Wednesday, December 3

On letting things go.

If someone were to ask me for one thing in the world that I find bittersweet, the answer would definitely be this: writing descriptions for my fostered cats.

One one hand, I really enjoy it. I like anything that forces me to write in a semi-creative fashion. I can get cute with them, try to draw the reader in by being funny, but at the same time everything is based on facts (no matter how embellished). It's an informative short essay, written with the intent to sell. And written about a subject a care about with every part of my being. I like writing the descriptions because I'm writing about an animal I love very much. I remember things while I write them--like that time Mocha (who has since been adopted out) made a blanket taco just to wedge herself somewhere warm, or when Adachi (who has also since been adopted out) would absolutely refuse to sleep anywhere aside from in bed, under the covers, with me. It's fun.

But as I said, the description is written with an intent to sell. I only write them when our cats officially go "up for adoption"--meaning, we're starting to get serious about getting the cat a new, "forever" home. A home where the owner isn't just buying more and more extra time. A home where the owner won't constantly be worried about how damn attached they are to the animal, because the animal will always be their companion anyway.

There are times when I want to write "This cat is super stinky! Beware! S/he will claw up all of your furniture and puke on the rag carpeting and s/he never, I repeat, NEVER, uses the litter box!" Because no one will buy a cat with such a bad description, even if they take it as a joke. And then the cat will come back "home" to me, where I'm 100% sure he or she will be loved and well cared for. When they go out into the world I'm like a pitiful worried mom, wondering if the house they go to will feed them the canned food that they love so much, and if they'll have enough toys and the buyers won't grow bored with them and neglect them after a while (which, let's face it, happens sadly often with pets--especially around the holiday season, when they're given as "last-minute" surprise gifts that are boring after the surprise wears off and the responsibility sets in).

I just hear so many horror stories lately in animal rescue circles. Animals getting tortured and killed as if they aren't even living things. If there is any sad story I just can't listen to all the way through, it's something like that.

Asher, Bear, Lacey, Blazer, Tucker, Gohan, and Goku are going to start heading over to Pet Adoption Days every other weekend. Krillin might, as well, but he's so skittish that it would almost be pointless--no one would be able to connect with him, anyway. He still needs a lot of work. The first five will probably get adopted remotely quickly. They've grown into pretty outgoing, friendly cats. There's a chance they might grow standoffish in the cages, but I mostly doubt it.

But anyway, I was working on some descriptions for when we bring them this Saturday. And while writing happy, fun things about Bear was enjoyable, I couldn't help but also start crying. Because I love the idea of taking care of cats and getting them ready for houses of people who'll love and care for them, but it's still painful to let go of something you love. It really does leave a huge hole when each cat goes away--each one with its own great personality.

If there's possibly anything more bittersweet than writing out these descriptions, it's probably just fostering in general. You pour all of your love and affection into them, and then you let them go. But at least there are always the memories and the hope that a loving family was able to pick up an amazing life-long companion.

An actual title goes here.

Sometimes I think the fact that I read so many (fiction and nonfiction) books about Japan or Japanese citizens or non-Japanese citizens in Japan is food for my fear of actually setting up connections and getting my own ass over to the little eastern island country. Because when I read these books, it almost feels like I'm living there through the characters or nonfiction authors or whomever the tale is being told through. Yeah, it isn't nearly as good as actually going to Japan and experiencing everything first-hand, but I'm so ridiculously afraid of social situations and breaking free from my old habits that I guess sometimes these books feel like the closest thing I'll actually ever have to living there.

But anyway, while I think that over, I'll just do yet another amazon search through books about Japan et al. even though I already have a ridiculous amount. Maybe someday I'll have enough so that the amount of words will be enough to match my awkward fascination with the country.

Monday, December 1

Post #0003

Over at Poupee Girl--the only place online I've been going to on a semi-regular basis lately--I've gotten really good at the Piyo Game. When I first joined Poupee everyone said to not play it because, if you accidentally hit a balloon too soon, you get shitty, worthless prizes. But now that I know all the cheats, I've really made a good bit of profit. I can play the game for 30Ribs, and then usually sell away my items for around 70Ribs. So it's a 40Rib profit per win, as I usually don't keep the items myself. None of them really fit my tastes. And besides, I have to find a way to save up for the upcoming winter events, since I don't feel comfortable spending money on this game when, in reality, it's pretty much a choice between pixel pants for an animated avatar, or pants for myself.

Not really a hard choice.

(Also, sorry that it's a screencap instead of a photo today--but isn't Piyo Game at sunset kind of pretty?)

Sunday, November 30

Post #0002

When I was a kid, my best friend Ally and I would run around with the older boys on the playground during recess. There was this group of boys who were one year above us, and they carried this red felt-tip pen around that we dubbed "Red Pen Man." Really, at this point I have no clue what made us call it that or create its very own storyline. Anyway we'd decided that pen was evil, and so they started also carrying around a blue felt-tip pen, or "Blue Pen Man." Blue Pen Man was our hero, and fought Red Pen Man on a regular basis.

At some point, obviously, we stopped playing that game. I don't remember any of the details. I just remember Red Pen Man and Blue Pen Man--the devil and the savior in pen form.

It seems like those are the two necessities of any proper story.