I know that work is important, I know that work is essential, I know that all the men in my life seem to be workaholics. But honest to GOD, I hate when work comes first.

Tigger

I thought about my cats last night. I haven’t thought about Tigger, especially, in a long time. I try to keep them out of my memories, but sometimes they come back. Of course I shed a tear every time I think about them, but last night was awful. I thought about how loyal Tigger was to me, how kind and faithful. How many times she let me cry all over her fur, and how many times she let me pick her up and play with her, when she wanted nothing to do with me. I thought about all the times she laid by my side when I was sick, and purred at me when I needed company. She was my best friend, she was there when my life was falling apart. She never judged me, or loved me any less for the things I’d done. I remember rescuing her as a kitten, and getting up at 2am to play with her and her sister shadow, because I never wanted her to be alone again. I never wanted her to be abandoned again. I’ll never forgive myself for letting my mom give her away, not after everything she had done for me. And I love my mom, and our relationship is okay, but I will never forgive her for taking my best friend away. I don’t hold a grudge against her for it, I don’t hate her for it, I have no emotion for the situation any longer, but I will never ever ever forgive her for that.

Dimitri Schostakovich dedicated his String Quartet no. 8 to himself for when he dies. He said, “It’s hardly likely that someone will write a quartet dedicated to my memory. So I decided to write it myself.” Not only that, but it incorporated excerpts and quotations from his operas, symphonies, and chamber works… like a memoir. Talk about depressing.

Feeling like I lost my toughness. I need to fight someone. Maybe I’ll start with the stupid bitch trying to steal my best friends boyfriend.

My blog is so sappy lately. I am not a sap!!

(At least not in public.)