Hedgehog

On Cats and Light

2005-07-13T13:16:00.000-07:00

Who would have thought I'd be happier than I've ever been, living and working in an area I've tried my best to leave?

It happens. I still have an axe over my head at ** where I work, but that's just a fact of life I accept. If you have to go to work every day, this is one of the better places to go. I'm not terribly busy most of the time, so all I have to do is show up and look pretty. This gives me time to work on my second source of income, or Plan B as I like to call it. I've been writing radio scripts for some Pretty. Big. Companies. Tylenol, Sara Lee, HP. It give me a chance to be creative - something that's anathema here - and they pay me handsomely. No, they pay me Prince Charmingly. This affords me a life rather than just paying bills. I have a horse; I've participated in two local shows so far this summer. I take Krav Maga twice a week which hopefully will turn me into a lean, mean fighting machine. I've already got the Mean part down pat.

And the cat, Max, is establishing himself well in the household. I call him "Love Beast" because he's the biggest baby. He likes to sleep next to me as close as he can get, resting his head on my leg, and throwing one of his little arms around it as well. It's July in central Pennsylvania and I can't tolerate this for too long, but it IS sweet. My darling Julius used to do the same thing.

New Cat Update

2005-04-20T14:36:00.000-07:00

The cat has finally been named, a good 2 months after he arrived. His name was Rad and I hated that. I went through Byron, Nero, Atticus and others and finally settled on Maximus, or Max for short.

I was on a Roman name kick with my darling Julius, and have continued it with this cat.

In case I didn't mention it, I posted about the death of my cat Bizzy on Salon.com. It was a treacly piece of drivel, but it earned me a "best post" nod anyway.

A New Cat In The Family

2005-02-21T10:44:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago, someone at the office sent out a company-wide email that his cat needed a home. Seems he was moving in with his girlfriend and it would have cost $300 in a pet deposit plus $25 extra a month to take the cat with him. The girlfriend also has two small kids, and the guy was concerned about them and the cat.

I don't get people who treat their animals as disposable, but I told the guy if no one else stepped up to take the cat I would.

No one else did, and I now have a new cat. It's a little soon after putting my darling Bizzy down because of lymphoma, but all my cats have been rescues. We'll have to see how this one goes. I said I'd take him sight unseen.

He's a beautiful cat. All black with the biggest gold eyes. He looks like a panther and he's a friendly guy. A little out of sorts right now, which is to be expected. I'm a good cat owner though and he'll have all the space and time he needs to adjust.

After that, I want a kitten. I've never had a kitten, and I really would like one.

Things Can Change In A Heartbeat

2005-02-08T10:53:00.000-08:00

So, in the continuing of All My Paranoia, life has picked up considerably. I'm busy, productive and on a new assignment that's really changed everything for me. It's called Search Engine Optimization, which is all about copy. It's an exacting form, not unlike haiku, which is the only poetic form I'll attempt. I also like playing sonatas for the same reason - a strict form in which you can create something magnificent. Go listen to Beethoven's Appassionata Sonata some time if you don't believe me. The 1st Movement is spectacular with a form as strict iambic pentameter.

No, I'm Safe, At Least For Now

2005-01-31T09:23:00.000-08:00

I've been the model corporate citizen lately. Productive, proactive, personable, punctual (mostly). I think whatever was going on has perhaps been put off, at least for now. However, it would still be wise to escalate Plan B. With all I've learned here lately, I could probably ramp up my freelance biz again and make it more lucrative this time around.

Then Again...

2005-01-19T08:46:00.000-08:00

This may be my last hurrah before getting fired. Stay tuned.

Reprieve - There IS Light

2005-01-18T13:22:00.000-08:00

So I have a meeting with my manager today and we're starting an effort of SEO (Search Engine Optimization) which is copy and copy only! Joy of joys. Really!

This place actually does suprise me, and usually on the positive side. I have a cynical view of things.

It wouldn't have been a bad thing, either way. But it's infinitely better to stay employed - at both my jobs.

