Category Archives: Writing

A Kittery Tale: Khajiit Finds a Furever Home with Jenny and Seneca aka, Khajiit turns Rock Star

Okay, okay… A random cat finds you, you think it may be lost and you give it the freedom   to return to “home”,only “home” is now your house and she gets all prego… whaddaydo?

Watch life begin, of course.

The last 12 weeks have been brutal… for me.  Separations; mom wanting space, bigger poops in the litter box, everyone eating me out of house and home but ultimately jealousy.  Let me tell you about my late affection.

Little Rascal (now known as Khajiit) is one of the two calico’s from my tiny fur tribe.  She was the last one to offer me her sweetness.  When she finally gave forth, it was precious beyond words… but our beginnings were not so kosher.

In my observation Itty Bitty and Khajiit were in cat-hoots.  They like a bit of that bite and claw action.  If someone was biting at my toes, it was that Lil Rascal Khajiit. In the beginning there was minimal holding and reluctance to kiss; week 11 when Peanut Buddy (now Otto) left, the tides shifted. Lil Miss shifted from “battle bro” to “cuddle now.”  I had no complaints.  She jumped on the kissy train and settled down a bit.

Of course this begs the question of sibling dynamics, even in the animal world.  Catland was now fully saturated with females and one male, Big Boy .  Big Boy calmed down at least five fold without Peanut Buddy offering some male petition. Khajiit was in second place when it came to strength, size and agility without harassing Momma.  The Game was on.

Khajiit seemed to desire some self definition right away; she was a middle baby and despite her distinction in the looks department, her evasive nature made her hard to pin down or in human terms “force love upon”.   She seemed astute and willing to sit on the sidelines in order to form her own opinions.  I regret to say that more than once she was at the mercy of my clumsy nature around fast moving objects (namely my clumsy ass feet).  I definitely stepped on her tail more than once but always apologized and gave love afterward.   At one point I asked myself why it was always her that was at the mercy of my lack of grace…. obviously she came to grips with it because when she decided to love, it was super obvious.

All of sudden she wants to cuddle, FIRST!  Everyone else is running around like an idiot and she is like “Nah, I’m gonna grab that sweet warm spot behind the shaggy fat persons legs.”  History is made!  But Her Story is just beginning.

Jenny and Seneca wanted a kittery.  They NEEDed a kittery; my house is like a cat drug den… who will fall victim?  After Otto left, I let them all know ‘Some one is waiting for you,  and they can’t wait to show you a whole new world.”  Before Jenny came over to meet and greet, I told them “It’s equal opportunity, but I have my feelings.”   For some reason I knew LIL would make her mark in the introductory love department, and she did not disappoint.

Jenny came over for a meet and greet with a nature so gentle, I am sure all of them were surprised.    That nature is just what Lil needed if only to give them a run for their money.   Jenny wants to toilet train and walk on a leash and that is exactly the kind of world exposure newly named Khajiit needs.  A whole new world of love and adventure. Independence and dependence with the perfect balance of personality.

Khajiit is currently causing a riff of jealousy with her kin; within 48 hours of being in her new home she was given the opportunity to star in a music video from SunnyDale High, Seneca’s rad Wyoming band that thematically follows Buffy The Vampire Slayer.  Khajiit is going to be a hit.

You should definitely check out her acting debut with a great soundtrack by Seneca’s band.  Also you should definitely check out Sunnydale High when they play WARPED Tour this summer in Denver, if you do, you should tell them  “Khajiit sent you.”

May all my kitteries rock and find their love-home dreams come true.

Check out Khajiit’s debut and Sunnydale High’s music at this adorable link.

May the Meows be with you, Lord Kittery knows we all could use it right now.

 

 

 

 

 

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A Kittery Tale: PeanutBuddy Finds a Furever Home.

The time has come for the kitteries to say goodbye to me and Momma.  Time to go into the great unknown that exists outside of my bedroom.   Time to bond and claim space in places that are not “here.”

PeanutBuddy, also referred to as “My Lil Lion” was my one solitary light colored kit in the brood.   He is strong, and sweet.  The minute the kitteries pics went up, people were most interested in him.  I went with my first friend showing interests with an intent to re-home them with people I know, or people who have been vetted by people I know.

