Okay, let me start this off by saying thank you to my parents, grandparents, sister and friends for their support and graces as I’ve been writing lately; and also thanks to God, the physicians and therapists, good bosses and coworkers, and all the people who gave me the extra word or two when I had none to say or said mine erroneously. I celebrated a good time or two, many, taking pictures on Lakeshore boulevard where I live, having shopping trips at various discount outlets near my workplaces and venues of choice, and various food establishments that sustained me while I was a binge-shopper and a really good one at that. My life has often been like a chain of merry-go-rounds and carousels, spinning around at various times doing the usual routine of watching life go by over and over the same each day, until the ride either runs out of power, or goes so fast as to spin me off when I can’t hold on. This time though it was a different ride I must’ve gotten on. One where life wound and spun through almost similar terrain but would often stop, let me wander around, and shop or browse and then get back on to continue the journey. I must say though that the trip back to the start is often the one I don’t think about. Sometimes I watch the clock tick away, thinking “am I watching life go on or out?” My vice is that I’m so nostalgic that I really was looking for another Rollercoaster or log ride to get on, like the ones at Canada’s wonderland, six-flags or maybe even Opryland (if they have one; would be nice. Beautiful place for a wedding). Miqoté as you know is my little monster, my half-demon half-angel cat that spends time like any cat destroying furniture, toilet paper, and anything that sits too close to the edge of a counter or ledge. I got him when he was 4 months old and he is now 6 months old and I have watched him grow up from a terrified, anxious little kitten into a voracious hunter, impulsive parkour artist, and yet gentle cuddler and friend.
You’ve already heard about him so many times. The thing that surprises me is how much in common I have with the creature. He would use the litterbox when I used the toilet. He would eat when I cooked. Lately, he sleeps when I sleep. We have a similar issue too. The impulse sounds of what my mother doubts is real, the neighbours upstairs coming at me like they own me, which truthfully they seem to now realize how much the strong blasts onto my ceiling are, and yet I’ve been patient. I wonder sometimes – why am I so soft? Why haven’t I filed a noise complaint, taken up the broom to the ceiling, or tried to open up a conversation with them about quiet hours? Wondering, why am I leasing my life, leading my life, leaving my life so passively? They say it’s a medication issue. Thoughts are not connecting together and my brain
This is what it was. Ages before you let me know that truly I reaped what I’d sow.
Clear & Precise Resumes 