Mirror Stage

Emily did not recognize her reflection in the large steel dish, and kept barking down at it, from the safety of my wrist. I think she scared herself. (sadly, it was over too quickly for a picture)

She likes laps too much.
Also snuggling inside my coat (which I have to wear indoors to take her out for immediate potty-training).

[In Ur Coat, Eating Ur Belts]

Spoiled Puppy

Emily's favorite thing is to find a warm person nook and snuggle.
When I let her on the floor, she scrambles back for my lap, feet, anything. She likes to hang out under my butt.
She slept all day yesterday, and woke up at midnight. Upon which, she proceeded to PLAY, all night long. Keeping me awake, playing and snuggling the puppy. Yes, H. spoiled the puppy on her first day. This morning, she had one pee and one poo accident. It's all my fault!
So, we're back to Dr. Ian Dunbar's hardcore crate training:
She woke up in the crate, and cried for about 20 minutes, but we fed her 1/4 her lunch in there, and she cried a bit more, and fell asleep. Potty time scheduled in 30min.

Maybe it would be easier to train her if she were ugly.

First Day!

We woke at the crack of 7am, and M. trudged off to the mechanic's to get the flat tire changed. Exciting start to the day. Printed out 6 maps, set the navigation, crossed fingers. Amazingly enough, we didn't get lost on the way there. (last time we'd taken the train)

Emily recognized us as soon as we walked in--she was hyper and frisky, bouncing around and wagging her little tail. We said goodbye to her old family, and all the drive home, she was still curious puppy. Digging in her box, chewing on the plastic bag, zipper on my coat, her terry toy, her chew toy, and crawling out of the box continually, and up my coat.
She didn't potty in the box. When we got home, she was introduced to her collar, the evil thing she tried scratching off to no avail. So intent was she on this new menace that she ignored the first potty time. Then fell asleep in M.'s lap:
Woke up after 10 minutes, and ran around trying to get rid of her collar, drank water, refused to potty again, then fell asleep on my lap. My foot, then my whole fell asleep.
This time, she slept deeper, so I could move her to her box. (her crate is still en route from Germany)
I know what 엄마 is thinking: I want to wash that puppy! (I picked the 덜 꾸질꾸질 pics)

Now she's wearing something my friend Yoshi had sent me a couple of years ago. A pennant for Emily, the Kim Puppy.
[eta]
1) 1/2 pee accident b/c I didn't recognize the signs of desperate puppy
2) 2nd pee (4:40) + 1st poo (5pm): outside! success!
3) 1st grooming: soaking then clipping butt hairs that had bits of old dried poo stuck on them.
4) 1st weigh in: 980 g
5) 1st meal: at 7:30 pm, 20g Orijen Puppy
6) 2nd potty (both): at 8:40 pm
7) already used to me bugging her: wiped away some tear goo, which she avoided at first, then fell asleep on.

A Day Early

All of Emily's littermates are off to their new homes, with only two left now. Her sister will be the next tomorrow. So, Emily's mommy's family thinks we should pick her up a day early, so she won't have to spend the whole night alone. That's more than fine by me! hee hee!

Her things haven't all arrived yet, most importantly her crate, but we'll make do.

[Baby's first coat, for housetraining.]

[eta] Shoot. M. just discovered we have a flat tire. Timing! We might have to bring her home by train.

The Walls of Canei

To prevent EmilyPuppy from getting into the computer cords before we pick out AV furniture, we made temporary gates out of wine boxes from Digros. I drew the battlements myself.

Christmas

Santa and Zwarte Piet stopped by. We forgot to leave them Hogwatch cookies. I crashed the RC Heli at M's office, broke the rotator blades. boo.

These are for Emily:
[It's a girl! & moleskine diary to keep track]

Christmas Shopping

... for Emily Puppy, was first done hitting the 4 neighborhood pet stores this morning, then finishing off the remaining unavailable things online. Hopefully, the online things will arrive before Emily does. Because it includes her crate and really-good food.

The indoor scent remover, just by standing there unopened, unused, is making me dizzy. Ew.

[future victim]

Anticipation

Every once in a while it hits me: We're finally bringing home OUR puppy!

