Cute(Edited 6:44 pm)

From left to right: Spot, The Brave One, Socks, and Dasha

"Mongol" is well worth seeing, though it contained some historical inaccuracies. The style of the editing felt very Mongolian from my little reading of The Secret History, and the movie had a certain poetry to it. The fight scenes are portrayed with adrenaline and brutality; the fighting is exciting but not glorified. The Mongols themselves are portrayed as "uncivilized"(insert long diatribe about civilization and our enculturation here) but living with their own code. I especially like the portrayal of Mongolian women and wish there were a few more American heroines like them. We have few records of The Great Khan's early life, which makes it strange upon speculation that it is not the topic of more imaginings. Also, I would like to mention something that Ilya said a long time ago, which is that Mongolian ponies are short and fat. The horses in this movie are big Hollywood studs.

Snuggles is becoming blinder every day. Also, he was going to pee on the mat when I picked him up and put him in the litter box, getting some on my foot in the process.

Yesterday my mom took me to the mall. Tired from all the shopping this week neither of us lasted long, and I soon escaped to the bookstore. I met a former physics major working as an engineer in the mathematics section.

At home we watched the aforementioned "Mongol" and "Mamma Mia", the latter thanks to my aunt Brenda who had recommended it to my mom. I promised to watch "Mamma Mia" with my mom if she watched "Mongol". The movie turned out to be exactly what I expected: a light, fluffy romantic comedy with lots of singing. The songs were integrated well into the plot. Also, things stopped making sense somewhere towards the end and the tone was slightly unfemenistic. All of a sudden the independent woman realizes that she's needed a man this entire time? Perhaps the best thing that happened was that after seeing Meryl Streep in "Doubt" my parents were very impressed with her acting range and are now fans. They are also starting to borrow good movies instead of sappy Bollywood flicks. My mom bought another Meryl Streep movie and is renting "The Reader". I did too, in fact, so I'll probably be writing about that later today. My parents actually had an argument about the conclusion of "Doubt" in the car.

I keep having dreams where I'm Buffy. Also in last night's dream was Chris, and it was a pleasant dream. I'm not implying something euphemistically there. It was just a nice dream, except for the werewolves and demon slaying.

So I'm going to keep up with summer vow #1, read real news. Stay tuned for more updates.

Edit 6:44pm:

The last entry brings up a point some people have nitpicked on. Do I consider myself beautiful? Sometimes I do and sometimes I don't, because how I look throughout the day can vary considerably. I don't necessarily consider myself beautiful in the way I want to be all the time, either. What I am sure about is that other people can find me attractive.

It's nice to be in La Jolla, since most of the harassment I experienced in LA has stopped. I have heard many a time stories about how beautiful women bemoaned the cat-calls after they were gone, but it's nice to be surrounded by so many other pretty girls. That way if someone takes a special interest in me, it probably has more to do with me than my face.

I fell down the stairs this morning after my mom told me to come quietly. The kittens were curled up on the lawn chair and I took the above picture of them. Clingy was with Gaiylee on the lawn. We bought a bunch of books in the UCSD student store and ate at the Indian place. Now I'm going to clean and watch "The Reader".

Contradictions

My family and I just finished watching "Doubt". The film's cinematography is gorgeous and made me feel as though we were looking at a moving painting. The editing and camera angles used were also well thought out. The story itself is great, portraying a battle between the stern, unchanging church and the "new" church. The actual answer to the question is left extremely ambiguous. Though I thought the movie was very well done, it was not as good as "Slumdog Millionaire".

As I said before, I'm not generally a fan of writing reviews.

Today I lazed around a lot and then had to go shopping with my mom in Kohl's and Ross. I couldn't finagle my way out of the trip as I had promised her I would go. Things went alright, and I got a new top and dress. I wish there were online discounts as good as the ones in Ross so that I never had to go into that store again. Also, considering all the time that the fashion industry spends marketing to thin women it would make sense to actually create clothing for them, but it can be very difficult to find any.

We spent about half an hour searching for a good handbag for me but got bored and gave up. Who knew that purses were this complicated? In Kohl's I found the perfect one, but it was made of genuine leather and I couldn't simply put my principles aside for a tote. Considering how long we spent searching and the fact that it was originally $115(Half off only today with extra 30% coupon on top), it was sort of a low blow.

My mom also wanted to buy me new shoes, but due to my aversion for heels that turned out to be a failure. In my opinion, heels are the new footbinding.

