MY LIFE - OCTOBER

Wednesday, October 18, 2000

I have a special surprise later on in this entry, the debut of a little idea that was inspired by another web site. Every once in a while, one of the entries will be written as if it's Simba, our little kitten, talking. It's stupid, absurd, and completely pointless, but it'll help when there's nothing else to write about. As you've seen, it does happen. I'll also be showcasing six pictures of Simba, freshly scanned and resized to make for a comfortable download. So if this page takes a while to load, it's the pictures that are causing it.

The site that inspired that little tidbit is Squishy, a journal site written by a young woman who goes simply by pamie while writing in the site. If you haven't seen it, check it out. It's perhaps the funniest damn thing that I've ever seen in my entire life. She also mixes in some very deep and meaningful entries every now and then as well, showing us that she's capable of showing many different emotions.

That site is what many journalers wish their site could be. Funny, interesting, even irrelevant to the rest of the world. But most of us don't even come close. I for one, can be funny at times, but am usually a bit more serious while writing on this site. It's not always intentional, but I remember the serious things that happen to me better than I remember the funny things.

Funny stuff happened today, but I can't really remember all of it, even though I try my hardest. But being funny isn't my aspiration. I like writing and I hope that I write well enough that people can sit down, read what I say, and get what I'm talking about. That's where all sorts of inspirations come into place. I'm not just inspired by one thing or one kind of journal or web site. All different things can inspire me, from the goofy, the laid back, to the very serious.

One inspiration has been pamie and her site. Another was a middle age man from Canada who wrote a site called Canadien Beauty for a while before finally keeping it much more personal. I respect that decision, but the way he wrote and the things he wrote about kept things interesting. All at once he could be funny and dead serious. But he was a family man who wanted the best and struggled through some difficult times with his wife and children.

I'm inspired by everyone who's been through a rough life, who's had to struggle and work hard to get what they have. The person that doesn't give up, who keeps going even though everyone would rather help him fail so they could laugh at him, that's who inspires me. Even that guy who seems to be living outside of a auto repair shop on the corner of Ridge Rd. and Biddulph Rd. out here inspires me. When you're phone is a pay phone, then you've had some tough times.

But my mom has inspired me. Some of the customers I've seen have inspired me. It doesn't always mean that I'm going to do something to show that I'm inspired, but small things can go a long way with me. Taking extra care of another person is a good way to go. What I see happen in this world is my inspiration.

But I do what I do mostly because maybe someone will read what I'm writing and feel inspired. Sure, some days I'm just completely weird and incoherent (like my little aspirin entry last month), but other days I'm being serious, trying to get a point across. Sometimes I'll even mix the two and come up with my own brand of weirdness/seriousness. If someone likes it and feels inspired by it, then great. If not, then that's what happens. If I entertain and keep people interested, that's more than enough.

I'll keep writing entries and working on a web site as long as its fun. It may not reach the magnitude of Goosehead.com (what amazing story that is in itself), but that's not really my destination. If anything, I'm aiming to please myself.

So far it's working.

---

I didn't mention somethat that happened to me last night in my previous entry because of how involved I got with one of the subjects. Last night, as I was heading home from work, I was nearly taken out by a semi. It was not a pleasant experience for me and it left me seriously shaken up for a few minutes when I realized how close I came to having a really bad accident.

I had been driving on a road that was two lanes each way with a middle lane for left turns. The semi was on the right side of the road as we went south on Pearl Rd (okay, so I wasn't going home yet; had to stop at the post office first). I was in the left lane and we were approaching the interesection of Pearl Rd (rt. 42) and Royalton Rd (rt. 82), where there are two turning lanes and two more regular lanes for traffic heading south.

Well, Mr. Semi driver must have realized he was supposed to turn left onto Royalton because he suddenly started pulling left, right towards my car. About half my car was behind the semi, the other half running parallel. Well, I had to start turning left to avoid getting smashed by the truck that had either not seen me, or not cared. I continued to pull left so that he got by me without hitting me and pulled back into the original lane that I was in before moving on.

It may not seem like much, but if I hadn't seen him suddenly swerve, my car would have been hit and more than likely wrecked. I would've stood a very good chance of getting my legs crushed, if nothing else. But I was alert and had seen him start swerving, allowing myself a chance to get out of the way.

This is twice now in my life that I've narrowly escaped serious injury. The first time came while I was still in middle school and a bunch of us were playing tag on some playground equipment at a school that was behind my house in Brunswick. I had been getting chased by whoever was it and was approaching one of the slides. Now, in front of all the slides is a bar for little kids to grab so that they go down the slide properly. It was about as high as my waist was at the time, which led me to think that I could just jump over the bar and the slide at the same time.

Well, I cleared the bar, but my foot hooked part of the slide, which was the kind that curled around, sending me down head first. Thankfully, two things saved me from a potentially deadly end. Number one, it wasn't that high off the ground. Number two, I hit the ground at just the right angle to where I avoided serious injury. It was close though.

Right after it happened, I remember lying on my back, unable to move. One of my friends ran home and got my mom so that I could get some help. I remember feeling helpless because I just couldn't move at all. I thought for sure I had done something serious, but by the time my mom arrived, I was able to move around again, albeit very tentatively. I did not really move the rest of the night once I got home and laid down on the couch.

So there you go. Two close calls, but I'm still standing. I know you are all just so upset over this.