Eeeek!

M. and I are re-reading our dog books and a million webpages, but only experience will tell. House-training looks so complicated; we'll have to establish THE routine, so Emily Puppy won't get confused while we sort out whose dog-training rules we're going by.

Twilight!

H&M went to see Twilight in a small theater packed full of teenagers, and it ROCKED.

This was the most fun I had at the movies in a long time. btw, forget Team Edward or Team Jacob. I'm Team Victoria. She's so so cool!

The projector went into fritz during the ballet studio scene, and as he was the only grownup in the theater (not counting me), M went to fix it with the manager. So we missed the brutal execution. Darn. We'll have to wait for DVD.

Emily Puppy

Mom and Dad Maltese were pretty lively. Mom was a bit keen and nervous, but Dad was a loveball, and bigger than normal. We suspected he had a bit of Bichon in him, and we liked it. Her brothers were all promised- they looked pretty rambunctious and funny, too. Emily Puppy and her sister tried to take down the Christmas tree.

I picked Emily Puppy, though she was the runt, because after I let both of them go, she tottered back to play with my fingers.

M. and I pretty much exploded from the cute. We left my grey t-shirt with them for the smelly.

Tree is Late this year

But finally we got around to setting it up. And M. and I are NOT crazy! We DID have colored lights (stashed away in the box with the tree).

Most folks say they like a fresh tree, but for our first tree, as a couple, M. and I are quite tingly over the little plastic tree we got together. Barely 3 feet, sort of feels like our own Charlie Brown Christmas tree, with the right amount of silly and cute and homebodyness, instead of wholesome tasteful pine scent goodness.

*
On the doggy front, adopting from a shelter has turned out as a non-possibility, *sigh sigh* because of M.'s (partial and undefined) allergy. I sort of got kicked around verbally by rescue groups for even wanting to meet the dog. (After we planned ahead, and researched, and alerted everyone involved, and were invited to do so, some unconcerned parties would forget all the previous steps, and harangue me for "daring" to want a shelter dog.)

After being burned several times, M. and I decided that they were most certainly doing good work, but had probably ended up strongly disliking people, as a result of their good work.

*

Am looking at our cute little tree and thinking good, un-Grinchly thoughts. ;-)

Christmas + 1 Chrismakkuh Cards

All sent off. Not the first time for either of us, but for both of us together, yes, and it was quite a project.

Next up, is seeing whether some family members might benefit from teasing. Like the Star Wars Holiday Special, and the Ewok Adventure.

ps. I love our Charlie Brown Christmas tree.

Names

Sometimes my parents name their dogs after Star Wars characters: Wicky (after the ewok) & Yoda. I think there was a puppy named Boba Fett once, but I'm not sure.

Dukgoo, after their mountain. Bbina, after... er... she's just really sweet.

Our puppy was going to be Martha, after M. and his brother's only childhood pet, Martha the hamster, who had been named after Martha Washington. (go figure)

Then, Martha the Maltese, didn't sound right.

We were standing in front of our books, to see what girl names were easy to call (1-2 syllables) and not "Sweetie CutiePie Nookems." (which we'll probably call her anyway)

M. thinks Emily is from Emily Dickinson or Emily Bronte. Actually, I got it off Emily Byrd Starr from the L.M. Montgomery books. It was standing at eye-level, next to Perdido Street Station (nope) and Fire and Hemlock (Polly, name of my last puppy). So, Emily of New Moon, it is.

Er. And Captain Janeway from Star Trek Voyager.

Yup, good ol' Emily Janeway Puppy.

Good and Bad

But maybe good?

Good: I want to revise the first draft more than I'd wanted to write it. Sort of jumping out of bed in the middle of the night, am impatient sitting through dinner, kind of WANT.

Bad: I think I'm coming down with a bad cold, the yucky head cold + fever kind.

Bad: I think the shelter won't let us bring Iggy Pudd home, as we have no other dog already to show him the doggy ropes.

(I disagree--maybe he needs some quiet top-dog down time, but hey, they're the experts)

Good: uh... I want to fix my book instead of ditch it? er...

Love and Hives

Second trip to the animal shelter, to see if my dog (hee hee) remembered me, and to check whether M. was allergic to him.