I spent a lot of time looking at Gaiylee and the kittens, who are becoming braver and bolder by the day. We have named the one my mom secretly wants to keep Dasha. There is the brave one, who is the least afraid of us and the biggest in the litter, the clingy one who is constantly attached to Gaiylee, and Socks who is adorable because between his socks, the little stripe of white on his face, and his huge ears he somehow becomes really cute. The last grey and white kitten has not don anything distinguishing him or herself from the rest of the kittens. How do you describe kittens pouncing, prancing, catching each other and their tails, climbing up the chairs on the patio and voraciously eating while their mother watches intently, only to fall asleep on the lawn? Words don't do justice to the show in our backyard.

I have some ideas bouncing around in my head right now, but I don't particularly feel like writing them down at the moment.

WhenI come home I sometimes re-read my children's and teenager books. They are extremely quick to go through and contain piles of nostalgia. Many generic writers targeting adults try extremely hard and fail while peppering their books with the content that places them in the adult category. The teenage novels are so refreshingly innocent. Anyways, nostalgia and reminding me of things I learned when I first read through the book, some concepts being entirely new at the time, are why I do this. It feels sort of silly to do this as a huge snob, but we read for many different reasons, eh?

I hope you all are having a great night. PS, Sorry about that Alex....

Wired Up

Today I went to a really interesting, fun place.

Was it Disneyland?
Was it Huntington Gardens?

It was THE DENTIST! I have to have my wisdom teeth pulled out at the end of the summer.

Watching kittens play in the sun while creating a thousand Hallmark moments is extremely relaxing.

I know that I should be calling my friends and telling them that I'm back in town, but I'm honestly having fun vegetating and feel too tired to set anything up. I will have another month to catch up with everyone, so I hope I can be forgiven.

One aspect of why I love working with living things is that there is no predicting exactly how the finished product will look or grow to be. The materials used in a project can be restricted within a certain aesthetic range, but the finished product will never be the exact replica of a mental picture. This is part of what I find so addictive about designing aquariums: even with a previous plan in mind the outcome is unknown.

Apparently, part of the book dedicated to Orpheus survives. I will attempt to find it online.*
*sentence serves as a reminder to me

I am extremely glad for the existence of 911.

Today I bought "Slumdog Millionaire" for my mom and rented "Doubt", which we will probably watch tomorrow. "Volver" was an interestingly portrayed window into the life of the lower class in Spain.

So I made a vow on this blog to re-start following "real" news over the summer quarter. The first news aggregate I'm going to catch up on is Wired. Right now I'm reading its culture section; let's see how long this takes. This article on 5 Toys from the 80's(It..has tons of global significance!) reminds me of all the playthings I wanted but could never have. This was a valuable lesson in consumerism and materialism, as I was perfectly fine without these products in the long run. Still, learning a programming language or playing with electronics is something that I would have loved to do as a kid, though I did learn BASIC as a child and it is BASICally useless. If you love Legoes, you probably want to click on the article and read about Erector sets. PS: maybe I'm still five, but that's a horrible name choice.

Also, this article on Googleconomics is really interesting. It's far too long for me to post all the relevant quotes in it, but it references some interesting ideas, a man who started doing formal mathematics when he was thirteen, and a highly successful business concept. The problem is that this makes me not want to read news and instead go off and do lots of math and physics.

If we were introduced to the concepts earlier I'm sure that most of us could have been doing formal mathematics by the time we were thirteen. So don't get too caught up in that.

This was posted a while ago, but anyone want to share their thoughts on the article entitled The New Socialism? I only started it, but while the premise is something that's been discussed since middle school I have a feeling that the article still sparked a lot of debate. For some reason this reminds me of high school when (world)news posted the day before was considered old happenings. Maybe it's because I was thinking of Jane when I wrote the first sentence in this paragraph.

Also, wetpaint may come in handy.

Lab Friday(Dad's Birthday!)

This morning I had a lot of insomnia, followed by a version of this conversation at 7:45am:

