i have a racist dog

I thought my week off would be relaxing.

So far, I'm more exhausted than when I was working.

I didn't even have a moment to write yesterday.

Furthermore, I now need to add having a few catnaps into the mix.

Remember those little pills the vet gave me for the dog bite on my hand this week?

I had some left over.

They came in hand-y ...

... i know ... so cheesy, eh ...

... as I've sprained my ankle, while trying to MANUALLY open the 'automatic' garage door.

We put up a higher wall to keep those damn dogs out of the garage, but it didn't work.

They just get up on top, emulating the goats I've always wanted.

Anyway, as I was pushing that enormous, heavy, wood garage door closed, I fell off that damn wall and sprained my ankle.

Oh, my lack of balance.  Thank you brain injury.

I tried to just tell myself I'm being a wimp about it, ignoring it, and going on with my meagre time I seem to have.

I guess that was a really bad thing to do.

It swelled up and was MORE than enraged with me.

Guess I chose the wrong day to go limping around Puerto Plata to shop with Housemaid.

We stopped to for lunch at a Chinese Dominican restaurant, and as I ate my chicken fried rice, I noticed my ankle was a little more swollen for my liking, so I took one of the pills Dr. Bob had given me.

The drive home was quite chancy.

I thought I'd fall asleep a few times, and I envied the boys in the back who were in a Chinese Dominican restaurant, fried chicken and french fry coma.

None-the-less, when I got home I passed out on the couch from taking the pill while we were out.

Then I heard it.

If you've ever had a water cooler, you'll know the sound.

That 'glug, glug, glug' it makes as you press the lever to get your coveted, cold, clean water.

Oh, I heard it, and looked over to see Pathetic Puppy pushing the lever to help herself to water.

The bowl water just isn't good enough for her.

No, she watched and learned.

I noticed that every single time I was getting myself water, she was right by my side.

Oh, but yes, she was studying.

Now she can help herself to her own cold, clean water, whenever she pleases.

No more sharing spit with those others, who are OBVIOUSLY less than her.

No, she is her own dog, and she is not like 'them'.

She will drink from the fountain of humans!

I knew she was a smart girl, because she's the one who figures out how to piss me off the most.

I never imagined she was capable to study and learn from me.

As soon as this ankle is finished with it's hissy fit, I'm going to do some special training with her.

I think she needs a little bit more than a 'sit' and 'down'.

Even though she won't do them for me.

I can read her thoughts as I ask her to do my bidding, "That's what those other Dominican dogs do!  I'm so much better than them!"

She's so racist.

Speaking of 'sit', The Thug is at least now allowing me to force him into a sit, whereas before, he would starfish and I couldn't even make him budge.

He's still attacking Pathetic Puppy, but I'm getting better at pulling him off by the neck.

Even with a sprained ankle.

i am healthy, healed, and whole

6 months

Tomorrow, we will have been here 6 months.

I knew my life would change, but I didn't know to what extent.

Who knew I could get used to microwaving my water for coffee when we've run out of gas?

This princess has never lived in the country.

I have learned to have a bath in a bowl when the electricity stops.

I have learned the importance of positivity in life when cruelty erupts from people I thought were friends, showing their true colours because they don't have to face us every day in our hometown.

My, how easy it is to lash out at someone via the internet!

I have learned that we lived like royalty in Vancouver, even though I'm grateful not to live with the cold &/or rain.

I do love the rain here, even yesterday, when it was pouring so hard that I looked like I'd taken a shower with my clothes on just running 20 feet to the car.

At least it's warm and it doesn't hurt my bitch of a back.

I have learned how to roast my own coffee, dry my own coconut, and make my own fruit juice by hand.

I've also learned that washing my clothes by hand rubs my skin raw.  I have learned there are some things I can't do.

I have witnessed how horribly government can treat their people, and every day, I ask my angels to allow everyone in the country access to healthy, clean water, health care and electricity.

Every day, I try to think of more ways I can help the village without going further into debt.

I am grateful that Papi researched the dangers and took measures to give us great deterrents for the violent thieves.