Ever dimming light at the end of the tunnel

2005-01-17T10:23:00.000-08:00

Life goes on at my job. Marginally busy except for my two blogs, this and I Hate WalMart. I've had FOUR comments so far on that blog. FOUR humans out in the ether have seen my blog and commented on it or contributed. Wowee.

I made the decision that it wasn't my fault the company hired a second copywriter, and it wasn't my responsibility to keep her busy, certainly not at the expense of my own productivity (and happiness - the two are inextricably twined). So that's been a good thing. I also make myself useful in other ways, so that when the inevitable cuts happen, maybe I'll dodge the bullet once or twice. But I doubt it. Copy is still the least valued function in this building.

A friend of mine at work called me last week at home. She was talking with one of our attorneys (she has a different issue with the company) and the attorney made the remark that one my friend's assistants (who was also an unnecessary hire) could write copy in her downtime. My friend commented that we already have two copywriters and the attorney said, "Between you and me, I think their days are numbered."

O what a shock. I don't necessarily think it will happen to me, although we are looking to be acquired, numbers are down and they need to show growth and profitability. And after 30 years in business, the one thing I know is that when the chips are down, the chumps are tossed out on their asses.

Fortunately, I've had Plan B since Day 1. I have a second job that could turn into a primary job. I have freelance work. I've cut my living expenses to the level that I could live without the income from this job. Not live well, mind you, but I could exist and buy cat food.

Everyone in the job force should be prepared to lose his or her job at any time. Learn to read the signs. You're rarely lucky enough to have a friend good enough to call you and let you know what's going on. Information is power, and it will be a blessing, if I lose my job, to be prepared. The shock can be awful and the worst thing to do is cry. I won't. Believe me, I won't.

Death, dying cats, music and compassion

2005-01-17T10:10:00.000-08:00

On my way to put Bizzy to sleep, I was a wreck. I could barely see, I was crying so much, but trying to keep it together to be calm for Bizzy. As I turned into the road leading up to the vet's office, Tom Waits's cover of Springsteen's "Jersey Girl" was playing on public radio. I don't know why, but Tom Waits and Jersey Girl was just what I needed at that moment. I sat in the car and listened until the end. Then went in.

I won't go into the details, except that these people were among the most compassionate I've ever experienced, outside of Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore (where my mother was treated for cancer many years ago). They always called her Sweetheart and said how pretty she was and petted and kissed her. I paid for the procedure before they got her for me. I'd seen people at other facilities come out and pay afterwards - how hard that must be.

When I came out of the office to leave, they were discreetly away from the desk, until I went back into the lobby. They said they would call me in about two weeks. Back in the car, the radio station was playing a set of songs about angels. And later, "Circle of Life" from the Lion King. I emailed them and thanked them for their selections that day and told them how much they'd helped. I actually received two replies from them, one from Customer Service and one from the Program Director, both thanking me for thoughts and expressing sympathy about Bizzy.

Later, the vet's office sent me a sympathy card, along with a printout of something called Rainbow Bridge, about your animals waiting for you on the other side. Of course it makes you cry.

When they called me last week, they said "We have Isabel here and you can pick her up any time." Not "her ashes" or anything like that. Her.

I will get two cats or kittens very soon. After my younger cat Julius died, I didn't want to traumatize Bizzy with another cat in the house. But now, of course I will. I rescued Bizzy after a cat died. I rescued Julius from the street. There are so many out there, and even though you know the risk, how can you not let these little beings into your life?

On The Death Of A Cat

2005-01-10T08:56:00.000-08:00

I had to put my poor little creature to sleep last week. Hard to believe I wrote the first post about Isabel (Bizzy) getting sick on 12/28, although she'd been sick for about two weeks prior to that. Despite antibiotic therapies and drops for her eye where the third eyelid was encroaching, she didn't get better. She was still grooming herself, still enjoying going out. But was getting more and more tired. The lymph nodes in her neck seemed to be growing hourly. She was scheduled for a biopsy last week but I didn't think she'd last the 10-14 days for the pathologist's report to come back.