Unfortunately, before we could even ask to take him out, the volunteer worker for the day said, "NO, we can only send him to a home with another dog. We have other dogs you can adopt?"

*sigh*

The answer seems to change with which time of day and which volunteer worker we talk to. The other one on Monday really wanted to send him with us, despite that "tag" on his file.

So, we hung around, chatting with her about other options, waiting for the dogs to come back from their walk. It is a pretty nice shelter, no-kill, permanent boarding for these guys. If he had to be left for a long time without his own home, then, this would be the place (I tell myself firmly.)

But worst case scenario. M., from the fur and smell and dander of EVERY ANIMAL that went through that small, unventilated office, got a furiously quick allergic reaction--hives, itchy eyes, blasting headache. Poor sweetie tried not to tell me for a while, but couldn't hold out longer, and so we stayed outside.

It didn't go away. Poor M was suffering so bad. :-( We said we'll be back again, and had to leave.
On the road home, we ran into "Inu" and his chums, on a walk.

OH. OH. He recognized me! And not as the scary person who dropped his leash. Or maybe yeah, that one. But he started pulling and tugging towards me, and kept turning to look back as the volunteer walker led him off. Oh... We had to say goodbye on the road, but oh, things were looking up.

The funniest part of the day, though, was how the friendly cat from Monday, DISSED US. Got up and turned his back on us, right in the office. So Cat-ty. :-D

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

For the last eight months, I've been wallowing in the online moat of the Jindo Dog Rescue world. Living so far away from home, and realizing what a state they're in, in the US, made me want to help.

I sign up to the mailing list, look around if I can bring home help, correspond with a couple of the members. They seem helpful, kind, DOG RESCUE PEOPLE. Another of the group is a bit stompy, jumps all over some members, and is pushy, but hey, I figure that's how you get when you're faced with an impossible situation. ( though, when one woman worried about her family and her dog not getting along, this person did attack her viciously and personally about being a whiny Asian woman who gives the rest of "us" a bad name. Whoa)

Her tagline is: "now is not the time for me to leave." *roll eyes*

Now, I know every time I have something big to do, I get caught up in wanting to do something for other projects. FOR FREE. This is a stupid habit of mine. I got into trouble with this in Uni, when overwhelmingly positive about the world, I took on mentorships and writing workshops. Because I felt like being a part of the WORLD and HELPING. (Hold the tomatoes. Pollyanna wises up, though quickly forgets)

So, I jump in again. Blind and grinning. Seeing that this person's low-traffic dog information site is going down, I offer free bandwidth from the uni. She says, no, she's moving to another site. And we talk about the translation of a Jindo book she's meant to do for a while, but was prohibited because of the cost of getting someone to translate.

Hey! This is something I can help with! I know the translation market! I'm GOOD at this in my sleep! I'm overqualified! My CV scares people with the shiny. People BEG me to do this. (Okay, ask nicely, and with lots of flattery)

So, excitedly, I offer to do a part of it. Because it would help the Jindo Dog community.

Nothing. Nada. Not a "no, thanks," no brush-off. Just a snub. A nothing complete drop of pleasantries ignore. Because, obviously, I am a scam.

Yes. Moral of the Day: Don't offer to help out of the blue because you think a good cause needs help. You'll get suspected as a weird scam artist (I figure), and they'll diss you. Why shouldn't they? I just liked Jindo dogs. I think they're misunderstood, and misrepresented outside the country, and I wanted to do something. Looking back, I guess I was naive.

And I have to remember, whatever good I want to do when I feel an Outburst of Generous, stuff it. Just shut up and donate.

And remember Kirk Cameron. When you think you're at the top of your field, prematurely, arrogantly, (Hello, Tiger Beat!) and look around for more "MEANINGFUL" work to fill your life, you botch your fledgling talents and end up doing weird Christian movies (Left Behind, anyone?).

Dogs Run From Me in Terror

... or how I visited an animal shelter and scared the shit out of a poor rescue.

I called the dierenasiel and visited today. The people there were very kind and friendly.
Their concern was that Inu (the temporary name for the boy) was more comfortable with dogs, and would feel at home living with other dogs for now.

