My baby...

My baby wears cat pajamas.
The cats scratch and claw
to find their way out of their
pajama prison.
My baby's cat pajamas sing and
dance through my eyes,
purple and teal
tails in the air
waiting for their way out of their
purple and teal pajama prison.
My baby's purple and teal cat pajamas
are all I know
are all I see
are all I care to be.
Meow.

Who am I? I am I.

This post was originally about the art of writing. What it means to me. What it provides me. Even what it costs me. And because I often give myself grief for not taking writing (this blog, for example) more seriously and also because I think I'd really enjoy a career as a science writer (also, for example) or simply an environmental journalist. And since, as a journalist-in-training, I want to be a bit more prepared and informed, I started researching "writing" so as to include quotes and stats about writing, thereby sounding more intelligent, continuing the charade.

That's when I came upon a website dedicated to the written word of one of my favorite scribes: Tom Robbins. It did not simply feature examples of Robbins' writing; rather, it contained the written word of Robbins and words about writing by Robbins. One such line, taken from an interview of Robbins (that I will now separate from the original blog post so as to provide greater emphasis):

I'm not an animal, I'm a zoo

Wow. He did it again. He has described me as I could never have. But that's not surprising: the man has an uncanny way of expressing himself, using words together in ways I believe no one else does. That's part of the magic of experiencing a Tom Robbins novel.

The idea of being an entire zoo, however, not just one animal, speaks to my varied interests, my deep curiosity, my love of so many different ideas that sometime I feel I'm stretched too thin. Being just one animal in a cage is easy. You have no one to worry about. You have mainly one view of the world and it is a closed world. Sure, you grow more curious as the days go by, looking out into the world through steel bars which both shield the world from you and you from the world. It's comfortable.

But to be the whole zoo, with its many different views, its many different competing passions and parties, its almost convoluted sense of its place in the still larger world; that's the world I live in. It's hard, sometimes, to simply focus on just one thing...this blog, for example, when there are things like Facebook, and music reviews, and books, and my cats, and the way that shadow falls on the carpet there, and ENOUGH!! But when I do focus I'm brought right back home. It's easy here. This? This is all I've got to worry about? I'm sold. I'm home. It's a wonder why I even left at all.

Family forever?

So family is supposed to be forever, right? Beyond petty fighting, beyond minor squabbles. Family is forever. Familial ties are thicker than water, stronger than the nano-crystals holding together a diamond. But what happens when the very family that you are fighting for, biting your tongue for turns out to not care. What happens when the brother you have is an alcoholic unemployed jerk who, oh yeah, also happens to have a son of his own, and who also, by the way, calls you very unflattering names in front of his son, your nephew? Can you love a brother who does that? Can you continue to unconditionally love anyone who makes you feel less like a sister and more like a piece of dirt? This guys says no way. But I'm lucky. I have a brother who is wonderful. Unfortunately, we can't all be so lucky.