"I'm so sleepy. I should really stay home and study for finals."
"You should go. Do your duty and go. You'll probably learn something."
"No, the bed is really comfy, and.."
"GO, or I'll hurt you"
"Wait, but wouldn't that just be hurting yourself?"
Pun intended completely.
Anyways, I went, chair-hunted, and listened as usual. Pablo presented a paper having to do with the fractal structure of neural systems and I, of course, was extremely interested. Which means that I am not returning my book on fractals on time. I've realized that I work better while doing artwork, and worked on the image to the right while everyone was doing their presentations. It's not perfectly the way I would like it, but I decided to be satisfied.
It's hard to not accidentally spy on what others are doing on their laptops. I dislike finding my eyes accidentally focused on a screen, going "Oh, he's checking his email". Also, I was signed on to Trillian and Dylan IMed me with the information that I was signing on and off at 2:30am, which I have to look in to.
We also watched the traditional UCSD "watermelon drop". Basically, the story is that after a bunch of physics students wanted to prove that they had the correct answer on a test question: "How fast would a watermelon dropped from the 7th floor hit the ground?" or something like that they...dropped a watermelon from the 7th floor of Urey hall. Anyways, considering how simple the solution would be to calculate using some of the first equations learned in mechanics, I think that either the story isn't true or the physics students really wanted to smash something. Either way, we were all on board with this plan, as was the large crowd down below and the jazz band(which brought back memories) Nobody calculated the velocity, but the chunks sure are propelled far. It was kind of creepily reminiscent of a human being. I thought I was just overly morbid until it turned out Rudolpho was thinking the exact same thing.
I then went to the library, where I spent an hour until I had to leave for my physical therapy appointment. My physical therapist is sick today, which is sad. Soon I'll have to leave the house again for another appointment.

I also called my dad, who had forgotten it was his birthday. My mom got him a cake, unidentified presents, and may be taking him out later, so I hope he has a great time. I have to buy him a late present in LA. Trust me when I say my dad would prefer my studying and reading to picking him out a present. Also, my mom informed me that the kittens ate without Gaiylee this morning for the first time.

If I make another post today it will be more interesting.

At the San Diego Natural History Museum:
Lecture and book signing with Bo Parfet.
Die Trying: One Man's Quest to Conquer the Seven Summits is the exhilarating story of one man’s battle against his own limitations. From dodging avalanches to crossing a ladder over a seemingly bottomless crevasse, to making his way through the Khumbu Icefall and burying a dead teammate at 27, 000 feet, we experience all of the author’s incredible, often terrifying climbs first-hand. Enlightening and gripping, Die Trying is the compelling story of man’s quest to conquer nature and his own fears. Each ticket includes a copy of Parfet’s book Die Trying. Ticket sales benefit the Sierra Club's Inner City Outings program and the San Diego Natural History Museum. Thursday, June 11; 6:30–8:30 PM
$25 per person

Go to their site to pre-register. I'm too lazy to link, but you must in order to attend.

Various Matters

From June 17th to June 21th, monks from Tibet will come to the San Diego Natural History Museum to create a Mandela sand painting in over thirty hours of work. Details are here, and admission into Body Worlds is also discounted in that time period.

Rasputin's eleven-inch supposed penis is on display in St Petersburg. If I get to be traumatized, so do you.

Snuggles is finally eating again! And very insistent on being cuddled.

"Better off Ted" is officially awesome. I was literally laughing out loud for most of the episode.

The second summer session of the Los Angeles Community District has been canceled due to budget cuts. They are actually attempting to dissuade people from registering because the district only gets paid up to certain amount over budget for extra students. The rest is paid out-of-pocket for the colleges themselves. This is a great thing to happen during a recession when many people are going back to school.

Beached

My day started at 3:13am this morning when my mom and dad brought Snuggles home from the vet. Apparently his tests came back with normal results, and the cause of his illness was speculated to be either his teeth or a hairball. One of his teeth needs to be pulled and he, as we suspected, has cataracts. Both of these will be attended to by the regular vet on Tuesday or Weds. The emergency vet gave him a solution of electrolytes and stressed that he needed to eat every day for now, but once he was healthy again he had to go on a program of diet and fitness to reduce his weight. The message has finally gotten through to my mom, and I look forward to a new, healthier Snuggles.

I then had a dream about Chris and I trying to get back together and how miserably the attempt failed.

After watching the kittens prance and pounce in the backyard and petting Snuggles goodbye, we headed off to San Diego. Mom kept going over how mellow Snuggles had been at the vet last night. They also were talking about how proud they were of what Christopher has been accomplishing, and, when they thought I was asleep, me. At Petsmart there was a large black cat named Snuggles who looked and acted a bit like him. Dad half-seriously suggested that we take him home.

After they left I browsed the internet for a few minutes and then started out for Black's Beach(Torrey Pines). Andy had invited me to bbq-and-ultimate-frisbee-get-together-thing. The directions I got were shoddy, however, and I ended up getting off the bus early against my better judgment. This was my first time at Black's that didn't involve someone else driving me.

Crazy screaming lady is back again. I can hear her rattling cans.

After getting off the bus I started stubbornly walking in the direction I thought the beach was in. In my olden days I would not have had the gall to simply wander in a direction without giving up and going home. Literature champions large decisions which "show your true character"; less popular are all the little choices showing how your character interacts with everyday life in situations which might seem much bigger than they are when they are taking place. I ended up going through the Salk Institute and witnessing a silent panoramic view by myself in a rare moment of peace. After reaching the site where the handgliders launch , I finally got on the trail to Black's.

