2014, Please Be Gentle Enough to Be Kind

Typing this entry has been like traveling through a garden maze for me. I've tried a thousand different turns, yet each of those turns either led to another turn, a pretty little fountain amidst the hazard of vegetation or a hedge wall. 

In short, I've typed quite a few beginning paragraphs and in the end, rejected each one. I felt as though I were in high school all over again attempting to pound a thesis out of bullshit and knowledge I previously learned that would never assist a day in real life (yeah thanks for that useful drill about Pythagorean theorem. I use a2+b2=c2 daily). 

It's never been a lack of material to use. Rather, it's a matter of motivation. 

I had high hopes that by the next time I would be writing this blog entry that I would be relaying information about my fantastic new job and new friends. Now, if you count constantly contracting various illnesses as a job and my fingers with sharpie faces on them as my friends...

...then I guess this entry is about my fantastic new job and new friends. 

If not...get out of my fantasy land, you're pooping on my parade.

First, we'll begin with my friends:

Starting with the pointer finger and going left to right (your left, not mine in the picture): There's Pointessa, Midelle, Rin, and Pinky. The thumb's name, a separate entity from both the fingers and being my friend, is: Fenwick.

Now you may be asking "what can fingers do? They're not people." And I must agree, fingers certainly are not people. But hear me out. They are, in fact, an extension of people, therefore just as capable of anything a human friend would be capable of (except using your bathroom or eating your food). 

They can tell me secrets:

Aside from secrets, my finger-friends are also extremely capable of telling inexplicably naughty jokes:

I can do anything with them that I could do with a normal human friend and more.

I can torture them:

No seriously...

If they were to ever plan a revolt, I could even nom on them from time to time to remind them who's boss:

The best part is they can't use me like people can because they're an extension of me. So, typically, what I want, they want. Phalange-friends are, unfortunately for them, not even able to turn me off or tune me out. 

It's like having four more brothers (five, if you count Fenwick). With girl names. And they can't ignore me, only coming back when they need or want something from me. 

They also can't treat their other friends better than me, when I've clearly done everything for them (I gave them life...with a sharpie). Because I am their only friend!  

And for that, I salute you, phalange-friends. You're the best friends I have ever known.

 (no, I do not really have to wear glasses. Frames with lenses I punched out make me feel savvy, witty and incredibly tough)

Moving away from my psychotic dribble...

For the longest time I've been applying for medical office desk jobs. 

I quit doing that as soon as my broski was involved in an accident at his work that left him with one less finger-friend than my own. Seeing as I handled that night like a brick wall...if a brick wall crumbles under the slightest notion that it's family member is in pain. 

I couldn't even listen to the gory (and not so gory) details of what he was going through without feeling the woozy dizziness that's so well associated with passing out. I could've sworn I was going to add to their patient list that night. 

For a while I wasn't even able to look at his new found nub. And while I called it squeamishness, I'm not really quite sure what it is. Or even how to explain it because once I told myself that he was okay, would be okay and wasn't hurting as bad, I was able to get a grip on my mind and stabilize the wash of feeling like I would soon pass out. Or puke.

Had it been someone else (not in my family, mind you) I have the slightest notion I would have handled it a lot better. But who knows? And because of it having made me feel like crap, I'm done wondering about it.

That same night my immune-system deficient mother (my poor Grammy!!) caught an illness from the sickies at the hospital and thus the whole family got sick. It was bad enough to where the doctor wanted to make sure the brosif and I didn't have pneumonia, so we had to get chest x-rays. Luckily, we tested negative. From then on it was a matter of taking over-the-counter medicinal substances (drugs) and waiting for the symptoms to dissipate.

Eventually they did. And then I re-contracted the same virus, just at a lesser extent than the first. 

So here I am at this moment in time, slowly clearing up from the second virus, hoping that I'm not jinxing myself by mentioning that. 

2013 was horrible in its whole essence for me and the bastard of a year just had to rub it in by going out with a bang for this family that, I'm sure, each one of us could have certainly done better without.

Now, you could go searching through my blog and find yourself asking "what was so bad about 2013?", but a lot of the "bad" for me went un-blogged. You could say it's because I'm not a fan of complaining (at least by mouth, obviously in blog-land I'm a whiner. And to my mom I wretch about everything, which makes this lie all the more obvious). The more truthful route would say I have to wield my words wisely because there is potential what is associated with a part of my negativity is able to view this.

With that, I'm left asking (begging), 2014, to please be kind. 2013 was a pony ride that left its rider dented. Not that it didn't have it's good moments. If we're judging the year as a whole, though...shoddy work, 2013.

I understand that sometimes it takes getting through the storm before you can find your way to sunshine. That's particularly why after seeing that 2013 was my storm, I can only hope 2014 will be my sunshine. 

For Finn, last year wasn't such a bad year. He tromped each mile stone like a pro as he learned all the quirks of his new, more-insane-than-most family. 

But I would still like to think that he's looking forward to this year more. Partly (mostly, mainly, only) because I loathed 2013, despite that all of its downs brought me to a better understanding of who I really am (scary, right?) and who I want to surround myself with (animals, parents, finger-friends...yeah, that's it. Introverts don't ask for much), but also because on New Years Day: Finn barked. 

And I don't mean he yelped a little. 

Frump-Stumps here flipped a switch entirely and went on crazy protection mode like I haven't seen since the first time he barked with me. 

It was similar in a lot of ways to the first case. 

My brotato had to make a last minute trip back home, only having called within the hour to say he was heading over. Needless to say, Finn wasn't expecting anyone, especially at the late hour. Usually when Broski comes home late, Finn's already in bed sleeping like a puppy (a cute puppy that sounds like a snoring monster truck). This time he was hanging out in his usual spot behind my dad's chair, chilling out and nomming on a treat. 

When the brosicle came to the door, Finn growled really low and promptly proceeded to bark his little noggin right off his shoulders. Between each bark he growled, but didn't back down. Even when Keith finally opened the door, Finn continued to growl at him like it was nobodies business (from behind the safety of dad's chair). I had to calm him down before he decided the family was safe enough to hold their own against this villainous brotato chip.

Once Keith was in the living room, Finn was back to his normal meek manners, backing down and contorting his body to vanish behind my dad and his chair. 

My dad, having been on the phone, had to spill the beans to his friend that his daughter adopted a furry, fuzzy mongrel that sounds a lot like a dog when he actually decides to speak. He was so sure that he would be able to keep Finn on the down-low since he rarely barks. 

I patted Finn on the back for showing his Gramps up and surprising him. Best way to welcome the New Year, I say.

Honestly though, Finn manages to surprise everyone of us in numerous ways. He awed my brofessor during the summer when he showed how well behaved he was outside with me while I washed cars, he wows his Grammy with how he responds to me and, well, the Gramps...everything Finn does impresses him (even stuff that drives mom mad...sneak-eating cat food or trash for instance).

Finn's full of new things I've yet to see or learn. If he's super-amazing he'll get me a job...

...if not, he's super-amazing for being able to love a strange human like me, where no other human can seem to tread (aside from the parental-units...they're contractually obligated to love me since they created this mess). 

On a smaller note, I'm dedicating this entry to a handsome fella that I, sadly, will no longer be able to squeeze.

Remember this guy?

Cooper crossed that esteemed rainbow bridge last year shortly after my last entry in October. I was unable to see him before he departed, but I sincerely wish I could have. I love and miss him.

Since he was a big part of Finn's introductory to his new life (and a huge link to my past), I wanted to dedicate a little spot of love just for him. 

R.I.P sweet Coops.