Ok, Teeny decided to let me sleep in this morning. She did not do a scratch solo last night at all. I guess a few nights ejected from my room did a little good there. However, she truly does understand that when the alarm goes off that I should get up. So, this morning, when I hit the snooze, like I always do EVERY morning, she decided that she would instead drum on my stomach, back and arms. This is NOT to be confused with kneading in any manner. This is a fairly hard cat paw hitting in a definite rhythm. Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap (on the stomach) Push the cat away sleepily…. Tap Tap Tap Tap (on my arm since I rolled a little) Push the cat further away this time Tap Tap Tap Tap (on my back since I rolled all the way over) Set the cat off the bed and glare at the alarm. It only went off 2 minutes ago!
Kitten Wars, the Waking Edition 8/29/14
29 Aug 2014 Leave a comment
in journal, Kitten Wars, reflections Tags: Cats, humor, kittens, waking up
Where to write?
29 Aug 2014 Leave a comment
in journal, reflections Tags: contest, place, relationship, son, time, writing
I looked at a friend’s post this morning and it made me think. Where, if I could choose any place, any time, would I go to write? I found that my answer was perhaps too simple for the question. I write where ever I am. Having a set place, time, group doesn’t work for me. When I have inspiration, when I have an idea, when I have a problem, I write. It doesn’t matter where I am or what I am doing. I note it down. I put it on my cell, on my flash drive, on a paper napkin even. I do this because if I wait even 10 seconds, I might lose whatever it was that made me want to write it down in the first place. My son is very familiar with me writing, sitting next to him on the couch, while he is watching TV. The raised finger tells him to hold his thought until I can finish what I’m typing. He and I have learned to work it out so that we are together, not separate. He knows the rules of “engagement” with me once my computer is open and I’m typing. In return, I try to respect him when he is deep into a game, anime, or video about one of his games.
So, in reply to the question where would I choose to write? How do you take a picture of everywhere?
Writing? or Just Scribbling?
28 Aug 2014 Leave a comment
in journal, reflections Tags: reflections, scribbling, thoughts, writing
Everything that I read says that if your goal is to be a writer, then you must write every day whether it is a tiny bit of excellence or excessive excrement. I understand how this works, but I have a small problem with it, too. Well, not just one, a couple.
By trade, I’m a speech pathologist in the school systems. To say that I write every day can be a vast understatement. There are days when all I do is write: plans, lessons, behavior analysis, creative set-ups with explanation, research plans, et cetera just for my job. On those days, when I come home, the last thing I want to do is look at my computer much less put my fingers back on a keyboard. My brain is complete, utter mush when I finally find my way to a seat that is not at my desk. I’ve even been known to pass out within moments of sitting down.
When I have these days of excessive writing at work, they tend to come in spurts where for several days and sometimes weeks, I can barely keep my eyes open once I leave school. But the flipside is that once this behavior ends, I tend to gorge myself in writing for creative outlet. Writing during that time is not so much a chore as a compulsion. I find that even when I’m “resting” while the story churns in my brain, I’m truly still writing it. Ideas flow, problems solve themselves, and issues that I had before the writing flurry suddenly make incredible sense. I find my creativity spikes hard in all directions for all of my hobbies.
I’ve been told that unless you have truly written that you never know what it’s like to stick with something. Well, I have stuck something, twice. I spent a year working on and writing my dissertation. It was a work of love and hate, joy and excessive pain. In the end, when it was finally ready for its birth, I collapsed in exhaustion never more ready for something to go away than that piece. So, yes, I’ve done a long work. I chose to write a qualitative piece, instead of the more accepted quantitative, that was over 300 pages when done. So, even in academia, I was playing to my strengths of expression.
So, no, I don’t do creative writing every day. Maybe I’ll never be a true “writer” but I have achieved my goal of writing stories, poems, and papers. It may not be a “writer” in the manner that is prescribed by so many successful “writers” and “authors”, but it is my way. Perhaps it only works for me. Perhaps because my goal is writing and not necessarily publishing, that’s what makes it work.
I write for enjoyment, for purging, for release, for companionship, and for escape. I write to learn about myself, to let my brain wander to the places it needs to go to heal. Writing is a part of me that I’ve lived with since I was in elementary school when I wrote my first counted poem in third grade about wolves running free. By the time I was in fifth grade, I had improved to the point of winning the district level essay competition. So, yes, the ability to write has wrapped itself around me sometimes like a blanket and other times in the form of a python strangling me until I gave into the ideas that it wanted me to bring about. Granted sometimes the blanket brings out scribbling while the python brings out the writer.
