How I Feel About This Christmassy Time of Year

Christmas season started.  For mostly people, Christmas does not start until after Thanksgiving.  That's good.  I think Christmas season should start then.  But frankly, when the spirit hits, it should not be ignored.  After all, It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year and it's only hear a little while!

I love Christmas!  A few days ago, my mom and I were cleaning the house up because I was going to have a friend over.  We happened to have Christmas presents out so we decided to start wrapping them as a way to clean up.  Then, as we got out the bows, ribbons, and paper, I felt it.  The Christmas Spirit.  I skipped away to the kitchen, pulled up Grooveshark and began to add all sorts of Christmassy songs.  My favorite carol used to be "O Come, O Come Emmanuel," but I think my favorite for the words is "God Rest Ye Merry  Gentlemen."  Well, this year I think it has got to be David Crowder's "The First Noel."  I don't know, I just like it :)

I love the colors of Christmas- the red and white and green.  Them seem so warm and cuddly.  Like, when you see them you want to cuddle.  They remind me of the warmth of giving gifts to people you love.  They remind me of family.  I fantasize about cold Christmas nights curled up with the family drinking hot coco around the fire.  I was making a birthday card the other day for my brother.  I drew stick figures in the style of my family, paying careful attention to the height, hair, etc. on the front and said on the inside, "Our family would not be complete without you!"  That card really struck home on how much I love my family.  I mean, his hair mattered, her height mattered.  Because I knew them.  And that's how its supposed to be and anything else isn't them.  (lol, even though they were just stick figures....)

Sitting by the tree brings back so many memories.  I always think of our family tradition to read the Christmas story from Luke by candlelight while drinking eggnog.  My daddy always read it- he has the perfect deep rolling voice.  It reminds me of a cat's purr, probably because he always used to tickle me face with his one-day-unshaven scruff while he pretended to mimic my cat's purr.  I'd giggle and laugh, because hearing daddy purr was hearing how much he loved me- he knows how much I love cats.  All that to say, I loved sitting with the family, reading by candlelight, drinking eggnog on the mattress dragged out for the sole purpose of sleeping by the tree, listening to daddy's voice.

And is it really Christmas if Jason hasn't danced yet?  No, it's not.  Christmas has a series of certain requirements; Jason dancing singing to Bruce Springsteen's "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" and TobyMac's "Christmas This Year" is one of those requirements.  When I listen to Christmas music, I am always sure to have those two songs back to back, otherwise I lose the vision of Jason singing and it defeats the point.

So, what' begins your Christmas?  Merry Christmas people and enjoy this Christmassy time of year :)

Homework Paralysis Syndrome

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ZOUHxvlUPI&feature=relmfu

21:25-21:32 sums it up

Miss Jane

On Tuesday, November 6 2012, I lost my cat Miss Jane.

I know she was just a cat.  Honestly, I do.  We lost my uncle to cancer a few months ago, and I know his soul is eternal and so valuable.  But even though she was not as important by far, she was still important.  Her life still was life, and it stills hurts to think of her death.

       "'That's right,' the fox said.  'For me, you're only a little boy like a hundred thousand other little boys.  And I have no need of you.  For you, I'm only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes.  But if you tame me, we'll need each other.  You'll be the only boy in the world for me.  I'll be the only fox in the world for you...'
       'I'm beginning to understand,' the little prince said.  'There's a flower...I think she's tamed me...'
       'Possibly,' the fox said [...]  My life is monotonous.  I hunt chickens; people hunt me.  All chickens are just alike, and all men are just alike.  So I'm rather bored.  But if you tame me, my life will be filled with sunshine.  I'll know the sound of footsteps that will be different from all the rest.  Other footsteps send me back underground.  Yours will call me out of my burrow like music [...]
       The fox fell silent and stared at the little prince for a long while.  'Please... tame me!' he said.""-The Little Prince

I read this as a monologue for Drama club at school.  I had a picture of Miss Jane in the book to help me get into character as the fox.  Miss Jane was like the fox in the story, timid and shy and afraid, but she also longed to be tamed.  Boy, she was a strange cat.  She was cross-eyed and had a broken tail that she'd wave back and forth when she was very happy.  She would jump at loud noises and run if someone walked by too fast for her.  She was scared of everything.  When she was happy, she'd half close her crossed eyes and almost smile contentedly, except every time I tried to take a picture, she'd look so mad.

(the bald spot is where they shaved her in preparation for the surgery)

She rarely purred, and she didn't meow often- she chirped.  She'd chirp in the middle of the night if she caught a dust ball, and she'd wail at the door to go outside (or inside).  When she wanted inside, she'd jump and scratch at the sliding glass door, frantically trying to get in like there was something after her.