I didn't even know I had such a harrowing fear of heights until this one particular spot in the path which looked like a smooth downward curve with no handholds. Usually I throw dignity to the winds when hiking and, if necessary, start using both hands and feet. I started fearfully inching down, wondering if the traction of my sandals would hold me, when a couple came up behind me.
"Scared?" asked the man
"Yes."
"Join us!"
With their moral boost I did not slip and die, although not looking down helped a whole lot. We talked for a little while and I called Andy, who said that at this point I should keep walking south as I was probably on the wrong side of the beach. I was unconcerned, for while at that point I had walked about a mile I was on the beach and enjoying myself. Except for all the naked men-did I mention that Black's is a nudist beach? I saw more *insert your favorite name here* today than I ever wanted to in a lifetime. I figured that I would walk to the main entrance of Torrey Pines and take the bus from there if I couldn't find Andy at that point. And that's how I ended up taking a three-or-more mile stroll on the beach today, which probably added a few years to my lifespan. For part of the walk I was completely alone. There are so many thoughts seething in the water, though none probably as beautiful or as edifying as the clear waves themselves in the here and now. My thoughts wandered, and for a little while I struggled between holding on to the moments and living them. I'm terrified of the day that words will only bring back dying embers of past experiences, but I would rather have lived those fully than spend them remembering the details to write down. Everything from crabs to Chris; making all the little unconscious corners let go of him. They say that the death of a relationship is mourned like the death of a person. For me this was not true; it was a moment in time with both good and bad memories, all of which are over; we touched and then parted. With a person, the person is over, usually for no clear reason other than what we in our puniness can metaphysically attribute.

I had to climb a large rock to get to the other side of the beach. A stranger held my hand for a moment so that I wouldn't fall, though I navigated it surprisingly well on my own. My bag wasn't even there. I dislike handbags, as they feel like a sexist weight which hampers physical activity and fitness. I can't just keep my wallet, keys, and phone in my pants or they would fall down. Speaking of which, this entire time I was wearing shorts and a thin t-shirt over my swimsuit and not freezing to death. I once read that symbolically cold is attributed to individualism, climbing a mountain. Perhaps minute adjustments have been made in my constitution because of my mental state. I personified nature and wondered if the colors and shapes of the cliffs had some deeper, hidden meaning.

Anyways, there is too much to write. I got on the bus and came home with sandy feet, although physical limitations took over and I became numb while walking to my apartment. There will be more opportunities to go out and meet new people(at least I hope), and I had a great Memorial day.

Vent(edited and again edited)

So I was sitting in the teen room musing my musings when I noticed a two-foot tear in one of the curtain panels. This is annoying because when we moved into this house my mom and dad splurged a bit, so these are professionally hung curtains of nice quality, though they were not that expensive in and of themselves. Also, I really like these curtains and don't want them to be changed. Rrrrrrrrrrrr. The panels themselves are most likely discontinued.

Anyways, I can be thankful that this was my worst problem today.

Edit: Nevermind! We were all sitting down to dinner when I became fascinated with a shape that was moving in the backyard. I was trying to figure out what it was, when it moved and it became apparent that it was a dog's face. Specifically, one of the dogs from next door, who are usually very calm, obedient animals but weight twice as much as I do. Anyways, after alerting my parents and the neighbors, we all became embroiled for a couple hours in trying to get the dog out from the tangle of bushes at the side of our backyard. The thorny vines and trees on that side had become neglected and thick to the point where they block the path, so as we speak our neighbors are cutting through them. After half of their household passed through ours, the dog finally decided to leave. The poor girl just gave birth and apparently hurt herself in jumping over. Two large men finally grabbed her and carried her from our backyard.

This actually sort of happened once before to us. Our neighbors in Panorama City got a dog and never took care of it properly. I payed some attention to it and gave it water from our hose, and as a result the dog dug a hole between our yards and knocked over the pump for the pond. We came home from Fedco just in time to save the fish, who at that point included my largest goldfish Big Fat. Yes, her name was Big Fat. These dogs seem well taken care of, so I have no idea why "Betsey" decided to do this.

Edit Edit: Snuggles is sick enough that he needs to go to the emergency care hospital at 11:45pm. I stupidly took my medicine and have to go to sleep because I did. Ok, maybe it wasn't stupid, but my kitty is ill and I want to be with him.