The violent thieves are not those that live with us in the village.  Well, other than The Guard who has been to jail.

The thieves come from other areas, hearing about someone who may be alone and/or have something they want.

A target, who has easy access to get into their home.

Our home is not easy access.

It doesn't mean we're exempt, as the greatest trick the thieves have is to poison the dogs and come back the next day while you're grieving to rob you.

However, scaling a wall may cause them to be seen and security cameras may cause them to be identified.

We have deterrents.

A woman in Cabrera was murdered this week.  She was stabbed and her throat slit.  Perhaps a crime of passion?  Perhaps not?

During the past week's shitstorm of nastiness, someone told me I was a bad person, assuming I have guns "... to keep out the poor."

No.  We have guns to defend ourselves from the violence that has risen 3x since our decision to be here.

Just because someone is poor, does NOT make them violent.  You hear me?

Some thieves come in a uniform, originally meant to portray, 'We're here to protect you'.

The police arrested 3 people for the murder this week, but did they take the opportunity to arrest anyone they had a grudge against?  Merely to give the facade that they have done their job?

I have learned it's possible to trust a doctor with my health here.

Mr. Lumpy is gone!  Just over 2 weeks of using his recommended vitamins and amino acids and Mr. Lumpy is 100% gone!

I wonder what chemical poisons they would have given me in Canada, so the doc would get one point closer to a golfing trip or cruise for prescribing them?

I have learned that I cannot live to please anybody, because I can't, and I'm the only one I have to please.

I have learned what culture shock means.

I have learned I am truly that strong person people have told me I am for the past few years.

I have learned the importance of love, even when it's only by way of texting, or a quick G+ chat with family.

I have learned some of the most generous people out there are those with the least to give.

Generosity has nothing to do with money.

It is honestly the spirit.

i am happy in my own skin and my own circumstances

it's simple

He is American and talented.

He sang his American national anthem.

From the stands, those who have been taught racism rang out, "BOOOOO!!" because of the colour of his skin.

Why?

Today, important once again to search for simple joy.

Puppy nibbles on toes.

His little body twists and turns with exultation for no reason other than to express his merriment for living.

A walk with Papi and the Fuzzy Family down the beach as we giggle at their antics of jumping in and amongst the waves, rolling, tumbling.

We floated around in the pool, I drinking lime water for my stomach that seems to have come into contact with some bug, from somewhere, Papi drinking soda, of course.

We taught Pathetic Puppy and Jake-a-Like how to swim and exit, so that they could save themselves if they ever fell in to the pool.

This, while The Donkey swam laps around them.

I taught children piano, watching their pride glow as they felt the strength of playing the line right.

One little soul pulled on my heart strings.

We both wore glasses.

She liked mine, I liked hers.

She helped me with my Spanish, I helped her with her staccatos.

I felt connection to her awkwardness, and the wanting so badly to be loved and have approval.

Something as effortless as encouragement in her fledgling musicianship made us both feel strong.

It gave us an acquaintance where nothing mattered for that half hour, but the lesson and sharing the music.

MusicMan gave me a great hug when he saw me yesterday.

He had gratitude for me being there, I had gratitude that he was happy to see me.

Simply joy.

He told me he spoke to the BigWigs and it looks like I'll get paid for my work in September.

I'm already being paid in my heart, but a little reimbursement for my gas will be the cherry on top.

I was tired and weak when I arrived at Dream Project.

I left energized and ready to make more of my day than I had in a few days, from feeling so weighted in my heart.

When I arrived home, The Carpenter followed me in to our driveway with an offer: if I pay for the wood, he will make seats for the children of The Garage Band no charge.

It's happening!

People are starting to help with the children.

I only took the first steps.

But now, I am seeing others follow for their support.

Soon, they'll have a place to sit as they sing.

Simple joy.

This is only the beginning.

I'm so happy for them, and yes, for me.

It means their energetic, wiggly little bodies won't be squirming all over the place.

They'll have somewhere to plant themselves to listen a little better to instructions.

Seats.

Something so uncomplicated, yet another step toward more jubilance, love and gratitude.

