July 31, 2008 at 2:45 am (Life)
Tags: kitty, me, rambling
I’m getting older. Well obviously, we all are. Until they find an effective and permanent way of reversing the aging process, it’s a sad truth for the human race. The biggest difference between me and most of the rest of the world is I’m more than willing to accept it. If anything, I’m getting better with age. Really. I was one miserable and unattractive teenager (not just saying that because I had an awkward adolescence). As I’m getting older I’m learning more about myself that I had no idea about.
I like cooking. I’m pretty good at it too.
I love to belly dance.
I can now talk freely to complete strangers, and I don’t care what they think of me.
Where I thought I’d be now when I was 15 is completely different from reality. I thought I’d get a boyfriend, etch out a living somehow and just exist until I got married and had kids. No ambition. No real plans. All of that is different now. Here I am on the verge of my 21st birthday (a month and a half to go!). I’m working with a retail company I adore. I’m still single, but enjoy the independence. I plan adventures and spend my time with people I like.
So what if I never say/do anything profound? So what if I don’t pull six-figures a year with my job, and live in a swanky condo with my matching furniture? As long as I can be free to exercise my imagination, and share laughter with my friends and family I don’t think I’ll need anything else.
Well… except my kitty. Life wouldn’t be the same with out Oswald nipping at my fingers.
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July 30, 2008 at 4:23 am (Animals)
Tags: kittens, princess, sad
She had always been such a frail creature. Her round face was angelic – her tiny body was dear. She would let you lift her into your arms and hold her for a few moments. She would rest her head against your chest and listen to your heartbeat, only to protest when she got hungry or wanted to be let down again.
It was expected that she would grow up to be some dark Queen of the Night. Her dusk-like complexion would have hidden her while she prowled after hours, seeking some unfortunate little creature that had no business being out and about, away from the safety of their nest. Like her mother before her – strong, proud and deadly.
And then, when she wasn’t out and about, she would seek shelter in your arms. She would crave the affirmation that she had a place in the palace. Her seat was one of honour and was to be respected outright. When she sought your hand, you would give it to her without question or hesitation.
But it would not be. She was a little candle that dimmed and extinguished before we could really know what she was capable of.
Thank you for letting me hold you tonight as you slipped away.
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July 26, 2008 at 11:36 am (Life, other)
Tags: clueless boy, England, room mates
She’s been gone one month now. I miss her so badly. She’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister. I wish she was here to share all of those knowing glances and catch me as I roll my eyes at something from across the room. Or how I wish I was there with her, away from all of this. I wish I was exploring the world and creating memories with her.
But I’m not.
I’m here, trapped in this small space – my space… her space - invaded by the sight of them day after day. The two. They sit and mutter at each other about nothing. I know they would rather I not be here, but are too conscious of me and my sensitive nature to ask me to leave (ha!). I have equal right to exist in this space. This is why her bedroom has a door (not that her bedroom gets any use other than a co-habitated sleeping space). But again, they are conscious of me and my sensitive nature… and don’t want to isolate me and risk me feeling lonely, so they choose to sit next to me. This of course only makes things worse.
Knowing what I know, having been told what I’ve been told, this is all a lie. She’s thinking about ending it. Words from her mouth to my ear. Yet day after day she’s with him. He does favours for her. He drives her wherever she wants to go. He plays her games for her. He comes at her beck and call. She’s bored with him. He never has the initiative or creativity to excite her adventurous spirit. Bullocks. From my point of view, she’s using him. It disgusts me. I can’t stand to see them even from the corner of my eye. He’s absolutely clueless. And when she finally does go through with it, I’ll be the first one she comes to. And after it’s over, she’ll try to stay friends with him – and will succeed, because she always gives that hint of a hope that they might go back to being more. And he’ll keep doing favours for her. He’ll answer her calls when something needs fixing. He’ll arrive in his shiny car when she needs to be driven to work.
I wish so badly that I was away from here sometimes. …
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July 20, 2008 at 1:02 am (Life)
Tags: flirting, missing the point, stupid boys
How many things in my life can be summed up by that one little word? Too many, probably. But really, how would I know? Sometimes I have to stop and think “How would my life be different if I had noticed that before?” or “I wonder what I’m missing…”
I probably shouldn’t think on it too much.
But it is something I’m inflicted with. I’m usually pretty perceptive of most things, but when it comes to dealing with people and social situations I tend to miss some of the slightly important details. Take for instance: the foreign world of flirting. I’m just plain bad at it. And because I’m bad at it, I’m bad at picking up on it when it’s being directed toward me.
