I see videos all the time of people recording their pets when no one is home. Their animals get into all sorts of things. However, mine seem to save their high jinks for an audience. We don’t come home to broken things or accidents. Nope, my animals do it all while we’re home. The most absent we can be is when we’re sleeping.
Now with my dog, Zoey, I know she’s being polite by not waking us up if she needs to go out. She’ll go in the kitchen where she knows it’s easy to clean up, rather than having an accident on a rug. She’s a good girl and smart, too.
My cat, Mr. Mayhem, on the other hand, is the epitome of an asshole cat. He seems to think that if he gets in enough trouble, we’ll throw him outside. Unfortunately for him, I know the story of Brer Rabbit. Mostly, I just yell at him as I chase him under furniture screaming, “You better learn to use the phone and dial the ASPCA, cuz I’m about to whoop your ass!”
scene created in: Room 144 – The [Den.] Residential
crate Otto Bed (*new* @ Go by FaMESHed)
crate Otto Bed Footlocker
uK – Masculine Chic Set (*new* @ TMD)
-uK – Masculine Chic Console-Black
-uK – Bachelor Hall Wine Planter
-uK – Masculine Chic LED Lamp
-uK -Masculine Chic Art 1
-uK -Masculine Chic Art 2
uK – DJ Dead Chair Grey
uK – Chic Wall Clock (Metal)
There’s a poem by Maya Angelou, Caged Bird. Its one of those poems that sat on my chest like a 20lb cat. It weighed so heavily on my heart that is almost felt as though I were being crushed. I love the contrast of the free bird versus the caged bird. The free bird hasn’t the worries or restrictions of the caged bird. Yet, the caged bird chooses to sing anyway. The caged bird sings of hope, dreams, and fantasies. It is those songs that keeps the caged bird moving forward in its limited space. While the free bird might sing, I imagine the songs are hollow and not nearly as beautiful as the “fearful trill.”
Obviously the poem is not literally about birds. Its symbolism in its purest form really. Yet, it still makes me think. It takes my mind in so many directions. Not just the original meaning, but about each of us as individuals. How often do we cage ourselves? And for what reason? I spend more than 50% of my day in my bedroom, as my computer is in here, my smart tv, my bed…all my favorite comforts of home. Why? Though I sit in front of a window, there is nothing keeping me locked in here. So, why don’t I go outside more? Granted, I don’t like the people around here too much, but no one is forcing me to speak to anyone when I leave my house. I’ve even been to jail and I remember how badly I craved the fresh air, a natural breeze. How I longed to hear the rustling of leaves and the songs of birds….even the laughter of those little demon spawns people call children. *grins*
I’ve gotten too comfortable in my little cage of comforts. I’ve become complacent and in most 12 step programs there’s a common saying about complacency being a red light indicator. In other words, when we become too comfortable…too complacent in our lives, we are setting ourselves up for bad decision making and that’s never been more true in my life. I’ve made some very poor decisions in the last few months. Acting out (mostly in SL) in ways that I never have before and its time for me to stop. I’ve already reduced my blogging load by focusing more on fashion and less on home decor. Yet, I still find myself sitting at this desk focused far more on my blog than on my real life.
I am not a religious person by a long shot, but Easter is about Christ being reborn, right? Well, I think I’ll borrow a page from the Bible and use Easter as a form of rebirth of my own. I’m going to cut back a bit more on the blog and I’m going to be leaving my house for five days on Easter weekend. I’m going to see my darling Nikole. This will be the second time we’ve met in real life, but it’ll be my first time visiting her at her house. I’m super excited about the trip and I’m about to embrace some really positive changes in my life. I will no longer be caged by my own hands.
Have you ever been in a situation that you’d give up just about anything to make it work out, but somethings just don’t work…no matter how much you want them to…and trying to force it to work just makes it worse? You feel like you’ve been screaming, but like the scream in your nightmares…it catches there on the edge of silence. You know you’re not invisible, but you’re definitely not heard. Your pain is ignored and trivialized to the point that you apologize for being so irrational. Its terribly unhealthy…you know you have to walk away. You know you’re going to look back and if there is any love in this world…they won’t be there watching you leave.
You crawl into a comfortable cloudy corny of yourself. Isolated and withdrawn, you don’t want to be alone, but you can’t stand the thought of being seen this way. There’s a really funny reflection in the bottle with this dim light. Tonight you hide, tonight you decide your fate, but tomorrow you’ll crawl back into the light and soldier on another day. Oh, but we don’t want to think about that…the cycle is maddening. What kinds of toys are we playing with in this madhouse? Why am I so different? This is all that’s left.