It's simple to find, when you focus on the good.

Joy.

i feel good doing things that improve the well being of others

be kind to one another

I remember once, I had to stop watching TV, because of what I saw.

Someone had killed a bear that was rampaging through neighbourhoods in search of food, and unfortunately, killed someone in that desperate search.

They pulled the bear up into the back of a pickup truck as if it were a sack of garbage.

I conceded.

I decided my heart was just too sensitive to deal with seeing these kinds of things.

It was good for me.  I threw away my TV and got on with life, realizing there is so much more to do than watch the bad news.

I realized that I would hear about the news if it was important enough.

Right now, things are important enough, and I'm having a hard time understanding the state of the human race.

Not to mention, automatically being clumped into the same category of supremacists because of the colour of my skin.

I read so much of what people posted about the brazen racism that is unfolding in this world in silence, as I felt I wasn't entitled to an opinion, even if I agree.

Some people were blatant about not being entitled to an opinion, when people said, "White people are not allowed to comment on this, even if they are in support."

However, even though they are excluding an entire race, we are not allowed to call it racism, discrimination, nor segregation.

It still hurts no matter what anyone calls it.

Indeed, two wrongs never make a right, but I kept reading, no matter how much it hurt to read how someone was treated for being a person of colour.

Then I googled one simple word and found more malice in antisemitism.  Don't read THIS if you are as sensitive as me.

Hatred comes in so many forms, and I realize now that people will use it in as many ways as they can.

I haven't been able to write the last few days from the pain of how people can treat one another.

Trayvoning?

Seriously?

How can people JOKE about the killing of a child?

I need to stop this roller coaster of witnessing venom in every corner.  I'm far too sensitive for this.

I need to continue with being who I am, doing what I do, knowing that I am not harming anybody with my intentions.

Rather, I am doing anything I can to uplift another person, knowing the damage others can bring by putting one another down.

I need to continue with the words of Mother Teresa, even if I'm not the religious person she is.  She is right, and spirituality comes in many fashions.

I feel, right now, that the world is on the brink of 'Divided We Fall'.

We have to come together to help each other and stop fighting.

The bad will take control if the good don't link arms in strength.

Please.  Be one of the good to help stop the hatred toward one another, no matter who we are.

We need to stay together to stay strong.

I'm taking a short break from surfing around Fecesbook for a few days.  I am far too sensitive for it.

I'll keep writing here.

I've been too afraid to voice my opinion, until this morning, when I realized that if there are people spreading hate online, I have every right to spread love.

This is not entitlement of being white.

This is entitlement of a human being.

Today's mantra from Ellen DeGeneres:

be kind to one another

i might have to bring out pissy face

I'm quickly grabbing my breakfast before the day starts, now that I don't feel like death anymore.

I was granted 2 days to rest while feeling horrid.  That means that today should be hell.  Putting things off just means more work later.

The Carpenter already told me we have to go shopping after my breakfast.

Or rather, in his words, "After coffee!"

True.  It's mostly about the coffee.

Yesterday, I was sick and wasn't moving much, and the house looked empty despite the dogs running around like the lunatics they are.

Yet, there were children SCREAMING my name outside the gate.  When they didn't get a reaction, because I was lying like a lump in bed, they even tried Papi.

"Andréa!!!!" and a two second break between trying my name again, then, "Hector!!" ad infinitum.  Then there would be quiet for 30 minutes, only to hear it all over again for 20 more minutes.

We had to hide in our bedroom, shutters closed, so dark that when my mother skyped, she asked me if it was already night time.

No mom, we're just in our prison tower, hiding.  Just call me Rapunzel.  Not short of the hair hanging out the window.  That usually gives me away too.  So the shutters were definitely locked closed.

When the time comes that I teach them choir in July, I will teach it on Saturday and drill it into their heads that Sunday, we are to have no visitors.

I'm even going to get a HUGE sheet of material and cover up the wooden slats so they can't just try to be passive aggressive about it and stare at us until we respond.

I will train them yet.

The signs didn't work, but there will be signs on Sunday anyway.