This week I have really felt the need to cull the herd; Momma is getting irritated and they are growing at a rapid pace which makes a small room feel even smaller.  PeanutBuddy was the strongest and biggest and was making daily efforts to test his strength, endurance and agility on his poor tired Mommacat. Her irritation was palatable as she would attempt to shake him off or subdue him long enough to jump to unreachable heights.

At night, I wrangle the kits into an upside down laundry basket so that I can spend a night without being ambushed or having random objects drop from shelves.  This morning I noticed they had grown big enough to require more than one laundry basket, so it’s probably a good thing they like a nice cuddle puddle.

Last night I met with my friend and her mother, to come meet the kit and sent them  home with a pillow made of my decimated bed spread; fully engulfed in the clan scent.  I wanted to make sure their current cat was cool with it, and I want something familiar for him to go to in his new home.  Their current kitty slept the night on the pillow, and will hopefully share and accept Peanut once she recognizes Peanuts smell in there.

Before they came over I debriefed the kitteries about our visitors and their intentions and our future together.  I told them all that the people were specifically interested in PB.  Once my friend and her mother arrived the kits dynamic changed.  PB who is usually quite gregarious, hung back and acted skitterish.  Everyone else stepped to the forefront, which is rare for a couple of them.  They actively engaged in play while PB hid under the dresser, unsure of his future.  Toward the end of the hang out he emerged and gave socialization a go, his little heart pitter pattering with nerves.

After our guests left, I told them it wasn’t certain, but it was likely that PB would be going away tomorrow. I explained that it wasn’t my lack of love, it was simply not economical or fair, they need their space.  We all need our space and deserve it.  Lots of love was given, but I could feel another shift in the dynamic.  I would liken it to rebellion.

This morning, ( the day after) I was given confirmation that PeanutBuddy had a new home and that he would be leaving this afternoon. As soon as I told everyone what was up the rebellion kicked off.   Bites were harder, jumps were more pronounced and effective.  (While bending over in nothing but underwear one of them jumped straight on to my  ass in the most brutal of ways…. yeah, I jumped and yelped.)

Each time I would walk into my room the energy was different, usually everyone is cuddled in a mass but today, everyone was close together with PB sitting alone at the end of my dogs bedding. It felt like contemplation and the energy of his siblings was resentful.  They knew they were losing their leader.   Perhaps I am anthropomorphizing them, or perhaps spending almost thirteen weeks straight with these little critters from day one, means I am experiencing a very real dynamic that I have limited understanding and wording for, but this is what I can liken it to.

11:30 am rolled around and it would be soon that separation would occur.  I wanted us all to share one last cat nap together.  I forgot my phone, so I asked the cats to make sure I got up by 12:30.  At first it was a struggle, everyone was blaming me with what energy they had left and PB was the last to settle down but when he did, he cuddled under my chin on my neck and fell fast asleep while the rest of his crew laid in a puddle on my abdomen.  Momma laid down on the dresser, overlooking our pile of fur and humanity and we rested for an hour and I had to get up.

It was like curtain call in the theatre.  “Okay cats (cast), life will change very soon.  Make your peace and say your good-byes. We love you PeanutBuddy!”

A short while later I asked my grandma if she would like to say goodbye, and she said yes.  I brought him into the room and she became emotional.

“It feels like I am losing a friend.” She said.  I couldn’t help but agree, once upon a few months ago they were helpless little fur balls with an uncertain future… now they could probably instinctively kill a rodent and be surprised by the outcome… how far we can move so quickly.

Everyone said goodbye, even the dogs.  And I slipped that little tan critter in to a critter carrier; it was hard.  I am not a cat person, I am an animal person.   Sometimes I hate love, ya know… you always have to say goodbye and it’s rarely a relief.   My emotions are wrapped up in the fact that I saw life happen in front of my eyes.  I saw growth and development based on my influence.  I hope they all are just the best for their new homes but that doesn’t stop the emotion I am feeling.  I am not quite sure what to liken it to as a person who has never had children.    I guess I get the same feeling when I think about my dog, or any dog I have ever loved or has been loved by people I love, and that dog passing away.  I’m deeply saddened by the idea of the feeling of abandonment.

