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My thoughts released; a mind set free |
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These pages contain my thoughts, from meandering ideas and persuasions to deep cerebrations and serious mentations. Why, for what purpose? To release my mind and set creativity free. Somewhere inside the constraints of my mind dwells a writer, a poet, an artist who paints with words. In here I release those constraints and set the artist free. Perhaps, lost somewhere in the depths of thought, is a story or a poem, waiting to be written. 
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So, I've been making entries in "Invalid Item"  and the prompts make it a bit difficult to write silly foolishness. So, I thought I would share a short story about a kitten I rescued when I was but a wee lad in school.I was walking home after school one fine autumn day when this little, fluffy, and scared kitten ran out of a hedge with a rather large dog right on its tail so I rescued the cute, fluffy beast. Well, I didn't actually rescue him, he, in sheer terror and panic, almost ran into me. Needing a hasty escape, he proceeded to climb up my pant leg and shirt, taking refuge on my shoulder as I felt those tiny, but needle-sharp claws piercing my skin from my ankle to my shoulder. I reached up to remove him since his tiny but needle-sharp claws were still deeply embedded in my shoulder, but the little bastard bit my finger, hard. Being a somewhat intelligent youth, I quickly gave up any thoughts of removing him and popped my injured and bleeding digit into my mouth. After administering first aid I yelled at the dog who was still jumping and trying to get the kitten, which was making it dig those little, needle-sharp claws ever deeper into my now very sore shoulder. The dog retreated back around the house it had appeared from and I, still fearful of removing the terror-inflicted little beast went up to the house and inquired if it was their kitten. "No." I went to the other houses in the neighborhood and inquired the same, and received the same answer, "No." With no other choice, I proceeded on my way home with a bleeding finger, multiple punctures up my leg and torso, and a cute little kitten attached to my shoulder. Once home, my mother was able to painfully remove the kitten, which didn't bite her, but instead curled into a tiny little ball and began purring. She told me I had to try and find the owners, so after it had gulped down some leftover meatloaf and drank a small bowl of milk, I took a picture with my dad's polaroid and made a poster with our phone number and address so the little, cute, and now very tired kitten curled in my mother's lap could be returned home. I posted it on the side of the phone booth, and being a very small town, figured that would be sufficient. After a few days, someone had boldly written "No" under the text asking, "Is this your kitten?" Someone else had posted another sign next to mine stating, "This is a public phone please do not post signs here!" I took my sign down and wrote on theirs, "If we can't post signs here, what the hell is this?" Anyway, I ended up with a tiger-striped kitten I named Tiger Elroy Killroy Butch and a week of being confined to my room after school for my notations on the sign on the phone booth. It seems the phone company recorded my phone number and address from my sign and notified my parents of my comment on theirs. I said I was somewhat intelligent, not a genius! |
| Yes, this is my third attempt on the third day of trying to write something here. As I quote myself, but seldom say it these days, life has been a big plate of fuccaroni and cheese (and not the good cheese, that powdered crap that smells like dirty socks. I don't even remember what I was first going to write, since I didn't save the few sentences I had started before being interrupted, distracted, and yanked back into reality. I know, "Save often!" And, I do if it's serious writing, but when it's not, there isn't any sense in saving because I won't be able to pick up that thread of thought. With all this reality getting in the way, it was only a matter of time before I had to let the excreta hit the thermantidote and try to get things back into some semblance of order. If you've followed my blog, you already know I have a new puppy; if you haven't followed, I have a new puppy. Anywho, Max is now fourteen weeks old, or three and a half months, and is doing pretty well. He does pretty well if his routine and schedule aren't fubar, which they have been since last Thursday. I've been trying to get things as close to normal as possible but have not been getting much support from Max's other family members. It seems like there was a bit of a mutiny attempt. I know it's because I've spent so much time working with Max and giving him so much of my time. However, this was all discussed prior to getting a puppy; everyone knew it would be a lot of work and I was elected as the best person to take up the challenge. Of course, it's not just family, there's a big change coming on the first of February and that's also created more demands on my time and more interruptions. I also made a devastating mistake by telling my neighbor that all the interruptions and distractions are driving me sane. (Yes I did say that right, being off my rocker, it makes sense) Anyway, our neighbor is a pretty nice guy, but he's got this critical fault; when he hears something is upsetting someone, he can't help but also do something upsetting. So, while visiting last Sunday, it slipped out that all the crap going on was driving me stark raving sane. Now, he is adding his bit to the problem. I'd throw in the towel, but Max would likely grab it and tear it up. Besides, I have a s***-ton of things to get done over the next week or two, if the front apartment opens on the first as planned. So, the only option available is to keep on keeping on, give it back as much as they give it, and keep my focus on what's important, my vegetable can list. I don't have time for a bucket list so I had to use an empty vegetable can... |
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