After much contemplation, I’ve come to the conclusion
that time is just an illusion.
For once my years marked ten, growing took twice as long,
and age turned all wrong.
So at fifteen, I felt but twelve.. And a half,
and the rest is just a laugh.
Because I didn’t turn fifteen until I was twenty,
and I won’t make twenty until I’m thirty.
Though age demands I take responsibilities,
my heart is still full of possibilities.
I may have a mortgage, insurance, and a loan—
all the proof I’m a woman grown—
I still feel as if I need adult supervision
and someone to give permission.
Perhaps I’ll have to wait until I’m fifty
to feel like an adult at thirty.
I must conclude that once I’m seventy and preparing for an ending,
I’ll be but forty and still beginning.
So recently, a friend of mine, from Twirling in the Rain, reminded me that she had a blog, which, in turn, reminded me that I have a blog. It has not yet been a full year since my last post, so I don’t feel too bad. But anyway.
The impetus for this post is a poorly timed coffee, the insomnia brought on as a result, my very nature, and my whirling thoughts.
I’ve said before that I’m an all-or-nothing sort of person. Either my life is completely falling apart or it’s completely put together. Right now it’s on the “completely put together” end of the spectrum, which includes picking up the things I’ve neglected for way too long (i.e., my blog). But in putting my life back together, I feel as if I tried to take off running without realizing that I’ve had my feet tied down—like in a slapstick comedy where the hapless hero or bad guy falls flat on his face.
As promised in my last post, “Updating Life,” this is the story of our two Meezers, Jitterbug and Lindyhop, but mostly about Jitterbug.
I found Jitters first. I’d been checking every place I could think of for potential fur-babies.
Pretty quickly I found PetFinder. Great website because it partners with a lot of shelters and you can search by animal, breed, age, gender, and distance. Jitters was listed as Sophie and was quite a ways away (a good two hour drive at least), but she was absolutely gorgeous so I had to give her shelter a call.
The lady that ran the shelter was honest with me.
She felt that Jitters would never be a social cat. Jitters wouldn’t interact with her at all and would hiss when she would try to pet her. She’d never bitten the lady, but then, the lady hadn’t really given her the opportunity. We could have her for free, but it was with the understanding that we would never have a nice friendly cat that would cuddle and purr. Her history was largely unknown, except that she’d been found with her sister, Suki, and brought to the shelter.
Well, I wasn’t daunted by that, and neither was my roommate. My family had once said I could tame bobcats, and I doubted I’d lost that touch. And besides, free Siamese cat. Look at her, she’s gorgeous! So we made the drive.
I would be the first to admit that I’m not the best at finishing things. It’s been approximately 3 months since my last post and I have no less than 8 drafts of posts that are all but finished, barely started, just an idea, or multiple versions of the same thing that I can’t figure out which to use. Those same 8 drafts have been there for the past 3 months, completely untouched. I haven’t even opened WordPress in that time.
Was the break intentional? Initially, but it wasn’t meant to be prolonged.
I had had grand plans of taking the entire month of November (NaNoWriMo) and all my free time therein to finish (or come close to finishing) Freak Accidents (because I actually do have an end in mind), but something happened somewhere in the middle of November that made me too excited to accomplish those grand plans.
My life updated. A friend needed a roommate and I realized that it was financially feasible for me to move out. We decided we’d move at the end of December.
Last year, I noticed that the closer graduation became, the more done I got with doing school things. There was a time of my life when I would have been perfectly comfortable continuing with school for the rest of my life, so long as I had a good long break every once in a while. But that time has come and gone like a freight train (note that the average freight train is not exactly fast). So approximately six months before I graduated with my masters degree, something in my psyche went, “Why are we still doing this to ourselves? It’s time to be done! Staaaaaaahhhhhhp!” (My mental processes often have different personalities, which is why I sometimes think to myself in plural.)
Now that I’m officially done with school, and not just mentally done (nevermind that I’m thinking about taking a class next semester just because I can), my mind has latched on to another thing to be done with.