I AM A CAT

This small irony is not lost on me: now that I have something positive to talk about (rather than trying to bring everyone else around me down to my miserable level) no one has any comments to make.

I've gotten private e-mails, sure... but no more comments. It's as if my comments section's numbers are inversely proportionate to how horrible my life is-- the better my life gets, the more the comments dwindle...

That's to be expected.

Let me be the first to say that my life is far from peachy-keen. I have debts; I have two cars that don't run; I have bills creeping up on me that I've been postponing; I haven't done any Christmas shopping; and I am becoming disenchanted with my job.

But I'm still happy, because for the first time in my life I'm seeing solid proof that my detached, bemused approach to life has its merits, its own rewards. I am a cat, landing on his feet, dying numerous times and coming back with another life to spare.

Since I threw down my gauntlet, some of my favorite blogs have either packed it in for the winter or have gone on hiatus. Is this in reaction to me? I doubt it, but the timing is eerie nonetheless.

Now's the time to put ideas into action, and also to make a choice between the things you hold dear and the things that dearly hold onto you.

I always go for the things I hold dear-- can't go wrong with that. You feel dirty at the end of the day, but that's what showers are for.

My biggest fear is that I'll lose my edge. I'm afraid of being one of those la-di-da blogs where all I talk about is happy stuff. I need to indulge my evil side, or else it becomes a part of me instead of an aspect that needs to be exorcised. Everyone needs a little negativity in their lives, otherwise the positive things lose their value.

I've been negative for so long, I am now terrified of having nothing but good things to say. Yuk. How sappy. How maudlin and syrupy.

Things still suck. People still get cancer. People find love and still have problems trusting their mates. People are living beyond their means financially and drowing in personal sorrows every day.

What gives me the right to be happy anyway?

Who am I? I'm not so special. I don't warrant any unique attention paid to me. I am just like you, except I have a tail, paws, whiskers, and nine lives. Oh, and I purr, and I have fur, and I'm also half-human.

Happy Holidays, everyone. I'm getting my season's greetings out early, okay?