Teh Way of teh Kitteh

Yeah.  I’ve been lazy.  Brain has been away for the past month (or more), driving to thrift stores, boozing, napping, and looking at far too many pictures of cute animals.

Sometimes, we realize how little we get done, how little we try; we look at others’ accomplishments, both daily and lifetime, and we feel the sting of inadequacy.  We create agendas.  We think about what we say we want to do, write it down on post-it notes and calendars with the idea that doing stuff makes us better human beings, and then realize (when practically none of it gets done) how little we actually care.  And then we feel guilt over our apathy?  Pffft.

Obligations (school, work, etc.) aside, why do we get so concerned over our “productivity”?  Are we even measuring ourselves by our own standards when we talk about that?  The issue usually only comes up when we compare ourselves to the Facebook-status-valedictorians– the study-abroads; artists; volunteers; the useless “I’m-using-my-i-Phone-to-tell-everyone-I’m-going-to-the-beach”, the “I-just-got-the-best-job-ever-in-the-best-city-ever-omg-ftw” (no hard feelings to all you A-type personalities, kudos on your achievements).  But why should lazier people get hung up on not being or doing what we never aspired to in the first place?  So what if you didn’t join five extracurricular clubs, plant a garden, and start jogging every morning?  Chances are, if you didn’t do it, maybe you’re not that into it.  Stick with the crossword puzzles.

I’m an advocate for the feline way of life.  I like stretching out on any soft surface I can find.  I like being finicky sometimes.  I like giving looks of disapproval.  I like putting my hands on people’s faces for no reason.  I don’t like throwing up, but if it has to happen, I let nature take its course.  Most of all, I the occasional doing nothing.  “Fuck agendas”, says the cat, “I’ma do what I want.  Give me treats.”  And although the cat is a creature of habit, it is not a slave to its habits.  If Mittens catches ten lizards one day, he’s not going to feel lesser if all he does is get high on catnip the next day.  There’s time.  He’s got nine lives, humans have around ninety years (depending on drugs, alcohol, diet, spouses, natural disasters, and the apocalypse).  You know how long it took me to complete this post?  Good guess, but no.

However, a new semester has started.  Alarms are required.  I have to learn how to use a pen again.  And the dumbitude at Starschmucks has resumed.  Life (and posting) goes on.

Who Disturbs Me


~ by rabbit on August 30, 2009.

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