The Full Process (or How to Not Worry by Yeonni)

I don't worry. It has to do with a childhood belief that either things work out, or you give way and find a different place. It has to do with an adult faith that everything is connected and everything is as it should be, as it will be, as it has always been. I can frown and think and stare into the dark of night, but it's theoretical, logical. It's thinking, not worrying. Not when my brother crashed with the bike, not when my dad had a heart attack, not when we stood before the possibility of being tossed out of the place we lived in three weeks time. I get angry and scared and frustrated, but I don't worry.

But it's cold. He's a silly little ball of fur, kind of stupid, often very annoying, and I don't even love him that much. But now I feel it. It's like the hand of death gently resting on my stomach. I feel it, and I keep seeing the image of him curling up in the snow under the window just after I convinced him to go outside for a bit to get some air and exercise, and I keep thinking, how do you live with this? How do people who worry survive? Maybe I'm just sensitive because I'm not used to it. But how do people do this?

So.
Reality check. Worst case scenario: he's dead, and I'll never find the body. No, scratch that, worst case scenario: he's lying somewhere suffering for days and days before he dies, and I never find the body. But that makes no difference for me; I can't do anything about that. Boiled down, only four options exist (where "coming back" and "being found" are the same).

1. He comes back. 
2. He comes back wounded. 
3. He doesn't come back and I find the body. 
4. He doesn't come back and I don't find the body.

In a way, if I don't find a body I can imagine he's alive somewhere, but that's highly unrealistic, and I like knowing the truth more than having vain hopes, so they are ranked in that order. By likelihood of each outcome occurring  ranked by most likely first, I think they're somewhere like this:

1. He comes back. 
2. He doesn't come back and I don't find the body. 
3. He comes back wounded. 
4. He doesn't come back and I find the body.

So my most desired outcome is the most likely. Good. My least desired outcome is second. Okay.

Preparation. If he comes back he will be cold and hungry. Handled. Cat candy all stocked up. If he doesn't come back on his own I will have to try to find him, although it seems difficult. Go looking, put up pictures, post through social media. Not only to find him, but also to be able to say, if things go badly, that I did everything I could.

I was not wrong to let him out. I was wrong to not check on the window more frequently, but I must forgive myself that because it wasn't that cold, and as far as I could tell from the tracks in the snow he hadn't been back to the window anyway.

Possibilities for why he hasn't come back to the window are essentially far too many to handle. But for example:

• Plausible reasons: He may have walked in somewhere and been locked in. He may have been in a fight and/or ran off somewhere.
• Less plausible reasons: He may have wandered into the road and been ran over. He may have gotten stuck somewhere in the snow or woods.
• Implausible but possible reasons: He may have been kidnapped. He may have been scraped up by a snow clearing machine and buried in snow. He may have crawled into a car that drove off with him.
• Ridiculous reasons that for some reason insist on popping up in my head: He's hit his head and forgotten the way home. He's fallen in love with some other human. He's pissed and punishing me for tossing him out.

None of this prepares me emotionally for losing my friend and life partner. Hm.

Preparation 2.0. I don't want to get another cat immediately. That's not only disrespectful, it would also be painful. Being alone is also painful. Hm.

Preparation 3.0. People in situations they cannot control do many things. Like pray. People who lose their friends talk to their gravestones, or their pictures. There are rituals and ceremonies involved in handling grief and loss. It's more difficult if there is no definitive end; sending well wishes to the life after death is kinda odd if you don't know if the person is actually dead. 

I don't believe in the life after. I do believe in some sort of "pool" that what we are go back to, like our bodies decompose into dirt and the air in our lungs return to the air outside. But that doesn't deal with the question of whether the person is dead or not either.

People who are not there cannot hear things you say. People are not emotionally connected just because they want to be. Genetically similar people can react similarly to things, and therefore predict how other genetically similar people might feel or act (like twins), but there aren't that many genetic similarities between Asian girls and male cats. Mothers do not know if their children are dead. Thinking so seems to help them emotionally, but I am not his mother.

