Tag Archives: sad

An open letter to Media Temple

Dear MediaTemple,

Today is Day 5 of server outages, latency in load times, ftp problems, time outs and 403 and 404 errors. You have been excellent with updating both the status blog with the *issues aforementioned that are affecting Cluster 4 Segment 1 which is where my blog is hosted with you and in updating my private support ticket right from the beginning. And you were very kind with that offer you DM’ed me on Twitter, however I’m reluctant to accept it as this downtime has made me feel threatened to continue hosting with you… to be honest.

I’m not a bandwidth hog nor do I even use your email services and the latter being a choice I’m glad I made as your email services seem to be most affected with these most recent outages. But what if… I needed email? I am paying for that service right?

Two days ago when I thought cluster 4 Segment 1 got the green light I began working and updated my WordPress blogging software to 2.9.1 to keep my blog secure and lost all the text based widgets from my sidebar. I’ve never had an issue with updating WordPress before and have never lost any sidebar widgets during an update until two days ago. It looks like I don’t buy handmade, have an Etsy shop or belong to 9rules with the middle one being the most important as that little art shop supports me financially and was the most clicked on image on this blog.

My hosting is set to expire with you in a couple of weeks. And sadly, I don’t know what to do because I’m not a tech person but an artist who simply enjoys creating content and sharing that content with her readers. If I can’t share I’m not happy and neither are my readers.

I’m feeling angry, sad and disillusioned about you. I’m not sure how to proceed.

Perhaps you could place my logo on the front page of mediatemple.net, alongside your coprorate clientele and show how much you appreciate my business and let your future clients see the human side of MT. You can grab my logo (which under normal circumstances is **located in my sidebar) right here within this post. How about that! And maybe you could place two other business logos chosen from the affected Cluster 4 Segment 1 and put them up there to.

You could even go so far as to begin getting to know your smaller business clientele who in reality are the backbone of your company on a monthly basis by interviewing a few of us and publishing that interview to your blog. Get to know us and help us grow and in turn you’ll grow to because we’ll need bigger services from you :)

Because at the moment we little one’s are talking on twitter and we don’t seem to be too happy.

I’m a business owner and deal with the same things you are dealing with right now. Do the right thing MT.

Thank you for reading.

sincerely,
Jessica Doyle

*issues have been occurring during the last year, however this one has gone into record breaking overtime
**please read paragraph 3

Power Pus Puss

Twelve year old Missy Two Shoes was viciously attacked last weekend. She is none to happy about losing the ability to blink her right eye after receiving a direct puncture wound to the head between her right side ear and eye.

cat-puncture-wound

The carnage ensued on the backyard deck. I heard the mishap and ran to the rescue of my kitty cat. MEOW! I clapped my hands in fright and screamed in delight when the multi-coloured striped feline assailant fled from sight! Poor Missy Two Shoes would not let me come near, content to perch wide eyed atop of the railing. Now, let me tell you this…

I phoned my Mom and Dad to see about borrowing a car and they drove down as they live but a few blocks away. I comforted Missy while Mom spoke on the phone leaving my number with the answering service for the next *on call vet to return our call. I then noticed the mountains of ghastly fluff all over the deck and sadly it was mostly poor Missy Two Shoes’ grey fur. She wasn’t blinking her right eyelid but her third eyelid sure was. I carried her inside to inspect the rest of her body.

She suffered major scratching to her belly and side and a few other minor dispersed scratches.

The vet called back shortly; saying to wash the wounds with warm soapy water and trim any fur from around it to avoid infection and to bring her in on Tuesday as it was a long weekend here in New Brunswick. I could have brought her in that night however her wounds were not life threatening and she was eating, drinking and purring albeit not quite herself.

I washed her wounds and the puncture began bleeding just, a little bit. The next day the puncture wound had scabbed over and beneath the scab a good sized boil had formed. I washed the wound again gently removing the scab to drain the puss and boy did it ooze olive green!

At the vet on Tuesday afternoon he checked her over, gave her a shot of slow release antibiotics and fed her some minuscule little white pills to aid in repairing the nerve damage above her eye. He said she looked good weighing in at 14lbs! She’s a big kitty! I always find it funny that Missy will not walk into her carrier without being tricked into it. And then at the vet when you take her out she damn well wants back in that carrier immediately.

Power Pus!

