Pages

Showing posts with label Rufus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rufus. Show all posts

December 26, 2009

Days for Dreaming

Last night was the second in a row that was full of oddly vivid dreams. I'm still trying to figure out what, if anything, they mean.

Dream 1:

I walked into Spanish class, late, per usual. Gretchen was already there. There were laptops from the cows on all of the desks, and Tom sat behind me in Rae's desk, which I find strange, since I'd never noticed that he was in our class. I shrugged it off and logged into facebook on my laptop (which should have tipped me off that this was a dream, but, alas, it did not). I went to Tom's page, because I couldn't figure out why he had spontaneously showed up in my Spanish class. I started flipping through his profile pictures, and for some reason, I had the ability to change which photo was his profile picture, so I did. Then Gretchen started coughing violently and gesturing towards Tom, who could see over my shoulder at my screen and had turned bright red. I turned around to apologize, and his eyes got all huge and he looked the way he did in fifth grade that time he told my my braces looked nice, which is really the only old memory I have of him. The bell rang and Gretchen and I left class. I was still flipping out about what Tom thought of me.

I went up to physics on the third floor. The only faces I can remember are those of Tybalt, Genevieve (British, not in my physics class or any A.P. English) and Leda (in my gov class, used to be going to counties with Sergio but now has a boyfriend). Right before class ended, Tybalt kissed Leda and then confessed to having a massive crush on Genevieve.

We left class, and Tybalt, Gretchen and I were suddenly walking out of the cafeteria into the music wing. We all realized that we were going to miss our buses. Tybalt and Gretchen took off, speed demons that they are, and I tried to keep up, but these large crowds of Players and Orphenians, fully costumed, kept getting in my way. By the time I reached the orchestra room, Tybalt was long gone, and Gretchen had emerged out of the farther door and taken off running. By the time I reached the front entrance, I was the only one there, and the buses were gone.

End Dream 1.

Dream 2 is weirder. Much, much weirder. I promise you, it is nowhere near as inappropriate as the beginning makes it sound.

Dream 2:

Harry and I were both doing pit orchestra for Little Shop of Horrors, and for some reason still unknown to me, this entailed him staying in my room. I woke up in the morning and he was in the other bed and I started flipping out because I thought that I'd forgotten and gone to sleep naked for some reason. I stood up out of bed, panicked, but discovered that I was wearing cute green pj pants and a blue tank. However, the tank was kind of see through, so I decided I needed a different one. A newer, brighter blue tank top with conveniently built in bra was located on the foot of my bed, where I had presumably dumped it at some earlier time. After I took off the first tank top to swap, I looked into the TV on wheels like they had at the middle school that had been set up where my keyboard usually lives. I could say Harry reflected in it, standing behind me, frozen in place and staring at my reflection in the TV. He had slept in the same clothes that he always wears, a white t-shirt and somewhat too-short cargo pants. He decided that if I was changing, he should to, and by the time I had my arms lined up in the second tank, he'd swapped from a plain white t-shirt to one with these blueish glowing peacock feathers on it.

As I was putting on the second tank top, it turned into a dress and I got stuck, the entire skirt of the dress facing upside down around my head like a pathetically limp dog cone. I attempted to maneuver myself into it, but was unsuccessful. "Harry? Could you, uh, help?" I asked.

"Yeah, sure," he said, and pulled the tank down over my arms and torso. He didn't let go of my wrists. I looked up at him, confused, and his eyes had gone all brownish greenish, and they were swirling in a weirdly hypnotic manner. He said something unintelligible, containing the phrases "can't let go," "God," "Jesus," and something about loving arm muscles, which is absurd, because I hardly even have arm muscles. He started to back away, still clinging to me, and I followed him, entranced. He stopped after a step and leaned forward, closer and closer. When we were about two inches apart, I leaned forward and kissed him, a sloppy sort of first kiss in which all that happens are squished noses and lips pressed together, and for some reason I could feel the imprint of my braces on the inside of my lips, which is absurd, since I haven't had braces in years. I pulled back after an instant, and his eyes had turned pale blue and he looked like he was about to pass out. "Was that nice?" he asked.

"I don't know yet," I answered, and the entire dream shifted. Harry was gone, but I was still standing in my room, and I knew, somehow, that he would be back, and that I just had to kiss him again and we'd get further than that stupid clashing of metal on teeth. I opened the door and walked down the hall to the basement. There was a window that doesn't actually exist, and through it I could see Corbin Bleu's hair as he walked through the jungle that had sprung up behind my house. I had an abrupt fear that the Harry here had turned into Zac Efron, and I was very worried. I decided that I'd have to wait and see and I walked down the stairs. Sparky (Aqua's dog) and Rufus came running up the stairs as I descended. Purdy (she advised Becky to temporarily break up with her boyfriend to show him what was important) was down there. I asked her what I should do about Harry, she said she'd get back to me later, since she had an appointment.

