A Kittery Tale: My Body is a Playground

These five rascally little critters are creeping upon nine weeks old.  Which means they are jumping; skipping, side-sliding and scaling EVERYTHING.  Take for instance my legs and my need to wear two pairs of pants because each and every one of these kitteries has taken a running jump onto my calf and attempted to crawl up as far as the fabric would take them.  They are like little lumber jacks, or ice climbers.  They selectively use their claws in unimaginable ways.

Recently they have taken this skill to a whole new challenge with similar height restrictions, but a broader playing area: my back, while cleaning the litter box.  There I am all hunched over feces, making sure everyone is feeling confident about their next poo when one or more of them take a running leap at my back.  I mean, obviously claws are involved in this, they are learning the the “running-jump and cling”.   This may or may not be a problem for me on any given day on account of what shirt I am wearing and the surface area that it covers plus thickness of material or lack there of.  “Lack of material” immediately inserts a negative into the question which = claws in skin which may be multiplied by the depth of penetration.

I never thought my body would be a playground.  I never knew that someone should recommend wearing Carharts, gloves and denim in order to deal with furry, sharp-sharp furriness.

Here is the juxtaposition that makes it even harder… They can be SO gentle and sweet; it is selective and you have to pay attention and the less you pay attention the more likely you are to meet some sort of feline wrath.

Perhaps you are a seasoned kitterycat enthusiast/ companion; for me this is my third instillation of “learning experiences” that have been growing more intense over time and as I’ve mentioned before, my first “hands on from birth of the feline species” experience.  I really didn’t know what to expect and what people told me to do, I kind of bounced it around and felt it out, ultimately disregarding it to the degree of augmenting it and seeing what worked in my situation.

I am by no means disappointed, in fact this whole thing has been amazing but not always perfect.

You know how I was saying that one needs to pay attention to the feline signs?  Well I do, over all; certain calls for food or new litter (and in Quantum’s case, to go outside or the fact she is tired of her kin), the kittens are in the experimental hunting phase of looks, eye connection (or lack thereof) and “mad-dogging”.

Here is how it usually goes down:   I want to lay down and primarily settle down for the night but the minute I walk through the door everyone wants attention and they are fired up.  When they are fired up they wrestle and run around and jump on everything or claw anything until their tiny little muscles say “STOP!”

I lay in bed and they treat me like some Kittery CrossFit that includes; running laps, using my bun like a weighted rope, high diving off of shelves and stealthily trying to bite/lick my eyes, ears, nose, mouth and chin.  If I was more invested I would come up with proper names for the crazy events this clan of Kittery participates in, daily.

My least favorite event, is “Stare Her Down With Looks Of Love And Then Take Swift Bats At Her Face.”  A kittery will get all close to my face hole; all big eyes and looks of curiosity.  Then they start bobbing around a little, probably because they are focusing on a place on my face to plant a claw (if they are ruthless) or just a paw (if they are somewhat scary yet playful)  and then it is “GAME ON”.   My hands already look like I not only cut myself (for fun, of course) but also as though I have experienced the “stigmata”… raisin’ kitteries ain’t easy.

Admittedly I have had to learn to retaliate from this physical abuse.  Some of the events in my height and weight Cat-agory are ” Shake ‘Em Off Like a Dog”, Human Earth Quake, Kittery Toss, and Quicker Reflexes.

I think “Kittery Toss” is fun for everyone.

When I walk through the door, they know my gait coming down the hall.  They not only swarm but also they try and escape.  I suppose it isn’t appropriate to kick them around like soccer balls, so, I pick them up one by one and gently toss them (American Quaterback Football Style) onto my bed.   If one goes, they all watch and they jet quickly to greet their tossed sister or brethren on the landing pad with some good ole fashion kitty wrestling.    I just keep tossing them up there and they just keep coming back for more.   It’s the one event that seems to leave me uninjured and the kitteries highly entertained.

If you want to read about the first two episodes click here Quantum Express~ A Kittery Tale and here A Kittery Tale: Sleep Deprivation and Emerging Personalities.

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It is the Fourteenth Minute

What really matters?

(A stream of consciousness.)