I want that kittery to know I didn’t “abandon him,” even though it feels like I did.  Will he care once he is integrated and spoiled in his new home… probably not, but I don’t know for sure and that is why they call it anthropomorphism.  We put human attributes on animals, I don’t know if they felinopomorph, and think any one human is more or less cat-tributed behavior or personality.   I know my relationship with Quantum is significantly different now than it was when she came to me in November, and we have yet to see how that will pan out  once she regains her space and freedom.  (This bitch needs a snip-snip if you know what I mean, before she can explore the outdoors again.)

I just take it day to day, ya know?  Really it’s all I can do.

Conspiracy

In the last few years, a few of my closest friends have shown a disgust for how I think; when once it seemed that was one of their favorite attributes in my personality.

Perhaps they think that I think that the world is out to get us, or maybe that I have fear of my fellow human.  The word conspiracy has that effect on people, on purpose.   You are either “in” or “out” of it.  Those who stay out of it generally take what they are given verbatim without thinking too much about any of it, and then when the time is right, they regurgitate it in order to protect themselves.  It’s safe, it’s something to cling to and gosh darn it four out of five professional/experts/doctors/scientists agree.

Fact: We live in a hierarchical structure of natural  power. Humans interpret it as a Hierarchical structure of CONTROL.  (In Nature, a large cat could pounce on you and kill you in an instant.  In Man Made Control, you know that you don’t want to be killed by a large cat, and therefor you make legislation to limit the amount of cats thereby “humanely hacking Nature” so that you can “protect the human population that is growing into lands that large cats inhabit.”  You hire a good looking suit to deal with nitty-gritty nature (just an example of NOT working with nature and focusing solely on self preservation and growth from a safe citizen stand point.)

Why do you think a large cat might kill you, if it isn’t hungry?  It knows you are in their territory. Boundaries are real in biology. We kill wild animals like we kill “wild/ undomesticated” humans.  We invade and take over and kill the population down until it no longer feels like a threat to the agenda.  This shit is real, AND repetitive, folks.

No One becomes something out of nothing.  We live within a structure of levels; natural and imposed.  If you seek to ascend the levels, whether it is in a gang; tribe, pack, job, corp, MLM scheme, or even government… You gotta pay your dues and the work usually pays off by climbing the ladder.  Even our education system is built around passing tests and making the grade.

“Uhm did you even graduate?  But, like, did you GET your degree?” 

This construct of existence is embedded into us from conception and is further reinforced once we enter the world.

Fact:  Hierarchical structures will never lend to equality in any place but Nature, the Natural Way.

When I talk about equality, I am not talking about the subjective definition of “feminism” or Black Lives Matter movement.  I am talking about every living being, playing a fair field in survival and consequence. Nature is just as brutal as it is forgiving.  We don’t have to tell it what to do *edit*Yet there are things we can do that assist the natural order.  YES!  Arnica helps with bruises!  Yes!  Turmeric helps with inflammation and painNature also works with us, the natural organisms existing on it. (That doesn’t mean that humans aren’t trying to find a loophole or hack beyond that.  Google Cloud Seeding in Drought Areas.  We are in the heyday of humans trying to control the thing that naturally sustains their life without comment or opinion.)  This also means that sometimes certain people are struck by lightening more than once.  What does it mean when we have a conversation with nature or the world around us, and then integrate it into our present circumstances?   The process can actually share a lot of into.

Before there was democracy, there were kingdoms; Matriarchal societies, small tribes, councils, prophets, tribunals, cults and that one asshole snake oil salesman, etc.   Each society  has taken a stab at trying to control themselves and anyone in eye sight.    Even in small sedate groups of friends, you will find an “Alpha” that drives the dynamic.  There is a certain order to Nature that man seems to think he can perfect, as to streamline command in times of trouble or discomfort. (Note, usually the drive to do this is incredibly selfish and not at all about the greater collective.  The charisma drives the agenda.  This is how one good looking and well spoken person, can lead a “revolution” that is purely based on a selfish agenda.  If you look good; sound good, have money and press to back you, things can get Gold(en)). Everyone wants to be on the “Sunny Side of the Street.”  Currently we are sitting in a spit stew of people who have barreled forward this way.  The House Of Cards is Ready to Crumble.  Charisma and money are not a Savior.