I don’t count shouting vulgar things and honking your horn as flirting.
I wish I lived in a Jane Austen novel.
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July 17, 2008 at 2:52 pm (Life, Silly Things)
Tags: Jane Austen, kittens, Scotland, Soy, treasure hunting
Pemberly! She’s been to Pemberly and now she’s in Scotland! Oh I’m so emerald with jealousy I could burst! I wish Kit would post more on her facebook about her trip… or at least write me another e-mail so I don’t worry that she’s died of food poisoning from a haggis, or got crushed to death by a caber (spelling?). I really miss her… She’s probably macking on many boys. Or at least thinking about it… Or thinking about the boys macking on each other. I wouldn’t be surprised if she befriended the entire homosexual community of Great Britain.
I, on the other hand, am staring at the bare living room walls around me and thinking that I miss having posters up. My giant foam skull, Humphry, is sitting by the armchair and contemplating the window. Maybe I should set him on the book shelf so he can get a better view. The very fact that he glows in the dark will amuse me as pedestrians walk by our house at night.
Note: Remember to take Flat-Jack home tonight when my mum picks me up.
- And pick up soy milk
On the plus side of my day, I get to go on a treasure hunt and gather up all my jewlery around the apartment. I think I have more than I originally thought. I’m a fuggin’ magpie. And when I get back to my parents’ place I get to play with a multitude of kitties (Kibz is tres jealous). They’re just old enough to have their eyes and ears open, but still really clumsy. This excites me.
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July 6, 2008 at 1:39 pm (Uncategorized)
Tags: annoyance, belly dance, fear, moving
The kitten has been named Lozoodaj (don’t ask if you haven’t seen the Final Fantasy VII movie) There’s so many inside jokes in my life I don’t think there’s time to explain them all.
I’m amazed at how I can keep smiling. One of my best friends is gone for several months, I’m left alone at my house most of the day, I’m bored out of my rocker, I have to work a lot (although this isn’t so bad), I only have two belly dance classes left before I move, I don’t know if I’ll be able to afford/make it to the studio in Kitchener, I still haven’t heard back from the store I’m trying to get a job at (they wouldn’t even have to train me for tuna’s sake!),
and this peanut butter tastes like feet.
The more I think about it the more I dislike this idea of moving. Really… I’ll have to get a new job, make a bunch of new friends and try to find things to do with myself that will keep me from going on a… drunken… papier-mache rampage or something.
Moving sucks.
But on the flipside to that, if I have to stay here much longer I’m going to completely flip my lid and probably start listening to country music. And start judging a guy’s worth by the size of his pickup truck…
I can’t wait to move.
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June 20, 2008 at 4:10 am (Animals, Silly Things)
Tags: kittens, strays, stuffed animals
So, I’ve determined that I am truly my father’s daughter. My father: the biker, the tennis enthusiast, the animal lover… has passed on his habit of taking pity on abandoned animals to at least one of his children.
I was walking to the bank today in the cold, unseasonal weather, enjoying the miserable overcast cloudiness and wet sidewalks. I wondered at tomorrow really being the first official day of summer. I’d hate to wear a turtleneck on such a day… But as it was, I was still cold under my multiple layers.
The streets in this city are interesting for pedestrians. While most crosswalks allow two lanes of walkers to pass at time, this particular one was designed to only allow one crossing lane at a time. Safe… but damnably slow. I’m a pretty awkward person most of the time, and this particular time I was even more self-conscious due to the wolf whistles and waves I received from a passing vehicle (and I did check to make sure there was nobody behind me). So I stared at my shoes. In doing so I caught sight of something fuzzy in the corner of my vision. There, at the foot of the lamppost, sat a life-sized gray and white plush kitten… on the cold, wet ground.
Having grown up from a very silly child with a wild imagination, I once believed that my stuffed animals had souls. A ridiculous notion. Of course I knew better than that. My heart broke at the sight of the toy.
I figured a child set it there and forgot about it, and would likely be back to look for it. So when the light changed, and I could cross the street, I did so.
On my way home from the bank, however, I came across that same lamppost. On my way home I came across the same plush kitten… So without hesitation, or worrying about the looks I was getting from people passing me by, I picked up the toy, tucked it safely inside my jacket, and brought it home with me to live on my dresser.
I’ll have to think of a clever name for the kitty. It’s been determined that it’s a boy. … we’ll have to see.
One more piece of evidence that confirms that I’m going to be a crazy cat lady if I grow up.
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