Once upon a time, I thought I would be FAMOUS! Other people thought I would be famous too. They BELIEVED in me. (Here is where I insert motivational year book posts, from people who thought I was talented and intimidating.)

Once upon a time, I thought I would be that person, too. What most people don’t know, is that I went down that road in the early stages of my life and it made me feel very wrong. Very bad. Very “Not Worth Pursuing.” I didn’t have a back up plan. I wasn’t like, “If acting fails me, I guess I will just go into accounting or teaching, or blah blah.” It was my one thing. I knew I could do it, I knew I could succeed but inevitably the compromises were too great for my will to continue.

I was a single shot, single aim player (despite being talented in more than one way). When I realized I couldn’t consciously take a path of attention, my fucking road crumbled. I’ve had to submit to God, or the Universe because nothing fills me with the sense of self and accomplishment performance and attention provided. My well paved path became a vague dirt track in the underbrush. I have become totally okay with building my own path but this realization has only occurred slightly before current society found itself at the brink of our current and evolving paradigm; which is far more saturated and competitive in attention seeking than it was twenty plus years ago.

1. I never succumbed to the “casting couch” but I was well aware of it, even to the point that no-name-budding producers were using the age old formula. I did’t cave. I walked away.

2. Even when things weren’t “supposedly” creepy, they were creepy as fuck. I have a low tolerance for creepy. The world is full of good people… but there is at least one lecher for every good human.

3. You can’t look to actors for real truth. You can’t look to artists as solid Truth. They are reflections. They are puppets of agenda. They are but a finger prints of their own influence, be it racism or anarchy; Jesus or socialism. The truth as the fruit doesn’t fall from the tree. As an actor you have to leave your beliefs at the door if you want a role. As a creator, you can spout your belief all day. Your belief doesn’t always equal Truth because you want it to. That is why some say that “Truth is subjective.” I realize I am far too head strong to be molded or meld into the agenda of some stranger; this doesn’t work for me when it comes to the transfer of strict control and willing participation.

4. I’ve had to deal long and hard with imaginary disappointment. What if others were disappointed in me because I railed against the media or thought forms they found less than entertaining? What happens when I don’t live up to my “dream”. Am I a failure? In whose eyes does it really matter?

5. Entertainment distracts us from areas where we may actually have influence. To be entertained is to shut down and turn off. Entertainment is the go-to way of relying on some external amusement in avoidance of the real world. ( I am well acquainted by choice.) Modern entertainment begs us to imagine ourselves as superheros, sexpots and rock stars (that is the “high end”); on the low end this “programmed media” wants us to laugh while simultaneously feel shitty about the harsh realization of being absolutely ordinary with far less adventure than our seemingly realistic familiar box office faces. (It isn’t so cute these days, when a friend says “You remind me SO MUCH of Amy Schumer!” or any other person on screen. I use to love it because low self esteem told me that everyone is better looking, smarter and more entertaining than me… my vanity enjoyed the fact that people said I looked like Meg Ryan, Jenna Elfman, Allison Mack, and Jean Harlow.) Amusement is FREE  of attachment for people who realize what exists outside of boxes.

6. Media is a program. Media is a way of brainwashing people. Media is a religion and an excuse for other nefarious things. Media is also a great medium to disseminate if you are actually looking for truth. No one makes it there on a whim. “You have to spend money to make money.” Only replace the first “money” with “will”. Nothing is free, and it all comes with a cost.

7. Truth wins over fame, fortune or notoriety. Truth trumps it all. Media is built around an agenda. Shut it all off for a month and actually question yourself, “What do I think about …?” Escape the hive mind and think for yourself; media works because it is somehow able to disconnect this essential mind factor. What happens when you escape the echo chamber, the distraction?

Sometimes I get down on myself, silently I think that I am disappointing someone… and then I realize it is myself I am disappointing. Then I realize, I am not disappointed in myself, I am disappointed in what I was told was Truth, which only turns out to be fabricated agenda fallacy. Those are the hard knocks. Hard Truths. Sad Truths.

Funny, because I only wanted to be a B lister. Like Janeane Garafolo in Mystery Men. Or Parker Posey in Best in Show.

