the next Cesar Milan, only I'm the Dog Shooterer. So I thought, you know what? I should just point my gun at stuff all day long, photograph it, and maybe start a Tumblr called "Pointing my gun at stuff, just 'cause." What do you think?

Sister: (incredulous eyebrows)

Vitamin C, huh? Vitamin C U in HELL is more like it.

You better wipe that smirk right off your face, coffee maker,
or I'll do it for you.

I'm gonna show you how we do things downtown, blades of grass.

I eat trees like you for breakfast.

Aw yeah. Shit just got real up in this bitch.

Sister: Alright. You done with the gun schtick? Time to put it away.

Me: Yes.

Sister: Good, becau--

Me: I meant yes, no I'm not done. My personal take on the Garfield Minus Garfield idea required that I use a gun. But I assure you, it wasn't gratuitous at all.

Sister: (wide eyes)

Me: What?!

Sister: (wide eyes)

Me: People get murdered in comic strips all the time. It's a very violent medium.

Sister: (wide eyes)

Me: Are you looking at me like that because I shot Cathy in the head? Or because I gleeked on your face a second ago? Which one? Hello?

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Don't stop bereavin': A handy guide for coping with loss

At my dad's funeral, I valiantly offered to serve as "urn bearer," the carrier of the ashes from the chapel to the gravesite, but halfway there, under the weight of the emotional burden, I collapsed with dramatic gusto on a little grassy knoll in the parking lot.

My brother, his face dusty and tear-stained, leaned over me and took me in his arms. "I can't carry it for you," he said. "But I CAN carry YOU!" And he did, up the side of the volcano in Mordor, where we finally scattered my father's ashes into a sea of molten lava, restoring harmony and order to all of Middle-earth.

The memory of his funeral is hazy and I'm not entirely sure of the exact facts of the day, but I do remember that was the same week I got my first DVD player, and someone had given me a copy of Lord of the Rings, and the picture quality was so crisp and realistic that even now, eight years later, pieces of Tolkien are still woven into that memory.

That stress-induced memory blur is just one of the ways my mind helped me cope. And I know what you're thinking, but just because after he died I lost thirty pounds and developed a panic disorder, that doesn't mean I didn't cope.

I'm telling you, I cope like a motherfucker.

For example, Old Man Farley died last month, in my arms, on my birthday.

He hadn't been doing well for a couple of days, so late that night I laid down with him on his dog bed and put my arms around him, and whispered in his ear that he was my best friend and that I was lucky to have known him, that he was the most loyal dog there ever was.

I told him that if he had to die it was okay to let go, that I'd be alright, and not two minutes later he stopped breathing, and everyone was like "Oh how beautiful, he must have heard you give him permission to die, and he just let go! What a gift!" and I was all "WALKIES, FARLEY! WALKIES!"

And people were like, "He's dead, Becky. He just died in your arms. And look, there he is right there, still dead." And I was like "WALKIES! *crazy eyes* WAKE UP LAZYBONES, TIME FOR WALKIES! *jangles the leash*"

And then they were like "Can someone take her up to bed or something?"

Trying to walk your dead dog is an example of being in "Denial" which is the first stage of grief. Let's explore some of the other stages together, shall we?

Yes, let's. Come on you guys, it's grievin' time!

ANGER

During this phase, you may lash out and lay blame for the death on someone else. For instance, in my case, I became furious with the doctor who provided his radiation treatments, which eventually caused the radiation toxicity that took his life.

Radiation toxicity is something that just happens sometimes. Not usually as quickly as it happened with Farley, but it happens. That's life.

I could have just paid someone a ton of money to bash Farley's skull in with a bat and it would have been less painful for everyone, haha, but it is what it is. Right? Haha. HAHA!

I'm alright though.

That vet did his best, I'm sure.

In my younger years, I may have resorted to petty revenge tactics, but that's just not me anymore.

I've worked through it, and I realize now that the vet was not to blame.

There's no use feeling angry about it. Anger is not a productive emotion. It's best to make peace with the whole situation. That's the mature thing to do.

Think to yourself: What is the healthiest way to deal with your anger? For me, yoga and meditation have calmed me, helped me to see things rationally and clearly.

To accept it and move on gracefully and maturely.

I like to light a lavender-scented candle at night and take some time for me. Me time. It's been so healing, really. I have to tell you, I feel like this whole experience has really changed me, has forced me to grow up and accept the inevitabilities of life.

*unfolds self from yoga pose* Namaste. Let's move on to the next stage, shall we?

BARGAINING

You may try to bargain with fate or the powers that be, asking "Why did this have to happen?" or "Why did it have to be my dad, my grandma, etc.?"

In the case of a pet's death, when an animal that you're very attached to dies, it's difficult not to look at your other dogs, perhaps one of your less-than-well-behaved dogs, perhaps the dog that revenge shits on your floor when you go out to a movie, and wonder, "Why couldn't it have been you instead?"

This is not the time to try to bargain with death; you can't offer up one dog in an attempt to get the other one back. That's insane.

Now is the time to be extra attentive to your animals. Spend some quality time with them, some quiet time giving them affection.

Oh, Zooey. I'm sorry. You lost a friend too.

Try not to let your pain translate into anger toward your other animals.

Pretty girl. Pretty pup. Good pup.

They need your love now more than ever.

Good girl. Shhh. Just relax. Mama's gonna bring Farley back.

LONELINESS

Farley had been my constant companion for 13 years, so when he died, I felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness. It's perfectly normal to look for something to fill the empty void left when a loved one passes.

Many people find it helpful to volunteer for a local charity or nonprofit when they're coping with loss, it really puts things in perspective.

For example, I found it therapeutic to visit the local pound, to spend some time with the homeless animals, going from cage to cage and insulting each dog individually, as a declaration of my undying loyalty to my dead dog.