Signs.

A sheet.

Verbal instruction.

If the children don't get it by then, well, I'll have to send in the reinforcement.

Papi will have to put on his cranky pants and be angry with them enough to keep them away.

We moved here for peace and tranquility to heal from so much that has happened in our lives.

There hasn't been any for the almost 5 months we've been here.

When it comes to this problem, we would have been better off in a miserable gated community with stuck up bastards who came to this country, not to be with it's people, but just to use it.

At this point, I'd even weather out being with those snotty people who have nothing better to do than tell me how may dogs I'm allowed to have.

However, if I can train the kids that Sunday is off limits, Papi and I might have a fighting chance.

We might feel like we get to have ONE day a week where the time is just for us.

We deserve one day for fucks sakes, don't we?!?!

Or will this trigger a whole bunch of uber political in Vancouver to call me racist again.  I don't give a shit anymore.

I love these kids, regardless of their class or their colour, so everyone sitting behind their books and computers in their privacy of cushy Vancouver can fuck off before you open your mouths.

You've already ostracized me enough that you couldn't possibly do any worse, so I'm done with all of you.

The point is, I also love my alone time.

It would be the same in Canada.

I like to be alone.

I'm giving them 6 days a week at the Hector-Brown Amusement Park.

Even the locals get one day a week off.

Why not the expats too?

Are we not deserving of that?

I think we are.

They have a month to get it and then Pissy Face comes out.

i take pleasure in my own solitude

Say it isn't so.

Well, I'm back on the drama buggy.

You know how sometimes, you say things out loud and they don't come true?  You jinx it?

Well, I'm hoping that by writing this, that happens now.

I'm hoping that it's just 'nothing' and will be taken care of swiftly, because I needed to take one of Papi's clonazepam to help me stop obsessing about the tissue issue and actually sleep last night.

Sleep I did.

Then resumed thinking about it the moment I awoke.

My breasts have always been a little on the lumpy side, so I've had to get used to that when I check myself out on a regular occasion.

However, upon itching and scratching my boob a few days ago, there was something that didn't feel like my normal tissue.

Last night, I felt it again and it definitely didn't match the rest of my breast and it's nothing I've felt before.

One thing I wasn't completely honest about with my itchy boob post the other day, is that it's only the right side that's itching.

I sorta didn't want to say that out loud, when I coupled it with the fact that there is something there that doesn't feel 'normal'.

I asked Papi, "Please, can you appease my paranoia?"

When I told him what for, he felt the problem and when he touched it, it really hurt, because he wanted to get in there to make sure he was feeling what I was feeling.

He immediately started crying.

My dearest Papi went into trigger mode, from memories of having to watch his mother suffer from cancer, only to lose her in the end.

We calmed ourselves down by trying to remember that if this is a problem, they do great things now.

Great things other than just cure that damn disease.  But then the cancer industry is too big to do that.  They'd lose a lot of money if they cured it.

Anyway, off my soap box.

A lot of women have a lump and they get it removed to find that it's really nothing.

Well, yesterday, we didn't get to the hospital for my ear that isn't hearing properly, but today, we'll be going for a mammogram, no matter the cost.

We'll be accompanied by Visa, MC and Amex, our good buddies as of late.

If there is an actual problem, I'll be getting back to Canada pronto, again, regardless of the cost.

So, there.  I said it out loud.  Now it won't be true.

Right?

One of the reasons we never made it to the hospital yesterday was because our neighbours (you know?  the people everyone judges about me back home, because they're supposed to be allowed to steal from us?), called Mr. Extortion to say we were doing work in our yard.

They cut a kick back for tattling and they do everything they can to get money out of us.

No matter how hard we try to be friends, even after we see them steal our concrete and our cement blocks, steal our wood, paint, they still only want MORE money from us.

They don't want to be friends.

I told the Housemaid, who has the biggest gossip problem in the village that they are not our friends, because friends wouldn't do that.

... friends also honour their contracts ... sigh ... say goodbye to another friend back home i loved ... you've officially put a stake through my heart ...

