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Endless invention, endless experiment,
Brings knowledge of motion, but not of stillness...
Where is the Life we have lost in the living?
Where is the wisdom we have lost in the knowledge?
- T.S. Eliot
Will: You feeling left out over there?
Me: Hmm? Oh...no. I'm people-watching. And enjoying it.
Will: yeah?
Me: Yeah. Like, see that girl over there? Sitting next to the guy whose league she is out of?
Will: Yeah.
Me: See how she is playing with her hair and smacking him in the face?
Will: Haha, yeah.
Me: Clearly, it is a new form of flirting. See how he likes it. I think I'm going to take this life lesson and apply it...only it'll be harder for me as I have short hair...
Will: You should just head-butt the guy
Me: Yeah, totally. I'll be like, "what, stop crying, it just means I love you."
I try. I promise, I really try. Not to write things about people that might hurt their feelings. (With the exception of men who use awesome pick-up techniques, whose feelings, obviously, do not count). But sometimes the absurdity and chaos that one person can create is just...overwhelming. And the need to expound on that--to share that ridiculousness with the world--well, is also overwhelming.
And, let's be honest. Should we really protect those chaos-makers?
It was a couple weeks ago now, when Eric was leaving for Mardi Gras and house-building volunteerism and a load of revelatory thinking, on the day of his departure. The girl who I have hereforeto referred to as "Acquaintance" called on his cell phone.
She was out of luck, she said. Being kicked out of the place she was staying. Didn't know what to do.
And, because Eric is a stellar and helpful man, he said she could crash on their couch for the night. While she figured out a place to go.
Of course, when Eric said "for the night", Acquaintance heard "for the week" and when Eric said "our couch", Acquaintance heard "in my bed"--and thus begins a world of trouble.
The next day Eric left early in the A.M. and Acquaintance hunkered down for a week of winking at his roommate's girlfriend and making the roommates want their house back.
Finally, halfway through the week, they asked her to leave. Being unwelcoming hadn't given enough of a hint, so they said it outright.
She didn't leave.
The next day, they took her keys. B needed them, he said. So she was without keys.
Perhaps they didn't realize that it takes more than that to get rid of the Acquaintances of this world--who have been sleeping on people's couches for months even though they have jobs...
The day after her keys were taken, Acquaintance found herself at the building with no way in. Both boys gone. And so she waited. Waited. Until W, the other roommate, stumbled from a taxi blackout drunk.
She followed him to the room and watched from a distance as he fumbled and dropped the keys. "Need some help?" she asked, causing his body to tense up and him to turn slowly around.
"ARE YOU STILL HERE?"
She made it into Eric's room without further incident, but then heard W pounding on the door. Get out. He yelled. Get the hell out. It's my house. Get out. He came into the room and started packing her things.
So, of course, as it is his house and he's already told her to leave and taken her keys and no one gave her permission to stay longer than one night, clearly all logic follows that this shouting and packing is unfair and that Acquaintance should put an end to it. By calling the cops.
The cops came. You have to get the proper paperwork to kick her out, they said. Because, of course, we have to go through legal hassles to remove people who are essentially squatters in our homes. An awesome system: clearly.
After some mediation, both agreed that she would stay one more night and leave in the morning. W headed back upstairs, followed soon by Acquaintance. But, unfortunately, blackout-drunk-W changed his mind. So he started throwing her things into the hall.
Acquaintance retrieved the officers, got W taken to detox overnight and then moved herself out--the very thing she'd been so intent on not doing.
And the morals of this story...
You may think that when you help someone out in a bind, that good karma is on its way to you. But think again, my friend, because it may not be karma knocking on your door. It may be the police.
Who, to be wise, to be strong,
To know Truth, as she knows Experience,
Would give up to give in to that
Which is only Mystery, and ever will be.
Watch to listen to learn, only
Then will Expression fulfill its intent.
More often than anyone knows:
She would listen to listen, not to speak.