That morning I talked to the vet before the surgery, asking if there was anything we could do surgically to help her before we got the report. There really wasn't, and he outlined what chemotherapy would be like, 2 days a week at the vet's for 16 weeks. I didn't think I could do that to Bizzy. She'd been my companion for 12 years, through my divorce, through some other bad times. We were in a good place in a new home. She was happier than I'd ever known her to be. So I told the vet I'd be in at noon to put her to sleep.

I spent some time with her in the room, looking out the window. I'd have taken her outside with me, but it was raining. She was still interested in everything going on. She wasn't suffering yet. Getting to the vet's office had been horrific, crying and crying and trying to get control of it so I didn't upset Bizzy. I was listening to a public radio station who, at that moment, played a Tom Waits cover of Jersey Girl. For some reason, it helped.

As painful as the realization was that I was going to lose Bizzy, when the actual moment came, I was really at peace with it. It was so fast and so gentle. Like a light going out. She was there, and then she wasn't. And I was glad I was there with her.

I miss her so much. I talk to her at home the same as ever. She generally ignored me a lot, so I can pretend she's there somewhere. I never did such a silly thing before, talking to a dead person or animal.

You know this day will come; it has too, either sooner or later. My other cat, Julius, died at only 3 years old, curiously enough also of a lymphoma, just 8 months before Bizzy. Why would 2 unrelated animals die of the same thing like that? I asked the vet, but he didn't know. Maybe something environmental from our last home.

I guess it doesn't matter. She's gone. I don't cry nearly as much as I did before she died. I know I did the right thing for her; she deserved to go as gently as possible; I hadn't had that chance with Julius; he died in the car on the way to the emergency room.

I know in the grand scheme of things, the death of a cat is a trivial event. But I'll miss her for a long time.

We Are Wal-Mart; We Are Devo

2005-01-03T10:49:00.000-08:00

My other blog IHateWalMart devoted to all things hateable about the unholiest of unholies, discusses a particularly nauseating example of man's inhumanity to animals, perpetrated by two stellar examples of the human race employed by WalMart in Evansville, Indiana.

Let's not forget that torturing and killing animals is one of the key behaviors indicative of antisocial personality disorder, exhibited in serial killers, among other sociopaths.
These examples of man's inhumanity to animal are like a wrecking ball careening into my solar plexus and just staying there. I get ill at road kill.
I've been around animals my whole life. I don't necessarily consider humans to be at the top of the evolutionary scale. They're certainly below dolphins and elephants. At home, I have a black & white cat, and an albino cockatiel. We don't make distinctions among species - everyone has an equal voice in what goes on, some voices more shrill and demanding than others.

If you're of the persuasion that medical testing on animals, poaching for elephant ivory and other animal parts of esoteric value in some cultures (consider the affinity for Tiger Penis Soup in China - extremely expensive, 3 guesses as to its purported powers), and other human afflictions inflicted on animals, please buy the book "When Elephants Weep: The Emotional Lives of Animals" by Jeffrey Masson. His other books, including "Dogs Never Lie About Love" will make you seriously rethink whether man really belongs at the pinnacle of the evolutionary scale.

LinkToAmazonForThisBook

On Death and the Death of a (Former, sadly) Friend

2004-12-29T11:46:00.000-08:00

I learned yesterday that a friend I had some years ago died, very recently, of cancer at age 61. Its impact was like a wrecking ball slamming in my stomach and staying there.
br> I'd met Sandra about 9 or 10 years ago. I was part of a little email group on the net called the Collective 37. The Collective, 5 people from various parts of the country, met on dominance & submission bulletin board. While the board generally comprised odes and woes about the lifestyle, my compadres and I had individually started posting there, either to make fun of Lord This or Sir That and to poke holes in some of the lunacy that went on there. ("Online Protectors?" Gimme a break.)

None of us knew each other, but started to recognize kindred spirits and we admired each other's wit and brilliance. Sandra was one of them and she was wicked and funny. She could be pit bull mean too sometimes. We happened to both live in Philadelphia, and after being in this little email group for awhile, we eventually met up.