Unwisely Lazy Sunday

Snuggles is sick, most likely from a hairball he can't cough up. The kittens and Gaiylee are becoming more accustomed to human presence. At the moment we are creating various schemes to catch them. Operation: Get a Cool New Coat failed. I will work and then watch "The Simpsons".
Also, my parents have a vendetta against Gaiylee's mate since he attacked Snuggles a few nights ago during one of mom's deacons meetings. My mom ran outside to be greeted by a lot of Snuggle's fur and had to rip through our tomato bushes to finally get him. My dad is especially fervent in his ire against the other cat.

Subconciously

Something funny has happened. Heeheehee. The big frog is Trixie, who has been with me over a year. The smaller one is Tiny Frog, who is relatively new.

My mom has been calling me all day to tell me about the kittens, who have finally followed their mother out to eat solid food. There are five adorable fluffballs in our backyard.

I've been thinking about the subtle effects of association that can affect human beings. Jung, among various other people, wrote about this. It's no secret that we form associations between the senses and memories. We can even form connections of association between memories. I'm curious as to how these can be manipulated therapeutically. Rationally, connections can be broken or resisted, but forming these links is part of how the human psyche operates and it is exhausting to be continuously resisting memory. This is part of the reason people "feel like a change" after some dramatic event; they wish to disassociate past events from the current time period. I am sure there is literature on this subject which I am unaware of, but I think getting in touch with and calming that part of the mind directly would be of immense value to patients. I'm not going to get into manipulating the subconscious and symbols and all of that great stuff.

On a different note, the world's richest asshole, brought to you by Gawker.
"To be sure there's plenty of competition for that title, but we think Germany's Prince Marcus von Anhalt (above) has a pretty clear shot at it. Born Marcus Eberhardt in 1969, he started out as a butcher, went into the brothel business, did some time for tax evasion and human trafficking, then bought himself a title (from Zsa Zsa Gabor's husband): Prinz von Anhalt, Herzog zu Sachsen und Westfalen, Graf von Askanien. Now the SOB's latest stunt is driving around in this Rolls-Royce Phantom Drophead Coupe covered in a Louis Vuitton multicolored monogram print....."

Also, there is no way I can justify going to see "Flight of the Conchords", which makes me sad.

Sun God At UCSD:Or How Marisa Didn't Care

So like most tales of my life this one starts off with insomnia, which I had plenty of last night. Apparently, people had decided to start celebrating Sun God early because I was woken up at 3:00 am by giggling girls and boy in addition to my naturally occurring sleeplessness. I woke up at 7:30am, snoozed, then got out of bed and left for the lab meeting. Except that this Friday, there was no lab meeting. After realizing this I headed for the library, encountering a line a million miles long and five people wide. This was the line for armbands to get into Sun God*, which stretched at least half a mile in a conservative estimate. It went from Muir to Warren, if that means anything to you, and was still growing. I decided I was not going to spontaneously join in the celebration(couldn't have anyways, no tickets were left). I spent some time studying and then decided to double-check the non-existence of the lab meeting after trying to call Ilya. It was still not going, so after chatting with Rudolpho a bit I headed back to the library where I played around on my laptop and read The Morphology of the Folktale.

I left the library to go to lunch with Anthony but got a call almost immediately that he had completely forgotten about our get-together today and had to rush to meet his professor. I wasn't upset because these things do happen, and decided to head home at this point. As soon as I had hopped off the bus and the crazy who had taken an interest in me followed, Peter called. I had completely forgotten about our appointment at 2:00pm, so I went straight back up the hill. I decided I didn't want anything to eat and basically wasted the remainder of the hour. As I thought, Peter is gay, FYI. We actually spent a lot of this appointment discussing psychology, attitudes towards homosexuals in our culture and how NAMBLA dragged down the acceptance of gay rights in the 60's, among other things.

The Sun God had at this point long left the UCSD celebration and brought in his wing men, clouds and wind, to cover for him. That didn't stop people from celebrating, as was evidenced everywhere I looked. Usually I am not one to simply dismiss fun if it's harmless, but I really couldn't care less about the celebration at this point. Also, the frat guys who kept bumping fists and yelling "SUN GOD!" were annoying. People were hosing each other down and sliding on a tarp on the Muir quad, and many topless men abounded. Some guys tried to flirt with me and I ran away in fear. I noticed a lot of people looking at me today for whatever reason, perhaps because in a sea of short shorts and skirts I was wearing a sweater and long skirt. Or maybe it was my dashing good looks-let's pretend it was this.

The library was deserted when I went back inside after my tuna melt lunch. Finally, I left campus for my physical therapy appointment, which went well. I chatted with another patient and things were very relaxed. I feel like doing something social this weekend in addition to my work. We will see. Right now my mom is telling me about the striped cat that rubbed on my sandals snuggling with Gaiylee and how much less flighty Gaiylee has become.