Freedom, to be found, to be loved
Is made from the balance of Hard and Soft.
To a smile, a sigh, a life
She offers a toast up to challenge them all.
Express to live, to serve, to be
Emptied out for the sake of Truth
That reads and falls between the lines
And answers with a question, every time.
(the greatest among you will be your servant). (I was naked and you clothed me). (I say to you, love your enemies as yourself). (Humble yourself in the sight of the Lord and He will lift you up). (She has been forgiven much, therefore she loves much). (They will know you by your love). (Love one another as I have loved you). (One thing I know, that though I was blind, now I see). (The greatest of these is love). (Do good to those who harm you). (Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things).
I no longer live with the BadCats, but I do see them from time to time. Such as last week, when Holly was traipsing around the country serving peanuts to the rude, the interesting and the mediocre. I volunteered to catsit for my favorite devious couple. And, of course, they made it worth my while.
When I first came in on Thursday night I was in between projects--on my way home to work for another couple hours in an attempt to meet unattainable deadlines. I didn't stay with the kitties long that afternoon. Just walked in, took off my boots and rolled around the floor for about half an hour. They were only too happy to join me. Rubbing their grown-up-and-much-bigger-than-before faces and bellies against my face and sides, biting my feet and leaving scratch marks on my fingers to remind me of them in the coming weeks.
I didn't notice anything abnormal. Not that day.
But I should have. Oh, should I have.
Friday I came back, before again heading home to continue working, and sat on the floor with a blanket which I alternately covered them with (always a fun game, as Sake will move around under the blanket and all Anoosh can think is "oh my god, oh my god, it's moving! oh my god, I better kill it!" and then there are play fights through an inch of wool, and this never fails to amuse the hell out of me).
At a point during the game, not far into it, sake walks away, hops onto the table that he is not supposed to be on and climbs into the plant.
As you know, if you read this journal, the way these cats are discouraged from their sin nature is with the aid of holy water--via squirt bottle.
I quickly found the squirt bottle and began dousing Sake with it. "You're not allowed in the plant" I scolded. But Sake just closed his eyes and stayed there, sitting in the plant.
Wait.
Not sitting.
Squatting.
"Oh, no, you are not pooping in the plant," I let the squirt bottle drop to my side in something resembling despair.
And so he finished and hopped down, soaking wet from his squirt bottle baptism, and trotted off to take a cat bath.
The heavy plant was then taken down, scooped out (unfortunately it was pee and not poop which graced the plant, and that is much harder to scoop out of the roots) and migrated into Holly's room which I then proceeded to close the door of.
I scooped their box in hopes that it would discourage further plant or other-objects-we-shouldn't-be-using-for-this-purpose pooping/peeing. I pet them a little more, filled up their food and water, left a message for Holly detailing the poop fiasco and my temporary solution to it and then headed home to continue my attempts to meet said deadline from the day before and leave to Holly the decisions about plant re-introduction into BadCat society, or not.
The next day I got a phone call from Holly. She wanted to know, had I smelled anything while I was there? Found other pee spots. No, I hadn't. She was baffled. "When I came home the whole condo reeked. It's bad. They peed all over the apartment."
Was this a BadCat reaction to holy water and plants being removed from their domain? Is this BadCat behavior a symptom of their reaching manhood and wanting to make sure we know that the condo belongs to them? Is it infection? Hatred? Love?
After thorough torture and interrogation involving closed bathroom doors and wet paws, they still refuse to give up their BadCat Society secrets. Thus, we may never know.
And, thus, they are going to be neutered.
Next time they'll think twice about the plant peeing. I mean, if we take their manhood, what else could we take? That's right KittyFaces, your mission has failed. Give it up.
Cheap
A penny for her trouble, kisses for her pain.
She hides in the gutters with the rain.
(There was a time when she cost a dime—
Now your two cents is enough to cost her years).
It’s been so very long since she let herself feel.
(Does this make it more or less real?)
