He was so funny when he was a kitten; he was really like my little boy. Once he jumped down from the couch, which was too high for him at the time, and he tweaked his front paw. He came up to me, held his paw aloft and said, plaintively "meow," so I picked him up and cooed all over him.
Once in bed, he came up to me and, with his claws sheathed, began to explore my face. With a friendly, interested expression, he gently, carefully and thoroughly felt my eyes, nose, mouth, cheeks. When he got to the ears, he decided that the metal protuberances needed to go so he started to gnaw on them. So precious.
One thing that bugs me about the cats is that when I have to get up in the middle of the night to pee, that makes them think it's time to wake up and they proceed to tear-ass around the place.
I haven't begun my watercolor homework, which is due tomorrow.
Earlier I had a terrible craving for brownies and I had all the ingredients but cake flour and sugar. Damn. So I had some hot cocoa instead. Still dying for something decadent. I've got a can of sweetened condensed milk, but I need to save that for my coffee in case I run out of milk. I've been using brown sugar to sweeten my coffee, which is pretty tasty, actually.
Fairly unproductive day, except for using the 'pooter at the rental office. Took an afternoon nap for the first time all week.
John had a link on his blog concerning a 14-year-old child prodigy who reportedly shot himself in the head. God, what a waste, all that intelligence and potential. Taught himself to read at 18 months, graduated high school at some ridiculous age I can't remember, and played piano. And now all that's gone. His organs went to people in need, so something good came of it. But shit, I've often believed, especially when I was younger, that I wasn't smart enough and wished that I had more brains, but I guess in truth it has nothing to do with happiness. In fact, and John and I have talked about this, probably the less brains a person has, the better chance of achieving contentment. I know that in my own life, there were times I had to live by shutting off my mind or else I would have probably offed myself. Intelligence is relative, anyway. In my community college class, everyone thinks I'm fucking Einstein. When I dated a med student a couple of years ago, he thought I was a fucking moron. In regards to that kid, of course we don't know what kind of life he had and all those circumstances, so intelligence alone is really an inadequate factor to consider when trying to decipher his suicide. I just think it's tragic; makes me feel he threw away his gift, but it was his gift to do with as he chose.
Then here's this story on animal intelligence. I knew that, but people like me are always accused of anthropomorphizing. Of course animals have feelings! To assume otherwise is absurd.
This being poor shit is for the birds. I've been poor before too, but back then I had better financial management skills. It's made me resolve that there will come a day when I will be well-off, dammit. Just like Scarlett-fucking-O'Hara.
posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 9:19 PM
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