heater cat

So, usually I use this blog to publish some thoughts or concepts I've been rolling over for a bit. This is not that kind of post. This post is about HEATER CAT.

Currently I am looking for a new apartment with the two lovely ladies I live with. Each of us have our own issues with the house, some of us hate the carpeting, some of us don't currently have closets (not me, I'm the only one with a closet SUCKKKAS)... I'm pretty sure none of us actually care that we live in what is commonly considered to be a "dangerous neighborhood."

My only real issue with the house began last Easter.

We had all returned home from our respective family events and were casually hanging out in the living room. Julia suggested we watch a women's basketball game. Moments after we turned on the T.V. a noise was heard...

MEW.

"Hey, did you guys just hear that? I think the T.V. made a weird noise, I hope the speakers aren't fucked up..."

MEEEOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW.

"What the fuck, theres a cat in the heater!"

Thats right, a cat, in the heater. The next hour was filled with a whirlwind of emotions. Initially we locked ourselves in one of the bedrooms for fear that the cat had rabies. Then we realized there was a vent stopping the cat from actually getting near us. Emma started to cry, because the cat might have been injured. 911 informed us that cat-in-the-heater was in fact not an emergency. Animal control laughed at us. Eventually we convinced my then-boyfriend to come over and coax the cat out. The whole procedure took about two hours, during which one of us had to leave because it was just too emotional.

Eventually the cat got out, and was placed safely on our porch with a bowl of milk.

This would have been a funny story, but by the next day Heater Cat was back. For anyone questioning how a cat got in the heater, well, technically the cat was in the heating vents from the house's original heating system which had been replaced. Anyway, despite our best efforts, Heater Cat became a regular fixture in our heater... he went away in the summer and has come back this winter. Recently I found out Julia was slipping him some Kraft Singles through the vent.

While Heater is kind of pest, hes so lovable that I want to rescue him and bring him to our next house. In case you haven't deduced this yet, I really don't have a problem with Heater. Heater is the only kitty with the nerve to come up and ay hello. The real issue is that I'm pretty sure he is the ringleader of a cat colony (or something equally unplesant and stinky) in our basement... which i do mind... but that another (far less adorable) story.

My Days are Numbered

I can't shake the notion that I only have a specific amount of time to achieve a specific goal, the details of which I am entirely uncertain of.  While the whole idea in itself seems insane, its more insane that I feel this way and continue to waste my time studying intro to sociology for credit hours. 

dumb clumps

Its funny to think that people are just clumps:

clumps of mass which make bones,

clumps of mass which make blood,

clumps of mass which make muscle, nerves,

and a coat of flesh and hair.

clumps which are often drawn to each other, particles, protons and electrons.

(the positive & negitive)

when clumps are drawn together they undoubtedly find it easy to forget the problems caused by other clumps and that which could draw them apart.

the evolution of mankind simply retards the specie more. there has to be a divinity because the result of complexity of mankind is so dumb it must have some overwhelming purpose... 

a little short

I feel like I am scrambling to catch the last moments of summer.

current interests:
cherry pie
finger waved hair

ouch.

When a child is injured they experience so much more than an adult. Or rather, they verbalize all of these emotions. Recently I was teaching young children how to make their own candles, and a young boy burnt himself.  In hysterics, he presented his knuckles and I selfishly abandoned my concern when I realized what had at first appeared to be horrible blistering was in fact only red wax.

I have been thinking about this young boy for weeks since, and comparable stories of my youth. I can very distinctly recall crashing my bike and running to my father for help, only to be sent into another panic concerning the outrageously painful antibacterial spray he used.

I swear to you, this ancient aerosol can must have been some medication which was handed down from generation to generation- and mercilessly never emptied. The can looked as though it were manufactured in the 60s, slightest bit of rust on the edges. When it was removed from the shelf is made a slight crack and left a ring of dust (although it was used weekly in my youth).

How odd that now I take a contradictory masochistic approach to the tending of my ails. As far as I am concerned: either my pleasure in these antibacterial pains came about when I became older an embittered, or somewhere in a subconscious core I am going through the same need for sympathy and help and subsequent misery in the burn of cleaners.

I wish to God that I had a picture of this can.

the windy city

Are you familiar with this piece of art work?

Well, essentially the concept is that you see the image of a pipe, but not a pipe. Hence 'This is not a pipe.'

are you familiar with this lady?

Well, I do a lot of time looking at images of her. Videochat and pictures, however are not real enough. I am going to see the real one in a few days, and I am so excited.

I know (almost) nothing about art

For centuries, great European artists mastered a style of art and worked hard to keep it beautiful and pure. I do not at all wish to belittle the quality or significance of this artwork; much of it is awe inspiring.

When one tours old European cities they expect to see this artwork, a beautiful representation of the past.

Today art is much more progressive, pushing to discover the next new 'thing'.  This isnt entirely true, trends do start. But what I really dont like is the chance that art might stagnate again.

I think its possible, yet unimaginable.