*Sun God is a UCSD celebration involving, I quote "three distinct stages, vendor fairs, carnival activities, film, art, and so much more". Here are the bands playing this year(copied and pasted):
The Sun God Festival 2009 Lineup:

N*E*R*D
Iron And Wine
Girl Talk
Motion City Soundtrack
Sara Bareilles
Augustana
The Cool Kids
Grand Ole Party
Rootbeer
DJ Nu-Mark of Jurassic 5
Nosaj Thing
Anavan
Theory of Funkativity

with performance by:
Cirque Berzerk
Upright Citizens Brigade
+ countless student groups TBA!

Cheese and Pepper

I had a busy day today. My brother bought a new Chevrolet Malibu, which looks incredibly spiffy. My parents agreed to foot the down payment for it as long as he pays for the rest of the car himself. I had to drive to the dealership with my mom to make sure she didn't murder my dad and brother for making her meet them there. After we all got home I went to look at Gaiylee and the kittens one last time. Unfortunately, this time, the gray and white kitten, whom I had also seen earlier nursing(So. Cute. *head explodes*) tried to get away from Gaiylee and run down to me. Gaiylee forceably restrained him/her and then jumped down and snarled at me. My skirt was stuck on several thorns and since I had to untangle myself I had plenty of time to realize that she was nervous about what she was doing and that she liked me and didn't actually want to attack me. That was my parting meeting with them. Also, Gaiylee most likely moved the kittens because Snuggles marked his territory in front of the shed when he went out with my mother. Snuggles doesn't go by the rose garden, however, and comes when called.

We broke in the new car with the drive down to San Diego. Christopher has free Onstar and XM radio service for three weeks, so we listened to 80's pop music until I fell asleep. At that point my mom apparently changed the station to some sort of Christian or Country that I objected to as soon as I woke up. The 80's music reminded me of a certain someone who loves 80's music and how funny he would have thought it was when Amadeus came on. When we reached San Diego the calico kitten was gone, but we got to witness another tiny mother cat nursing her kitten. We also ate at BGs, where I sprinkled pepper into my broccoli and cheddar soup that tasted good enough to make it the title of this entry.

Then I got home to a faulty modem. After thirty minutes of tech support with accents ranging from Indian to Midwestern it was confirmed that my modem was, indeed, broken. Right now I'm stealing wireless from a suprisingly fast network. I just hope that nobody is downloading horse porn onto my computer.

When I was at home I spotted a tiny monkey peeking out of one of the Rubbermaid tubs that contains my stuffed animals and for some reason could not resist taking him back to San Diego even though he was never a toy I used to particularly play with. I will post a picture of him in my next entry, which will include an update on my aquarium. Will I ever throw out or give away my stuffed animals? No, and Chris and I already have a room in our imaginary house where we've put all of ours together to smile on shelves. With material things I don't really get attached to the fabric and wood themselves as the memories surrounding them. The objects act as an anchor for previous times, helping me to ground my past, and their disappearance is the first step for those memories fading. The objects themselves can also develop almost animistic personalities of their own in my eyes. The longer I keep something the less likely I am to let go of it, and the harder it is to get me to do so.

Yesterday Robinson Crusoe and the paper by Crick and Watson describing the double helix were published.

Today's Desirable Freecycle Entries:
Free Palm Pilot
Free 15'' CRT monitor
Free Queen Mattress
Free Spider Plants/Geranium plants
Free Worn Couch
Free small desk

Silence, Darkness, Jealousy, and Kittens

Last night the Russian Blue mother cat, who's name is now Gaiylee, or alternatively Attack cat because of a joke my mom keeps making, apparently came right up to the door to rub against and play with my sandals. Isn't that adorable?

Update 11:02: I saw the kittens for the first time. They are head-exploding cute. Gaiylee let me get close enough to the nest to see them when they started mewling in response to my "kittens kittens kittens" call.

I remember in several children's books I read a description of true darkness and true silence as something that we in our suburban lives would never experience. Besides the realization that I must have read some twisted children's books, I would like to say that this simply isn't true, at least for me. As an insomniac I woke up at all hours of the night. At these times there are no cars on the road, nobody is moving, the house is not settling, and far-off motors are muted by the walls. All there is to hear is a sort of ringing in the ears, or at least that's all I can hear. Maybe I should get that checked out.
Also, I always sleep with the lights on because I am a sissy. In my old apartment no natural light entered into my room because of the way the only window faced. One night I woke up either in the middle or at the beginning of a blackout and waved my hand in front of my face to no avail, because I was literally engulfed in that darkness which is the absence of light. I always keep a flashlight close to my bed because of an inbred fear of earthquakes, so I grabbed it, called Chris, and got out of my room and into the common area. Lest I give the wrong impression, I had just woken up from a realistic dream where someone was robbing me and the less rational part of my mind was extremely convinced that someone had cut the power and was attempting to do just that. Chris was offering to drive the hundred and twenty miles down to me because he is a sweet man, but the rational part of my mind turned down the offer.

