WebKittyn Warbles
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Four Legs Good, Two Legs - Run the Other Way
Tonight was kind of strange.
I've been having a rough time of things lately. There are too many people in the world who are just plain and simply mean. They don't care who they hurt. They can rationalise away every bit of hurt they give to other people. They have no remorse for the hurt or the mean, they simply lack the gene in them that gives compassion, empathy, understanding or caring for others.
It's no big secret I make a pretty good target for those sorts of people. I'm an emotionalist. I hurt easy and if you get to know me even a bit it's pretty easy to push the right buttons. It's sort of like kicking a puppy, I don't see the thrill in hurting those easily hurt but it happens. And it hurts. Big deal, another wanker made me cry. Whoopee. Real tough.
Lately I've just not been doing well and it's finally beaten me down. I don't know if I want the station anymore. I don't know if I want the server anymore. I don't know if I want the MUD anymore. I don't know if I want any of it anymore. Life is too short to be this sad or to cry this much. There's only so long a person can be on the receiving end of mean and not crumble. I'm tired of 'because I can' and 'because I don't HAVE to' being valid reasons for hurting.
I was sitting on the living room floor before with Templeton, just playing with his yellow toy he's loved since he was old enough to discover cat toys. It's round and has a ball he pushes round and round that doesn't come out easily and he gets really into it.
I was feeling low, tears and all. Wondering when I became nothing more than a nuisance and a scapegoat and wondering when hurting those closest to us became a sport and I looked over at Tempy.
He was tangled up in red stretchy string from some silly stocking stuffer my mother had given me. He was on his back sort of hog-tied, all 4 legs were caught up in this string. He was trying to free himself by biting and his head was so scrunched down he looked like he was completely without neck. He looked at me with big eyes and his lower jaw dropped and out came the most pathetic sort of miaow I've heard.
It was pathetic and cute and for the very first time since Templeton came to me it was cat magick. It was soothing. For a minute or two all was alright with the world because of this little silly cat with the string around him.
It was the first time for Tempy. Claudie was always soothing, he always helped my spirit when I was down. That crazy way a familiar has of knowing when you really need it the most. Tempy got it tonight. I picked him up after I freed his legs, hugged him close and cried all over his head. He purred and made silly sounds.
No, I'm not alright. I'm sad, I'm hurt, I'm stunned, I'm broken, I'm weak. But I have a cat now who finally does the cat magick and makes it a little better.
I quit smoking. It will be nineteen days come midnight. How hard could it really be to give up the rest of it.
I can't stop the mean, I can't shake my wand and rid the world of cruel for sport but what does it say about me if I let myself eat it. If I let myself think I deserve it, if I start to believe the message that only the self is important and 'because I can / because I don't HAVE to' are valid answers?
I don't understand mean for sport, all the mean for sport people in the world please just go away. I promise not to bring my sunshine and kittens into your zones but for the love of cheese, leave me alone. Go find other targets, this one's worn down.
It's been a really bad week. Life goes and and we deal but we come out of it different. Bruised, scarred and tired.
With one hug of a grey fuzzy tilted-head cat though, things become better.
Not a Claude replacement. A new familiar. Templeton.
Back to sad. In my little corner of the world where no one has to deal with me, reading of this warble is entirely optional and I bother no one with my madness and quests for caring, compassion and a few minutes here and there.
Catland part of living room with cat tent, cat tunnel, cat scratch post, cat toy AND cat. Date stamp is a year off.
I've been having a rough time of things lately. There are too many people in the world who are just plain and simply mean. They don't care who they hurt. They can rationalise away every bit of hurt they give to other people. They have no remorse for the hurt or the mean, they simply lack the gene in them that gives compassion, empathy, understanding or caring for others.
It's no big secret I make a pretty good target for those sorts of people. I'm an emotionalist. I hurt easy and if you get to know me even a bit it's pretty easy to push the right buttons. It's sort of like kicking a puppy, I don't see the thrill in hurting those easily hurt but it happens. And it hurts. Big deal, another wanker made me cry. Whoopee. Real tough.
Lately I've just not been doing well and it's finally beaten me down. I don't know if I want the station anymore. I don't know if I want the server anymore. I don't know if I want the MUD anymore. I don't know if I want any of it anymore. Life is too short to be this sad or to cry this much. There's only so long a person can be on the receiving end of mean and not crumble. I'm tired of 'because I can' and 'because I don't HAVE to' being valid reasons for hurting.
I was sitting on the living room floor before with Templeton, just playing with his yellow toy he's loved since he was old enough to discover cat toys. It's round and has a ball he pushes round and round that doesn't come out easily and he gets really into it.
I was feeling low, tears and all. Wondering when I became nothing more than a nuisance and a scapegoat and wondering when hurting those closest to us became a sport and I looked over at Tempy.
He was tangled up in red stretchy string from some silly stocking stuffer my mother had given me. He was on his back sort of hog-tied, all 4 legs were caught up in this string. He was trying to free himself by biting and his head was so scrunched down he looked like he was completely without neck. He looked at me with big eyes and his lower jaw dropped and out came the most pathetic sort of miaow I've heard.
It was pathetic and cute and for the very first time since Templeton came to me it was cat magick. It was soothing. For a minute or two all was alright with the world because of this little silly cat with the string around him.
It was the first time for Tempy. Claudie was always soothing, he always helped my spirit when I was down. That crazy way a familiar has of knowing when you really need it the most. Tempy got it tonight. I picked him up after I freed his legs, hugged him close and cried all over his head. He purred and made silly sounds.
No, I'm not alright. I'm sad, I'm hurt, I'm stunned, I'm broken, I'm weak. But I have a cat now who finally does the cat magick and makes it a little better.
I quit smoking. It will be nineteen days come midnight. How hard could it really be to give up the rest of it.
I can't stop the mean, I can't shake my wand and rid the world of cruel for sport but what does it say about me if I let myself eat it. If I let myself think I deserve it, if I start to believe the message that only the self is important and 'because I can / because I don't HAVE to' are valid answers?
I don't understand mean for sport, all the mean for sport people in the world please just go away. I promise not to bring my sunshine and kittens into your zones but for the love of cheese, leave me alone. Go find other targets, this one's worn down.
It's been a really bad week. Life goes and and we deal but we come out of it different. Bruised, scarred and tired.
With one hug of a grey fuzzy tilted-head cat though, things become better.
Not a Claude replacement. A new familiar. Templeton.
Back to sad. In my little corner of the world where no one has to deal with me, reading of this warble is entirely optional and I bother no one with my madness and quests for caring, compassion and a few minutes here and there.
Catland part of living room with cat tent, cat tunnel, cat scratch post, cat toy AND cat. Date stamp is a year off.
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