First post. Wow. You are, as of right now, competing for my attention with an angry, black, fluffy, elderly cat. And you’re winning. Go you. I count ignoring the cat as one of my more prominent talents. I hope when I finally pass on and approach the pearly gates that this life, here on Earth, isn’t just some elaborate scheme constructed by our feline counterparts to observe us and then offer up kitty judgement at the end. I imagine a giant white Ragdoll cat with fiery eyes and a white fluffy beard like a wispy cloud, laying cheshire-like, before the entrance to heaven (Cat God, if you will) …
…and he can talk – no inter-species language barrier in my imaginary heaven scenario – and there’s a large list of my failings that he has suspended from a hooked claw before his fierce yet somehow adorable face.
1. Locked your cat outside by accident and went to sleep.
2. Did not pat for the appropriate length of time.
3. Told your feline observer that he was going to a fun kitty playground to get him into his carry case, then took him to the vet.
On and on, Cat God recounts my sins. Then with an all-mighty yowl damns me to kitty purgatory which turns out to be an inescapable chamber fitted out solely with Hello Kitty merchandise. Pink bubblegum hell.
No, I’m not high. My brain just does this – imagination, testing the threshold of sanity since single-celled organisms divided and developed complex neurological networks and all that other stuff that science tells us happened to get us to the point where we have these amazing, complex, sophisticated brains…that we use to write shit on the internet with. Well, just speaking for myself. You might be a surgeon, a successful wildlife documentary maker or a Professor of Linguistics. Not me, though. I’m all about the Cat afterlife.
You may be wondering at this point why I’m writing nonsense, publicly, of my own volition…why would I be doing that? If this is what you’re thinking, I applaud you. The simplest and least glamorous answer is: I spend a lot of time alone and don’t really have anything better to do. I’ve also been encouraged by some of my kind friends to share my writing – they may be clearing their throats right now and feeling regret rumble in the pit of their stomachs at the Franken-blogger they have helped to unleash. Well, it’s too late! *inset maniacal laugh here*
The fact is, I have a chronic illness that has pretty much derailed life as I knew it since late 2011. The timeline is sketchy because I didn’t just fall apart overnight but I can say with complete confidence that around the time I stopped being able to walk very easily and felt like my entire body had been filled with concrete (so, late 2011) is when things really took a turn for the…shall we say, less desirable.
The illness I have, if you don’t know me and we aren’t Facebook friends (because if we’re Facebook friends I’ve plastered my wall with so much info on this disease you’d have to have been living in Siberia…or anywhere without wifi really…to not know) is called Lyme Disease. It’s the perfect storm of complexity and political controversy – I really did outdo myself with this turn of fate. *slow clap*
So here I am, four years down the track. A bundle of symptoms existing in a human form and frequently pondering the purpose of existence, the universe, life…you know, all of that. The up-side, depending on your perspective, is that it has led me here, reader. Allow me to provide another voice in the shouty, crazy, heterogeneous ‘space’ we call the internet. I promise to always talk about myself and to commit many crimes against personal privacy and dignity. Catharsis for me, voyeurism for you – it’s the way of our modern world.
Until next time xx