Kitten Wars the Musical Edition 8/28/14
28 Aug 2014 Leave a comment
in journal, Kitten Wars, reflections Tags: Cats, humor, kittens, litter box, music, night, scratch
It would seem that I have a VERY musical cat. Teeny enjoys what can only be described as Percussion instruments in the Oh dark thirty realm of night.Sometime between 3-5 AM she has taken up the art of the litter box scratch. Now during the day, she is very silent with this one, but in the wee hours of the morning, must be her performance time. Not the normal scratch and run is she. Oh, no. Teeny must scratch the walls as loudly as possible, making the sound echo not only in the box where she is but also in the bathroom. When shooed out of it, she waits, then comes back about a minute later. But, I have developed a way to alleviate this a bit. Each night she is no longer allowed in the bedroom. Her litter box is placed outside the room as well with a crate blocking my door so she can’t scratch it instead. Fortunately for me, she has not added the Climb and Scratch technique to her percussive talents.
Kitten Wars 8/24/14
24 Aug 2014 Leave a comment
in journal, Kitten Wars Tags: Cats, fun, humor, journal, kittens, mystery
I learned something very important in the cat world today. A lone folded towel in the middle of the dining room table is fight worthy for queen of the table rights. Cleo who usually never jumps on the table saw the towel from the couch and bounced over to it. Teeny who knew it was there but had basically ignored it, saw Cleo jumping to the table and instantly went to investigate. Much silent tussling and cat wrestling occurred until Cleo won the towel. Mind you they were on top of the towel during the entire event and not once did it come unfolded! Another of the cat mysteries, I’m sure. After all, it wouldn’t make a very good bed unfolded!
A Little Cat’s Music Kitten Wars at Peace time 8/23/14
23 Aug 2014 Leave a comment
in journal, Kitten Wars, reflections Tags: Cats, companionship, dogs, humor, kitten wars, love, Phantom of the Opera, relationships, singing, song, Webber
While writing “Songbird” I listened to “Phantom of the Opera” and other musicals that Andrew Lloyd Webber composed to get into the mood. While I frequently listen to all sorts of music, my cats usually ignore me and the computer. Until I put on Webber, overall, my computer was generally left alone, too. Little did I know that “Phantom” must be Teeny’s favorite music. I was singing along with “Think of Me” while I was composing the story on the keyboard when she leaped into my lap. Now most cat owners will think nothing of this, but keep in mind that Teeny is an affectionate in her own time kinda lady. She will talk to you, tell you she’s hungry, and knead on your shoulders on the couch, but getting into your lap is not her favorite thing. When she wants affection, she will call to you for you to come over to where ever she is poised ready for her scritch. SO for her to leap into my lap was very unusual.
Once in my lap, she started purring loudly, head bumping me, and kneading my legs as if she couldn’t decide which was the most important thing to do. At this point, I did a very silly thing. I STOPPED singing. Her head popped up. She put her face up to mine and took her paw to my lips where she proceeded to try to open them as if by that I would start singing once more. So, taking her clue, I started singing again. Once more the purring, the kneading, and the head bumping began. When the you tube vid was over, Teeny stared at the computer screen and very ladylike put her paw on the screen, then turned back to me with a look of “Make it happen! It can’t be over” So, I ran that video and sang for her that day. Can’t tell you how many times I sang just for my cat, but finally she dropped down off my lap. Supremely happy with herself, she walked over to Buddy, who was sleeping, and half-heartedly hissed at him telling him how stupid he was for sleeping while she and I had been communing.
Thoughts on “Songbird”
19 Aug 2014 Leave a comment
in journal, reflections Tags: blues, friends, hardship, jazz, music, ragtime, relationship, songbird
“Songbird” was written in part about an old friend from UGA as well as something that I used to do in the drama building. Back then the theatre people and the music people shared the same building. It was an old lady with beautiful granite/marble stairwells that echoed perfectly. I was extremely shy back then, but those stairwells called to me as nothing else did. Whenever I would have a lull between classes and knew that no one should be going up to the third floor, I would sing songs that filled my heart. As soon as I heard someone open one of the doors, I would scatter through the closest of the four doors to either the outside, basement, lobby, or third floor and make myself scarce. I tried assiduously to not get caught. In the five years I was there, I was only caught singing once by someone who had a feeling it was me. He literally timed me out of one of my classes just to verify that it was indeed me singing in the stairwell. It was then that I found out that he and several others had been listening to me sing for quite sometime. I was thoroughly embarrassed at being caught, but extremely thrilled that someone was listening considering that I was truly only singing because those stairwells begged for it.
The old friend that actually brought the story to mind was one who would play jazz and ragtime on the practice pianos. In my story, James is him in my mind, all grown up. My friend would play at all times of day and night changing pianos each time. He couldn’t help playing any more than I could stop singing. It was who we were at that time. He wore a brown trench coat, a long grey-tan scarf, and I believe a fedora, but it could have been another style of hat. He was always dressed as nicely as he could be. Despite the obvious quality of his clothes, they were threadbare and patched. He carried himself with a natural pride of knowing who he was, even when he was diligently watching for any night watchmen. It was several month before I ventured into the practice room where he was playing “Tea for Two” and introduced myself. Actually, I should say that he introduced himself, as I was too shy to say much of anything. I believe he knew I had been sitting close by listening for quite a while as he nodded at me like an old friend.