I must say that the thought of both the darkness and the silence at the same time is intimidating.

I don't understand jealous people, which is interesting because I myself used to be an extremely jealous person. The only good thing that the experience taught me is that jealousy stems in large part not from the other person's actions. but from inner insecurity. There are, of course, natural reasons to distrust human behavior as a whole, especially since nobody is perfect and everybody is liable to let others down at some point, but jealous behavior almost always pushes people farther away, defeating the purpose. Also, it must be exhausting to never be able to relax and simply trust another person, not just for the jealous one but for the other person(s) involved. Part of the joy of being in a stable relationship is that same trust, and jealousy can prevent a relationship from reaching that level of stability.

Operation Kittens

The first thing I did when I got up this morning was to search for the kittens. They had been under the shed but my mom hadn’t seen them for a couple of days and I feared that the mother cat had moved them. I started searching the backyard, which is overgrown enough that I would never find them if they wanted to hide. Then I heard mewling! I tramped around unsuccessfully, knowing that the kittens could probably hear me coming far before I could ever get a chance to see them. I tried to stand on a chair to see if they were next door but fell off and scraped my leg. After spying on the neighbor’s yard all I could see were two big, cute dogs and nowhere for any cats to hide. My mom also went outside with no success, though her method of searching was to call for them.

An hour later I spotted something moving in our cluster of rosebushes that did not seem like a plant. My mom and I trooped outside to see an adorable tiny gray cat(think Russian Blue) with yellow eyes. We decided to give her some food, which I put on the grass within her line of sight. Five minutes later she came out of her hiding place and started ravenously licking the bowl. Apparently, we have officially adopted her.

After I showered I looked in the backyard and didn’t spot her. Still wanting to steal the kittens as we will have to eventually, I softly pattered out to the square where she had been hiding. Not seeing her, I advanced cautiously, expecting a warning growl if I got too close. I wasn’t expecting her to suddenly jump out of the bushes hissing. I ran out of the clearing, then kneeled down, showing her that I was no threat, and retreated into the house.

My parents and I had then had lunch and discussed a family problem we're having(no, not Chris). I then went outside for a walk, staying far away from the cats. I sat for around forty minutes thinking about life and how beautiful certain things in the backyard were, with stray thoughts directed to the kittens. I hoped my sunbathing would help accustom her to the humans of the household and show that we posed no threat. We have many species of butterfly in our backyard: Spring Skippers, Cabbage Whites, Painted Ladies, False Monarchs, occasional Swallowtails, and around three other species I don't know the name of. A ladybug crawled up my leg. Snuggles was let outside and I stayed to supervise him, and by supervise I mean watch him poop on the lawn and then come for hugs. When he got too hot to pet I went inside and he followed me.

Conglomeration

I've changed the comment settings so that anonymous users can comment and have added a "tags" section.

The second episode of "Parks and Recreation" was much better than the first and included a lot of on-target jokes, a lot of funny happenings, and the reinforcement of the pointed message of how much effort it would take a normal person in the lower ranks of government to stay positive. Watch the episode here.

The first time we saw the calico kitten was when I held the black kitten. She was hiding in one of the tubes in the window box and Chris picked her up and held her for a little while. When I next went to visit Petsmart she started meowing and rubbing against the glass when she saw me. Today she meowed and kneaded her paws. I think I need to steal her.

It's very nice to be able to stand up straight! I am also extremely fond of baby kiwis-kiwi taste without the peeling. You can get a pack at Trader Joe's for $3.99.

So, about Reavers-do you think they breed? Because if not, all of them will die of old age within a certain timeline except for the secondary Reavers, who are much fewer. Between the exposure to radiation, self-mutilation and such things, an average Reaver's lifespan is probably at most fifty years.

An oldy but a goody:

Black Cats, Part 2

If anyone reads my former posts he or she will probably notice that I go back and edit them occasionally for spelling and grammar. I'm pretty sure that I'm just kidding myself with the whole "people going back and re-reading posts" thing, but oh well. Here is the conformation for the hypothetical person who does.


