The other day, Dylan was being taunted by a big, manly kitty outside his favorite window. Dylan was making clicking sounds, which progressed to other grumpy sounds until I got up and turned on the light. (By "the other day" I actually meant "at 3:00 a.m. a few nights ago). The bad kitty fled once the light was on and Dylan then released an onslaught of hissing and growling now that he had "won."
This got me to thinking about being territorial...since I have lots of time to think about random things in the middle of the night. It occured to me that I've been running into that a lot lately with people, with the neighbor's dogs, and with my spoiled, only-child of a cat. I'm not sure exactly how the planets aligned to give me so many examples of this, but it especially is funny in people.
I've noticed that, in spite of our very big brains, we're not that far removed from the cat and dog method of handling this. I've seen fabulous examples of territorial behavior that range from the highly subtle to the just-short-of-peeing-on-somthing-to-show-this-is-mine action. Since I'm presented with all of these examples of rational, enlightened behavior, I'm starting to wonder if/when/how I'm doing this, too. So I am now sometimes watching myself with the same fascination and finding I do it too, only without the peeing on things as a sign of ownership (too much).
Related to this is watching active passive-aggressiveness in action. There are two crabby female-types that orbit very, very periphally in my Colorado circle who are masters at the hot passive-aggressive action. I find that when I need to/am forced to interact with them, it's fun to thwart them with overly-kind emails that don't answer their questions. And by showing up to thier events at least 30 minutes late. And by letting my inner-passive-aggressive self free to express itself with them. It's an exercise in passive-aggressive evolution!
And as I think about these things, I'm also reminded that I am stuck smack dab in the middle of using distractions (such as typing up a boring story like this) instead of practicing. D'oh!
An Erinku:
empty string cheese
wrapper
resisting the
garbage can, twice.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
Hot Pursuit
If I am lucky enough to be walking when the street lights come on, I have a favorite corner to wander past because the light is entangled with a tree and the shadows are awesome. I was thinking of shadows today as Dylan is spazing about the Hobbit Hole chasing a moth. I suspect this same sort of spastic action is what caused him to lose a big tooth last week...thus giving him a funny, toothless look and a whole set of new nicknames.
Since moths are suicidal little critters that are always going towards the light, the shadows are way more intimidating than the actual size. I have thought before that moths actually only exist when a cat is really bored and asks the higher things-that-be to create amusement. By this same logic, I also figured that the peacocks wandering around zoos are there to amuse the tigers and lions. But I repeat myself every so often and am enjoying Dylan's mighty hunting prowess that somehow managed to 1. have him run full-force into a wall and 2. get stuck on the top level of the book shelf. His crying now for assistance only reminds of Inigo Montoya in the Princess Bride, when he pleads with Fezzik for help because the six-fingered dude is getting away.
It turns out that I'm still on nocturnal-friendly Pacific time and such things as watching the cat smack into the wall in hot pursuit of Mothra entertain me. Perhaps I should go to be before the next set of single-digit time.
An Erinku:
airplane above clouds
or
submarine upside-down
under ice
Since moths are suicidal little critters that are always going towards the light, the shadows are way more intimidating than the actual size. I have thought before that moths actually only exist when a cat is really bored and asks the higher things-that-be to create amusement. By this same logic, I also figured that the peacocks wandering around zoos are there to amuse the tigers and lions. But I repeat myself every so often and am enjoying Dylan's mighty hunting prowess that somehow managed to 1. have him run full-force into a wall and 2. get stuck on the top level of the book shelf. His crying now for assistance only reminds of Inigo Montoya in the Princess Bride, when he pleads with Fezzik for help because the six-fingered dude is getting away.
It turns out that I'm still on nocturnal-friendly Pacific time and such things as watching the cat smack into the wall in hot pursuit of Mothra entertain me. Perhaps I should go to be before the next set of single-digit time.
An Erinku:
airplane above clouds
or
submarine upside-down
under ice
Monday, June 1, 2009
Unacceptable
While I am housebroken, I don’t consider myself fully tame. I thought of this again after seeing a movie this weekend. I’m very sensitive to movies/books/etc. that promote giving up your dreams/goals and accepting mediocrity as an acceptable substitute. There is this unspoken pressure that since other people didn’t get to live out their dreams of being a fill-in-the-blank, it’s pointless for anyone else to try anything other than the usual 2312.5 lifestyle. That is: 9-5 (or 925) times the 2.5 kids. To this, I say or, more correctly, growl, “GRRR!”
Every now and then, I need to look at my motivations for life and make sure that I’ve not been contaminated by Mediocre Envy…which would be a good band name. And sure enough, I’d been slightly contaminated. I worry far more about mediocrity than Swine Flu, E Coli, and pregnancy* combined. (*It’s a little known fact that pregnancy is contagious: a whole fleet of my friends have come down with it over the last year or so) And as I stare down mediocrity, I come up with alternate life plans. Some of these plans involve fabulously fake names. Some of them involve me learning unusual life skills (like fire-breathing). And some of these plans involve my life looking pretty much the same, but without the need to justify myself.
Since many people seem to start big life adventures when they turn 32, I’m looking forward to preparing for the next ten months. And as more and more advice/encouragement/pressure to have an averagely predictable existence comes my way, I’ll make sure to flatten my ears donkey-style and bite these folks. I’m not fully tame.
An Erinku:
French Press
as my signature
professional wrestling move
life plans
Every now and then, I need to look at my motivations for life and make sure that I’ve not been contaminated by Mediocre Envy…which would be a good band name. And sure enough, I’d been slightly contaminated. I worry far more about mediocrity than Swine Flu, E Coli, and pregnancy* combined. (*It’s a little known fact that pregnancy is contagious: a whole fleet of my friends have come down with it over the last year or so) And as I stare down mediocrity, I come up with alternate life plans. Some of these plans involve fabulously fake names. Some of them involve me learning unusual life skills (like fire-breathing). And some of these plans involve my life looking pretty much the same, but without the need to justify myself.
Since many people seem to start big life adventures when they turn 32, I’m looking forward to preparing for the next ten months. And as more and more advice/encouragement/pressure to have an averagely predictable existence comes my way, I’ll make sure to flatten my ears donkey-style and bite these folks. I’m not fully tame.
An Erinku:
French Press
as my signature
professional wrestling move
life plans
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