Elaine (Julie's friend who is fond of lolita dresses) came down with a girl who was about ten years old; I assumed the girl was her daughter. The daughter and I tried to play chess, but none of the pieces were actual pieces, so I decided to transfigure them and pulled out my wand to do so. I tapped each in turn, but the bishops stubbornly refused to do anything, and the pawns remained little pieces of trash.

I woke up in a cold sweat, the only thought in my head that I had to find Harry.

November 5, 2009

A long, relatively boring day

Rufus is in awful condition, again. It makes me nauseous just to look at him, so I'm not eating enough because he's in the kitchen, and he's sick, which is sad, and the whole thing is pretty much just a steaming pile of awful.

I ought to write something meaningful here. I ought to be able to come up with something worth reading. However, all I can really manage is a whimper of emotional and physical pain.

Woe is me.

August 25, 2009

The Best Day of my Life

Recorded in my 8th grade composition notebook.

The best day of my life was not all that exciting. It wasn't even unusual. to be honest, it wasn't even that great. I got my dog. I love him very much, but still, the event just isn't very exciting. It was when I was 5, around October. I was at home, looking forward to a day of playing Laura's Happy Adventures on the hulking, ugly computer that was, at the time, new. However, my dad had a different idea.
"Today, we're going to go look at pool tables," he informed my sisters and I.
"But Daddy," I complained, "I don't wanna. Pool tables are boring."
"Trust me, you'll have fun." So we loaded up the car and set out. The drive was long in five year old time, nearly 2 episodes of Barney (an hour). I spent the entire time explaining to my dad that that there was absolutely no way that pool tables could be "fun." When we got there, my Mom gasped.
"Ooh! Look!" she told us, clearly excited. "Golden retrievers. The pool table guy must breed goldens too. We should ask about getting one."
Dad began to laugh.
"SURPRISE!" He said. "We're getting a dog." We rushed out of the car, pool table forgotten, to look at the puppies. The breeder brought out the dogs, one after the other, for Mom to look at. None of the dogs had names, so my sisters and I called them by what they looked like. One dog in particular looked like he had forgotten to wipe his butt. We christened him "Poopy-butt," creative children that we were. Poopy-butt was very cute. He was big, and very fluffy. However, he didn't get as much cuddling as the other dogs. When he came near me, I would run away shrieking, "ew! gross!"
For Mom, however, Poopy-butt's cuteness won out. When he came to our house two weeks later, he was much cleaner. We didn't even recognize him. It wasn't until two months later that I discovered that Rufus and Poopy-butt where one and the same.

August 17, 2009

All About Me

This is a powerpoint presentation I made in 4th grade.

1. My Family
-My dad is an architect. He loves to ski.
-My Mom takes care of my sisters and I.
-Genie is my sister who is in second grade.
-Shelby is my sister who is in kindergarten.
-Rufus is a friendly three year old dog.
-Flossie is a shy and sweet six year old dog.

2. My Favorite Special Is Art
-I enjoy painting.
-I like making things out of clay.
-It's not too tiring.

3. My favorite animals are dogs.
-I have 2
-They are really fun
-They are comforting

4. My Hobbies
-Skiing
-Reading
-Bike Riding
-Tubing
-Using the Computer

5. My favorite Book is Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
-I like fantasy a lot
-It really gets into the characters personalities
-It has a lot of funny bits

6. My Favorite Sport is Softball
-It's Fun
-I don't do too much running
-I can practice with my dad

7. Thank you for watching my show!
I hope you enjoyed it.

July 20, 2009

Desperation

hullos

without the s

and with an e

instead of a u

9:09pmCaleb

hey

9:09pmTea

i can't type

at all

9:10pmCaleb

i can see that

9:10pmTea

you are the most sporadic conversationalist ever, by the way

you start writing everyday for like, a week

and then stop

and I forget about you, again

and now you're online

and I'm like

"DUDE! he totally stopped talking to me! wtf?"

except

like

in my head

9:11pmCaleb

well i only write when i have something to say

9:11pmTea

that's probably a good method

I lack that skill

I kind of just write

and write

and write

9:11pmCaleb

i can see that

9:11pmTea

similarly to how I talk and talk and talk

well, most of the time

not all the time

and I don't know where this sentence is going

of course, it's really an incomplete sentence

and

I'll just, um, shut up now

9:12pmCaleb

that's nice

go on AIM if you want to rant to me

9:12pmTea

hmmm

okay


I'm not even sure I have anything to rant about

to be honest

caleb: that's nice


tea:how was ur day?


