Pensive with Cat Scratches

No, I’m not writing a sequel to “Sleepless in Seattle”.

Earlier tonight, Min got a claw stuck in a knot of hair on her tail. She was lying on the bed and started crying. I ran in to rescue her from her ordeal, sized up the situation, and proceeded to remove her claw from the knot. Which must have hurt a little bit, because she showed her appreciation by whacking at me with her three remaining paws and biting my arm whenever it came within teething distance. Of course, I couldn’t just give up and leave her like that, so I let her slice away at me while I freed her paw. And now I have multiple scratches and bite marks to show for it.

None of them are bad, but they’re like paper cuts…you can’t help but notice the stinging. Sigh. S’okay, though. I love my cats, and if I have to bleed a little to take care of them, then so be it.

I’m working on an article right now and wondering what my upcoming week will be like. If I have to guess, it’ll be busy tomorrow and Tuesday, and then relax somewhat after Wednesday. More of an educated projection than a guess, really, since I know what’s on the docket. The point being that the crazy busy-ness of my office will likely continue for awhile. And thus, the crazy busy-ness of my life will continue for awhile.

I went to see a series of short plays put on by KWLT yesterday, and it was a fun occasion. Actually, it was amusing because I knew the large majority of the cast and crew, and a huge portion of the audience. So, a couple of people remarked that I must be very popular, because I was greeting or hugging everyone who walked by. That’s not the case at all, of course. I know many of the KWLT regulars, and a lot of the audience members were from the Robin in the Hood theatre group. It’s not popularity…just a lot of people I interact with regularly.

This, of course, forces me to look up the definition of popular, which means, in its most basic sense, “widely liked or appreciated.”

In the situation last night, 80-90% of the people in the building knew and (as far as I know) like or appreciate me. Which qualifies as “widely”. And which forces me to admit that yes, I am popular. Or at least, was in that situation.

Truth be told, I’m uncomfortable with the concept of popularity. It’s one of those neutral words that can be equally good or evil, and I fear the evil side of it. The one that makes people think or feel like they’re more important than someone else. I hate when people pull that attitude on me, and I hate to think that I’d do that to anyone else. It’s too easy for popularity to inflate someone’s ego. Better I should be wary of it than to let it envelope me.

Envelope…nice. In this usage it’s pronounced “en-VEL-up” as opposed to “ahn-ve-LOPE”. That’s some damn fine use of the English language, if I do say so myself.

See, there’s a difference between being proud of my skills, training, and accomplishments (e.g. using “envelope” in a scatterthought) and being proud because I’m popular. I worked hard to gain those skills and accomplish things…whereas I don’t do anything to be popular or appreciated. When it comes to the people around me, I do things because doing so can make their lives a little better. Popularity is a byproduct of my actions, and proof that I’m doing something right in this life.

In January, I expressed my frustration over being single. Not frustration, actually…just that I’m tired of it. Only now am I realizing why I’m feeling this way. It’s not that I’m lonely or incomplete or anything like that. It’s just the opposite, actually.

When I step outside of my body and look around, I realize that my life is pretty darn good. I’ve got two good jobs, wonderful friends and family, and a bunch of creative activities to keep me occupied. I don’t have a lot of money, but I get by just fine.

One hell of a writer, according to Rachel.

Perfectly imperfect, which is fine by my sister Danielle.

And, as Anthony says, “convinced that every deeper meaning has a deeper meaning, which means that he’s never satisfied with simple answers, and even the complex answers rarely hit the spot.” That may be the most accurate description I’ve ever heard of me…like I’m some sort of philosophical conspiracy theorist.

I have the luxury of two loving cats, the luxury of being scratched up by one of them, and the luxury of not worrying about it. If you think about it, that’s the most telling statement of all.

I guess that’s why I’d prefer to be in a relationship. I feel like some of this positive energy is being wasted, all cooped up inside of me. It’s a gift, and–as is well documented–I’m far better at giving than receiving. Not to say that I won’t take part in my significant other’s successes…that’s just as much fun.

As existences go, mine has to be pretty high up there. I just need someone to share all of this goodness with.