She would enthusiastically thrust her head at my hand when I was petting her, until her head would be so low to the ground she would fall over.  Her favorite spot to be scratched was the side of her neck.  She did not like to be messed with under her chin, her tummy, or her paws.  When she was really enjoying the attention, she'd rub up against objects and rub her teeth on them, like cats do.  But she also would jump up at objects too high to rub against.

We described her as "traumatized," "not all there," and "mentally challenged".  Well, she definitely wasn't all there.  She was just plain quirky.  She chewed and licked random objects.  She would jump at loud noises.  But she was so sweet.  She was so needy.  She was precious.

I remember when I first got Miss Jane.  I received a note at Christmas that said I could get a kitten, a required age of 9 to 12 weeks old so I could enjoy my last kitten experience under my daddy's roof.  I went in twice, but all of the cats were too old.  The next time we went in, there were two litters of kittens.  One had two little grey females and a male tabby.  The other was a litter of three orange kittens.  I knew which one I wanted right away, but just because it was offered, we took the kittens out and played with them in the play area.  Miss Jane hid traumatized in the corner.  Try as I might, she wouldn't play.  I got out an orange kitten.  She would rub up against me and then go play.  But she would come back and rub on me to make sure she still had my attention.  Then, a family came in and as we looked at the orange kitten, they looked at Miss Jane.  Her sister was already taken and they wanted a girl.  I knew I had to act fast.  I looked at my mom and said, "Mom, I want the grey one."  We adopted her right then and there.  Then, as we were leaving, my friend walked in.  We said 'hi' and to my surprise, she and her sister were adopting kittens for Christmas, too.  My friend actually adopted Miss Jane's brother, the tabby.

Miss Jane started out with promise.  Even though she hid in virtually every cranny of my room for the first week, she would also sleep in my lap.

Well, somewhere along her lifespan she switched and became a vehement activist against being held.  haha She HATED to be held.  But she loved to be petted, so that's what I did (most of the time).

After I got Miss Jane, my sister confided in me:
"When you told me you had gotten a grey kitten, I was like, 'You're kidding me?  A grey kitten?  Not a black and white one?  Or a little orange one?  A GREY one?'  But when you brought her home, I saw how pretty she was."
It was true.  Although Jane had some physical limitations, she was absolutely elegant.  She would "perch" as my dad would say.

Miss Jane was my little kitty girl, my baby Jane, Jane-Jane, Miss Jane, Janipoo, Janey girl, and all kinds of combinations of such names.  She had beautiful, perfect, velvety ears, soft, over-sized paws, and a little white patch under her tummy.  I always imagined when she was old, she would have more white- an old, white and grey picture of serenity.  One day, when she was lying on her side, I noticed her tummy was pretty big.

"Have you been gaining weight kitty?" I asked her.  As I felt her side, I realized that it was too hard to be her stomach.  I had discovered a tumor.  Beside the tumor, she was perfectly healthy- nice teeth, ears, eyes, etc.  She went through surgery Friday, November 2.  By the time of the surgery, the tumor had grown visibly.  The vets told us it had completely engulfed her kidney and had attached itself to her intestines and her liver.

I visited her on Saturday at the clinic with my Dad and Mom.  Miss Jane was looking healthy.  She was laying down, wrapped up in a towel, but her head was up and looking around.  She looked so alert.  I had been told she might not survive the surgery... if the tumor was too bad they would euthanize her before it became too painful... but when I saw her on Saturday looking so good, I was hopeful.

We visited her again on Monday, just my mom and me.  She was still laying down, but she was not alert anymore.  She looked not angry, but grumpy, like she was in a lot of pain and wasn't in a good mood.  I became very worried.  The doctors were saying her liver was yellowish and they wanted to give her an I-V.  She already was on pain medication, and we had her electrolytes checked.  The surgery was free because the doctor had recommended we take her to a specialist for the surgery.  We couldn't afford a specialist.  The doctor offered to perform the surgery for free because he and the other veterinarians could learn a lot from the abnormal tumor if as long as if Jane did not survive, we wouldn't press charges.  But still, I was afraid my dad couldn't afford to keep her at the clinic any longer, especially with an I-V.  But, I got a text during my class that said my dad was going to let her stay.  I was so hopeful then.  My dad and I really thought the I-V would help her and put her on the road to recovery.