Loki is a cat. He doesn't know that I love him. He knows here is food and warmth and friendly protective aliens. He will most likely try to come back, and he may miss me, but he will not blame me if I don't find him, because he doesn't know that I love him. Because cats don't know what love means. I don't know what love means either. 

Loki will not know the difference between if I worry about him or not, or whether I miss him when he is not here or not. I do these things only for myself. Missing someone strengthens your bond to them, and makes you appreciate them. Worrying... doesn't help at all.

Conclusion: Worrying will not help Loki, will not increase his chances, will not make him happy if he returns, will not make me better prepared to face the emotional pain from losing him, will not make either of us understand love any better, and will only be painful. Except for looking for him, the only way to get to any of the options stated above is time passing. Passing that time in suffering changes absolutely nothing.

Preparation 4.0 Final. I'm going to watch some videos and play NDS-games in Korean (that I barely understand 1% of) because it makes me happy and eat tasty food.

Thanks for listening. Bye.

From the Candy Snake

Every move you make
every little step
of your rituals
are like chocolate cake



for my soul, my heart,
like a burning flame
for a moth like me,
whispering the name



of your spirit core,
grand and beautiful,
of your time and love
I pray grant me more.



Don't want sugar cubes,
I'll eat you instead;
won't be satisfied
'til I'm in your head.



(Bet I creep you out
like a candy snake,
but you bear with me
as I flail about.)



Want to wear your skin
what's it like to be
perfect in yourself?
Here's a poem from me:



you're soft through and through,
you're like candy floss;
it can't be washed off.
P.S. I love you.

King of Games

The movie list will be around soon. I just had to make a small observation of life with Loki:

Cat + strong mint-smelling cooling paste = D: -> XP -> T.T
I put some on my foot (since I kicked a table, how intelligent and graceful) and now he's walking in big circles around me.  Also all the rain makes him really cuddly. Surprisingly, he's not too keen on going outside in the wet, and seems to think that sleeping on top of me at all times increases the chances of the rain stopping.

I'm playing Yu-Gi-Oh again! One of the older NDS versions. I have a feeling I will play it in periods forever :P It's so much fun! Card games are logic and crazy all in one neat organized package of total control over the lack of control xD. Probabilities, you see. Those gnarly bastards. What I like about it, is that there's cards for virtually anything, even ridiculously stupid things, so that you can build giant complex insane strategies that have a probability of one in a million to actually ever come into play, but it doesn't matter because you had so much fun coming up with it! And also you can just throw together a deck based on some basic principle, like, healing yourself, or tossing out the cards in your opponent's hand, and it usually works if you just want to play right now. Pokemon is fun but too simple to do those crazy fun things, and Magic: The Gathering never really hit the spot. My spot, I mean. Tapping things is for tap dancers anyway. Posh and poncy people*.

*opinions expressed in this post is in no way representative of the real life opinions towards tap dancers, by anyone, and particularly not me.

A regular day's concerns

"If you stick to the roads, you´ll meet less mosquitos, just like in World of Warcraft."

I was playing The World Ends With You today, where there´s a bonus boss that´s insanely difficult because of one single thing; he stomps the ground all the time which interrupts casting healing and shields, which I´ve been relying on a lot. I was staring at my Nintendo DS wondering how on Earth I would be able to kill it, and thought, "but hey, Chingling, my pokémon, is immune to ground moves".

>.>

In other news, Loki now knows two tricks: high 5, and uh, licking my hand, well it´s a trick because he does it on cue. I´m sorry, three tricks, the third being leaving live mice all around the apartment. Yesterday I found one right inside the door and anther severely bleeding beneath my suitcase. I´m a little worried that he´s put a dead one behind the stove because something smells -.- His free-roaming privileges have been revoked.

Bouncing

I wake up to the sound of Loki bouncing about the carpet. I recognize that pattern of sound very well. It's the sound of a cat bouncing around captured prey, most likely still alive. So I know the truth long before I actually see it. There is a live mouse on my carpet. For the time being it's corralled in one spot by a happy, bouncing cat.