As I waited, playing with a very friendly cat (Oh, my fickle heart wanted him too) , Inu was brought out.

He is a good-looking boy, very foxy. Red-gold, and with a sharp but gentle face. A bit skinny, but not malnourished in any way. Well formed with a nice coat and tail. He was quite lovely.

I had read up on all the things I should look out for in a "mill rescue." And was bracing myself.

But Inu was much more adjusted to the world, in such a short time, than I had expected. He liked the shelter workers, and already trusted them, and let them handle him and touch him. He would walk up to them and be friendly. He walked on a leash comfortably. He didn't accept food from me, but this was only the first meeting.

I was a complete stranger to him, so of course he was aloof. I think someone who has Shibas would have put him better at ease. It had been such a long time since I lived with a dog.

He was shy, but gentle. He was afraid, but he tried. He was scared of fences and doors opening.

We even went on a walk. I was surprised the shelter people let me do this, but they were very confident and positive, which may be the kind of energy he needs (in retrospect, I might have been too soft for him).

I was very clumsy, but he didn't pull away too much. Still, he was giving me a wide berth so I tried to walk as fast as he was going, so he wouldn't be in the position of "pulling away" from me constantly. He was fine with that. He looked like a little red fox burrowing in the grass. We passed a woman on a bicycle, a man on a bicycle, a woman with a large dog, a woman jogger, and a car. He was fine with all of these.

Then, I was careless (butterfingers!!!) and dropped the leash. It was one of those retractable things with two buttons, and I was fumbling with them trying to shorten it, when, I DROPPED IT.

OH MY GOD. He ran. He ran for dear life, panicked. He ran from me for about 30-50 meters. I shouldn't have RUN after him. This frightened him more.

I was standing there in the middle of a road that was rolling over with mist, thinking, "CRAP. What am I going to do? I lost the shelter dog. What if he runs away? What if there's A CAR coming around the bend??!!"

[insert mini-heartattack here]

But then I stopped, and walked slowly, talking to him, and he stood still, looking over his shoulder at me, with the barest bit of whites in his eyes. TERRIFIED. But he didn't run. Finally, I was 1 meter within his circle, and I stepped on the leash.

In all this time, he never showed his teeth or try to bite or growl. He has the sweetest temper. Scared, but very gentle. As I reached him after our chase, he was out of breath, and also breathing hard from stress, I think, but I risked putting my arms around him when a car passed by so he wouldn't bolt.

He was heaving, and anxious to get away from me ('I can't get rid of this giant fright!'), so I ended up jogging to match his pace, so he wouldn't be fighting me all the way, hoping he could work off the anxiety.

I was worried my clumsiness gave him the more frightening day. But yes, that was another white hair, just a few days after my birthday.

M and I will visit again on Friday to see if he 1) remembers me 2) and doesn't remember how I messed up and 3) see if M gets along with him and 4) isn't allergic (the second biggest concern).


The worst of it was, how frightened he was of me, and how he ran away for dear life. Poor sweetie. But I had to realize again, how inept I am with dogs. And how, I'm afraid I won't be brave enough to give this boy a good home, where his constantly fleeing from me won't be a nail in my heart every day. I just don't know.

Try Shelters, then try again

After months of reading up, and contacting people, and collecting loads of information, and most of all, getting excited about rescuing a shelter dog -- because you should seriously consider that option first -- we were herded toward the other route of finding a family with puppies.

After getting to know the ropes, when I let it known that M. is allergic to "certain" animals and we're trying to be careful, sadly we got kicked around a bit. People are people, even good-hearted animal rescues, and we've gotten harangued and told off for even "daring to offer a dog a home" in our circumstances.

Visiting a shelter became a non-option. We tried. The allergy bomb from fifty+ cats and dogs, their fur and dander combined was instant, and pretty painful.

Worse is when you've fallen for the dog after several visits. My sweet Iggy Pudd. He was a mill rescue, and I felt the shelter wanted to keep him safe with them forever. (we got denied several times, but because they cared)

The shelter insisted he needed another happy dog at home before they would consider it. He's a Shiba Inu, and I figured the breed's independence and need for human-bonding over time would work, but the shelter thought not.

