Antsy.

The most noticeable change from being a World of Warcraft shut-in who never saw the outside, slept during normal hours, or lived a regular life is a particular antsiness that I now feel on a regular basis.

When it is still sunny out and I am inside on my computer, I feel guilty and scared, as if I know I should be doing something else. I assume its from a year of repressed guilt when I spent hours of sunlight and perfect time wasted sitting in front of a computer screen in a tiny bedroom with the blinds closed, concealed in a tiny, pixelated world. There were days that I appreciated the beauty of the graphics of different zones, the colors of the ground or the changes in the weather, all inside of an imaginary world that can be reduced to 0s and 1s. All while a real world of weather, seasons, and colors was beckoning me to join it, but I shunned it. Just now, I went outside to put my laundry in the machine, which is in the outdoor closet. It was lovely; summer evenings always remind me of childhood frolicking. I have had a long day at work, and will have a tiring day tomorrow. I know that resting isn't abnormal in these circumstances, but I still can't shake the feeling that I'm wasting myself.

I also can't sleep in past 9:30 anymore. Again, this is leftover guilt from days of going to bed past sunrise and waking up after sunset (usually during the winter months of shortened days.) I don't like staying up past 2, and if I do, I'm still up by 9:30, even if it takes copious amounts of caffeine and headaches to make it until an acceptable bedtime. I never used to like sleeping in past 11; it made me feel like I was wasting the day. The morning is such a beautiful time when the world is new. The sunlight feels fresher and crisper, and everything is wet and green. By evening, the sun feels sweeter and more familiar and the world is golden. Both are wonderful, and I'd prefer appreciate both. Somehow, the calming evening can't be appreciated without the fresh morning. If I'm not, I'd better have a decent excuse for being awake in the middle of the night, like helping my mother on the paper route (which is still another blog to come.) Being awake at 3 in the morning helping Mom throw papers to the rest of the world has a silent depth to it. The whole world is asleep, but we are awake with purpose and meaning, outside in a slow, quiet world. It's relaxing and unsettling all at once.

The only time of day that I don't like is the afternoon. It's too bright and hot. The sun seems frustrated, like a tyrant trying to peer into the lives and souls of all of us. The afternoon is the one time of day that I'm okay with hiding myself away from the glaring view of the overly bright, baked world.

This blog has taken an unexpected turn. My inability to write along a single train of thought is probably why my papers never scored very well in school.

Pets.

When I was little, and I mean back before memories have any substance and most things I recall are from frequent re-tellings rather than the original experience, I wanted a pet. Many kids want a pet. Girls usually want cats and occasionally ponies, and boys want dogs or something like that. Anyways, my family decided that we would get a dog. I was absolutely terrified of any dogs. The sight of one sent me into frequent hysterics. I had also recently been bitten by a cat and wasn't too fond of them either. I was a rather jumpy kid.

My parents decided not to bring me to the dog search until they had narrowed the contestants down to a few finalists. The summer after first grade, when I was six, they brought me to the pound to see this little, white, fluffy thing. I was terrified of him, but figured I might as well live with him as much as any other dog. We were fairly certain we wanted this guy, but on our way out of the pound, Dustin saw a puppy who was black and brown, mostly resembling a beagle, and adorable in every way. Rex became our new family dog.

On the way home, we had him in the back of the van in a pet carrier. Dustin, Trish and I were gathered around the cage peering at him thoughtfully. The dog let out a half-bark half-whimper noise. I jumped backwards and burst into tears, screaming, "He barked at me!" The next few weeks were no different--I commonly had to jump on the nearest table, counter, or other accessible furniture to escape the reach of this tiny, friendly little puppy. Thankfully, Dad finally convinced me that, even if he did bite me for fun, his teeth in no way hurt. And I was never again afraid of Rex.

Rex used to sleep on Dustin's bed every night. As Dustin got older and bigger, he would tell us stories of how Rex would lie spread out from the head to the foot of Dustin's bed, and Dustin would cram himself between Rex and the wall. We also laughed at Rex the time he ran into the sliding glass door after Mom had cleaned it. It was less funny when I repeated the act a few weeks later. Dustin and I, as kids, also tried to teach Rex to sit. He actually did learn to sit, but it's the only trick he ever learned, and only when you hold up a piece of food he wants.

Once he got bitten by a snake, and we thought he wouldn't make it. The vet said that we could pay a couple thousand for an anti-venom or give him some Benedryl and water and hope he lasted the night. We didn't have a few thousand dollars lying around, so we went with the latter and decided to see how he fared. Dad told us the next morning how he had gone to check on Rex in the middle of the night and Rex looked terrible. Dad thought we had lost him for a minute, but he was just sleeping and in pain. To be nice, Dad went to the fridge to bring Rex a piece of bologna. It took a few seconds to open the package, but he took a piece and shut the fridge door--only to see Rex standing there expectantly. Not even snakes could keep that dog from food.

Rex was diagnosed with bone cancer earlier today, and my parents made the choice to put him down. He was in pain, and there was nothing that could be done to help him. He was 15 years old. It's going to be strange; we moved into that house 17 years ago, and got Rex two years after that. The majority of the time I spent there, Rex was there. He was the first pet I ever had, and certainly the only one that I've ever loved so much.

I'm going to miss him.