This is not to say that Hierarchy is wrong; more so, it is to say that this is an unavoidable dynamic in the construct we not only collectively support, but also live in, and with some intro/retrospection, could probably address better as a collective.  As it stands, the one with the most money and sponsors wins; they win public opinion; they alter the course of research, and they justify the use, misuse or under-usage of that which belongs to ALL OF THE PEOPLE.

This may seem fair if you find agree-ability to an agenda or personality,  but it isn’t  fair at all due to the huge disparity of financial equity that holds this structure in place. ( I feel bad for people who send their spare $5 to a candidate that is given thousands if not millions by large corporations.  Do you feel like you are actually “contributing”?  Of course you feel “invested in a cause” if you send your last five dollars… you are scraping by as-is.  That five dollars was the last bit of hope you had wishing for a better future.  That must feel futile and draining.)

This dynamic is as old as time and will seemingly continue to play out in repeat until all of us get the clear picture of how this play continues in repeat.

Let me give you an example, since so many people are going to the polls today in places like California.

The program has always been:  VOTE!  Your VOTE matters!  YOU can Make a Difference!  Get to those polls!

If you were anything like me,  your first time voting, you did some research, got fired up and took to the poll box, only to find that the person you wanted to vote for was not on the ballot.  In the state of Wyoming where I took my first vote, they told me “If you write in a candidate, you lose your vote.”  (This would lend to my later years of not voting, because, like, am I really losing a vote if I don’t vote? Or am I voting by purposefully stepping out of the game?”)

People are increasingly getting disinterested in the voting aspect of politics because they know it can be hacked, and when your options are limited in a swing state, and you feel vehemently opposed to a candidate it isn’t a (personal) vote of the least offensive.  That is the crap about voting, it will always be polarized by the system and finacially supported by backers with the most cash=influence.   One that alone an election is always going to be in imbalance.

In that first voting experience I was CRUSHED! I was discouraged from writing in a vote.

I live in a swing state ( Highly influenced by the Electoral College), there was no use in putting in a vote for my choice ( at the time Ralph Nader).  I was two months into being 18 and the Presidency had been so hyped up that local politics was drowned out by mainstream division.  Despite being crushed, I tried again four years later in the same location, this time, giving the vote to someone on the ballot.  G.W.Bush.  I wanted my vote to count and I only had two options; not to mention Wyoming is obviously a Red State, and those comments in my first voteable election “shook” me.

During my second vote-able season I was involved in a non-denominational church , our church was on a hill over looking town by the notorious water tower… The night of the election we had bible study; we prayed over our town, while holding hands in a circle praying that GWB would make office.  During that prayer my hands were sweating and it felt like a very wrong thing to do.   A couple of handfuls later, 9/11 was a reality.

What happens when humans hijack natural hierarchy?

Nature,  when left to it’s own devices, does what Nature does.  It lives and dies; thrives and regresses, changes and adapts toward its best balance.

When man in his “so-called infinite wisdom”, attempts to dominate natural flow, it all comes back to bite… eventually.   I wonder if anyone else feels the pressure of impending pain, but not in the ways we are told it will play out.

I want you to meditate on this, because people immediately assume that if we didn’t have a man made power structure, that we would destroy ourselves or that Nature would take us out.  That conclusion in my opinion is only partially true.  Let me explain.

Nature seeks balance.  Man seeks dominance.  There is your TLDR.

Yes, if we relied on Natural Law, people would die.  They would die of stupidity, rage and over confidence.  They would also die naturally and accidentally like they already do.  People would still die the ways they have always died, but maybe even less often given our deathfood/ deathcare system, or maybe more, because it seems like there are a lot of imbalanced people existing in this world. This is not to say that I want people to die; it’s just fact that we all will, eventually.  When Nature seeks balance, it actually takes each one of us into account.  We don’t always see how that plays out for an individual.  A certain amount of trust is asked.  You may even call it “faith” or “karma”.  Ultimately it is the trust that “everything works out for the best”  “even shit can be turned into diamonds”.  (it’s all carbon, right?”)