Behind the curtain things are not as nice as you would be lead to believe. In fact, it’s even more gross than you could imagine. That seems to be the case when millions of dollars are on the line, and the script for humanity has to continue.

So, what now? I occasionally pick up entertainment gigs. Maybe I will finally get around to creating my own show. But it isn’t as pressing or as important as I thought not so long all. All of that isn’t as important these days. Maybe it’s because I have gained weight and gathered wrinkles… maybe it’s because I don’t want to mislead people. I don’t know. I do know people have believed in me as a performer and now I am super picky about what I do. I don’t want to play over old scripts repeated ad nasieum since Shakespeare. Perhaps I feel like I have already paid my dues and said, “No, not this season.” Who the friggidy frack knows. I just know I signed out.

You don’t have to follow a script on stage, it is a choice. You also don’t have to follow a script in real life, that too is a choice. (Think White picket fence,2.5 kids… or Mad Men type bachelor for eternity.) We don’t have to be locked in, but we are told we should lock ourselves in. If you feel like an archetype, you are probably following that script.

If you are anything like me, the minute someone tells you how it “should be”, you make a concerted effort to break the mold. I am not the person I was at 16 or 18 or even 25. I’m not. I’ve learned and grown. I have embraced those parts of my personality that see through the shit and unabashedly calls it out and I like those parts of myself.

All of those past things I wanted to pan out soley because I wanted to be solidified in your (the external) sphere of love. It was a false love because it had nothing to do with loving or liking me as a person, or me loving or liking you in return; it all just related to you loving or liking me because you relate to a character, and me dying for warm attention.

This use to be my whole philosophy as an actor; “I hope I can play characters that make people think and laugh. To contemplate what they cannot comprehend.” We don’t need characters to tell us the agenda of a writer. We need to think for ourselves and question everything. The world will tell you that you are wrong if you are not apart of the major consensus. That isn’t true. If you realize there is an agenda that disagrees with supporting creation and life, you shouldn’t feel bad about your desire to have no part in it.

Back in the 90’s all of us kids were talking about how gross it is to “sell out.” I would argue that instead of the name “Gen X” or whatever they call us, we should call ourselves “The Sell Out Generation.”
The transition from analog to digital was profound and our previous programming led us to believe we would each have our fifteen minutes of fame. Digital reality made that a very real potential. Now that we have it and it is driven by fifteen year olds… how do we feel? (Some 15 year olds are smart and cool, but most of them are assholes in the middle of development but caught in a self perpetuated microcosm of selfish dramas.) Perhaps some parents can’t see this at all because they sold their children out as infants on youtube, and being an asshole teen on youtube is bound to make ad revenue for mom and pops.

I don’t share my grandma with you too often because I think it is a way to capitalize on the elderly, and my grandma is not on point with all of her thinking. So I am not going to sell her out. I’m not going to monetize her for your entertainment. I call that integrity and morality. Some of you might think that idea is stupid but it isn’t for you to decide.

If you are paying attention to the world, you will realize how whack it all is. If you haven’t looked in to Allison Mack of Smallville fame and her connection to the NXVIM cult (pronounced Necks-Vi-Um), check that shit out and see her connections to child sex trafficking and providing notable names in government and entertainment with children. You can see why I might not be so keen on the comparisons now. (Sorry kids, but the Clinton Foundation is on the list of money connections to this creepy group.)

Very soon the media that you hold near and dear, is going to crumble before your eyes. Your heros are going to be noticed for long buried realities. The clock is going to ring on many of these fifteen minute-ers.

Thank you to all of you who believed in my talent. I hope you continue to believe in my voice and feel inclined to follow up on research with topics that have come into my view from my evolution as a person. I stand here today as a real person… not someone trying to play you, by playing a character.

There are some really disconcerting things lying in the underbelly of our reality. None of it will stop until we collectively reach a level of disgust that will tip the scales. This means crushing almost everything you hold near and dear and familiar. Politics are a joke. Your actors are a joke. Your music is a joke. Everything you’ve been told by an outside source, unsubstantiated, is a joke. Buckle your safety belt; hold your children close and kiss your loved ones. Shit is only going to get weirder.

-Mandie aka Madge