Curiouser and Curiouser

After three and a half years, today was my last day at PetS*.

I'm reflecting on this here as my exhausted dog sleeps in my lap after being groomed this morning. I wonder a little if she would have been less of a tool about trimming her feet if she knew that today was her last day there. She likes going in with me in the mornings.

Anyway, I've learned more things there than I could ever count. Basic retail skills, like working a register and assembling a planogram, and more specialized skills, like the correct husbandry for dozens of species of critters in our care.

One of my favorite jobs I'd had was making sure all the chinchillas got to take a dust bath. Best. Morning. Duty. Ever.

I formalized my dog training style, and met hundreds of students and their dogs. I felt like I got to make a difference in a lot of lives, and educate a lot of well-meaning-but-confused people along with their equally well-meaning-but-confused dogs. And met some of the best and worst dogs you'll ever see.

I also learned a lot about dealing with customers and, perhaps more importantly, managers.

But as much as I'm grateful for all that, I think the wistfulness and mourning isn't really for the job itself (and again, I don't think I'd be the person I am today without it!) but rather the period in my life it represented.

When I first started working there, I had just made the Big Decision that I didn't want to be a chemist anymore, and accepted the fact that forcing myself through WPI was making me miserable and was the main source of depression. I was caught up in a whirlwind of "Now what?" and becoming a trainer was like the directional arrow pointing "this way." So that's where I went.

I was pretty much transformed. I went from a terrible struggle to pull myself up in the morning to being chipper at 6am, when I had to leave for my shift. I became motivated for something, which had long been lacking in my life. I suppose, looking back, that I had sorely missed that kind of drive.

Of course, there were times when I hated working there. Sometimes it was horrible students. Other times it was frustration at the conglomo-mind-borg structure of corporate retail. Sometimes it was just angst. And I had plenty of that, too - I was in an unproductive rut, my relationship with elenuial was at its most volatile, and my self-esteem was pretty low. Sometimes the thought of spending my break playing with baby chinchillas (or teaching a class full of enthusiastic four-month-old-puppies who were sponges) was what kept me sane.

And so began the Moping Rut phase, where I questioned my future, my abilities, my relationship, and pretty much anything I had stock in. I stopped doing anything creative, elenuial got frustrated with me constantly, and I gave up on my attempts to find a school to go back to and stick to it. And more negativity. And more nosedives. And more labels, like "failure" and "dropout" and all sorts of other lovely things.

This lasted forever. Seriously. The lows stayed low for years. And I began to associate my job with what I perceived as a waste of a life and sat and stewed for a long, long time.

Then, about a year ago, things went on an upswing. I realized (through my little brother, ironically enough) that I had done the right thing by leaving WPI. He told me that even though I was miserable, I looked happier than I ever had at WPI. And he used me as a measure as well, saying that he wants to be like me - someone happy and successful despite not having a degree rather than someone who got a degree and hates their field. It was thanks to that smack in the face that I realized that he was right - how many people got to do something they loved, change people's lives, face challenges that keep them busy, roll around with puppies, and get paid for it?

I started doing creative things again. Jewelry. Photography. I cut back on other commitments. I put down a deposit on an unborn puppy that I had budgeted for, planned for, and dreamed about for (my whole life! but, realistically:) two years. I started taking better care of myself and really socializing again.

And, seeing the change and my newfound identity based on confidence and self-respect, elenuial said he wanted to marry me.

I got the dog. I went to cons. I said "yes" to things that Mopey Haz in a Corner would never have agreed to. More stuff happened. I agreed to move to Japan. I got married. There were lows, sure, but overall it's been a steady crawl out of the ditch I'd willingly buried myself in.

While my personal life has been great, work has been stressful over the last six months. We had three groomers quit, a waitlist 30 miles long, broken equipment, and no end in sight. I felt bad giving my notice, despite it being months in advance. Still, I did what I could to help by things like picking up extra hours, blocking off time to fix what I could, and taking on a lot of cleaning duties so that stylists could accept more dogs. I was told time and again how, without me, the salon would've been screwed. Which made me worry more about what would happen when I left.

And as of today, we have three new groomers, two new bathers, and a host of new fixtures out back, all resolved within the span of two weeks. Things are looking bright, and morale is hugely improved. It was like the universe saying "...aaand this is okay now. Cool, you can go."

So I left without any real fuss (although the cake from Coldstone was nice!), just saying goodbye to the managers and the other employees I'd known longest. I left a note for those not on staff today ("Thanks for the last few years PS TRY NOT TO GET BITTEN OK"), did some re-stocking of Elsa treats, grabbed my keys, and walked out the door.

And this just adds to the feeling like something is about to start, or has already started to move. Big Life Things. And leaving this job just pulls everything into perspective. I'm not who I was three and a half years ago - with short black hair and a bleak vision of the future.

I've accepted that that I might not finish my degree (though I still intend to), and that getting one for the sake of getting one will not guarantee my happiness.