It is to say that I think it is strange that any human could live on earth to be 20-100 years old and think they know better than the Earth knows itself, which has been around for as long as we know based on our biological data.  This is to say that despite how long we have been recording data, not one of us still has 100% substantial proof of how things actually operate.  (This goes for everything.  We know a fraction of what there is to “be known”.  Is anyone really an “expert?”)  Formulas, Math, Theories and Philosophies are a start, so where does this weird “control matrix” dominate the paradigms?

We can work with the Earth, we can try and work with it the best we can; but history shows it was programmed to ADAPT to almost anything (note, it hasn’t totally disappeared yet), as were humans and other animals/ biological organisms.  Our amazing ability to adapt has been both a blessing and a curse, depending on how you look at it.  We humans, seem to be the only entities commenting or making opinions about it (unless you follow Channels) The Earth Speaks, no doubt, but it really doesn’t care what you think nor does it take your opinion into account when it does what it does.

In my opinion; I view the Earth to be amazingly resilient and adaptable, full of humor and tragedy.  She actually seems like the LEAST LIKELY entity to ultimately self destruct when it comes to planetary biology.   People who think that ultimate planetary destruction by the planet’s upset alone have no basis for this planet reaching that end.  From what I can tell from history, our planet is SUPER FORGIVING.   It seems like a pretty pessimistic and “speck in the dust” kind of attitude to think that Earth is trying to shake us off of it like a disease.

I counter: that this “Man Made Hierarchy” is to blame for attitudes that lend to the aforementioned philosophy.  “Man, always thinks he can make everything better.”

“For what would the Earth be, without Man?”

Probably a pretty awesome self sustaining unit of balance.

“But what would Man be, without the Earth?”

Well He, She, It… wouldn’t exist.  Tell me again about the Center of the Universe and how we all live out selfish microcosms while neglecting the Macro Cosmic Truth;

None of this exists, as it is, if humans were not part of the equation. Their thoughts, feelings and input would be vacant in this greater space we call “Our Own, Our Home”.  Our greater Origin matters in the context of all things relevant in this modern society looking quite defunct under the microscope of function and relation.  Seeking in these little hubs of humanity, individuals grasping at balance.  Truly asking how they can adapt, change and work with the greater entity that sustains our fragile lives.

In Natural Law, the greatest power in construct, is CREATION itself.  The cosmic conscious pattern of play that is the overlay that creates the reality we call reality, either subjectively or objectively.  We become the centers of our own Universe by the construct of our minds.   We either agree or disagree on major and minor points, but at the end of the day we each have to go to bed with ourselves and our personal views.

In my observation, the Macro and Micro always reflect and somehow come back to center.  It is not chaos, it is not unorganized or random/coincidental.  Everything, Every Thought, Every Action follows a pattern that can be observed as above (telescope) or so below (microscope) and is filtered through a slit experiment of observation and opinion; further filtered by logic, rhetoric and reasoning.  There is no room for name calling (ad hominems), this isn’t a place for Devils advocate.  These are equal organisms sharing a home looking to support the best function and structure of the Home.

99% of what you think you should care about, doesn’t actually matter.  The 1% that matters, if you pay attention to it and tend to it, will ripple in effect 100 fold.

“Fix Yourself before you Try and Fix Others.”

When you fix your home, you feel more comfortable.  When you feel more comfortable, others immediately feel more comfortable with you, and doubly so when they are in your home.  Your body is your home.  Your mind is your home, your house is your home… your Earth is your home.  Treat yourself the way you would have others treat you.  Treat your home or Earth the way you would have others treat it. We are all seeking a certain amount of Trust.  It is a basis for strong foundations.

Fact:  We learn by example.

This speaks for itself.  Be conscious of those who influence you, and be aware of how you influence others. Be true to yourself, and seek Truth to share.

You may call conspiracy on me but the only conspiracy is silence and lies.

 

I’d love to start a podcast, or just continue writing on this topic, but the lash back from close people is hard.  Perhaps you are a follower and like topics like this… hit me up, send a donation, like the post or leave a comment.

I love the interaction and would love to see more of it.

Peace be with you beautiful people.

 

 

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.

