Dogs I've Known: Koda

I had intended to post about a different topic today, but I decided instead to talk about my little brother Jacob's dog, named Koda.

Originally, my dad had two dogs: Sam, a German Shepherd that we raised from a puppy, and Dinah, a Golden Retriever/Labrador mix full grown dog that we inherited from some friends that were moving away. Dinah was a few years older than Sam and didn't have much time left in her, so we wanted to find another dog to help fill the void and keep Sam company, because a bored dog is a destructive dog. While weighing their options, they finally decided on getting another German Shepherd. They're good for protection and are also good with family if you raise them properly.

So, Jacob (my brother), Claudia (my stepmom), and Dad (my dad) went to talk to someone who had a litter of German Shepherd pups. Jacob picked the runt of the litter and immediately fell in love with him. And so, a new dog joined our family. Jacob named him Koda after a character from the movie Brother Bear.

One thing I have observed about dogs, the younger dog always targets the older dog and torments them to no end. I don't think it's bullying, just playing. It probably also signifies a change in leadership, because once the younger dog can best the older dog in wrestling around in the yard, it seems to become the #1 dog in the yard.

So Sam and Koda would gang up on poor old Dinah when they weren't busy wrestling each other around. Eventually, Dinah passed on, leaving just Koda and Sam, and again, Koda would worry the snot out of Sam.

One day, Koda poked around in the bushes around the house and found a kitten, which was soon adopted into the family as well. And thus, Koda became sort of the unofficial keeper of Katie the cat.

Eventually, Sam passed on and a new puppy was adopted, also named Sam, in honor of the one that came before. And it was interesting to see the roles reversed. An older Koda suffering the playful torment of a younger Sam.

While Sam would try to hog all the attention whenever people were outside, I was always a bit more partial towards Koda. I'd make sure to pet him, even if I had to go out of my way to do so, and I'd shoe away Sam if she got too aggressive. And I'd always make sure to give him a dog bone, when no one else noticed.

Koda passed away Sunday morning. He was outside playing with Sam, laid down, and just never got back up.

We've had a lot of dogs over the years, and they always leave a mark on you. I just wish they'd stay a little longer.

Working the Weekend

For the better part of the last decade, I've worked at East Carolina University in the Information Technology & Computing Services department. It is hard for me to talk about my work. Typically, when I go into details about what I do, people's eyes tend to glaze over. So I don't talk about work much.

The simplest way to describe what I do is to compare it to the job of a 911 dispatcher. Your typical IT department is broken up into various teams that specialize in different aspects of the IT field. Some work on software, some on hardware, some on programming, some on data storage, some on networking, some on telecommunication, and so on. Pretty much the same way your emergency services break down into police, fire, paramedics, etc. So when something happens and one of those systems goes down, I'm the one who identifies the problem and contacts the appropriate response team.

Since there's no way to predict exactly when a problem might arise, our area has to be manned 24/7, which means that we have staff on hand on nights, weekends, and holidays. And while we thankfully don't rotate shifts anymore, in the interest of being fair, we still rotate weekends and holidays. So, every three weeks or so, I find myself working the weekend.

I feel like the last man on Earth sometimes.

A basic weekend at work for me goes like this:

Saturday:
07:00 - Pull into parking lot 30 minutes early.
07:10 - Convince myself to get out of the car and go inside.
07:13 - Load morning backup tape.
07:15 - Enter command center.
07:16 - Get shift turnover from 3rd shift employee on duty.
07:17 - Try not to get run over by 3rd shift employee fleeing the building like it's on fire.
07:18 - Make sure help desk call agent is active.
07:19 - Boot up antiquated laptop.
07:25 - Log into antiquated laptop.
07:30 - Check email and shift report.
07:32 - Check event logs for servers.
14:50 - Perform a walkthrough of the building.
15:25 - Submit shift report.
15:30 - Wonder where 2nd shift employee is.
15:35 - 2nd shift employee arrives.
15:36 - Pass on shift turnover.
15:45 - Go home.

Sunday:
See Saturday.

A typical weekend is very quiet. When nothing breaks, and no one has a reason to call into the help desk, I find myself with about eight hours to kill. While it may seem nice to essentially get paid to do nothing all day, that's not really the case. Since I have to stay alert, I can't really do anything too distracting, which more or less eliminates games, movies, and such from the list of things to do in my down time. So that pretty much leaves reading and browsing the web.

On a particularly dull weekend,
you can reach the end of the internet by 9:30.

Of course, then there's the weekends where things don't always go smoothly. The help desk phone ringing is not necessarily a bad thing. It breaks up the monotony of what can be an extremely long, boring day. Plus, the average call is usually a simple problem that can be corrected, such as a password reset. As for the rest...

