`````It just keeps getting harder to show up, somehow. At least the black feral was waiting for me at the bottom of the hill. She was nervous and kept looking to her left. I saw the racoons in the garbage can, so when I left the food I stood for a second so that she could eat in peace before I moved on. There are generations of these little black cats with white dots on their chests.
`````Then I was told of a new stray, badly injured, who'd been coaxed into somebody's window. Peroxide had been applied and she ate a can of food before she left. "She'll be back," I said. All my dealings have to do with cats, as I know they call me the "Cat Lady."
`````The rest of my night was spent in a red light district; but that which was cast by an exit sign. It was pitch black expect for that. I prefer that to the flicker of the flurescent light with the fan beneath it. After years of working the night shift I see well in the dark.
`````Of course, I find my mind wandering. There has to be more to life. I keep thinking of poems read such as "A Map of Verona" and lines come to me:
...
"Yet you are there, and one day I shall go,
The train will bring me perhaps in utter darkness
And drop me where you are blooming, unaware."
`````But, then it is time again, and I have to quit thinking about Verona Italy, and go do my thing and I realize that this is so depressing. It's Saturday night and I've just wasted one more summer.
Don't feel bad about wasting another summer. My whole life feels like a waste of time and space. I can't afford to do the things I want to do and doubt that I ever will. Well that's life I guess.
ReplyDeleteBut there has to be a balance. I know where it turned with me, and basically exactly when it happened and who caused it (work related). With you, I know you wrote of your friend being terrible. It seems you guys had fun before. Stuff like that doesn't have to be expensive. I really miss doing things with my friends. One moved, the other married and one died. I think life is like that statue of The Scales of Justice. If you pile too much onto one side, it tips it too far off kilter. Suddenly, it doesn't function properly. I find myself getting more angry and aware of how we are made sad or embarassed to do things because of our looks. If a person's not a size six, they shouldn't go to the beach, etc. All these magazines with close-ups of cellulite. I saw this study the other day that said that women get ahead if they sleep with the boss. Gee, how much did they spend on that study? Let's state the obvious. And if a person looks bad and doesn't flirt? All these things affect people (men as well). The bullying as kids, being targeted, yada yada yada. I'm pissed.
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