The Ball is under control - cat drawing illustration by Jessica Doyle

During the last week I’ve been cleaning that scabbed over for the second time wound all the while watching the furless bump grow into a small grape, and being unable to remove the scab to drain it without hurting her, I just left it in place until it would come off on it’s own.

Well, last night, I sat her on the kitchen table to clean the wound and lightly touched the scab and it blew off into outerspace followed by a green brownish slime landing plop on the floor. Power Pus! I cried “OMG your brains are leaking out of your head!” She sat unable to move, mesmerized likely by the stench of the goo trailing down the side of her furry face. I said “Don’t you run away!” Hoping her amazement would last another 5 seconds until I raced back to her from the sink with a damp cloth to clean her and then the floor up.

Was she ever angry as the realization set in that her brains blew out all over and down the right side of her face. I was thankful she couldn’t blink that right eye for a mere moment as goo was hanging on to her eyelashes. Then the blood came. I didn’t even squeeze or scratch it… it just oozed on it’s own. She wiggled away from me running upstairs to the bedrooms. I ran behind her hoping she’d enter my room and not one of the rental bedrooms, with another wet cloth in hand.

The Happy Ending

cat-laying-stairs

She is beginning to move her eyelid (now that pressure is gone) and the wound, albeit bald and covered in dried blood has not turned into another pustule. She’s a happy kitty!

* living in a smaller city means there is no 24 hour drop-in vet clinic

The cat illustration entitled The Ball is Under Controlwas created by me and is available in my art shop

The Ad was Stripped During the Last 48 Hours

    Sadly, the ad is not an ad.
    Sadly, I will not be able to showcase that rotating exhibit of other artists work from Gawker Artists in this blog’s sidebar.
    Sadly, the ad was displaying on my blog for a full two months!
    Sadly, someone must have reported me to WordPress.com when I finally announced my acceptance to Gawker artists two days ago.
    Sadly, WordPress.com responded back to me, “I suspect that it is being automatically stripped because we’re not keen on it – sorry about that!”
    Sadly, I will, respect WordPress.com rules.

…because I love blogging on WordPress.com.

I was in a four car pile up

…and survived along with everyone else involved including two babies. The worst injury is a bad case of whiplash.

Word of advice…

Always keep an eye out for drivers who are cutting up the shoulder of the road passing on the right of traffic going in the same direction as they are in one lane of traffic if you are turning left into that one lane of traffic while traffic is stopped at a red light and a big blue truck is letting you go through onto the street you are turning into because traffic is stopped.

I feel very sad and still shook up. The driver avoided me sideswiping the back end of my car turning into where I had turned out of while turning left and smushed into one vehicle that in turn hit the vehicle in front of it then the screaming began about babies in a car and I was numb. I went to get out… And a woman ran over to me and asked if I was OK and I replied yes. She said don’t get out. He is irate. It happened so fast. I didn’t see him. There was a big blue truck stopped at the crosswalk letting me go though. I am only two blocks away from home. This isn’t real. The lady called the police. The lady asked if I needed to call anyone. I couldn’t remember. She dialed the number for me. I left a message with my family.

I don’t chew gum… I don’t smoke… and I don’t own a cell phone to even use while I am driving. The radio is always off. All I do is drive. My brother witnessed a woman thrown from her motorbike… killed instantly at the same intersection. A friend of mine had her whole left leg crushed under the weight of a transport truck at the SAME intersection while crossing the crosswalk.

I didn’t see him. OMG. I caused that womans babies to be hurt. Oh. so much noise. Sirens. Police. Ambulances. People don’t care except for the woman standing beside me out the window. Cars are driving away before the police even get here. They don’t care. It’s rush hour and it’s mad!

The tears start.

Drivers always wave for you to go through there you know. EVERY TIME that light is red they always leave room for others to turn left into the neighborhood. It’s been that way for umpteem years. BUT as you turn left you do so v.e.r.y… cautiously as so many drivers cut up that right hand shoulder to make it past the neighborhood entrance to where the the lane widens into two. He was driving so fast. That big damn silver grey blue giant dump truck was in the way. I couldn’t see the pick-up truck coming right at me. The big blue truck left the scene.

The cop comes over. Are you ok? Yes. Can you move your vehicle? Yes. I drive into the adjacent elementary school. Why aren’t the cops taking me away. I caused the accident. I see my mom running down the road. I laugh thinking she had run the whole way here from wherever she was as I hadn’t seen the truck she drove. I can’t stop crying. So much noise. OMG… they are taking passengers away. OH… no. Dad and my brother arrive… we heard it on the news! I caused the accident by turning left.