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

A Kittery Tale: Sleep Deprivation and Emerging Personalities

Quantum is a proud, patient, borne-to-be-a-mother of kittens.  She is naturally good at what nature gave her to do.  She is sweet, attentive, and clean.  Since the kitteries have been born, she is even more clean than she was pre-kitterville and that was SO CLEAN! She never smelled of anything but love(?).  I mean she just really hasn’t had any odor about her since she came to be here. (Yes, her shit stinks.)  About four days after the babies were born, the room smelled like curry, or a mixture of Indian spices.  That sent me for a head spin because I rarely, if ever make food with those flavors even though I love it.

Our little feline schedule has taken a shift with the arrival of these five new furry friends.  Three girls, and two boys.  With an intense feeding schedule of every couple of hours;  Momma has a bottomless pit for a stomach and a penchant for constantly cleaning, I’ve been sent into a whole new level of care taking that has no regard for the time of day or night.  Who needs sleep?

Personally, I like sleep. No, I love sleep.  I am a light sleeper and am easily awakened by the slightest of noises.  I loathe being awakened and a whiny momma cat, is not a slight noise.  The whines and cries always seem specifically timed to occur when I am just about to drift into the deep onset of sleep. She sits there, staring at me, knowing this. She always cries in that moment when I feel as if I could fall into a dream abyss.  Immediately I am snapped back to the reality that this Momma needs/wants something.  Be it food, water, or a clean box… there is no limit to the requests that may come up at 3 am and I am an idiot for thinking I can ignore her.  She wins…every…single…time.

Week two has led to sleep deprivation. I am at the beck and call of this Queen.  I do the best I can at meeting her needs before I go to bed in hopes Quantum will let me sleep a full night; what a dumb human I am to expect that I could just go to bed, unencumbered for a nice stretch of rest.

If Momma ain’t happy…

It’s got to be tough to all of a sudden have five little critters to worry about.  It’s got to be annoying to have those little critters grappling at your swollen tits, with tiny claws and emerging teeth.  It must be tedious to clean and re-clean those babies after this tactile human handles them, and kisses on them with coffee breath.  I get it.  Sometimes  momma needs a break too.

Last week as I was settling in to go to bed, with the laundry basket of kittens next to me, Quantum hopped in the basket for a kittery feeding.  I noticed a different set of squeals.  I popped on the flashlight in order to take a look at the current scenario.  See, Quantum has ten nipples but only eight of them are in use.  None of the kittens like being on the bottom row.  The top row, middle two nipples are prime real estate and if they had their preference, only two would feed at a time on those succulent momma mammarys, leaving plenty of wiggle room and no competition.

Anyway, I turn on the flash light and the two boys are fighting over nipple realty.  Fluffs of hair are being scratched off as these two little furballs fight for space.  Momma looks incredibly annoyed and uncomfortable.  I decide to step in and remove the more aggressive kit.  I decide to also remove the kit that is on the bottom row and pull them into bed with me for a while so that the others can feed in peace and Quantum can have a little break in the feeding chaos.  She looks relieved.   After a few minutes I notice one of the kits has fallen asleep at the nipple, and I gently remove it, and replace it with one that hasn’t eaten yet.  I continue the rotation until everyone appears to be satiated.  Quantum appears to be thankful, and when everyone is back in the basket and cuddled up, she curls up behind my knees for the first time since the babies were born.

I feel like Quantum is trying to “train” me.  If she is unhappy with the smell of her box, she goes to the litter bag and claws at it.  If she is unhappy about her water quality, she stands by it and whines.  If she wants more food, she becomes incessant with her cries.  No matter the time of day or night, what Momma wants, Momma gets.

Quantum is pretty balanced in her care for each of the kittens, but I get the sense she has her favorites, and they are the boys.  I am partial to female animals, and in this case the girls are significantly smaller than the boys.  Once, I noticed Quantum was being pretty rough with one of the girls she was cleaning.  A little black one I call “My little Teddybear”; My Little Teddybear is basically the runt of the litter.  And I was feeling like Momma was having some animosity, like with one less kitten, feeding would be a  peaceful and roomy event.   I snatched up that little kittery and I tell Quantum that she needs to calm down and be just as gentle with this one.  I held it and kissed it and loved on it, and since then  Quantum has been more gentle with her.  My Little Teddybear is one of my favorites… something about how small she is, just adds to her adorableness.