NaNo WriMo 2008

FINISHED!

The first draft is DONE. More than churned out, more like hewed out, and best described as PUMMELED out of me, eight hours a day on the few good days, and more 12-15 hour days than others. I do this full time. With a husband solicitously feeding me, and doing the groceries, and getting hassles out of my way.

The people who did it with jobs (or two) and children? My hats and socks are off to them.

Editing, re-writing, adding additional scenes will all come in December and January, but for now, the story is done, with THE END.

Hee!

Less than 5 days left...

of NaNoWriMo.

Unlike some people, this never got easier for me, just less impossible. I'm surprised daily that I can push myself to keep writing, and going over the standard 1000words/day I had set up before (and this had been on the good days, pre NaNo).

But as I'm winding things up -- or gearing the plot toward the smackdown -- I'm caught up in:

1) OMG stagefright!!! (I'm finally writing the scene I've been heading for all these weeks. MONTHS)

and

2) OW. MY BACK. I've got gargoyle back, from all the elbow-up typing.

*wants it to be Dec/1 now*

Pictures, people!

I love labels, of the best kind:

Ari Versluis and Ellie Uyttenbroek's Exactitudes

Strange things...

... I've been wondering if my recent malaise, the ups and downs of blue funk that pulls me under, is not completely writing-related, and might have something to do with age.

And children. (is that why we want a dog so badly right now?)

I've never wanted kids. After years of thinking it over (and as my husband notes, "you bring it up every day"), since I was a kid myself, there wasn't ever a time when I wanted that baby, the way I wanted love and a relationship, graduate school, figuring out life, writing a book. It might be the case where if we do end up with a baby, we'll love it and fall in love with it, but we're not actively longing for one in the abstract.

I just don't see a child in our lives. Luckily, the husband is on the same page. We love our niece (and nephew), but I'd like to keep them the primary kids in my life right now.

Yet, I love reading mommy-blogs. The warm and cozy feeling I get there makes them my new secret lurker fandom. I love reading about their taking their kids to day care, and what they fed them, and their kid-conversations, and frustrating bits.

They bring up the oddest things, stuff I couldn't imagine (is it a good thing we can't remember too much about our babyhoods?). Today: kids bite each other.

How bizarre, and um... kind of scary and cute. In a kind of brutal way, I guess they're more like puppies than I thought.

Obama!!!

It's not even my country, but after we turned off CNN at 3am and went to bed, the first thing I did this morning was check the news. HEEEEEE! (sounds so juvenile a squeal at such a serious thing, but, hey)

:D :D :D :D :D

I have to say, it made me all teary eyed. I was steeling myself for the usual jaded disappointment.

Man, why couldn't they have had someone like THAT all the years I was in grad school. For us, sad ol' fogeys, the first thing that happened after we settled into the PhD program back when, was watch, jaws rolling around on the floor, as Bush won over Gore (whom we thought was a sure thing back then. Brief return to the shock and disgust of 2000). Imagine a room full of radical to mildly liberal international grad students, all going, "No, he didn't just *win* did he? Is this a bad joke? Is it over yet?"

But back to today, YAY. :D :D :D

M. had mailed in his overseas ballot more than a week ago, so it wasn't so much voting, as waiting for everyone else to vote. He was so careful about not jinxing it that he wouldn't talk openly about Obama winning. (See? I didn't hurt it any!)

:D :D :D So it's a pretty darn good day.

NaNo WriMo 2008

For the first time, I'm doing NaNo. That's 50,000 words in the month of November. Writing's not all about word count, but word count is something that gets you started.

Two years ago, when I was starting out, 2500 words a day (fiction) was not big deal. Easy. Then I got more and more careful, until my internal editor nitpicked at every single word as soon as it was laid down. This time last year, 500 words a day drained me. I was terrified of writing. It took quite a while to recover from that.

The bean-counting aspect of NaNo requires 1667 words/day to add up to the final 50K, but the best part is that THEY (not the wishy-washy being I like to call my inner editor/self-motivator) tell you to keep going, and not stop to micro edit what you will end up convincing yourself is a crappy draft. Above all, no throwing it all away after the first week.

