A Little Bit of Allison: Why I Adopted My Cat

Thank you to all of those who watched my v-log.

For those of you who know anything about me, you know that I have a black cat named Stickchi. Pronounced like Stick-Chee. The only person I permit to give nicknames to my cat other than myself is Erin. So, if your name isn't Erin Norma, please refrain from addressing my cat by anything but her first name.

So, we got Stickchi when we first moved here to Idaho about 8 years ago. We got her from the humane society where I chased her around the store to get her. We've been besties ever since ;).

Stickchi was my first confidant in Idaho due to the fact that my mental illness drove anyone else away at the time. Stickchi put up with my dramatic mood swings and, some nights, was the only thing catching my tears.

As the years have gone by and I've moved out and moved back, my darling cat has always remained loyal to me. Well, let's be real, she's a cat. So I've always remained loyal to her ;)

When the adoption of Adelé took place, it was clear I needed to hold on to something alive and breathing at night to comfort the pain. My giant Piglet I've had since my 6th birthday has always been a great support, but Stickchi had that extra something. She's alive.

As this year has passed, Stickchi and I have formed a bond that no other cat will be able to replace. Sometimes in the recent months I've had nightmares where Stickchi dies. Well, I've taken this to be symbolic because while I was pregnant with baby A, I always dreamt she would turn into a cat after she was born. Holly and I made jokes out of it and really enjoyed talking about cats and how much Holly hates them, just like I hate dogs. Well my friends, I've taken these dreams of Stickchi dying as a symbol of my need for baby A to be my daughter dying. My body doesn't long to hold Adelé anymore like it used to.

When discussing all of this on baby A's birthday with my boyfriend, Lucas said to me:
"I think this is Heaven;y Father's way of telling you you get to choose how to feel now."

I agree with Lucas, and the emotion I choose to feel is joy. Joy that I have Stickchi, and joy that Adelé has Dinky and Lily (their dogs). Joy that Adelé has a rockin' mom and a domesticated stay at home dad. Joy that I, Allison, have come to terms with placing baby A and taking in Stickchi.

With that, I leave you the lyrics to a song that I just recently related to my experience in the hospital with Adelé. It was Wednesday night, and placement would take place the next day. Thank you Maroon 5, I couldn't have said it better myself...yet.

Here I am waiting
I'll have to leave soon
Why am I holding on?
We knew this day would come
We knew it all along
How did it come so fast?

This is our last night but it's late
And I'm trying not to sleep
Cause I know, when I wake, I will have to slip away

And when the daylight comes I'll have to go
But tonight I'm gonna hold you so close
Cause in the daylight we'll be on our own
But tonight I need to hold you so close


Here I am staring at your perfection
In my arms, so beautiful
The sky is getting bright, the stars are burning out
Somebody slow it down

This is way too hard, cause I know
When the sun comes up, I will leave
This is my last glance that will soon be memory

And when the daylight comes I'll have to go
But tonight I'm gonna hold you so close
Cause in the daylight we'll be on our own
But tonight I need to hold you so close


I never want it to stop
Because I don't wanna start all over
Start all over
I was afraid of the dark
But now it's all that I want
All that I want, all that I want

And when the daylight comes I'll have to go
But tonight I'm gonna hold you so close
Cause in the daylight we'll be on our own
But tonight I need to hold you so close

And when the daylight comes I'll have to go
But tonight I'm gonna hold you so close
Cause in the daylight we'll be on our own
But tonight I need to hold you so close

(Lyrics provided by A-Z Lyric Universe, A-Z Lyrics)

-Allison Susanne De Arton

A Little Bit of Allison: So It's Been A Year...

Hey! I have a post coming, but I thought I would do this 6 minute video first. Sorry it's longer than I wanted it to be!! Anyway, to preface this video, please read my adoption post. After you've done that, enjoy six and a half minutes of me chit chatting away! ;) Thanks readers, you're awesome.

sorry the audio doesn't match the picture that well!

-Allison S. De Arton

Another English Paper

Hey friends!! This is the final essay I had to write for my English class. Our topic was from watching a video about food, and we had to pick anything from it and derive a paper from that. Well, I decided within the first five minutes I wanted to write a story, and my topic was going to be the following sentence:

"There are no seasons in the American super market."

Here it is :) I'm pretty proud of it.

The Orange Who Knew Too Much

Alfred was a simple man. He enjoyed his days spent in his home with his family. One of his favorite hobbies was to sit and watch people. Alfred had a lovely wife with several children. Alfred had several siblings along with his parents and grandparents. They all lived in the same vicinity, making family reunions all but necessary. Most of Alfred’s family was content with this life as well. Generations had passed with the same attitude towards life. His youngest daughter, Albany, knew she wanted something more. Alfred always reminded Albany life wasn’t very complicated because “the seasons never change in an American super market.” Albany hated that saying, as it was a motto used throughout the neighborhood. Albany knew that there was something beyond the sliding glass doors, something calling to her.