---

Tonight at work was one of those nights when you wonder if things will ever be normal. Ever. Angela is just a strange person to be around, even stranger than I can get. Now this wouldn't be such a bad person except for one little problem.

She encourages me.

What does she encourage me to do? Do silly and strange things. I'm not nearly as bad, or vocal, unless I'm provoked or given an opportunity by someone doing something silly. She did all of that and more. She talked about how she and her cat talk.

I added that pretty soon she was going to get phone calls from her cat and start carrying on conversations over the phone. We also got a demonstration of what her cat does at night. I mean real demonstrations. She even went so far as to imitate how her cat chooses what kind of food to eat at night.

This cat has choices! I mean, our cats get the same food every day for months (we buy in bulk), and her cat gets a little treat at night. The animal is spoiled rotten! No wonder it goes up to Angela when she gets home from work. The cat knows it's time to be pampered.

There are other things that make Angela strange though. There's too much for me to even mention in just one entry. I'd have to write down all the goofy stuff she's done and then try to write about everything I've heard. I told the fill-in that I'm going to feel bad for Tom if he has to deal with this all the time from her.

She then started going on and on about how she was getting a computer and how she was getting AOL and was going to be able to e-mail me by looking me up by my profile. I told her she could e-mail me at AOL all she wanted, but that AOL wasn't going to be my main e-mail address. She then tried to pry my main e-mail address from me, but I didn't give it to her.

I might give it to her in the future, but I'm not sure if I want to do that. Last thing I need is some weird e-mail from her. She even said it would probably just say meow or something strange like that.

---

Oh my goodness is that bright! Can't see...must run like mad cat until vision returns...ow-right into that large, grey object these people call a "couch." Ow, my head will never be the same.

Oh, hello. My name is Simba. Or at least that's what these strange people like to call me. I prefer to be called King Simba the Great, or something flashy like that. But you can call me Simba if it's easier. I'll let you bow down and pamper me later. Excuse my rather wild actions of a moment ago. I'm actually a very pristine kitten. Really, I am. Don't be fooled by the wild eyes.

Oh have these first few months been wild for me. One day, I'm resting comfortably, then all of a sudden, I'm pushed out into this cold, dark world that doesn't care for me until I'm like infinitely older. Then I'm being carried around, moved around, and settled into this thing called a cage. But I didn't care where I was. I wanted my mom and something to eat. I was huuungry!

But now I'm a little older, like four months and life seems to be great for me. I have all these other creatures to chase around and these people give me nothing but love and all sorts of toys to play with. These humans chase me, pick me up, and show me all sorts of affection. But these fingers are strange. No matter how hard I try, nothing comes out of them! I mean, for crying out loud, hard food is nice and all, but I have just one question. Where's the milk?

Anyway, I'm much more reserved when you see me. Don't be fooled by me flying around the house, recklessly crashing into the other cats. They don't mind. Sometimes they try to run with me, although this game of running along side of me, then knocking me down is getting old. Sure, I may try to eat everything in sight, but these guys don't have to take it personal when I bite them. Sheesh, they're only like fifty times my size.

These people are strange creatures though. They always try to get my attention and try to do whatever they want with me. I just don't understand the compulsion to do that. You like that word, "compulsion?" I'm a smart little kitten, aren't I? Oh, shoot, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, these strange humans. For crying out loud, don't pick me up so much. One day, they're going to drop me on my little head and it's going to hurt oh so much. I can't stand the thought of it.

But that's okay. I know how to get my revenge. I am small, therefore, it allows me to go after their feet without them being affectively able to get rid of me. Sure, kick me around, but I'll be back. I just love eating those little toes. One day, I'll get one of those suckers off and have my own collection of toes. You better believe it. If you don't believe me, then just watch as I watch people walk by, not even paying attention to me. Then bam! I strike. Someday, my friend, someday.

Somedays I just like to relax though. Sit back, watch the other cats run around and beat each other up. They get a little too rough with me sometimes, nevermind what that older human says. She thinks I'm the rough one. Hmph! I'm small, I have to be rough to compensate. I have to be sneaky too. I like to hide under things and dart out when you least expect it.

But there are so many things for me to see. There are all these other cats who are bigger than me, running around and doing their own thing. Sometimes I feel like I'm not wanted, but that's okay. I make myself get included in the fun. But the big black one? I don't mess with her. She could probably kill me just by laying on me. You don't mess with anything that can squish you in their sleep. She definitely qualifies as big too. She's old too, which means she's snappy.

Oh, and that beast, that big beastly dog the humans have. Oh, it's terrible. He tries to pick me up and carry me around, or worse, take me outside for his afternoon snack. He's so big and mean, I just have to bite his paws when he gets too close to me. I end up on my back, swatting in vain at his head, which is like larger than I am. He eventually gives up, but he always comes back. Then they throw me in the cage because it's getting too rough.

Wait until I'm bigger. I'll show that monster. I get him someday. But keep him away from me until then. Really, I want nothing to do with him right now. I'm not scared of him. Of course I'm not. I'm King Simba. Why would I be scared of a measly monster? NO! Don't let him in. I mean, sure, let him in. We can carry on a nice little conversation about what we did today and what we can do as friends....no, get away, that's my head!

Sorry about that. Close encounter. I'm okay. Phew, there's a lot for me to see and learn. But now, I hear someone mixing up my dinner. It's dinner time! Yay! I thought it would never come. But never fear, I'll be back to talk to you all again real soon.

Right after I show that dog a thing or two.