Let's go back to the 911 dispatcher analogy. Your typical caller would be someone with a serious problem. Heart attacks, gunshots, robberies, etc. Then you start getting the calls that aren't really emergencies, stuff you wouldn't dispatch a unit to respond. Nasty paper cuts, sprained ankles and the like. We get those types of calls too.

The severity of a problem determines what I can do about it, the bigger the problem, the faster the response. If the network goes down, or a critical server crashes, I have an on-call list I can use to get someone working to restore everything. If the display cable on your monitor is messed up and everything has a yellowish tint, sadly, I cannot page someone to take a look at it. Some people understand that not everything is considered an emergency. Others, not so much.

Based on a real conversation.

Those who know me can all agree that to call me a patient person would be a lie. I once yelled at a baby for crying. But when dealing with the people on the help desk phone, I do maintain a professional demeanor, no matter how hostile the person may be on the phone.

Also based on a real conversation.

And no matter how much I want them to just get to the point.

You guessed it, based on a real conversation.

Oh, and in case you were wondering about the types of people who call 911 because McDonald's was out of chicken nuggets, or because their mailbox was looking at them funny? We get those too.

*sigh*

Dreams I've Had: Dying in Dreams

I've always heard that it is impossible to die in a dream. I'm not sure if that's entirely true. Personally, I've always been curious as to what would happen if I died. Not just from a religious standpoint, discovering which, if any, philosophy is correct regarding an afterlife and our existence in the universe. But also seeing how those around me carry on in my absence. Did my life have an impact on anyone else? How are they coping with my death?

I've had some near death experiences in my dreams, possibly triggered by those thoughts.

One memorable dream involved me driving down a deserted road at night, on my way home from somewhere. Leaping from the darkness, a buck would find itself on the road in front of me, with an unavoidable accident to follow.

My first clue that it was a dream:
Everyone knows that all deer-related accidents happen while driving in reverse.

In the wreckage of my car, I'd find myself impaled by the antlers of the deer. Though difficult to see, I can tell that the deer is still alive, and that I won't have much time until it wakes from being stunned, with the inevitability of it thrashing about trying to get free. I have my old flip phone, so I can still make a call, but given the circumstances, I'll probably only have enough time to make one call before my end. Also, given my condition, I don't imagine I can manage more than calling the first person on my contact list.

For the longest time, this would have gone down in history as the most awkward phone call ever received by the Andy's restaurant on 10th street.

"Can I get a bacon cheeseburger and an ambulance?"

Thankfully, I've made more friends since then.

I would always wake up before the deer did, or at least I can't remember anything happening after fumbling with the phone, so I'm not sure if I would have died in my dream. It certainly hasn't been my only brush with death in a dream. Or encounter with a deer, for that matter.

Helpful Hint: Never approach a northbound deer from the south.

Welcome to My World

It has never been easy for me to express myself.

When I was young, I didn't really talk. In fact, I've been told that the first few years of my life were mostly in silence. My twin sister would do most of the talking for me.

Of course, she was using me to get the things she wanted.

Eventually, I found my own voice. I still didn't talk much, but when I did, I made it clear what I wanted to say.

Oddly, when I was little, I called my Grandma "Mom" and my Mom "Patti"

I've never really outgrown this mindset. I don't talk much. When you're socially awkward, you don't get many opportunities to do so. I find it difficult to talk to people that I don't know, and even with most people that I do know, I rarely delve into anything personal. I can ramble on about a movie I saw, or some news item that might be worth discussing, but I don't really talk about me, my thoughts, or my feelings.

I realize that it can come across as kind of cold or arrogant when someone is talking to you and you don't really respond. But I am listening, trying to learn about the person who is talking to me. Once I know them, I know what subjects I can mention, what mannerisms they accept, what offends them, what they want from me in the conversation.

Even then, I don't talk a lot. It isn't disinterest, or lack of attention. I'm just trying to figure out what to say.

It can be exhausting living in my head.

I've learned a great deal about the people I spend time with, but I feel that I've never really given them the opportunity to learn about me. I do try sometimes.

Some don't want me to dwell on unpleasant things, even if I feel the need to vent.

Based on an actual conversation

Others aren't interested in listening at all.

Sadly, also based on an actual conversation

That's not to say I don't have people I feel comfortable with. I do have a friend that I feel I can talk to about anything. We just don't always get the chance.

It makes for an interesting conversation, since you never know where it will end up.

Which is why we're here. This seems like an interesting experiment. An opportunity to open the door to the inner workings of my mind, share my thoughts, vent my frustrations, and maybe share a bit about myself and my journey. And who knows, maybe I'll write something worth reading.