a cat's eye

How is it that cats can look so cool while they're licking their own ass? How does it feel to have no shame and still look like a million bucks at the same time? To be totally poised and majestic; to have so much attitude; to look like you own the world. To not have a care in this world. My cat is like that. I have tried to be like my cat but I don't think I've succeeded. As the Disney film 'The Aristocats' expounded, Everybody wants to be a cat/ Because a cat's the only cat who knows where it's at.

And how true. So calm and self-assured; who wouldn't want to be a cat? My cat looks at me with contempt and such haughtiness when she is satisfied. She slowly blinks and looks away as though I am the least interesting thing on Earth. My cat is telling me that she is above such things as the human condition; that whatever we do or say is not worth her time. She'd rather be indulging in something far more important -- like cleaning her fur, or scratching the sofa, or just lounging on the living room carpet.

And when she's not satisfied -- when my cat is hungry or has a tummy ache -- she mews so pleadingly that you have to give in to what she needs, or you'll feel like a heartless bastard and that guilty conscience will haunt you to the point where you won't be able to forgive yourself for ignoring her cries for help. And when her needs are fulfilled, she looks at you -- at which point you will think she is about to give an acknowledgement of thanks -- and blinks really slowly, and looks away. She doesn't even acknowledge your existence! Then you will feel totally used, until the next time she pulls at your heart strings and you give in to whatever she wishes.

Just like in the Garfield comic strip, a cat is always the center of personal attention. My cat will climb onto the desk and make herself comfortable on the keyboard. She only does this when I'm typing. When I'm engorging myself with food, my cat will inevitably make her presence known. She gives me the you-are-totally-below-me look, and stares at the food. I can see her face every time I look up from my plate.

She is telling me: "Look, who are we trying to kid? You know you want to give me a piece of that steak; I'm your cat, for God's sake! I deserve a piece of that steak, so why don't you just give it to me right now? You want me to beg? How can you treat me so cruelly--" and on and on, until I give her what she wants.

And once my cat has had her fill, she looks at me and says, "You're still here? Who are you, again? Nevermind, that's not important. Make some room so I can stretch myself on your lap, and maybe if you don't annoy me I'll grant you the privilege of scratching my neck."

And if I brush her off the keyboard or doesn't do what she says, she'll casually walk away like I'm not even there. I can almost hear her indignation. "I'll find someone else to pamper me, you pompous brat. And to think I've tolerated your presence in my house... Hmph!"

Who doesn't want to be a cat? I love my cat. Very reminiscent of having a baby sister or a girlfriend.

PLAYLIST

Beautiful Ones -- Suede

Yeah, Whatever -- Splender

Comin' Up From Behind -- Marcy Playground

You Belong To Me -- Tori Amos

God Knows -- Mando Diao

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identity crisis

I sometimes feel like I really don't know what I'm doing anymore. Hell of a rollercoaster ride, though, which is probably what makes life more exciting (I'm not even sure about that anymore, either). I should really get a job, start paying for my expenses instead of sponging off my parents. Hur-hmm. A mind is a terrible thing to waste; must catch up on my reading A.S.A.P. or I'm going to sound dumber by the next post. Maybe I already do. Toodle-y-hee-hoo.

Still having trouble sleeping, for whatever reason. No more reason. Totally mindless absurdity. It's giving me killer migraines that I feel like cleaving the right side of my brain with a surgical something (can't remember that word even) and sell it on e-bay. "Right brain hemisphere of underachiever/slacker/genius on sale, going for cheap! Delivery upon payment. Price negotiable." Nope, no reason. The pain hurts my right eyebrow, and makes my left index finger twitch. I wonder what it's trying tell me.

Somehow, not having a life is (a) expensive, (b) taking up a lot of my time, and (c) criminal. The latter part refers to downloading music like there's no tomorrow [theft] and lying to parents about expenses [fraud]. Ha ha, I am such a terrible person it's not even funny. Must remember to pay back with interest when I can. Really need to get some sleep. Life is bittersweet; better get that first million before turning thirty.

PLAYLIST

Sorry Sorry -- Rooney

Evil Ways -- Carlos Santana

In The Crossfire -- Starsailor

Street Spirit -- Radiohead

Extreme Ways -- Moby

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