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I have quite a few pets. Fish, guinea pig, cats (2) and a medium, hairy beast that makes noise like a wookie, otherwise known as a dog.

That being said, we also live in an apartment that happens to have a fenced in yard, that allows us to put our dear animal into the back for making of the Ginger Tea and Cakes (her name is Ginger). That said, she also enjoys going for walks. She gets to sniff at the turkeys and squirrels, bark at other dogs, and get a different sort of exercise that she doesn't get running around in the back yard. One of the disadvantages about going for walks is that you have to pick up the post production Ginger Cakes.

I don't mind this. As an animal owner, I realize that there are certain responsibilities that I must embrace. Ginger is the only animal that does not evacuate in the apartment. As my dog, I am in charge of poop managment. I cringe when I find that there is a hole in the bag that I am using to retreive the poop. I find it disconcerting when the contents of the bag are warmer than ambient temperatures. I get embarassed when I must pick poop off of someone's lawn when the owner of said lawn is watching.

There is one thing that I can't stand: People who don't pick up after their dogs.

When G-love and I go for a walk, I have to take several bags. One for the poop that my dog is going to produce, one for the German Shepard that poops on my front walk, and one for any stray poops that I find. I don't enjoy this.

Why do I even bother?

The man that owns the aging German Shepard doesn't even care that his dog is defacating. I have, on several occasions offered him a bag to clean up after his dog. He looks at me like I am nuts. However, I feel that it is probably him that makes my dog walking a horrible experience at least once a week. I am getting yelled at because of his dog's poop.

One of the normal routes that Ginger and I take is along a tree lined street where half of the homes have dogs, and is very picturesque, especially in fall. There is one home that I will not pass. This house contains a very persnickety old lady that will yell at you across the street if she is on the porch. She starts yelling at the top of her lungs to "Keep that dog off my property, because it poops on my grass." I have tried explaining to this lady that not only does this dog not poop on her grass, if it should, I have the bags to pick up after it, and I don't walk on her side of the street. She doesn't care.

For a while, I thought that she was just mistaking my dog for someone else's dog that does poop on her grass. Then I watched a very interesting encounter: There is some woman who walks five dogs down this street. Her dogs (2 dalmations, 2 huskys, and a low to the ground mutt) are well behaved, and she manages to pick up after them without everything going wrong. I saw this lady walk down the right hand side of the street, and then walk down the center of the street on the way back (it isn't a very busy street). The old lady starts screaming for the dog-lady to get off her property with her dogs. This makes me believe that the old lady is insane.

I have this feeling that it is this German Shepard that is ruining the neighborhood for the rest of the dog owners.

No one likes to step in dog poop. No one likes to pick it up. No one likes to get yelled at for things that aren't their fault. You wanted a dog, get over it and pick up the poop.

I'm at Sam Wilson's house. Sam is the guitarist of a power rock/grunge/funk/latin/samba trio known as Help me Nancey. I play the drums, and a guy named Scott Stahl plays bass. We have been a "band" for about a year now. We do all original stuff. The sound is similar to that of The Smashing Pumpkins, but a little bit more... ummm... whatever.

Today we are working on a tune called "Superglued". It is a very kick ass song. I will post a link to the soundfile somewhere on the Everything2 Forum. Anyways we are working on getting this song tightend up a bit. Our bass player is a tinch out of time. But it still rocks so I really do not mind.

Here are some of the lyrics for the song. I really do not even know them all.

Can they say, we can't be friends?
It's like the years have passed over...
But I do not mind.
Kept it inside.
All those times I tried
Not defined.... to you.

I think thats how the first verse goes.

You are my consistency. My habit.

The one I turn to at once for any comfort, the one who I want to hold me in his arms. The touch that I recall when I think of being held.

I wonder, is that enough to be everything? Can we be grounded in this security that you hold for me? I don't doubt that I love you, but I do wonder how.

Can I turn away from you without immediately wanting to come back? Am I perhaps bored by routine, and need to be reminded? But, in that case, is it really worth it, if I need some event every few months to assure me that my love is real? Have I really moved on, but am just holding on to the safety, the love, the memories you represent?

I could be happy with you, I think. But I could also make you miserable, and whether the snatches of perfect happiness will be worth the protracted sadness is questionable.

Could I be happier with someone else? Or even alone? Could I even just date without entering into a relationship immediately? Do I need that love and comfort?

Would I just turn back to you for it regardless? I think I might. Would that be fair. No. Horribly unfair.

Could you be happier with someone else? Yes, but only if you could bring yourself to think so. You deserve someone who will love you the way that you love me, not someone who constantly throws love into question and banders about your feelings. Whom you believe respects you, if it comes down to that. Who, at least, acts as though she does.

I feel as though I am sorely lacking, perhaps particularly in comparable devotion. I feel as though I am not ready to be as committed as you are, as if the very thought of it terrifies me. Not that you are certain that we should be married, or anything of the sort, but the sort of long-range forecast that I thought I could handle but really can't.

I'm terrified of commitment. Or commitment of anything past this point. Of having been together for over a year, of imagining us together in the future and thinking of everything we might miss in between. Watching myself grind your personal dreams under my over-ambitious heel. Not that I don't imagine a world of good as well. It's just easier to fixate on all the bad. And, perhaps, more likely given my general self-importance. It isn't, and wouldn't be, fair to ask you to place yourself after me. But that is just what I'm doing, isn't it? And I'm not going to change. I don't want to change.

Not that this all comes to anything. It's just there, telling you how I feel.

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