They don't WANT friendship, they only want our money.

So fuck it, I'm done.

Judge all you need to North America's West Coast uber political.

Call me racist if you need to make yourself feel superior and try to put me down, but from this point forward, congeniality will be the name of the game, not giving.

I'll still teach their children music, because those little innocents didn't do anything wrong.  Their parents haven't taught them the best ways to steal.  Yet.

As for Mr. Extortion, I don't care HOW big his fucking gun is, I'll be telling him I know the 'rules'.  You can only take from us for a new building.  It's not new.  It's a repair of the old.

Go away.

Shoot me if you have to, but you're not stealing anything more.

I have much bigger things to worry about than your non-stop theft.

i replace my anger with compassion and understanding

the oil of oregano dance

Oil of oregano is SO good for a virus.  It'll kick that bugger right outta there.

So, when Our Favourite was complaining that he had a cold, I decided to give him some.

I'm going to make some ginger tea for him today to keep up with the immune boosting and get him healthy, but last night I just didn't have the energy, so oil of oregano it was.

I warned him and Our Fave's Mom.  I made sure they both knew it would taste horrible so they were prepared for his reaction.

I had the eye dropper all poised and said, "Ready?" with a partial giggle, knowing that this would probably be the most horrid tasting medicine he would ever experience.

Buckley's ain't got NOTHIN' on oil of oregano.

Anyway, tongue up, drops in and blammo!  There it was!!  The oil of oregano dance!

Hopping around trying to spit it out.  Arms flailing as he tried to put his shirt up to his mouth to get the excess out.  I think I even saw an evil eye glare at me!

He could try and spit that stuff out all he wanted, but once it's under your tongue, the burn just has to work it's way out.

Our Fave's Mom laughed and laughed.

We know that sometimes, the best things for us are things that hurt, leave a bad taste in our mouths, or have us learning big lessons.

I had another lesson this week.  I was called racist again.

I understand a lot more about why people of colour would hate white people.  I see it in the workers here, when I see how white people treat them.

Even though I know I'm judged, I do my best to maintain a smile with the men in our yard, as I give them water all day long to keep them hydrated while they do good for us.

One of them absolutely despised me.  He just saw me as another white asshole.

One night, he was working late and alone, and the sun was going down.  He hadn't stopped for a dinner break, and we had some delicious pasta in the fridge, and I thought he was probably hungry.  Maybe he'd want it?

My dinner was chocolate, and I don't share that with anyone.

I didn't even think he would accept my offering, and battled with whether or not I should try to feed him, because he probably wouldn't want anything from me considering how much he abhorred me.

However, I meekly went out and offered, and was so pleased he took it.

Ever since I gave him dinner, he has been nice to me.  I suppose he's just like me; the way to his heart is through his stomach.

Now, he says hello in the mornings, and he has been the biggest help with giving me gardening tips.  Every time he sees me doing something wrong, he comes over and shows me the right way.

It's the greatest gift of all to me, a city slicker, who has only kept one plant alive in my life.

That was of course, until my motorcycle accident, and Papi was in charge.  That poor plant didn't last very long, but I'm keeping things alive as I get a lot of tips now.

Anyway, I understand how people of colour would hate white people.  It just hurts that there's absolutely NOTHING I could ever do right, because I was born white and am judged not by my actions, but by the colour of my skin.

An article I read, as I was trying to learn more about how people of colour hate us, was talking about a room full of white people who were there to learn more about racism.

The woman looked out amongst the mostly white crowd and said to herself, "It's still all about you."

Why?  Those people are doing their best to try to change things by learning more, but still, they're bad for being there.

Why is completely OK to be hated and put down because of being white?

I don't intentionally do anything to harm another person, no matter what colour they are, unless of course, you're an asshole to me, then you're fair game.

Yet, I'll never be able to do anything good enough and will always be hated by some because of my colour.

Lesson learned.  Damned if you do, damned if you don't.  Just accept being hated.

Every time someone from the 'community' calls me racist on that toxic social media site I call Fecesbook, they're added to the 'mean girls' list, and are hidden so they can't see anything on my wall.

