arnoldcam
And why not?
Observations on anything that catches my interest... usually pop culture and the antics of my friends.
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I had a dream
I don’t dream a lot. When I do they’re usually just landscapes or quick interchanges. Last night was a fun one... almost cinematic.
The dream starts in a desolate town. The place is cold and dark and there’s no one around. My dog is here and I ask him “Why did you bring me here?” with no expectation of an answer. I somehow realize that we are as far west as you can go. I don’t think the west part is important so much as it means we’re at the end.
But my dog is old and tired... and I start feeding him chicken and he falls asleep in my lap. A replay of his last hour at the vet’s. Before this goes any further, I’m flying over the ocean . Not flying really, just my mind watching the miles of sea pass.
The flight stops and I’m over a brightly lit lagoon. There are dinosaurs here swimming in the water. No hunting, no fighting... just enjoying the sun and the water. I come to understand this is where all the dinosaurs have gone.
Next I’m in a green field. Trees all around, wind blowing through waving, sun lit grass. I can hear birds though I don’t see any. From the grass my dog is here. Or at least, a two year old version of him. His coat is shiny and clean. His muscles firm and powerful. He comes over and head butts me in the chest, panting his dog laughter. I squeeze him and he wags his tail ferociously.
With that he sprints off, (sprints!), and tears through the grass, exhilarating in his speed and agility. He turns to look at me as if to see if I’m still watching then runs off.
With that the field, my dog, and the whole place fade as I slowly wake. And I know somewhere, in some time, my dog is happy.
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It’s Just a Dog
It’s Just a Dog....
That’s what some people will tell you. Others will say “They don’t really have feelings and thoughts… that’s just you anthropomorphizing them” Maybe. I’ll try and make a different case.
When I decided to get a puppy, there were 12 puppies in the pen. Six were asleep, piled on each other and snoring as puppies do. The others were roughhousing, barking at nothing, or running in circles. One puppy, in the corner, walked over to where I was standing sat down, looked up at me and started wagging his tail. “This one,” I said.
He was six or seven weeks at the time and you can’t take them home until they’re eight weeks. So I waited and eventually came back with a crate, a towel, and a stuffed duck. He howled in the back seat out of fear and loneliness and sadness at leaving his mom. I told myself he’d never have reason to howl again and he never did.
As a puppy he was not bigger than a kitchen tile and had that puppy flexibility. He was always happy as long as I was near. In fact, I’d set him in the back of the car when I’d take him driving. And given enough time, he’d squish in between the seat and the driver side door and wiggle his way to the front so he could be with me. I’d have to pull over and fish him out from between my feet, the accelerator and the brake.
He lived with me in my condo in Pasadena where we shared a two story condo for nine years. He got a doggie door so he could go outside when he wanted. Prior to that he’d sit at the sliding glass door and stare at the handle. After a while he’d turn his head and look at me as if to say “Are you not seeing this?” and out he’d go.
As puppies, Labradors will chew anything and everything until they’re 18 months old at which point they just stop. In that 18 months he munched on numerous shoes, stripped the front of my couch (my nephew watched all this, powerless and in horror, over a webcam), peeled all the bark off the tree, decimated a cable remote, and chewed through a live electrical cable for the jacuzzi. Luckily he (and I) survived all this.
Later as he grew to over 70 pounds, he still thought he was small. He’d climb onto the laps of unsuspecting friends to nap.
He continued wanting to be near. He’d sleep on the couch with his head on the arm rest, staring at the door until I came home from work. As night fell and got closer to me coming home, he’d lay closer to the door. I learned to open the door slowly so I didn’t bonk him on the head or, more often, to move the 85 pound doorstop behind it.
If you’re still sticking with me here, I’ll ask... do you remember the stuffed duck? He had it all this time. It was slightly worse for wear from being dragged around and gnawed on and being washed but it was still hanging in there. One day while working, I heard a rip. I turned and the dog was as surprised as I was that the duck had finally come open. Instincts kicked in and he methodically pulled all the stuffing out like a wolf eviscerating prey. Then he found the squeaker. Luckily he recognized it was not for eating. But it WAS for squeaking. Which went on for way longer than I had patience for and ended with the familiar drop what’s in your mouth struggle all dog owners know. After that he had his share of expensive toys, activity toys, and puzzle feeder toys… nothing interested him like a good stuffed animal. So that’s what we did. After a while I never spent more than $2 on a toy because it was only a matter of time before the stuffing went flying and the squeaker was found.