My first plan is to stick it in the bathroom, cat, mouse and all and just go back to sleep. Ignorance is bliss. But the more awake I get, the more I realize it's not a terrific plan. So after chasing cat and mouse around the apartment for a good while I gather the courage to capture it (mice can bite and give diseases, alright!). With a plastic bag between my hand and a tiny little warm, breathing mouse, I realize that I, I indeed, I have a live mouse in my hand, how incredibly cool I am to pick it up. (No I don't know why, it's four in the morning damn it.) So I proudly toss it out, and Loki runs after, picks it up, and jumps back in the window.

-.-'

Another circle chase, I close the window, and he jumps right into the glass. Well sorry, cat. We have a communication issue. I'd rather not have a mouse gnawing on my computer cables. And mom would probably not want mouse blood on the carpet. If you ate it in the bathroom I could clean it up easy, but I can't tell you that, can I.

I did learn something about myself. When the damned thing ran right over my feet, I was too terrified by the absolutely disgusting idea of stepping on it to actually freak out and jump away.

At least my first instinct wasn't to take a picture. That's the sign of blog-/facebook brain damage.

Static Electricity Cat meets Harley the Circling Dog

And so there was dog. Cat and dog seems to get along rather well. Cat is immensely, painfully, undeniably curious. If there wasn't for that pesky instinct that says that living creatures six times your own size should be held at sensible distance, cat would be prodding dog's stomach by now, sitting on top of it. But there is that instinct, and so there's a lot of bipolar hissing-followed-by-sneaking-closer going on. Dog is fascinating, but also clearly a latent psychopath, acting nice but possibly waiting to chomp cat's head off. Dog, meanwhile, is mostly confused. Dog tries to stay out of cat's way because obviously the hissing, clawed thing has mental issues, but doesn't have all that much space to maneuver. Bone is a lot better, dog thinks. Bones are simple. Chew.

It is SO ODD to read old posts, most of all old poems and the ramblings I have around them. Poems are tricky things. They're obviously obvious to myself, which means that it's impossible to imagine what they look like to someone who isn't inside my head, and somehow right now I relate that to what they talked about in the Portal 2 commentary; that puzzles have to be dumbed down for people to understand. If nobody understands my poems, then what would be their point? On the other hand, how much can I "dumb them down" without losing their meaning? Should I do that at all, seeing as poems should be "pure" or "raw" in contrast to prose or story form, or that's been my impression anyway. They are attempts at communicating, after all.

In any case, because of cat, when I get my random inspirations of wanting to sing (happens a lot) I've improvised melodies to a poem I made a long time ago that I love a lot and that works well to improvise simple tunes to. My roomie has expressed... I'm not sure what, puzzlement? at what this text is, so now that I've found my original (because I'd forgotten a verse) I'm going to post it here.

!

Have you ever seen a thing
as beautiful, as amazing,
as feline missus over there
and how she carries her bling-bling?

Every hair in proper place,
no sign of make-up on her face,
nor or knife or needle are
on her body any trace.

See how gracious her behind;
such a step is hard to find,
and this one mister over here,
she has already blown his mind.
Mister takes his only chance
and asks her politely to dance,
and there they go in correct waltz
though surely he would wish to prance!
Such a lady, is she not?
It takes him all night long to spot
a way in through her defense
as solid as the Camelot!
Though first saying firmly no,
treating him almost as foe,
no more a lady is she now
than to tell him "let us go!".
But do not think her easy prey;
more a hunter I would say.
And it will be up to her call
if there'll be kittens here in May!

!

A new superhero is born!

