Punks Kid Rock is the registered name of my American Quarter horse gelding, Rocky. This blog chronicles our adventures together,
as well as stories from my horse past and, occasionally, a tidbit from my non horse life.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

I Hate My Neighbors

I hate my neighbors.

The laundry list of shit they have done:
1. Have a party on a Tuesday night during finals week that started at midnight and went until 5 am. I know this because the party goers woke me up coming in, throughout the party, and for the hour or so they jabbered on their way out the door. I could smell the reek of pot smoke, cigarettes and alcohol from my room, as well as hear one of the party goers exclaim, "Yeah dude, he totally dropped it on the front porch!"
2. 2-3 times a week, getting home really late at night and waking me up, stomping shoes and talking.
3. One of them stole my cat. She took Bennett overnight without telling me or my boyfriend. I accidentally left the door to the laundry room we share with them open, and I assume Bennett wandered in while I was gone. I returned and she had disappeared, but one of them had come and gone in the meantime. We (my boyfriend and I) searched for her for hours, sobbed in each others' arms before trying to sleep, and got up through the night to call for her. We thought she had gotten outside somehow and was now lost, scared, and alone. The next day we got up with swollen eyes and made Lost Cat posters, put them up around town. I was sitting at my computer around 3pm the next day when I heard a scratch coming from our laundry room door. I opened it and Bennett trotted into our house with an indignant meow. I had searched that small room many times, checked it for nonexistent escape routes, and we both went through it countless times to call for her out our back door. She always comes when she is called. The only thing that makes sense is that our neighbor came into the laundry room, took our cat, and then returned her the next day. Without telling us.
4. They do laundry all the time, which makes it difficult for us to get a load in. Today we put one in, came back, and it was sitting, wet, on top of the dryer. There was nothing in the washer, just a tiny load of white towels sitting fluffed in the dryer. I am currently tempted to take them outside and stomp them into the lake of mud that is our parking pad.

Okay, so I don't hate both of my neighbors. Mostly the one who stole my cat.

Hungry for Summer

Today I finished the outline for my senior seminar paper.

My goal is to write about Equine Assisted Psychotherapy (EAP) and how it may be effective with Spanish-English bilingual clients. I wish I spoke Spanish- that's on my to-do list for someday. I took French in high school instead of Spanish for a few reasons.
1. Almost everyone else was taking Spanish
2. My last name is French, and I have French-Canadian heritage somewhere in my mixed pedigree.
Plus, French is gorgeous- like wiping your ass with silk, I believe a villain in one of the Matrix movies says. Anyway.

I finished my outline, and I am sincerely hoping it passes my Professor's inspection. Someone who was in one of her past senior seminars told me that she made them completely redo their paper. Completely redo a 25 page paper. I think I would have an aneurysm. Although, considering the way Prof P organizes her seminar, I would think that the person really had not utilized any of the resources offered. Still, a part of me panics to think it could happen to me, who procrastinates as a rule.

It has been raining for three or four days now. Which has been good in that I have not wanted to go outside and so have worked on my outline more than I may have otherwise, but I am ready for it to stop now. I am hungry for summer.

I want the jade grass in a thick blanket, the hot sun cooled by a light breeze, the sky shock blue with clots of white. I want to saddle up my horse and go for a run, or meander down a trail. Go swimming. Reeeelax. I really want to be done with school. I am not an academic; I enjoy learning most of the time but I hate essays. This I feel is ironic, considering I used to be an English major. I think that was a misguided attempt to do what I thought I was best at, reading trashy novels and writing (but never finishing) crappy stories. I found out I could still do those things but without the awful British Literature and constipating drones of essays. I also discovered how much I enjoy poking around in people's minds. My English major dropped to a minor because I was so close to finishing it anyway, and I decided to pursue the minds of the world.

I became a Psychology and Liberal Arts for the Human Services major, a horribly long title that confuses everyone. They should've just stuck with Human Services, something people can understand and that doesn't come out in a headlong rush.

I am still hungry for summer, but my horse is hungry for his dinner. He's going to be cranky since he's been standing in the rain all day long... I will rub his neck and tell him he's a good boy more than usual tonight.