So, whatever I end up with I'll have a good chunk to work with at the end of the month. First day: not bad at all: 1800+



([ETA] I realized on the second day, that this widget updates with the most recent number, as the days go by, and won't be a reliable day-by-day record for a blog.)

[ETA2] The hard part is not going back to tweak the bits that are now plaguing my mind. Written fast, what seemed to resonate on some emotional level seems all over-wrought, now. Which is why I am going to sit on my hand for the rest of the evening and NOT TOUCH THE WRITING.

And also, SHALL LEAVE IT ALONE TOMORROW, TOO.

Quotes to get me through

In my seventh year of grad school, when I was trying desperately to finish my dissertation and defend before the summer, I had this typed out and posted on my monitor, under the cartoon of the elephant pushing the bunny in a wheelbarrow, which had been the illustration on our Thank you notes after the wedding. Both of them cheered me up, even on those "writing even one sentence is good enough" days. So, it turned into my favorite quote.

From Anton Chekhov's "Lady with the Pet Dog":


"And it seemed as though in a little while a solution would be found, and a new and splendid life would begin; and it was clear to both of them that they still had a long long way before them, and that the most complicated and difficult part was only just beginning."

First Post! Secret Sunshine (2007, 이창동)

At the Film Museum, Amsterdam Oct-8-2008, (Spoken: Korean, Subtitles: Dutch)

Adapted from the short story, "벌레 이야기" (1985) by 이청준

We hesitated a lot before seeing this film. Or at least I did, because of the subject matter: widow with son moves to small town, where son is abducted and murdered, and she is then drawn into company of Christian evangelicals, while (not) dealing with her grief. Very Lars von Trier, and I look forward to LvT as much as a shotgun to the head.

So, Secret Sunshine: yes, very fine acting, very subtle, wry and ironic observations (plus, if you get the broad dialect 경상도 사투리 that some characters use, as opposed to the false, faux-sweet sounding Seoul speak of Shinae, the female lead, that breaks down when she does) Dark humor, if you catch how old-fashioned and hokey the pop music used in the film is (80s, 거짓말이야, 그저 바라만 보고 있지), stuff that makes you burst out laughing at its horrible moments, with its deliberately "classic" kitcsh tunes.

But 3/4 through the film, I kept wondering: can a film be so relentlessly dark and futile, only briefly letting up (with gentle ridicule), and is there a smart way out of this horrible life mess, that doesn't insult our intelligence? And is this the question we're meant to ask: what can you do, if your kid is kidnapped and murdered. Must the story present a solution? Maybe it can't.

Love/Romance? While presenting a gentle "deep down nice guy" in 송강호's character, the film doesn't take this solution. Too predictable, too easy, too insulting, so false. Nope.

Revenge? Well, this isn't a go after the killer, make them pay, then realize the futility of violence, sort of film.

Faith? Religion as a way out is questioned, though not the sincerity of blind (fumbling) faith itself. The Christians, the awful services, prayer meetings, songs, are ridiculed for the crass exterior, but not their belief.

Forgiveness? For me, the best part of this film was when Shinae went to see the murderer in prison, to "forgive him," only to hear that he had found God first, and felt he was granted God's forgiveness already, and how this hits her as a horrible betrayal. How dare God forgive him, when she didn't first.

No solutions, no resolution, no moment of (artificial) epiphany. Just moving on, and life as usual, because, it seems, the grief you carry does not go away by pushing it through a narrative of resolution.

So, the sequence of uncomfortable questions that the viewer might have after the film have already been anticipated and answered within the course of it, without giving you any satisfaction. But without that satisfaction, as with experience, from merely annoying to traumatic, without the narrative of closure (itself a conscious decision that keeps escaping the confines of resolution), it's going to keep rattling inside us, as this film does, while we try to move on. And descend further and further downwards.

Odd how a film that had me weeping in horror and sympathy during the 2/4 to 3/4, is at once so detached and clinical, so emotional in subject matter and so intellectually distanced in portraying it, somehow paradoxically restrained. It makes me feel a little stupid for craving that easily-granted moment of film epiphany.

Not one of my favorite films, but definitely worth watching, and muling over.