            Albany had been brought into this world several months before joining her family. One could argue she was adopted, but in this neighborhood, everyone was. There were a few immediate families that were technically biological, but during the shuffle of moving into the neighborhood, most were mixed together. Albany had undergone the usual memory erase that each of her kind go through to come to The Kingdom. It was a routine that everyone knew happened, yet they couldn’t remember why. Most everyone was content with this system. No one wanted to agitate the giants, so asking questions wasn’t an option. There were several different neighborhoods in the Kingdom. There were several different giants who ruled the Kingdom. The most important giants were indistinguishable. Alfred often referred to these giants as “humans” which meant to look your best every time they came to evaluate the neighborhood. Alfred was an older man, so he had lived through many “pickings” the “humans” would do. “Pickings” were what the giants did in order to keep the people’s allegiance. It was a reminder who was really in charge. The red knitted jails where the inmates were kept were picked more often than in the neighborhoods. The giants understood that society needed to remain safe and tax money spent well. The jails were picked more frequently because of this.

            One usual morning in Alfred’s neighborhood, Albany woke and adjusted herself to look her best. She thought about the several different things that ran her simple life. How could her life be simple? She felt as though her life was anything but simple. Everyone in her neighborhood just accepted what they were told without questioning it. When gatherings occurred, everyone looked their best just in case a human came to do a picking. None of these people thought for themselves. As Albany let her thoughts travel throughout their various destinations in her brain, she felt a small tap on her shoulder. It was Alfred. Even though he was technically Albany’s father, she would never address him as such.

            “Good morning Alfred.” Albany said in her usual cold tone. She didn’t put emotion in her words because she felt that she wasn’t allowed to feel them anyway, so what was the use.

            “Albany,” began Alfred. He was concerned, and his words were hoping to ease some of his worry for his daughter. “I know you aren’t like the others…and I know…” he was then interrupted by an angry Albany, an emotion he had yet to witness.

            “You know I’m not like the others? How on Kingdom would you know that? The most you’ve ever said to me is ‘the seasons never change in American supermarket’!” Her voice mimicked his in a demeaning way, and offended Alfred. Taken back by her sudden glimpse of emotion, Alfred took a moment to gather his thoughts. Letting his hurt feelings get the best of him, he sternly replied,

            “Yes, I know you’re not like the others because you don’t fit in this neighborhood like everyone else does. You’re different, and it’s disgustingly apparent.”

The strongest attribute Alfred contained was also his weakness. He was quick to speak, and his words always had meaning and an impact on who heard them. Albany felt as though someone had just stung her heart with an acidic knife. She wasn’t like the others, he was right. That also meant she could stand up to him and say what she was really thinking.

            “Well, if it’s disgustingly apparent, why don’t you put me in the red mesh jail? Wouldn’t your life be simpler if only someone wasn’t reminding you of the strife that haunts you at night?” Albany was proud of her condescending comeback, and was even more proud when she witnessed Alfred, defeated, turn away. Albany wasn’t expecting this morning to start in such a way, but now she had even more desire to find out the truth behind the humans, the giants, and the Kingdom. Her memory may have been erased, but she was certain she could somehow figure out a way to get to the bottom of this. The only struggle now was to not get picked. She meant what she had said to Alfred, but she couldn’t actually afford to go to the red mesh jail. She couldn’t get picked now.

            Alfred was respected in the neighborhood since he had survived so many pickings. After his confrontation with Albany, he went to his wife, Andrea, to discuss the issue at hand. Andrea was pained to hear her newest daughter had developed such hatred toward the system. Andrea believed the humans were merely a way to help the people maintain their purpose. She tried to offer her daughter examples and stories to prove her belief. Albany refused any of these explanations and decided to move from the neighborhood to the red mesh jail. She figured life in prison would be better than life in ignorance.

            As Albany joined one of the jails, she couldn’t help but feel alone. Thoughts scattered across her brain as she tried to make sense of what her life had become. The red mesh jail fell silent as they saw two humans come straight for it. Albany closed her eyes just as the picking began. She felt the jail cell she was in move and shake. Suddenly, as her red mesh jail had been chosen, a memory flooded her mind. It was the farm, a farm in California. There were pesticides and sprays that erased her memory. There were trucks and men picking her and her family from trees. Trees, the foreign beauty that she now remembered all too clearly, were now going to be removed.

Albany was so lost in her memory that she forgot she had been picked. As she suddenly revived herself, she opened her eyes to find that one of the humans had peeled her skin off and was proceeding to eat her. Albany was alright with this, because now that she remembered, that was her purpose: to feed the humans. It all made sense now. There are no seasons in the American supermarket because Albany was an orange. A tasteful, delicious orange who knew too much.