There were kittens born in a box on our patio, bloody and without fur. Once they were old enough that we could handle them my parents and I used to sneak them out of the nest when Mother was away and then give them back to her at night.
Then the kittens started dying. Out of a litter of four, we found one dead one, then another, and then another. The last one to die lived to open her beautiful blue eyes. We had been planning to keep her and had even named her after a mother cat in one of my favorite children's books. One day I noticed she was moving slowly and asked my mother to take her to the vet. To clarify, nothing was visibly wrong with the kitten, and kittens do simply die, as is the way of nature. Another day, we looked in her box and she was not moving at all. We rushed her to the vet, but it was too late for the poor thing. Apparently since the kittens had been born in December it was too cold for them to survive. I still remember how their heads rolled when they died, back and forth, unlike the way a living kitten would move.

Spring came, Mother was in heat again and the same scene repeated itself, sex and all. More newborn kittens, another litter of four, arrived in a box on the patio. There was a black and white one who's name I can't remember, a fluffy one named Cuddles, another fluffy black kitten who's name I can't remember, and the runt of the litter, Snuggles. The unnamed black kitten died. Nevertheless, we had a lot of fun with the other babies, putting them in shoe boxes, giving them baths and then watching Mother nurse them each night. Mr President sometimes came by to visit the kittens. I wanted to keep Cuddles because I was convinced he was going to grow up into an enormous, cottony kitty, but we ended up keeping Snuggles, the quietest of the bunch, because he developed an eye infection. My mom always said that Snuggles never gave her any trouble at bath time, but Cuddles would complain loudly. Either way, the decision turned out to be a very good idea.

Once the kittens were all adopted, Mother went into heat and had happy time with Mr. President again. But this time we didn't find any kittens after the appropriate amount of time. My dad said that he was glad that we could wash our hands of the matter, but my mom and I were not so satisfied.
Then, one day when I got up to go to school, I came down to find a tiny, short-haired black kitten sleeping in a shoe box. Apparently my parents had gotten up to find this little rascal with Mother and Blackie standing behind her, Snuggles, Muffy, and Fluffy, Muffy and Fluffy being our two elder cats, staring through the door, watching her bawling to get in through the glass. My parents happily obliged. Her name was Naughty Katy.

Mother transferred a couple other kittens into the yard, but we knew there were more. We finally figured out that they were in our next-door neighbor's backyard, then broke and entered to remove the rest of them. One of them, a kitten I would later name Blueders, scratched my hand in the process. This was a litter of seven, with a beautiful, longhair, loudmouthed calico in the mix. We creatively named her Calico.
Stay tuned for part 3, which won't be nearly as long!

This is Snuggles

Black Cats

Today I went to Petsmart and held an adorable, fuzzy black kitten. He purred the entire time I held him, looked at me lovingly, and when he was put into back into the window box attempted to run back to me. If I could have adopted him I would have done so without a second thought.

Like many people do, I grew up with some strange superstitions about black cats. Then, one summer, my family and I came back from Trinidad to find our backyard filled with an influx of strange kitties. These passed too and from our sight for a while until one day a family led by a small, short-haired black cat started to visit regularly. Against the wishes of my parents I left a cat treat out on the patio, and, as the cliched saying goes, the rest is history. The cats stayed with us in the backyard. I don't remember how long it took my parents to start feeding them themselves, but it was a very short span of time. We watched the kittens grow, wild and free, and leave the family one at a time until only two were left: a longhair chocolate-colored cat named Blackie*, and a short-haired black-and-white cat with "socks" named Frisky. Frisky was "my" kitten when he was growing up, but he also disappeared one day. Blackie stayed with us a long time, until after the third litter his mother(who was simply dubbed "Mother" by us) had, but he also left eventually. He had a favorite blue string which we sometimes used to lure him into the house where we would pet him while he collapsed into a fear-struck ball of fluff. One time he took the blue string and hid it. I don't remember how we go it back; I think it involved breaking into a neighbor's yard.

I was too young then to know that we should have brought all of these cats indoors and I still sometimes regret not doing so, especially Blackie, whom I adored. Having outdoor cats is difficult because if they one day disappear their owner has no idea what happened to them, whether it be they moved into a new territory or got run over by a car.

After most of the first litter had left Mother went into heat that spring. "Meow-wow-wow-wow-wowwww!" and all of the neighborhood cats lined up, quite literally! I particularly remember a gray cat and a striped orange cat that my family and I actually had names for. She tapped all of her suitors on the nose with her paw except for one cat whom we had dubbed Mr. President, and then proceeded to have sex with him on the patio. We though that Mr. President was a Burmese cat at the time, but I think he may have been a Ragdoll.
Then there were kittens born in a box on our patio.

*Blackie has no racial connotations. This was simply the name an elementary school girl gave to a huge, fluffy kitty.

I'm getting tired of writing, so I will continue this later.