Jane was only 9 pounds.  With the tumor the size of a tennis ball, the surgery was just too much for her.  When I got home from school on Tuesday, my mom walked in.  She had tears in her eyes.  I thought she was going to tell me something about our neighbors, who lost their wife/mother several months backs.  When she told me my cat didn't make it, I just couldn't believe it.  I felt so clogged up with all of my other emotions and problems.  And it didn't make sense.  She was supposed to make it.

I have another cat, Cuddles.  He is about three times the size of Jane.  Jane was one size under the average cat; Cuddles is one size over.  He is 12 years old now.  I was shocked it was Miss Jane to get sick first because Cuddles is so much older and fatter.  Not that I wanted him to go, I just knew as he is aging, it is a possibility.  I was pretty unprepared for Miss Jane's death.  I am not sure I am going to get another cat.  I want something to cause the ache to go away, but I know that getting a new cat won't recreate Jane.  A new kitten wouldn't cringe at every sound or get that silly happy look in its eye.  But, I know kittens make everyone happy.  I would fall in love with another kitten, but it wouldn't replace Miss Jane.  So, I am not sure about getting a new cat.  For right now, my cat Cuddles is pretty happy.  He's sort of like Georgette the poodle from Oliver and Company:

Cuddles never liked Miss Jane.  It was hard for him as a 7 year old cat to make way for a little adored kitten.  He is a dominating, one cat per family sort of cat.  I don't think he ever adjusted to Miss Jane.  Right now, I don't think he knows what happened to her.  All he knows is that he has the house to himself and he likes it that way.  It hurts a little to see him so happy.  I think Miss Jane's death would be much harder if I didn't have him around.  But Cuddles is nothing like Jane.  He is huge, gruff, rough, fat, lazy, and a lap cat.  I love him for being him, but it is hard not to have Miss Jane around.  It's almost like, having him only reminds me that I do not have Miss Jane.

Well, Cuddles better stick around for a while.  I am glad to have a cat to squeeze.  Jane would not let me squeeze her and Cuddles has a lot more to squeeze.

I have a reputation of being a cat fanatic at my school.  People know me as the cat loving girl.  Sometimes, I would act more excited than I actually was about cats because I knew they expected it and because I liked being identified.  I liked having an identity.  And I do love cats obsessively.  I think I tell my sister everyday how much I love my cat, Cuddles.  As I grieve through Miss Jane's death, I don't want to overreact.  I don't want to crave attention at Miss Jane's expense.  I don't want to cry with the motive of getting attention from anybody.  I think I have matured some.  But really, I wanted to blog to let people know that even though I may not be crying, and even though I can laugh and go through the day, I miss her as genuinely as ever.  I loved her so much.  She was more than a cat to me, and I don't want to forget her.

Let Me Take You There

"Now we're dancing, dancing, dancing under that big blue sky... We just had to leave all that behind"

So, today I am suffering from a severe case of Mel-on- Kolie.  Little lonely, little self-unimpressed, little contradictory.  But, as there is no cure for this sort of thing, I just decided to attempt a nap and escape to my mental place. As I write this, I listen to "Don't Forget Your Old Shipmate".  

"We're there ever chummies now such as you and i, Jack?"

Heh heh. Chummies...

What about you? Do you have a mental place you go to? 

I go to the ocean. Sometimes the sea shore, but usually it's the deep blue ocean. I couldn't say why. Maybe because no one knows me there. I don't have to worry about wondering who I could encounter. I also feel better out there because I pretend I don't care what I look like. I can be awesome, like an old salty sailor with stories to tell to the new recruits. It has a slight pride feel to it I guess, but it makes sense because I am in love with honor and great feats of courage. Maybe the feelings disguise my insecurity. Maybe I value wit too much. Or maybe I just love honor.

Now I am listening to "Life Is Beautiful". I feel sad again. It is a really good song, but over thinking while I listen to it does nothing to lift my spirits.

So I switch the song to "How I Became The Sea". I am actually in the process of animating this song. I am finishing a set of 32 pictures for a scene where my main character is walking. Did you get that? 32.  I am crazy. But it looks pretty cool.  

Now I am listening to "Yellow Shirt". Oh boy. 

My brother is a senior and we have a program at school where a lower class adopts a senior. My brother got Kindergarten. He visited them during craft time recently and when he got back he told me a story about a little girl. She randomly exclaimed as they were writing their names, "I want to get married! I want to get married right now. I just can't wait anymore!" I had to laugh- that sounded way too familiar ; ) 

"Knee deep in the water somewhere. Got the blue sky breeze blowing wind through my hair. Only worry in the world  'Is the tide gonna reach my chair?' And I think I might have found my own sort of paradise."

It's a sweet, sweet life living by the salty sea.