Excerpts from the Peanut Gallery
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Monday, September 25, 2006
The Truth About Cats and DogsSometimes you go back in your mind and rehash why some relationships just didn't work out. This week the possibility of new family members has reminded me often of one such relationship. It was doomed from the start. His name was George. I was a fourth-year university student, caught in the fire of midterms and a busy work schedule. i was stressed and overworked and living in a cramped apartment with two other girls. I wanted so much to get out and get away from it all. George was young, energetic and free. My roommates tried to convince me that he would be the perfect thing to get my mind off stress, that he would lighten things up.
I feel bad about it now. I really do think George was different than the others. If there was any one of his kind that i could get along with it, it would be him. I think I was just too prejudiced to see it. There really were two things that stood in the way of me getting over myself and my prejudice. I guess it really comes down to the fact that he didn't give me my space, something that I craved at that time in the semester. First, he made the fatal mistake of following me incessantly during a period when i was rather stressed. The other thing that George did was that he decided that what was mine was his. Now don't get me wrong, i am all for sharing in relationships- any type of relationship. I want to be one of those people who hold the things of this world lightly. But he crossed the line. He tried to steal my pillow!
The real problem though, always goes back to my first impression of him. It was the first thing I noticed about him. George was a cat. I have always been more of a dog person, I grew up with a dog and I remember those inane fancy feast commercials with the fat Persian on a purple silk cushion being fed cat food in a crystal glass on a silver platter. I resented that cat and everything it stood for- I resented the egotistical, self-serving, pompous lifestyle of the rich and famous that didn't serve to better the world at all. That was my view of cats. They sat on cushions all day and demanded that you cater to their every whim, never getting up to tell you that they loved you or that they wanted to play with you.
George was one of the few cats I have met who wanted to play. He followed me all over our 50sq.ft in that shoebox apartment. I think he even wanted to go for a walk. I didn't know what to do with that- it caught me off guard. But there was still the issue of the pillow. My roommates thought George was adorable. They loved him. Yet, he did not select their pillows to be his bed. He did not paw across their comforters, pat their pillows and then firmly plant his little buttocks on their principle headrest, right in the dent that their faces had left the night before. He did not stretch out and roll around and wiggle his bottom into their goose-down until he had it just right. But he did to mine. I had to draw the line somewhere.
So George and i had a talk. i told him that I thought he was alright and maybe if i had more time to get to know him, we could be friends. But i needed him to give me my space first. It just wasn't working out, I knew it, and my roommates knew it. I don't think George really cared. And someone else did own him, after all, so he did have to go back to his real home. He took it alright. I feel bad about it now. Should I have tried more? Did I just not give him the chance?
My parents were batting around the idea of new dogs. I know some might say that I am playing it safe when it comes to relationships, and maybe I am, but what is so bad about that? I know what I need in my life and what i am capable of giving. Maybe George was out of my league, or maybe we were just fated to fail. But I have learned my lesson and I am ready to start fresh, taking with me the things I have learned from our relationship (close the door when you are trying to write term papers and hide the pillows under your covers). I would also like to thank George for changing my perceptions of his kind. I am more open to getting to know an animal before i make a decision on it. But i also know my type and I am stickin' with it- puppies!
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
A few notes from the gallerySaturday, September 6, 2006- (everyday is a Saturday except Sundays when you are retired).
Day two of retirement and I already have wisdom to pass on: when getting over the stomach flu there are two things which the gallery does not recommend one consume: a) pizza; b) coffee- esp. in the copious quantities that the gallery has been accustomed to consuming in its own experience.
That aside, I am having quite a nice day. Yesterday I woke up with the remaining vestiges of the stomach ache that made me sleep for the 18 hours since I had finally rolled into home. I also had the vestiges of that sinking feeling of boredom, fear and anxious anticipation of what these next months may hold for me. I believe the unpacking had something to do with it. I despise unpacking almost as much, though not quite, as I do packing. But there is something about unpacking that causes it to be replete with drudgery -insert emotional baggage pun here.
Anyhow, I was reading The Alchemist today, as I have decided to get off my little butt and read more. This is due to the guilt created by waking up to a room full of books I have yet to read and a wish-list I have yet to buy. I came upon this quote which I furnish for you now as it has shed some light on how I am able to wholeheartedly embrace my "retirement" and pretend as though the world of needing money/meaningful occupation doesn't exist for the next little bit:
Santiago is a shepherd boy who is standing in Tangier deciding whether to continue on his journey on which he has been sent or to give it all up and go back to sheep-herding in Spain:
"I know why I want to get back to my flock, he thought. I understand sheep; they're no longer a problem, and they can be good friends. On the other hand, I don't know if the desert can be a friend, and its in the desert that I have to search for my treasure."
I thought that fit nicely. So for all you who are waking up in the same boat- let's not be afraid of the desert, I have a feeling that it could actually be quite friendly- powerful, yet friendly.