"Ordinary life does not interest me. I seek only the high moments. I am in accord with the surrealists, searching for the marvelous." ~Anais Nin

30 October 2013

In Memoriam

This is my Cinder.  She died today.  She was a good cat.

I don't know how to feel about this.  I'm sad, of course, but kind of relieved.  For the past month she's been wasting away.  The vet said it was likely cancer because every other option - every treatable option - we tried and she got no better.  It was time.  She was suffering.  The past few days our house has smelled of death - rot and infection.  Her eyes oozed puss, and she kept falling over - too weak to walk.  So it was time.  But I didn't want to let her go.  She was my girl.

The last several years she hasn't liked me much.  I brought two more cats into the house.  One took over my room, which was also hers, and threw her out.  I didn't stop it.  She seemed happy enough to hang with my dad and Greyson needed me more.  Or that's what I'd like to think.  Because Greyson is very attached and Cinder was always a little standoffish.  But she was still my girl.  I hope she knew.

I got her in the summer of 2001, I think.  She was fat and happy and a little bit mean.  She liked to bite me on the head in the middle of the night.  She purred when she ate.  And "guarded" me when we were outside and a dog, person, bicyclist, or another cat came by.  By which I mean she ran to me and stood in front of me growling.  I think, though, she looked to me for protection.  And ran to me because she knew I wouldn't let anything hurt her.  Though maybe not.  She beat the ever living shit out of this fox that tried to eat her once.  That was when she was younger.

I called her Cinder after Cinderella, because the first place she went when I brought her home was inside the fireplace.  She came out covered in cinders and soot.  The name stuck.  It suited her.  Not because she was sweet, she wasn't.  She was the Grimm's version of Cinderella - dark and haunted.  I can totally see her letting her stepsisters cut off their toes and whittle their feet, not saying one word, then sending her birds to notify the prince of his mistake - and maybe laughing about it a little.  She also would've danced while her birds pecked out the eyes of her stepfamily while at her wedding.  Cinder could hold a grudge.  But for all that she was . . . mine.  And I loved her.

She used to take the heads of the mice she slaughtered.  I don't know what she did with them.  I imagine there's a pile of hundreds of rotting mice skulls in her little hidey-hole under the bay window outside our house.  My girl was a good hunter.

But she'd cuddle too.  And purr.  She loved being brushed.  Went crazy over peacock feathers and catnip.  She'd jump so high when I first got her.  So high.  In more recent years she stopped jumping.  She was old and I imagine her bones ached.  My brother bought my parents a set of stairs for their bed so she could sleep with them.  

She'd do this think where she'd just stare at you.  She'd walk into a room and stare at you.  For hours if you stayed put.  It was very creepy.  Mostly because she didn't really want anything from you.  She wouldn't let you touch her, so no petting or brushing.  She wouldn't take any treats or food, so she wasn't hungry.  She just stare.  Sometimes she'd follow you around the house, just staring.  Looking kind of angry.  It was weird.  I'm going to miss it.  I'm going to miss her.

I miss her already.

It seems appropriate that it's raining today where I am.
The world weeps.  Right?

My poor girl.

06 October 2013

My Life circa 1995 and some other stuff

Here's a short update and some fun old stuff:
I'm going on a short vacation this Tuesday and will probably not be blogging for the next week or so.  I apologize for not posting anything recently.  My brother got married and I wanted to take a break.  I'm planning on coming back to this site, and regularly blogging every other week.  Upcoming post will explore the loves of my life, my best friends, Leanne and Julie.  Then, I'm planning on complaining about trying to find a full time job for a bit or something.  I don't know.  I don't plan that far ahead.

While cleaning out my bedroom and going through old paperwork in my files, I came across something interesting.  Below is my first resume, typed on a typewriter, believe it or not.  It's from 1995, I think.  My, how things change . . . And how they stay the same:

Not the most flattering dress in the picture, but my hair is nice.  My hair is always nice, though, so nothing new.  Strangely enough, my Middle School GPA is the same as my undergraduate GPA when I was in University.  Now, I'm a librarian (grad school GPA was 3.98 -- stupid B+), and my ultimate goal is to become a successful novelist.  But my interests remain much the same, expanding into Gothic and Victorian Literature.  Not mentioned in this resume is my lifelong study of mythology and faery tales.  Oh well.  That's all for now.

Have fun!  Go Gentle.

27 July 2013

Ending and Beginning

I just had my last in-class meeting for grad school, now I've got four days to finish up my final projects, then I'm all done.  I've got my Masters.  It's an awesome feeling.

I won't post again until after I'm completely done.  But I just wanted to record this . . . and tell you all that I'm climbing out of my stress-induced black mood.

I applied for a job in Salem, Mass.  I probably won't get it, but I had to start somewhere.  And I actually would be perfect for the job.  It was serendipitous that it came up - and that it literally requires the cumulation of all my job experience and education combined.  It's not a MLS position, but could easily work into one.  And - well - Salem.


I'll soon apply for other jobs in Massachusetts, and every other state I can find open, full time library work.  Wish me luck.

Oh, and a SHOUT OUT to Leanne and Mark: Congratulations on getting married, you guys.  I love you both!

Okay.  That's it.  I'll be back in a bit.