Then there’s the blue bone. THAT’s the favorite. It’s a treat toy that get stuffed with a special flavored chewy treat. It’d go missing sometimes because he’d take it outside and I wouldn’t think to look there and he’d be sad while looking for it for days in the house. It always got found. Eventually. I could be watching a really intense episode of one of my favorite shows and I’d see his eyes light up and he’d leave the room. Minutes later he’d come back with the blue bone and deposit in my lap. Not now, I’d say. And he’d pant, make the dog version of a smile and wag his otter tail. Pause. Here you go.
I moved to my house three years ago. I liked to joke that I bought a house because the dog was having a rough time going upstairs. Although that wasn’t true, it did cross my mind and oh what a difference for him. For nine years, outside meant a 6x12 bricked patio. Here his trips outside would include walking the perimeter, looking at the sky, and smelling his beloved jasmine. Every trip outside started with a smell at the planter.
But no matter what you do, dogs get old. A walk on the hard wood floor becomes a hazard. Poor guy would stop at the edge of the carpet and shift back and forth on his feet, forehead furrowed in concentration as he stared at the floor. I would move the carpet for him and he’d happily walk over but if I’m not around, he’d run the gap after he steeled his nerves. Sometimes his back leg would slip while running. And his back end would be sideways while his front end would be paddling to get to the carpet. Quite the difference from the bouncy, prancing, running, sprinting vision I have of him in my head. Later the hips would fail him as he tried to hold his position while going to the bathroom, so he tried to go less times. This made him not want to eat.
Even still, after work, I’d stay close so he wouldn’t have to walk far. At times like these he’d move over and put his jaw on my arm and look into my eyes. After a minute or two he’d reposition his head with a little more intention… like “are you not getting what I’m saying”. But I can’t fix old age, puppy.
We had his physical scheduled, so I thought this would be the time to assess what to do with him next. So I walked him to the car, picked him up, sat him on the seat, and made our way to vet. I pulled him out of the car and set him on the asphalt. Put on his collar and leash. Walked him inside. We made it halfway. Then I could see the back left hip and foot struggling. Typical for him, he struggled to keep going because he thought that’s I wanted. We made it to three quarters of the way in and he collapsed and lay down. “Are you ok?” “pant pant face-lick”.
I checked him in and got a call from the vet an hour later. She wanted to discuss options. The rest is a blur… me crying all the way to work…. Getting what I needed to done… crying all the way home… meeting the vet at 5.
They allowed me to come early to spend some time with him. I knew he hadn’t eaten all day so I brought a bowl of chopped chicken breast. I gave him bite after bite, each returned with happy pants and dog smiles. Sometimes interrupted with deep pants and dog coughs.
A bunch of stuff happened that’s just for me and him.
And now it’s just me here, all his toys, and his planter of jasmine.
But it’s just a dog. Right?
(I hope the answer you got from reading all this is no… he was so much more)
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No time for chit chat
I am not a fan of chit chat. I'll usually deflect the rote conversational dances we're supposed to engage in with people we'll never see again.
The other day though.... I'm driving through Del Taco (which is always a great way to just get your stuff, pay and leave) and the teenager working the window says "Isn't it a beautiful day today?"
I look up from my phone and he's not looking at me. He's looking outside. "I mean really... this is a beautiful day." I kind of smile to myself because I don't know what else to do. Here's a random person, not asking "how are ya?" or "how ya doin'?!" but really asking me a question.
Of course, I was trying to listen to the end of the really entertaining story about a man, a homeless girl and a dog on NPR so I say, "You know what? it really is" and I flash a genuine smile.
Having satisfied his attempt to be friendly, I turn my attention back to the radio. "You know.... my sister doesn't want to go outside today. She's sitting inside reading a book." OK. Radio gets turned off. "She doesn't know what she's missing obviously." See. I can do this too.