We spent a LOT of time together, running up to New Hope, New York, breezing around Philadelphia. She could be pretty wild, stealing ash trays from Le Bec Fin, chairs from Society Hill B&Bs, joining a wedding reception (where we grabbed some cake and offered our congratulations).

It got to be too much for me; I was always afraid we'd be arrested. Which was sad, because for awhile, we were close as sisters. I really loved her like I've loved very few people in my life, except for my sister. It was a very intense kind of friendship, and I would even go so far to say that if we'd been lesbians, we might have been lovers. I'm not wired that way, and neither was Sandra, but that's an indication of what that friendship was like.

After that year, I never saw her or heard from her again. I would periodically check obituary websites because she smoked like a chimney, and I was afraid someday she might be murdered.

I checked again on the 27th of December and was shocked when I saw that Sandra had died December 6, at 61, of cancer in her home in Society Hill.

I'm reminded of one of the last lines from Stephen King's "The Body" (paraphrased). "Although I hadn't seen her in years, I know I'll miss her forever."

RIP

On Death and Dying Cats, Part 2

2004-12-28T06:45:00.000-08:00

The other cat, Isabel (Bizzy), I've had for 12 years. She's a vocal thing and fortunately for her, we don't make too many distinctions among species in our house. All have an equal voice, including Mimi the albino cockatiel. Some of those voices are little more incessant and demanding than others. Bizzy used to have a litter box issue. Or a non-litter box issue, was more like it. Up until this last year, her litter box usage was mercurial, to say the least. I got to the point that I could tell the signs and I'd pick her up and put her in the litter box. We moved in october and for some reason this new place must suit her well because she's been perfect since day 1 and we've been there 3 months now.

Nearly a month ago, I took Bizzy to the vet with sneezing, lethargy and very swollen lymph glands. Blood test, antiobiotics - no result, no better. Second visit included a needle biopsy of the lymph glands - the pathologist couldn't make a definitive diagnosis but there's a concern about neoplasia (cancer) and next week we do a more aggressive biopsy.

It's a little tough to think I might be losing another companion animal in another month. Little? Jeesh, I had to leave the office and walk around the block a few times to keep myself from blubbering at my desk.

Stupid cat.

On Death and Dying Cats

2004-12-28T06:37:00.000-08:00

I had two cats. One was (still is, momentarily) a black female DSH with white markings that I rescued from a shelter two days before she was due to be destroyed. The shelter people gave me the hardest time until I had MY HUSBAND'S PERMISSION to adopt the cat (who was going to be killed 2 days later.)

My other cat was a small orange tabby, male, that a neighbor encouraged me to rescue off the city street. He was so tired and worn out he slept on my bed for 3 days, barely moving to eat or use the litter box.

He was the most darling animal. I named him Julius because at one point he wrapped himself up in a carpet, much like Cleopatra had for Julius Caesar, and also because he was orange. Julius loved to play catch. He loved stealing straws out of my drink; he loved tipping the drinks over. He'd curl up to sleep with me and if I had an arm around him, he'd drape one foreleg over my arm.

He was never a big cat, no more than 8 or 9 pounds, and he had the most beautiful little, person-like face. If he didn't feel well, he'd curl up closer and closer to my head, or right under my arm.

When he was 3, he started sneezing a little bit, then got short of breath. Trips to the vet didn't reveal anything, even with blood tests.

He got weaker and one night just lay on his side, breathing heavily. I drove like a maniac to a vet emergency hospital, but he died on the way. This was April 2004; it's nearly January 2005 and I'm still not "over" it.

Dimmed light at the end of the tunnel Pt II

2004-12-10T11:18:00.000-08:00

There was always considerable downtime in the job. Then they hired another copywriter to work under me. I didn't need help. I didn't want another writer. The only reason to hire another writer is for creative diversity, but in this industry, it's not a highly-valued quality. The copy function in this company, unlike other agencies, is rock bottom on the list of priorities.

In fact, our department was scheduled for annual reviews and the copywriters were scheduled last. They were running late and the other writer and I were dutifully waiting outside the conference room where the reviews were being conducted.