Tarnished in this game, she flips again:
Heads you win, tails she loses.
Maybe today can see past her face
(If mercy’s a lie, then, so is grace.)
To see him smile, she sold him her soul.
She thought he was a million, but he only cost that much.
*
Expensive
A penny for his trouble, kisses for his pain
The gentleman he was melts in the rain.
(He used to try not to make her cry--
Her anyway-tears cost him the attempt.)
It’s been so very long since he lost his heart.
(Was it his fault entirely or just in part?)
Bankrupt in this game, he withdraws again:
Still pulling zeroes and writing blanks.
Maybe tomorrow will remake the man
(be it change of heart or slight of hand).
To get himself back he’d sell you his soul.
He thought she was a million, but she only cost that much.
"A person of integrity never lies about the journey. He acknowledges in humility where he came from, who he is, and where he hopes to go. His accomplishments, as great as they may be, never overshadow his character."
- Erwin Raphael McManus
I've always had a hard time being alone. The quiet. The empty feeling of a house. The embarrassing way I begin talking to myself... The novelty of being alone is only ever enjoyable to me for a short time. And by a short time, I mean less than a day. When I am alone, rather than feeling more clear and focused, as I would assume most people do, I feel less clear and more chaotic. Something about being around people has always steadied me and made me feel joyful.
In part I think this is nature. My dad is the same way. If you are in the living room, him and his book will migrate to the living room. If you're in the kitchen, there he is with commentaries spread across the kitchen table. If you are reading, he comes in to watch tv. Our dog is like this too, in fact, so whatever the need is--it's catching.
In fact, Bandit used to bite books that I was reading, because they were in his way when he wanted to lay on my belly. He never liked the attention I gave my books; he ate a few pages of one once when I left it on the floor. Poor John Adams. And poor Bandit, who I scared to death with my screaming and chasing him around the house.
And, so, all of this to say that this week hasn't been my favorite week.
Emily (roommate) is in Africa and I already miss her desperately. (though I am glad she could go. Africa is well worth some missing). The house is cold and dark and empty. I want to come home to conversation and cooking and episodes of the Office, but instead it is silence.
I've also realized that I need to let go of the hope that has been growing in me for a short time now. The hope in a particular man I've met. Who clearly has no interest and no inkling of mine. And if I keep holding onto that hope it will only continue to make me feel foolish and jealous and pained. And none of those things are what I need to be feeling and focusing on right now.
I need to be focusing on this new life. This new job and city and church and relationships. This set of new lessons. This renewal of hope and trust and faith. Not on someone who mostly ignores me and, when not that, makes shallow conversation.
Holly and Edgar and Erik and Katie I haven't seen much lately either. I miss the deep conversations and the laughter and the knowing smiles. I also need the hugs and the meaningful touches. My love language is touch, and I need that dearly.
And I miss the kittens.
So, you see, what I'm feeling here is a sense of loss. Mostly temporary (with the exception of LoveInterest-Am-Giving-Up-On). But still unsettling to me. My purpose in life has largely been to love people. And without being around people consistently I feel at a loss.
I am, though, so glad for work. I love Staci and Peter and Ross and Jasmine and everyone. I love hearing Staci's stories and Jasmine's laugh and being destroyed at ping pong by Tara. And I don't mind the working late--being around people and seeing (with the great joy that this brings me) my finished products. Seeing happy clients go off into the world. Baby birds flying for the first time. And I'm the proud mama. (Shut up. That is an awesome metaphor.)
All this to say that I'm a little lonely. And I'm glad that I have reasons to leave the house tomorrow: my haircut and time with Erik and maybe a professional massage--which always not only works out my tension but also clears my mind. I got one of those post-EOJ and a lot of them post-workday at M&L in New York. mm. But there they were in a basement full of massage tables and masseurs who spoke no English, and they only cost $20.
But enough down. I know just the cure for a few moments, the full Monty. Yes, yes, partially naked and totally average looking men. Good times.