…there is only one lane there Jessica, Dad says.

Dead.Silence.Overtakes.Me for the second time. In all the seventeen years I’ve been driving I imagined there were two lanes there and always edged out ever so cautiously because of that to make that left hand turn as I’ve almost been hit too many times to count.

It is one lane.

I got hit.

It is not my fault. I feel sad. He avoided me and turned hitting two other stopped vehicles. I try not to think about what would have happened if he had not turned.

… why do I see headlights in my right peripheral vision…
smuck.
CRASH. CRASH.
silence.
SCREAMS!

About Dry Mounting Dead Baby Feet

I have custom picture framed many things in my life. From sew mounting a 24 by 36 inch Peruvian head dress to planning small multiple opening matted family photographs with frame I take care and pride in the work I do. More than that, people trust me with their precious items.

On occasion a *custom order stands out from the rest.

A woman recently came into the frame shop in search of a solution for framing ink prints of both hands and feet of her dead grand daughter. The black prints were on cotton. There was also an accompanying drop of blood on this white cotton. I suggested heat setting the prints, before she poured the planned thick coat of varnish over top of them in her shadow box collage, to set the ink in case it ran after the application of varnish. She left the store with the tiny 6 by 6 inch cotton and returned the following day with her shadow box. She showed me what she wanted to do. I said dry mounting to foam core would heat set the ink. I measured the inside of the shadow box at 12 by 12 inches. She placed the cotton and the other baby memorabilia where she wanted them, forming her collage and I punched those measurements into the framing computer system.

She paid for the mounting, gathered her shadow box, pictures and dried flowers then left. There was this smell. A smell I was unfamiliar with that came unbidden whenever the cotton was exposed… as though life or death was holding onto and surrounding the frame shop. I sandwiched these little feet, hands and blood into cardboard, numbered the bin and thought how sorry I was for this little still born soul. With the picture of the dead baby ringing clear in my mind from a few moments earlier I worked silently.

A couple of days ago I dry-mounted this order. Upon opening the cardboard the smell loomed. I cut the foamcore to 12 by 12 inches. I turned the dry mount machine on. I carefully placed the little hands, feet and blood stain a half inch from the bottom in the center on top of the foamcore. I tacked it on one corner with the heat gun adhering it to the board, lifted the seven foot long machine cover and placed this tiny order in the center. I closed the lid. I clasped the sides. Set the machine to three minutes and 150˚ Fahrenheit and hit start. I prayed.

It was quiet in the frame shop that Tuesday evening. The calm before the Christmas storm.

Three minutes later… beep. BEEP. BEEP…
I hit stop.
Time stopped.

Another 12 seconds pass as I wait for the machine to decompress. I open the lid and lift the light green protective covers revealing these perfect little black ink prints of both hands and feet with blood stain mounted to foamcore. The smell is gone. The cotton now smooth, flat and heat set. The water in my eyes dry and I breath in life again.

Her memory will forever live on now.

RIP

*The exact details of this custom order have been changed to protect the identity of all those involved save for myself.

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You know what’s hard list

1 – Earning about a dollar more than minimum wage per hour when the Canadian dollar is worth a quizillion dollars on world markets today

2 – Tapering off Paxil without proper medical care due to inequalities in the Canadian Medicare system

3 – Having your friend / sex buddy move away to Northern Manitoba to work building ice bridges facing the danger of sour gas until late January

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I don’t know what I’m doing

I really don’t. I’m pooped. I’m tired. I’m just kind of waiting for something but I don’t even know “what” that is. Maybe I’m not waiting… maybe I’m glad I’m in limbo between mind, body and soul. Maybe this is what life is all about. Maybe there is nothing bigger or better. Maybe everything we have been taught is false and reality just doesn’t exist.

I’m not down in the dumps. I’m not down and out. I’m not happy BUT I’m not sad. I wanted to write but the words are confusing and ideas are smushing together lately.

The weather here in New Brunswick is odd for this time of year. It’ been hot for October. Leaves are remaining greener longer than normal. Normal is just an idea. An idea that someone made up to appease people into thinking they were all alike when in FACT we are different. I am different. I am NOT like you.