My supervisor came out told me our reviews would have to be rescheduled. It was "Accounting's scheduled time."

WTF???? So what? Why is accounting more important than our scheduled time?

And this only one occurrence of how trivial this area is. The creative services manager actually suggested, when we didn't have a vendor to print T-shirts for a particular promotion, that the "copywriters can iron on decals."

Jeesh. I'm published. I wrote for a governor's campaign.

And I don't own an iron.

Dimmed light at the end of the tunnel. Pt. I

2004-11-30T13:33:00.000-08:00

I've been in business a long time. Too long, but until I'm no longer under-published and under-appreciated as an author, I have to hold down a regular job. For more years than I care to reveal, I worked in marketing and media, mostly the 1-800 stuff on TV. It was fun, fast and lively, but too many execution responsibilities for my (mostly) right-brained temprament.

As so many people in this "economic recovery," I found myself unemployed, unhappily employed and marginally employed (or any combination of said states of employment) for several years. Life got really desparate for a long time. I joke that I had to sell all my Louis Vuitton luggage just to survive. This is true. But I also sold nearly everything else I owned to pay the rent.

It was a dark, dark time. And very scary. I'd send out 25 resumes a week, have a few interviews and be rejected for jobs that were exactly what I'd done for more than 10 years. I made some money free-lancing, but not enough. I also worked on the phones taking orders for Williams-Sonoma, (a superb company to work for, by the way). Not a bad little job and I probably could have grown with them, but it wasn't what I loved.

Finally, finally, I got a job as a copywriter in an internet ad agency. It was a revelation how wonderful working life could be. And in fact, I've marveled that I survived all those years in jobs I didn't love and didn't really have an aptitude for. And I was successful doing them, but it wasn't what I loved.

For the first time in my life, it was a pleasure to get up in the morning. I actually went to bed with a smile on my face. NEVER HAPPENED before that. The work was fun, fast, busy; the creative colleagues were smart and funny and so great to work with. I was the first writer the agency had ever hired, and life was the best it had ever been.

Was it the Will of the Voters? Or the Will of Karl Rove?

2004-11-09T15:37:00.000-08:00

It's entirely possible that the Republicans stole the election a second time. Reports are coming in of major discrepancies in the two most hotly contested states - Ohio and Florida. More votes being counted than there were registered votters. Provisional votes not yet counted. Polling places closed to the media and the public while the votes were being counted. Anomalies in the Diebold voting machines. (Diebold is a contributor to the Republican party.)

Other bloggers do this so much better than I. WWW.Juliusblog.blogspot.com
See the link to the Keith Olbermann report on MSNBC and decide for yourself.

As disheartening and discouraging as W's election to a second term in office was, the possibility that it was stolen again is even worse. There is also a link to Keith Olbermann's email; if you support his courage in being, so far, the only reporter from a major news outlet to cover this issue in any depth, please email your support.

Why I Hate Wal-Mart, Part 1

2004-10-26T15:12:00.000-07:00

There are many reasons to hate Wal-Mart, of course. I want to devote an entire post at some point about their advertising. For now, though, let's focus on their blight-on-the-landscape global strategy.

It's one thing to plunk a Wal-Mart supercenter on the riverfront in south Philadelphia next to Home Depot. It's another thing entirely to desecrate a key archaeological site at Teotihuacan in Mexico.

Teotihuacan means The Place Where Men Become Gods. It was a religious center at about the same time as the beginning of the Christian faith. By the fourth century C.E., it was the 6th largest city in the world.

In a total disregard for Mexican culture and way of life, Wal-Mart will be constructing another blue and red monstrosity, approximately a mile from the Avenue of the Dead, Pyramid of the Sun and the Feathered Serpent Pyramid.

I have to wonder what's next for this bastion of mediocrity. Wal-Mart Taj Mahal? Don't tell them I said that. I don't want to give them ideas.

http://www.cnn.com/2004/WORLD/americas/09/11/mexico.walmart.reut/