A Little Bit of Allison: A Grudge too Heavy

Hey followers, readers, random people who stumbled across my ever growing blog...it's time for another post. Now, this one is new, meaning I've just come to this conclusion. (Most of my former posts have been ones I've debated on whether or not to share for a while...) This one my friends is something enlightening that I decided I wanted to share as soon as I discovered it. (That must mean it's good, right?)

Ok, so let's get a few things out in the open to preface this story. First off, I'm a natural redhead. That should tell you something from the get go. I'm not one to usually believe in stereotyping, but let me be the first to admit that any stereotype you may have incurred concerning redheads along your lifetime is (sadly) true. I have a short temper, I shy away from the sun because I burn easily, and boy am I hard to handle at times. (How my man of interest puts up with me, I'll never know.) On the flip side, my hair is quite beautiful when the sun hits it just right. I've never dyed my hair to change its natural color, and let me tell ya, the attention I get from my hair is quite nice when I'm having a bad day. Oh, and it is also true when they say "redheads have more fun". (Being that we only make up 2% of the world's population, I must say we better have "more" fun.)

Secondly, and obviously, I am a female. I am automatically programmed to over think situations, take offense easily, and want chocolate more than any other human made. Also on the flip side, I have the right to be respected, even if I didn't "earn" it. Being a woman, I have every right to voice my opinion and prove to do things just as well (or better than... ;) ) as a man. 

So, if you put those two things together, you get this math equation:

Man         Redhead

______*________                          =X%   

Woman     Any Other Hair Color

 Answer: So, you would cross multiply and find out that any other hair color * man cancels itself out on the crazy scale. So woman * redhead= 100%.

You could also do this algebraic equation where X represents woman and Y equals the dosage of crazy:

X(redhead+ any other hair color)=Y

Answer: Woman*redhead= Redheaded Woman...which equals Y

                Woman*any other hair color= Any other hair colored woman...which also equals Y

                 Then you have Redheaded Woman (RW) + Any other hair colored Woman (AW)=Y

So this gets tricky because you have to figure out how to add the female population together to figure out the dosage of crazy, which would cause division and comparison....which is precisely what leads into my blog....

Even though that math equation may seem silly (or extremely clever, you choose), the point remains the same. The equation of comparing women to each other based on their hair color would give you an incorrect value, and a number that does not exist. Ladies, this post is for you. (Gentlemen, by all means, keep reading if you choose).

I've seen blog posts, I've seen arguments, I've heard lies, and I've told them. I've gossiped about a best friend a time or two, and I've caught them doing it right back. I've looked at girls and found something wrong with them just to improve my own selfish "self esteem" that had a foundation made purely of sand. In a mathematic world, when comparing these girls to myself, I was only creating an impossible equation of my life that even Albert Einstein* would roll his eyes at. Within the first .53 seconds of looking at this equation, I'm sure good old Albert would chuckle and say, "Oh Allison, how silly. This equation could be simplified to a basic addition problem if you only change the variables."

*Side note- I wrote my senior thesis on Albert Einstein. 

It took me almost twenty two years (yep, I'm going to be 22 in less than 3 months!) to come to this conclusion. Ladies, let's show the guys how we aren't complicated. Let's take that grudge we've been holding against each other off and simplify our life equation to a basic addition problem. Here are the variables I pick for mine (you can pick your own):

a+b=c

Let a=you and b=me, and let c=be nice. That's it!!! How simple is that?! 

I held a grudge against a girl for a very long time because, given the same situation, we chose two very different paths. I let that grudge eat at me for almost an entire year. 365 days spent wasting away while I only hurt myself. Friends, I went up to her and her friends when I saw them at a restaurant and said hello. I asked how she was doing. I asked about the situation we shared and how she was holding up with the choice she had made. And that's when it hit me. All the hurtful things I had thought about her hadn't changed her life at all. She had moved on and made best of the situation she was in. I was the one who was pained. I was the one left in the dust because I was the one who chose to feel the anger against her. Saying hello and asking how her life was was so relieving and seriously lifted the grudge. Realizing that, although we may not agree with each other's choices, she was still a beautiful daughter of God made me see that she made the best choice for her, and I made the best choice for me. I could not simply compare us because that would lead to an endless equation of guilt and hatred with no right answer.

So girls, call that "best friend" you haven't spoken to in years because she wronged you. Tell her you're sorry, or not even that. Ask her how she is doing. You don't have to be sorry, and you don't have to change how you feel. Just see how she's doing, and see if she's doing well. I promise you this, no matter the grudge you bear for her, it will make you feel better. Even if the phone call lasts but just a minute.

Thank you for reading!!

-Allison Susanne De Arton