I've accepted that I am responsible for my own happiness, and that nothing will be handed to me. A lot of things come with some form of a fight if they're really worth it. Like elenuial.

I've even accepted the fact that I might be a tiny bit blonde.

So, 3:10 today marked the end of an era for me as I punched out for the last time. I might do something tonight to celebrate. But for now, I'll let the dog I raised from a baby sleep, edit some phenomenal photos of my idiot friends dressed as supervillains, and marvel at how awesome my life has miraculously become.

Tuesday: DO ALL THE THINGS.
Get up ass-early. Bring Elsa to vet.
Go to work. WORK NONSTOP and get all of the big things from the last month finished.
Win at talking to insurance companies.
Win at talking to clients.
Win at efficient urine screens.
Win at eating lunch quickly.
Win at staying on the toner ball the WHOLE DAY.
Leave work ~4ish, pick up Elsa at the vet.
MOMENT OF ELSA WIN:
Elsa meets screaming baby in carseat. Never seen a baby before. Mother asks if I'd show her Elsa to see if she'd cheer up. As soon as the baby lays eyes on her, baby quiets and reaches for her. Elsa hops out of my arms, crawls into the carseat, sits on the baby's lap. Licks baby's face and hands, bringing gigglefits. Lets baby grab fistfuls of fur, no complaints. Baby is happy, mom is happy, I'm happy that Elsa likes babies despite never having met one before.
Drive to oil change, where I also have them put air in the tires, check the wipers, and top off the antifreeze. Elsa makes a ton of friends in the waiting room. Maintaining my car LIKE AN ADULT.
Come home, turn on Dragon Age, Zevran proposes immediately. Romance quest win!
Make dinner! Go to dance party downstairs! Hem pants! DO ALL THE THINGS

Wednesday: ...all the things?
Have mental breakdown about Better off Dead and wedding. Flop around like a moose with no bones. Do absolutely nothing for most of the day. elenuial helps me around, brings me downstairs to food, and then I sit my ass down and get things done. Do a chunk of bluesheet writing for the game. No longer despondent.

Today: ALL THE THINGS
Get up early!
Let electrician in!
Feed dog!
Clean Elsa's kennel!
Do ALL the dishes!
Tidy up bedroom, living room, kitchen!
Start packing for Arisia!
Sort out hotel stuff!
Remember to eat!
Write most of a character sheet, and stay under the word limit!

I still have things I plan on doing, like packing and laundry, but still. Pretty dramatic curves, there.

...safe and sound.



They were born last night, after four days of mama dog showing signs of labor.

Two females, one male, and all of them black and white (the one I wanted) and upright ears (the one I wanted). And with perfect papillon masks, all of them. I get second pick of the litter, and the person who has first choice definitely wants a female. I'll have my pick of gender AND a reduced price, since the price of the pups went up after I signed the contract. I'll probably end up with a female, since this pair's litters have always had females who took after their mom's intelligence and their dad's affection level.

In six weeks, after their vaccinations, I can go visit.

Time to start interviewing veterinarians.

(zo.

m.

g.)

A lot of my relationships with people are changing, where "relationships" cover everything from friendships to family to romantic love.

elenuial is shifting back into academia mode. Our relationship needs to accomodate this.
I'm getting closer to new people.
I'm learning things about people I thought I already knew well.
The dynamics in existing relationships are changing.

Those are just a few examples, and the change cam be slight to severe. It's strange, but not wholly unexpected. It puts me in a weird place, socially and emotionally and god knows how else. However, as I put it in witticaster's journal: what I do realize (after a very sad and emotionally draining set of revelations some time ago) is that stagnant relationships (whether friendship or romantic) die, and changing relationships survive. Yes, they change, but the changes are met and dealt with.

It's been happening to me in spades lately. Not good or bad, but just different.

I'm adjusting. Bear with me.

So, as Bowie has been missing for almost two weeks, I told elenuial that I'd only be able to torture myself for a few months at most before giving up utterly. At that point, I might be able to get another snake.

Prior to getting Bowie, I'd fallen in love with Vietnamese Blue Beauty ratsnakes (orthriophis taeniurus ssp) but couldn't find a breeder who'd send me pictures of the parents.

Today, in the store, I was helping a customer in the reptile department who was decorating his reptile room. He was a breeder, he said. What did he breed, I asked him. Ball pythons, he said. Morphs of those, and morphs of cornsnakes.

And Blue Beauties.

Not only that, but his female is gravid and expecting a clutch in a few weeks. Which means, should everything go according to plan, the hatchlings will be able to leave around September.

I think that this is a sign from the universe. I don't know what kind of a sign it is, but it's a big one.

Typical Intercon recap.

( Lots to read and see below the cut! )

So, that was my Intercon. I have months and months to decide whether or not to run a game next year, but I think that I've garnered myself a little GM cred this time around. =)