“My Little Lion” is a boy, he is a champagne colored kittle.  He is the only one with a full body of light colored hair, he resembles a very light tabby.  He is the biggest and strongest.  He is headstrong and adventurous.  He was the first one I noticed to start self grooming at a week old and seems to instinctively know what “I’m gonna get your belly” means.  As I put my fingers down into the basket, he clumsily rolls onto his back and lets me tickle his belly, reaching his tiny limbs toward my hand and pulling them away.  It too much cuteness, if there is such a thing.

My Little Lion is a beast at the nipple and he gets annoyed when Momma wants to clean him.  He will kick, punch and scratch his way to the prime real estate and he uses the same tactics to escape from being bathed. If one of the girls is in his desired nipple position, he will basically try and suffocate them off of it by climbing on top of them, pushing them down to the bottom row, right off the nipple they were latched to. Sometimes the girls try to fight back, but most times they just wiggle free and try to find somewhere else to eat.  Occasionally they just curl up next to Momma and wait their turn.

I can’t even express how impressed I am with this weird relationship I’ve found myself in.  I’ve never really fancied myself as a “cat person” per say. I’ve always loved cats but I haven’t spent much time with them in general.  When I was about nine years old, a calico cat adopted my family.  It was an outdoor cat, and they fed it once and it stayed around.   I think about a year later we moved two houses down the road, and the cat followed us to the new house.  I named her “Cuddles”. She was fat and sweet.  Strange that I don’t recall what happened to her.  I wouldn’t have another cat friend of my own until twenty years later.

“My Little Pirate” is of the other little girls in the batch.  Her body is primarily black but she has some calico in there, and her face is split evenly down the middle with black on one side and champagne mottle on the other.  She looks so astute and her face structure is more delicate and angular than the other kitties.  She is quiet, and something in my room causes her to sneeze.  She is also adventurous but in a timid way.  She wants to see what is going on, and then she moves forward.  I just love her.  If a tiny ass kitten can seem like an old soul, My Little Pirate has that essence.

“Lil Baby” is My Little Pirates color counterpart.  Her coloring is similar, but her face isn’t as distinctive and her features are more rounded.  Basically she is too cute for words and reminds me of good ole Cuddles.  She is a cuddle kitty, but vocal.  She also seems like the type that may like to  hide.  I was sitting on my knees on the ground and I had a skirt on over my leggings.  The way I was sitting and the length of the skirt created a sort of a dark cave between my legs, and Lil Baby walked as far back into it as she could, toward the heels of my feet, and she just sat there and watched all the other kitteries awkwardly walking around.  This was our first foray on the floor, out of the basket.

Finally, in this mix we have “My Lil Panther”, which is the male counterpart to My Little Teddybear.  They look very similar, all black, but My Lil Panther has some white hairs around his mouth and eyes, and My Little Teddybear has the cutest pink black mouth and a heart shape on her nose.  My Lil Panther is strong and feisty.  If there is some tomfoolery happening in the basket, it’s likely that he is involved with My Little Lion.  I have a feeling those two will have no problems defending themselves in the future.   My  Lil Panther seems like the hard sleeper.  If he is tired, he sleeps as the other kits crawl all over him completely unfazed.

Every few nights, I take the kitteries into my grandma’s room, so that she can see them.  She loves them, they are amazing.   I know they are therapeutic by nature, and it allows Momma a food and poop break with complete privacy.

Claddagh Wonderdawg still isn’t sure what to make of all of this. She seems unimpressed that I am sharing so many kisses with these little things that resemble the rabbits and squirrels she like to chase in the yard.  She seems curious and frightened.  In the mornings, when she gets up and greets me at the head of the bed, she peers into the basket for a split second, sniffs it and backs away quickly as if maybe all of this is a dream, and tomorrow there will be laundry in the basket instead of a bunch of wiggling fur balls.  I tried to put My Little Lion near her, and she wanted to get away from him as quickly as possible. She refuses to make eye contact with the kittens.  She does however make eye contact with Quantum, and Quantum has an intense stare.  Overall, Quantum seems pretty chill about Claddagh being around her babies, and I think she wants Claddagh to be more engaged than she is, all around.

