rescue 911

I have an incredibly overactive imagination, but the dogs waking me up at 3 AM barking incessantly was very real. The burglars, murderers, and rapists I pictured lurking outside my house were probably not. But I as I checked each window and doorway, I had 9 and 1 dialed and my finger ready to make the emergency call. I was alone in the house, the dogs never bark unless someone is at the door, and at 20 and 13 pounds, they aren't even ankle biters. I live on a busy street with a lot of pedestrian traffic, on the ground floor, with windows low to the ground and easy to kick in. Although I know that in most cases, if someone really wants to break into your house, or hurt you, they will find a way to try, and that the odds of it happening are in my favor, I am also very aware that given where I live and that I am mostly by myself and unarmed, I feel particularly vulnerable.

Two nights later, when the dogs woke me up again just after midnight, I got up with my only weapon, my phone, in hand. My heart was pounding and as I began turning on all the lights, there was a loud crash that sounded like someone took a battering ram to the house. I immedietely dialed 911 and told the dispatcher that I thought someone tried or was trying to break into my house and told her about the crash. She asked if I saw anyone, and I told her I hadn't even left my bedroom and wasn't planning to do so by myself. She assured me that an officer was on his way. Less than two minutes later, not one, but two patrol cars and three Decatur police officers were at my house. This is typical of Decatur, even if you get pulled over, its never just by one cop. I don't think they have anything better to do. They were probably crossing their fingers that they were going to get some action at my house. As the officers went through not just our backyard but my neighbors, as well, I tried to call my upstairs neighbors, who I know were home and hadn't been asleep very long (unfortunately, I can hear pretty much everything they do upstairs). No answer. The officers finished their search, no one was to be found, no signs of forced entry. I thanked the officers, assured them I wasn't crazy, just scared, and they promised me they would keep an eye out. I realized I was probably now on their "potentially crazy" list. I went back inside, and feeling more secure, did my own search inside. I opened my roommate's door, and there I found the culprit. Her wall mounted shelves, heavy with books, had crashed to the ground.

I sat on my front porch in the sticky, now very quiet, summer night smoking a cigarette, my heart rate returning to normal, feeling a little embarassed, but also feeling alone and a little helpless. I didn't have anyone to talk to, no one to breathe a sigh of relief with. When I was awakened by the dogs and the burglar bookshelf, there was no one there to ease my mind as I pictured villains outside ready to do me harm, no one to have my back as I checked windows and doors and empty rooms, where I could have detected the burglar bookshelf without bringing in the cavalry. I always assumed that in an emergency, my neighbors are close, I know them well, certainly they would answer a call for help. It's true, I was safe, but what if I hadn't been attacked by furniture?

I am comforted that now I know that even though they probably have me on their list, I live in a place where I can use my phone as a weapon because the police get there so quickly. But even if it's not a 911 emergency (I can't say it without thinking of William Shatner), sometimes it's just nice to have someone around that wants to talk late at night. The dogs are nice, but they're not so good for conversation. Well...they can be, but then you become that girl. You know, the one on the crazy list.

carly gets married

My beautiful friend Carly got married last week, and here are a few pictures from her wedding. The wedding was in Marietta, waaay OTP (outside the perimeter). I went with my friend Sharon as my date, and we were both convinced that everyone thought we were lesbians from the big city. I dared Sharon to go ask one of the bridesmaids to dance. She said she hadn't had enough to drink yet. Alas, we both had to drive 40 minutes back into the city, so despite the beer and wine provided to take the edge off a room of strangers, there were only so many cocktails we could consume. That number was not enough to get us out on the dance floor with grandma, who had the smoothest moves of anyone, hands down.

and if you threw a party, invited everyone you knew

"...you would see the biggest gift would be for me, and the card attached would say..."

I have been working with a group of wonderful people on V-Day events and they presented an amazing gift to me and my partner in crime, Katie. It was a framed poem about how they are grateful for being a part of our journey, they called us their angels. It was written in beautiful script, and they all signed the back. I am always amazed when people go out of their way to show appreciation, especially in such a thoughtful way. It is relationships that give us life, it is too easy to forget to let people know that they are important to you. These people who thanked us are busy with their own lives, I know how much they are doing and working, so I was just speechless.

P.S. Speaking of the Golden Girls, I read an article about how the girls are the original Sex and the City....Blanche = Samantha, Sophia = Carrie, Rose = Charlotte, Dorothy = Miranda.