We sat saying nothing as he went through all sorts of ragtime, jazz, and blues. After a while, I sang softly to something he was playing, he grinned and from then on played things that I might know. It wasn’t until a good while later that I found out that my extremely talented friend had been living where ever he could for the last few years. He had put his degree on hold due to a family misfortune and was all alone in the world. As I was living in an all girl’s dorm, I had nothing to offer him other than a warm meal and friendship. He took the friendship, declining food, saying that I was a student, too and couldn’t afford it.
So, “Songbird” was made for that time, that place. It is a mix of what could have happened, could have been.
Kitten Wars 8/17/14
17 Aug 2014 Leave a comment
in journal, Kitten Wars Tags: cat, Cats, determination, fun, journal, kitten wars, teeny
Sometimes this human is just a slow learner, evidently. Under the mistaken notion that if I left a costuming project on the table that the cats would leave it alone, I did just that. Teeny decided to educate me on that idea by making it her new “kitty nest”. Coated in fresh long haired cat fur, I decided that the linen had to be washed before I could return to my project. I’m guessing that was the wrong idea. As I began gathering up 10+ yards of fabric for the washer, Teeny hopped up on the table and plopped down in the middle of the fabric daring me to move it. Until this point, Teeny has been fluent in human and English, but when I told her “down” and “off the fabric” she decided that she no longer understood those words and glared at me. When I moved my hands in to pick up the fabric and pull it, to quietly physically urge her off, she placed her paw on my hand and narrowed her eyes. We spoke about this one cat to human and human to cat. Being the determined human that I am, I finally picked her up and put her back on the floor then swiftly grabbed up a few yards before she bounced back onto the table where we began again. This time I didn’t bother with telling her “Off”, I just picked her up and put her on the floor. Nonchalantly she turned her head over her shoulder and did an annoyed but non-threatening hiss at me before raising her royal head as high as it could go with her tail straight up as she walked out of the room. Human:1, Cat:0. I’m sure she gets points for nerve and presentation.
Kitten Wars
14 Aug 2014 Leave a comment
in journal, Kitten Wars Tags: cat, dog, humor, Kitten, kitten wars, relationships, slice of life
Well the battle grounds have moved from the living room to my bedroom once more. While it was once a war, we are living in a strange glow of peace for now. Where once Cleo ruled supreme as queen of the quilted comforter, I am finding more and more that Teeny has decided that her daytime rest area and night time haunt happen to be my bed. I have found where she has arranged my covers to suit her over and over again. Of late I am now finding a cat occupying that place and not the fluffy tail of the one who would slink away. She has become much bolder as she knows us all. Cleo does not seem to mind being usurped as she has been making it a habit to curl up next to Teeny while they clean each other. Buddy feels quite neglected by all this because he has known from a very early age that DOGS are NOT allowed on the bed. Being the mostly rule abiding canine that he is, he puts his head on his paws and sighs when they start up with the girly cat-ness that they are.
Bright and Shiny, Fresh and Filled with Hope
10 Aug 2014 Leave a comment
in journal, teaching Tags: hope, remodel, remodeling, school, school year, teachers, teaching
The new year began on Wednesday and the students all came with their excited faces and laughter. They brought energy to the freshly remodeled school that had remained empty over the months of summer. With them came the actual heat of summer as Georgia has had an unseasonably cool June and July. As they trotted, skipped, and danced their way around the fresh paint and the workers still making the “final” adjustments all of the flaws from the tired old school of last year faded away making this truly a new year.
Last year we were forced to become accustomed to a school that had no ceiling tiles, wires hanging all over the place, and a depth of dust from the remodeling that no one should ever be required to be around. We came back from Christmas 2013 to find our school a shadow of what it had been with all of its assorted guts beginning to show. By the end of 2013-2014 we knew intimately the innards of our school and it was not pretty. Its strange how that became the accepted norm while bringing all of our morale down despite any attempts at the hope of the fresh school of the future. By the end of May we were all trudging along, frantically sorting, chucking, and packing all of our belongings so that the workers could get to their main work while wondering what they had been doing since January if summer was to be their main work. Admittedly, tempers were short, sleep was even shorter. More fights broke out than normal. The students truly didn’t understand why they were constantly upset, but it was the tiredness of their surroundings, the feeling of hopelessness from the dirt, the dust, the wires, and everything else weighing upon them. As a faculty and a school, summer could not get there fast enough.
So, coming back to this new school, and it is a NEW school, with its bright paint, tiled floor, and new classrooms with shiny equipment, is a true blessing. The students feel the hope that is there and are building from it. May this year continue in its cheer, its laughter, and its fun.
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