Hm.
Static electricity cat fears: Bikes (moving), Joggers, Plastic Trash Cans (this may be the effect of traumatizing treatment by housekeepers)
Static electricity cat is not afraid of: Other Cats, Collars, Yelling, Static Electricity
Static electricity cat likes: Cat Carrying Bag, Food, Sticking Nose In Streaming Water, Lollipop Sticks, Biting Human Hands (play), Sleeping On Humans, Talking Back (probably witty comments but since I don't speak cat...)
Defining traits: Static electricity cat has the vaguely disturbing but welcome habit of NOT clawing people in that cat-characteristic way when feeling good. So scratching behind ears is safe. Aside from getting play-bitten.
Place of Power: The Chair. However continually stolen by the housekeeper, it is really because Static electricity cat is so nice and lets her borrow it, generously wanting to share its awesomeness and mystic powers.
Tactics: Static electricity cat will sneak up on you, slap you in the face and give you a static electricity jolt for good measure. This tactic is mainly employed on other cats. It is not aggressively used upon humans, but rather in a defensive way giving you a jolt when you touch him. Static electricity cat appears resistant to his own powers.
Weakness: Static electricity cat need to recharge his static electricity by running back and crawling all over the sofa in between.
Nemesis: Coca Cola

Chill-pill

Famous bloggers blog at least once a day, they say. And do stuff like "outfit of the week" or "quote of the day". That's 365 posts a year. Many. I'm not going anywhere specific with this, it just sort of hit me.

So now I have a cat. Responsibilities. I'm in a mutual agreement: I provide for cat and cat provides company for me. Is it the female BIOS in me that goes "oh noes what if I do something wroooong", or is that just the general reaction to responsibilities when they involve other living things? Or inanimate objects, in some cases. Yes that's true, I freak out about inanimate objects too. As a matter of fact, I'm terrified of breaking anything at all, to the point where I'm even reluctant to do things I know are bad in a game-world even if I know that the solution is always just a 5-second quick load.

Anyway my point was that I waited and waited for the cat, and then when he was inside my apartment my brain imploded in "omigodomigod" over how much I should feed him, what I should feed him, if I should brush him, what to do about his teeth (because I read cats often get problems with their teeth), when I should let him outside... and that, that is the question. What if I let him outside and he doesn't come back? Or another cat beats him up bad, there's a lot of cats here. Or I dunno, if a giant fucking eagle flies in from outer space and eats him for a snack and good measure? Logically, it all seems as probable as the last suggestion there, or at least as equally valid arguments to not let him outside. This is most likely how parents feel, I imagine. Poor things.

To be honest I think of myself as quite qualified to take care of a cat, but the worrymonster isn't really interested in qualifications. It's very easy to get a job from him though, i hear.

So with regular intervals I give myself a mental slap in the face and a harsh "Get a hold of yourself!", but then again, nothing new with that. I'm usually the one telling people to take a chill-pill, and that includes myself.

Kitteh LOL

So... I'm gonna be that annoying person who never communicates with any human being without telling a cute cat story. See my cat tends to sit on the most out-of-the-way flat space on the desk, which happens to be my drawing pad, which is a Bamboo Pen & Touch, and that last part means you can also use it like a laptop's touchpad. And little Loke's paws are exactly the right size to register as a finger. Then there's some buttons that are very easy to press, and a few "finger gestures" that mean special commands. So I'd be playing, say, Dragon Age, and just got into a fight where I'm surrounded by sixteen darkspawn and a mage channeling a fireball, when the cat goes LOL and alt-tabbs me out of the game. Which does not pause, when alt-tabbed. Hilarity ensues, particularly if I've forgotten to quick-save.

Kitty is also being a kitten and chasing my mouse pointer around, or attacking the lead character when I'm running around in DA or WoW. It's lucky he's not using claws, because I think my screen would disagree to that. In total though he's a very well-behaved cat. Yes, I will blog about something other than cat eventually. I'm working on a thing, actually, so when that's finished I'll be all deep and artistic and emo. Ahh the certainty of when an artist says "when I finish this I'll... " :D

Fun and Convenience

Cat has happened. This is now a real home. He appears to pee where he should, not bite cables, and is friendly and curious and not much afraid. This mutually beneficial partnership should work out well. I'd like to warn everyone that I don't much like to be called "owner" or "mom". A cat is a friend, not a slave or a baby. I'd agree to "mistress" possibly, because I could somewhat imagine a cat going "My mistress has this weird habit...", more in the sense of a "woman you have on the side for fun and convenience", especially a cat named Loke (Loki for the English-speaking), and I guess I have to be called something.