Estelle Getty recently passed away at age 84, here is an article about her life. A quote from the article I related to, "The Golden Girls culminated a long struggle for success during which Getty worked low-paying office jobs to help support her family while she tried to make it as a stage actress. 'I knew I could be seduced by success in another field, so I'd say, ''Don't promote me, please,'' she recalled." She worked for 40 years as an actress before she got her break.

confession

I think I have detoxed from celebrity gossip. I haven't read Perez Hilton, The Superficial, or Pink is the New Blog, I haven't purchased an US Weekly and haven't really more than skimmed People magazine in the grocery aisle, nor have I watched E! News or an entire True Hollywood Story in...weeks, probably over a month.

I don't know if La-Lohan and Samantha Ronson are still lesbians together. Does Britney still have custody of the kids? I haven't a clue. I think I heard something about her buying Sean Preston cigarettes? The only thing I know is that Brad and Angelina's baby pictures sold for $14 million dollars, and this when the economy is totally busted. This further supports the theory that George Bush and the entire Republican party are most likely responsible for the rise of celebrity worship in our country. Britney and Linsday are on the GOP payroll, just to make sure no one is paying attention to any real news.

Am I having withdrawl? Not really. Side effects? I have a hard time making small talk with people, I have no useless gossip to share. Shhh...don't tell anyone. It will be our secret.

***Disclaimer: I had to go to Perez Hilton to find this picture, so I've fallen off the wagon. Just a little bit. It didn't count. I feel like an alcoholic who thinks they can have a drink now and then socially. Regardless, I read that there was a shooting at Jermaine Dupri and Diddy's (Sean Combs, whatever) party here in Atlanta last week. Seriously? Did they pay the shooter to attend the party so it would seem more gangsta? (No one was injured in the shooting, so I feel justified in this totally tacky statement.) Oh, and if you're interested, Lindsay and Samantha Ronson are still totally hitting it. The end.

ebb, flow, squats and porn stars

I have been sitting here trying to figure out something clever to write about, but honestly, life has been pretty uneventful the past few weeks. It's always that way, isn't it, where you go from having all this chaos in life and then still waters? It isn't that things aren't happening, life still is moving forward, I just think that in contrast to all the upheaval from losing my job, spending a month unemployed and terrified I would end up in a cardboard box, starting a new job, and getting ready to go to school, the past month has been remarkably smooth.

Work is going well, despite the fact that the socialites I'm working with to plan our fall fundraiser are totally out of control. Like bridezillas, only their craziness isn't confined to a single event in their lives, they are actually like that all the time. But, dealing with them is pretty much what I'm paid to do, and I find that I think one of my spiritual gifts is being gracious and diplomatic when dealing with insane people. Professionally, anyways. Maybe in my next career I could be one of those people who talks people down from ledges. Although, I bet they're probably much more sane than the socialites.

Outside of work, I'm back at boot camp and cardio funk class after an extended hiatus. I was totally terrified of seeing Kym, my trainer, again after my "exercise vacation" because I envisioned her looking at me very disapprovingly and my guilt about not being there for the past few months increasing. But she had nothing but love and smiles and hugs for me, right before she kicked my ass with jump roping up hills, boxing, and doing this insane move where you jump up on a picnic table. Who does that?

I also bought skates and have been to roller derby workshops a couple of times. My skates are awesome, but perhaps too awesome for me, as I have a hard time looking cool on them. We've been learning "skills" like the pivot turn, the T-stop, and skating in "derby position", which was explained to us as skating in a squat position "like when you are going to the bathroom at the Star Bar or MJQ and you don't want to sit on the seat." My favorite skill was the falls, I was really good at falling. Yes, there is actually skill to falling on skates and not taking a skate up your nether regions or breaking an ankle. I accidentally fell onto my skate with my ass and I thought I might not be able to have children. There is a fall called the "porn star" in which you fall face forward on to your knees and forearms, sort of ass up, hence the name "porn star". Those derby girls. No one beat me up, I didn't get any 'bows to the face or anything, but I was exceedingly sore the next day, if I got my legs crossed, I couldn't physically uncross them myself.

I start school in six weeks, and I've got my class schedule, which is very exciting. I picture myself getting ready for school like I did in sixth grade, with my new packs of college ruled paper and my number two pencils all freshly sharpened and lined up in my pencil pouch. I cannot wait to start school. I got my class schedule, and I have classes from 11 AM - 7:30 PM on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so I'll work full days on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I assume my life outside school, work, and whatever events I can freelance will disappear as of September 16.

Life is good.