It appears to me that Claddagh is still pretty jealous of Quantum.  Like there isn’t enough love to go around, and now there is another body sharing the bed at night, and it’s been a long time since we’ve been in that situation with my ex-cat Poppy Rascal.  (That is a whole other story.)  I probably need to take Claddagh on a date.  Get some “one on one” time doing something that she enjoys, which probably includes french fries.  Then we can sit down and talk about it.  That’s just the way it goes with my animal family.  Sometimes we have to talk through things, and we are all usually better for it in the long run.

Stay tuned… the kits are starting to get active and I am sure this is about to get even more interesting.

Want to follow the beginning and next episode?  Click Quantum Express~ A Kittery Tale    for the beginning, and A Kittery Tale: My Body is a Playground the 9 week follow up.

 

The Results of Unfollowing People On FB for a Month.

Well, it’s been a month and a few days since I cleared out my FB feed.  What did I learn?  What happened?

I think this will be a short post because most of it has been covered in the previous posts aligned with this topic.

Ultimately, I got VERY bored with the platform.  I used it as a resource above all and curbed my interaction by over 90%.

That is a big jump.  I no longer had a feed to scroll unless I went to my friend groups, and I only went to my friend groups out of curiosity (mainly about local happenings.)

I continued to get notifications, and any late comers to the game were silenced for 30 days.  Those silenced parties just started cropping up in my feed yesterday.  Namely companies that advertise through FB.  For me, namely, craft beer breweries I am a fan of.  Without thinking, I saw these posts crop up, and silenced them for another 30 days.

Honestly I am not “missing” anything, per se.   I love passing along info.  If a person has a question and I feel like I have a viable answer, it is a pleasure to share.  However, all in all, I only contacted people or posted if I thought some one may benefit somehow from that post.

I feel a need to remind my audience that I do not have FB messenger or FB app on my phone.  If I want to post there, away from home, I have to go to the mobile web page and I am limited in options.  I also need to remind readers that I am able to access FB more often than a person with a “normal job.”  I work from home, or rather home is work, but WIFI is pretty consistent and FB is an easy distraction from mundane domestic duty.

Did I miss it?  No, not really.  At times I noticed myself pressing the refresh button that leads to my own echo chamber and then I was like “Oh yeah, I boycotted this like I would a Walmart.”  I still drive by, I still have opinions, but…. I have no plans on going inside and interacting with anyone in there for the sake of boredom and randomness.”

Honestly, I think that is cool.  To me, it proves I wasn’t as addicted or reliant on it as I thought I was.  I gave myself the power of choice, and the challenge of abstaining.   I do suspect I will fade away and that doesn’t worry me so much.

Today I dug through my senior year book, and I didn’t have a shit ton of signature/ messages, but the ones I did have, reasserted the best parts of me that sustain to this day.  A majority of these messages were not short.   Most of them had connecting themes when it comes to talent; kindness, weirdness, good feelings and impact.  I am still ALL of those things and I didn’t believe it back then.  I always assumed people were blowing smoke up my ass because they, themselves, did not want to be rejected.

I don’t need Facebook to be my daily Yearbook.  I enjoy these throw back features to see what I was saying and doing xxx years ago, but I don’t have to have it to survive.  The thing that makes me feel like I am dying is isolation with no solutions.  In fact, since I have taken the leap of disassociating with my live feed I’ve made a new friend/workout partner; started spending multiple hours during the week to build workouts for M,W, F, AND connected IN REAL LIFE with people who are actually in my geographic sphere.

I feel accomplished.  I see how this type of process can fold over into other situations that may need conscious regulation.  If you feel like you would appreciate slowly pulling away from the intoxicant that is Facebook, hit me up, or read my other posts on how I experimented with the idea.   It really is a challenge of “out of sight, out of mind.”  A break like that allows you to question yourself what you want to use the platform for, and what you expect out of your engagement.

If you want naught, why fruitlessly search and conjure up partially fulfilling illusion?  All I’ve ever wanted is “real life friends who are true and honest.”  I’ve had them in spurts, and maybe it’s time I give those real life connections a chance again.

My hope is that you find this useful, and if you want more info contact me, I love sharing intel.  ❤