I think it's very hard to believe in someone who says do a certain thing and in return I will do what I should be doing regardless whether or not you do that certain thing.
For example, Don't wear that dress and I'll take you out. Or, Agree with everything I do, and I'll love you.
Or Don't defy me, and I will lead you.
But I think that all responsibility, including leading and loving, should be unconditional. You do it because you must, because you have been entrusted with someone, or many people.
The fact that you need to place arbitrary conditions on it...that means you shouldn't have that responsibility in the first place.
Friday, July 22, 2011
In Other Words, I'd Like To Be Emma Dalgliesh
Yesterday I was asked what I would like to do had I not have to think of money.
I came up with some balderdash about how I'd like to write and travel and do charity work, which, at that time, I believed was completely true.
Sounds nice what.
But when I went back and started to think about it (as one is apt to do once one has answered the question and has no recourse. What are you going to do? Send an email saying, sorry, you know that question you asked? I want to change my answer after further consideration. Pooh).
And I decided that at the moment, what I would like to do if I didn't have to worry about money or reality or whatever, is to teach literature at a university. And since we're in an ideal world, I'd be teaching to a class of interested students. And then I'll go home and do my own writing.
And I'd still travel, but by myself or with sugarplum. For my own memories. And I'd do some charity work. But no starving children. Or homeless people. Or old people. Or really sick people. Or people with no country. Or anyone in a sad situation that I can't do anything to change that will just make me hate humanity.
I came up with some balderdash about how I'd like to write and travel and do charity work, which, at that time, I believed was completely true.
Like Angelina Jolie, except literate and sane.
Sounds nice what.
But when I went back and started to think about it (as one is apt to do once one has answered the question and has no recourse. What are you going to do? Send an email saying, sorry, you know that question you asked? I want to change my answer after further consideration. Pooh).
And I decided that at the moment, what I would like to do if I didn't have to worry about money or reality or whatever, is to teach literature at a university. And since we're in an ideal world, I'd be teaching to a class of interested students. And then I'll go home and do my own writing.
And I'd still travel, but by myself or with sugarplum. For my own memories. And I'd do some charity work. But no starving children. Or homeless people. Or old people. Or really sick people. Or people with no country. Or anyone in a sad situation that I can't do anything to change that will just make me hate humanity.
Maybe I'll just stick to the SPCA then. I like animals better than most people anyway.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
The Simple Minded Cat and His Inability to Behave Normally
When my mother first moved down, she was asked by her new employer to catsit. Since no one says no to their employer, we were saddled with two more animals in the house in addition to two (at that time) bunnies, Missy the Cat and a teenage boy.
The cats were very big and had shiny coats. One was a handsome orange fellow and the other was white with a body the size of a briefcase and a tiny head.
The white one refused to come out of the cat carrier while the handsome one happily whored himself out to all who would pet him (shameless behaviour he still practices now).
Come out, we said to the white cat. We won't hurt you. Maybe Missy will, but she is the size of your foreleg. Eventually the owner bodily dragged the cat from the carrier and placed it in the outside world where it promptly hid in some dark corner.
What is wrong with that cat? Why is it so weird and neurotic?
Oh, says the owner. Don't mind him. He was stuck in a washing machine when he was younger.
0_________________________________________O
Apparently being run through a washing cycle makes you retarded as well as intensely shy.
The white cat, Lunares (also called Charley but from now on known as the Simple Minded Cat or SMC) was simply incapable of living together with Missy or, well, any other living thing.
SMC: Let's be friends!
Missy: Fuck off.
SMC: Friends! Friends! Friends! FRIENDS! FRIENDS! FRIENDS!FRIENDS FOREVERRRRRRRR!
Missy: *Claws his face*
SMC: *Stunned look* Friends?
And this exchange happened several times, with small variations. He tried it on us while we slept, because he was too afraid to make friends with humans while we were awake. He would climb on our beds and scream FRIENDSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!! in our ears until we threw him out. He hid in cupboards and covered clothes with thick white fur. He threw up occasionally because that's just what he did. He was socially and physically awkward.
Even my crippled bunny was never such a pain in the arse. Yet we all felt sorry for Simple Minded Cat because of his traumatic past (although I vehemently do not condone the use of 'traumatic past' in excusing shitty human behaviour), because he was just a helpless kitten at the time. And although he was now the size of a very large beagle, he had not seemed to have any brain growth past the kitten stage when he came out of the washing machine.
He was a hopeless wreck.
Stay tuned for Part Two of the Simple Minded Cat. If I ever write it.
The cats were very big and had shiny coats. One was a handsome orange fellow and the other was white with a body the size of a briefcase and a tiny head.
The white one refused to come out of the cat carrier while the handsome one happily whored himself out to all who would pet him (shameless behaviour he still practices now).
Come out, we said to the white cat. We won't hurt you. Maybe Missy will, but she is the size of your foreleg. Eventually the owner bodily dragged the cat from the carrier and placed it in the outside world where it promptly hid in some dark corner.
What is wrong with that cat? Why is it so weird and neurotic?
Oh, says the owner. Don't mind him. He was stuck in a washing machine when he was younger.
0_________________________________________O
Apparently being run through a washing cycle makes you retarded as well as intensely shy.
The white cat, Lunares (also called Charley but from now on known as the Simple Minded Cat or SMC) was simply incapable of living together with Missy or, well, any other living thing.
SMC: Let's be friends!
Missy: Fuck off.
SMC: Friends! Friends! Friends! FRIENDS! FRIENDS! FRIENDS!FRIENDS FOREVERRRRRRRR!
Missy: *Claws his face*
SMC: *Stunned look* Friends?
And this exchange happened several times, with small variations. He tried it on us while we slept, because he was too afraid to make friends with humans while we were awake. He would climb on our beds and scream FRIENDSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!! in our ears until we threw him out. He hid in cupboards and covered clothes with thick white fur. He threw up occasionally because that's just what he did. He was socially and physically awkward.
Even my crippled bunny was never such a pain in the arse. Yet we all felt sorry for Simple Minded Cat because of his traumatic past (although I vehemently do not condone the use of 'traumatic past' in excusing shitty human behaviour), because he was just a helpless kitten at the time. And although he was now the size of a very large beagle, he had not seemed to have any brain growth past the kitten stage when he came out of the washing machine.
He was a hopeless wreck.
Stay tuned for Part Two of the Simple Minded Cat. If I ever write it.
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