I'll just be invisible to the haters, and take away their opportunity to attack me to look cool to the other assholes in the 'community' who yes, happen to be white.

I've learned that all that matters is that I know I try my best to help people in ways I feel are good for both of us.

All that matters is Our Favourite and Our Fave's Mom trust us to be part of the DR Family, no matter what colour we are.

I'll keep on doing my best, no matter how much people try to insult me.

i value and honour myself as i am

you don't know me.

Can I tell you how much I hate thieves without being called names for it?

Any colour, age, class, gender, nationality or any other difference someone has from one another, I hate thieves.

To me, 'they' are only one step below a sexual predator.

Yet somehow, Papi and I were called racist because we referred to the thieves here as 'they'.

I'm back in fucking pronoun hell just like I was a few years ago when I struggled with my love going through the male transformation.

I'm so fucking sick of the Vancouverite, uber politically correct people and their finger pointing.

We got nothing but trouble from the 'community' in Vancouver for NOT being perfectly dishonest.  We thought we escaped it by coming here.

Well in the world of social media, 'they' just attacked us on Facebook instead.

We are supposed to keep our mouths shut about everything and anything that we don't like.

If we don't, we're called racist, transphobic, selfish, you fucking name it.

'They' stole from us, the thieves, yet we're called racist for being upset, because 'they' are of colour and from a developing country.

For fucks sakes.  The Pool Man's wife is Dominican and she's the one telling us how almost all the people will scam us here and how we've already been robbed.

Yet we're being racist by calling thieves 'they'.

I came here with so much love.

I poo-poohed anyone who said it's not a good idea give to the people here.

'They', who poo-poohed me, said, "If you give, they'll take too much and rob you."

I didn't believe it.  We wanted to give, give, give.

Give, give, give we did.

We brought gifts and every day we unpacked them we gave it to people we thought would be family.

What did we get for it?  Robbed.  I've now noticed my toiletries have dwindled in only 2 weeks of being here.

I wanted to bring my favourite treats to the people in my village when we got here as a 'hello' and 'thank you for letting me be here in your space'.

Now I won't.  Instead, I'll give my time to an organization where I can leave afterward without anyone knowing where we live.

We have a security guard in which we are overcharged for, but we keep paying it until the pool and walls are done.

Yet still, every time I go out to bring him water, juice, pop, beer, snacks he asks for more money, because he says his baby is starving, then turns around and tells me his baby is drinking lots of milk from the mother.

Sorry, but we are paying you fairly for your job.  We are not stealing from you.  We are giving.  We are not being selfish, but we are not responsible for the well being of every person we know.  We are dependent only upon ourselves.

We really can't afford to pay him, the house maid and gardener and are running out of money, but we hired people because we were told it helps the 'community'.

Yet we're called selfish because we don't want to be broke and living in a shack.

I received a settlement for my motorcycle accident, and we're selfish because we chose to give ourselves a dream life with the money.

Instead, we were basically told we deserve to be robbed because of it.

Let me tell you, if a white, Canadian asshole robs me, I hate them just as much.

Yet because we've come to another country where we're the foreigner, if we vent our feelings about things we worked hard for being stolen, we're called racists and selfish.

One person thought that because 'they' were stealing and are so broke, we should wrap up our things in a gift with a nice big bow, as to say, "Here.  You need this."

To thieves it will say, "Here.  Thank you for stealing from us.  You're welcome to take anything you like because we are just weak, stupid pushovers."

To some people, we're supposed to just take it and give them chance after chance.

I'm sorry, but there are no second chances.  I won't be fooled again.

Today, no matter what the uber politically correct say, I will not allow myself to eat in anger.  That was 2 nights in a row that I used food as a drug to soothe my emotions and both nights wound up nauseas, feeling crappy and having visits from the Anorexia Monster.

Go ahead.  Call me what you want.

I don't fucking care what you think about me and who you think I am.  You have no fucking idea.

I know in my heart I'm a good, generous person who came here with loving intentions and got fucked over for it.

i am aware of my eating habits and how they affect my moods