caleb: boring

tea: ohmy dog is kind of dying and the blood is grossing me out so I've been hiding in my room

and I barely do anything


celeb:...ur dog is KINDA dying?


tea: just, like, procrastinate patent work

well

last time it happened

he went into remission

maybe he will again

maybe he won't


caleb: cancer?


tea: he was given a month to live a year aho

ago

and yes, nasal cancer

it's awful

bloody nose, everywhere!


caleb:that totally sucks


tea: yeah

that just about sums it up

caleb: how old is ur dog?


tea: 9

or 10

I'm not sure

which is pretty old

for his breed

but

it's still sad

we've had him since he was a puppy


caleb: yea it is


tea: but to be honest, I'm not THAT sad

shouldn't I be crying or something?

like, I know that I should be sad

so I kind of am

but I'm also kind of like

AAAAAHHHHH BLOOODDDD

so then I feel bad

and gahhh

I'm sorry for making you read this

although

for all I know

you aren't actually reading

just like, half paying attention


caleb: i am totally reading


tea: and oh

I appreciate it


caleb: np


tea: haha

how's your science thing going?


caleb: boringly


tea: aww

por que?

aka why?


caleb: because i sit in an office


tea: ooooh

offices


caleb: and take a water sample once an hour


tea: sounds.....exciting


caleb: for like 8 hours straight


tea: what do you do the rest of the time?

just sit there?

I see how that could get rather repetitive

it may even be worse than gardening

which is what my mom makes me do every now and again


caleb:lol


tea: okay

I think I'm ranted out, at this point

thank you


caleb: that's nice


tea: is that your catchphase?


caleb: i think u need some friends

...like some REAL friends


tea: ass

I have real friends

but one's in ny

and one's in ny

for a different reason

and another has a broken computer


caleb: oic

there's no need to be so defensive

i was jokin

joking


tea: I get defensive easily

I think it's a symptom of horribly geeky middle school years

which you don't need to hear about


caleb: thank goodness


tea: and, actually, I think I'll call my friend with the broken computer

so, farewell


caleb: bye


-------end of conversation---------


Is it wrong for me to start conversations with him for the sole purpose of being able to write blog posts about it, because absolutely nothing of note is happening in my own life, so I feel the need to try to dredge something of interest from the lives of others? I don't know.



July 19, 2009

Rufus

Rufus's nose is bleeding.
Rufus's head is twitching.
Rufus is sad.
Rufus might be dying.
Tea is also sad.

May 19, 2009

Sweet Dreams

This one is a swashbuckling adventure starring Mario and Tea. It was, to say the least, extremely exciting.

So, my family and I were on vacation at this gorgeous hotel in northern New England. It was a standard Victorian style, fairly old, but in perfect repair. I was walking in the back with my Dad my dog, around a pond and some trees, when poor Rufus (I don't really think puppies need code names) was hit in the head with a football, producing a big purple bruise on his nose. Dad, overprotective parent that he is, started yelling at whomever had thrown it that Rufus had a tumor in his nose, and the football was going to cause serious problems, blah blah blah, which seemed utterly ridiculous to me, but nevertheless Dad picked up Rufus and took him inside.
Then, Mario came running over, apologizing profusely. I, suave woman that I am, took a step towards him and tripped, catching myself on his arm. Taking my clumsiness as distress over my horribly injured dog, he attempted to comfort me. I believe my thought process at the time was that I didn't need the comfort, but if I could cling to his arm for a while longer, I certainly wasn't going to complain.
So, Mario and I walked back into the house and headed towards my room. On the way, we passed my mother and aunt, who were feverishly discussing something in the kitchen. They told us that people had been stealing stuff, so to hide our valuables. I went up the stairs to my room, and Mario took off to some other floor, where his was presumably located. There, I stashed my money under my mattress and tried to think of somewhere to put my guitar. I took it out to the hallway, still searching, and saw Steven, Amelia's friend who had done Castles in the Sand with us on Saturday.
"Steven!" I said. "You need to hide my guitar!"
"Okay, whatever," he replied, his typical response.
Then, I went looking for Mario again, but couldn't find him until I heard some loud noises outside the window.
There was scaffolding running up the side of the house, and on it, Mario was fighting, swords and all, with Smee from Captain Hook.
Then my alarm went off and I woke up.
Interpretations, please?