"Read outside, I told her. You see... we don't own a television. All of us are book readers." Now normally, I'm annoyed that some stranger is telling me personal information.... I'm a big believer in non-over-sharing. And double hyphened words. But I was actually intrigued. What kind of prairie family doesn't have a TV?
But then my tacos were ready and I had to leave. But the next time someone asks me "Isn't it a beautiful day out?", I'm going to pay attention.
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Can a city have a voice?
That's an interesting question, isn't it? I mean... who speaks for a city? Who establishes the tone for the city? You could say the people of the city, but they really speak to the character of the city. You could say the mayor, but someone like me couldn't even name the mayor of my town.
My answer may surprise you. I say it's the twitter account.
I've been on Twitter a while... I'm on tweet #6148! And it wasn't until the last year or so that I started hashtagging my city of Pasadena. Something like "Starting the day with some cardio in #pasadena". I checked my account after my workout and lo and behold... and @pasadenagov said "Have a good workout!" Imagine that. My city wished me a good workout. Must be an autoresponder, I quickly surmised. Some time later, I hiked up one of the local trails and took a panorama picture of the San Gabriel Valley in the morning light (If you get a chance to hike up to Henninger Flats, I highly recommend it.) At my end of hike Starbucks trip, I checked my Twitter account and saw my picture had been retweeted with a "great pic!" type of comment.
Not all my Pasadena tweets got responses. I started following the @PasadenaGov twitter account. There were event announcements, and insider pictures sent from behind the scenes, and lots of small town feeling tweets. Tweets like Big Cat Show this weekend. Since I liked my city's twitter account so much I had to respond. "You don't usually see a show of all big cats". That one got no response but I can kind of see why in hind sight. :)
If you ever read the city twitter's page you'd see lots of interactions like I had with my city's engaging account. With lots of "Love my city's twitter!" And deservedly so.
In effect, a city found its voice. Friendly. Personal. Involved. Interesting. Getting you access to things you'd normally never see.
I wish I could tell you it's like that today. After reading a few weeks of reading tweets I wrote back and said "What happened to the person who was tweeting this account?" You see, the voice had changed. Gone silent really. What was an engaging, must follow account became a source of retweets from other accounts. The death knell was this tweet: Contributed Tweets for @PasadenaGov are delivered by @RoundTeam http://roundteam.co So the city sold out their voice to a corporation.
This is such a typical thing now a days that it shouldn't really even elicit a response. But not this time. I took to my tumblr because I was a little sad. My city's twitter made this large busy city seem like a friendly small town. But now that voice has gone quiet. Or at least brought to you by roundteam.co
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Finally got around to putting my pictures into a video. Only 11 years later!
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This kid is famous for making YouTube videos and is confessing his latest difficulty.... insecurity. Which actually made for a really interesting video... his emotional openness is something I'm not familiar with nor find easy to do myself, which is why I'm fascinated that in order to overcome his insecurity about making new videos, he made a video about insecurity.
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Game of Thrones cover- Lindsey Stirling & Peter Hollens [x]
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Wow. I'm sure wedding photographers have something to say about this. The pictures ARE pretty cool though.
An Instagram Wedding
In mid-August, Instagrammers @kimathomas and @colerise photographed a wedding at San Francisco City Hall with just iPhones and Instagram. The couple — @jonathanbuckley and @blynnsfbay’s — met and fell in love in SF, and they wanted a wedding day full of the things that make The City so wonderful, including a number of local start up influences. (Betabrand provided the bride’s dress; Uber supplied the transportation).
Altogether, Kim and Cole took over 550 photos of the event, and edited them all in Instagram, the majority with the Rise filter, a few with Amaro, and 2-3 with Hudson and Valencia. Kim carried an iPhone 4s, a backup iPhone 4, a charger, an SLR Mount and a 50mm f1.4, a Glif Plus and an Olloclip. To see more photos of the event, check out Kim’s blog and her Instagram photos.
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Might be the most amazing apple pie I've seen in a while. Too bad it's in Amsterdam.
[detail cam]
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The firewood display at the front of the store is all stocked up. I don't think they're going to sell a lot. #fail (Taken with Instagram)
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Infectious pop fun :)
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fun.’s “Some Nights” A Cappella by Peter Hollens
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