This kitten is so important to me right now. I think that this will be the closest thing to having kids for me. But as a human infant is dynamic and ever changing, creating a volatile environment of order, a cat is more static, leaving the possibility of boredom. This would be my worst nightmare. I hope I never grow tired of her. I hope “the novelty” never wears off. This life is my responsibility, and it will be the greatest test of my tolerance yet. Of course, there may be nothing in it; she may simply be a wonderful pet, which she is so far, creating a mutualistic symbiosis which I would gladly be a part of.

And, as one can tell, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m seeing somethings a little too far into the future, while I look at other things too unfocused to be viewed properly. If the jaguar is truly my totem, then I should be able to find patterns within this chaos, find some meaning in my present situation.

“a solid in the rippling water”

I’m extremely tired. My kitten kept me up all night. She took the middle of the bed, so I kinda had to sleep around her. I kept waking up, every time I needed to shift positions, scared that I would crush her. I’ve been playing with her during the evening so she loses a bit of the nocturnal instinct to go crazy at night. I named her Dolly, after Nobokov’s character Dolores Haze. I needed to keep the name under two syllables, and I think that it’s a good symbol of the way one can never tell whether a cat or human is the master, just as you couldn’t tell whether Dolores or Humber was in control.

I feel so unorganized. I have so many things to do it seems. Take care of this, take care of that. I think that I’ve brought a lot of responsibility on myself, adopting a kitten, applying for a Big Brother position, doing this and doing that. I think that I feel much more mature and important when I do all this. Perhaps it’s a cry for attention, but I doubt it. It feels like I’m suddenly being overloaded with things to do. I didn’t finish a single one of the three assignments that I had due this week. I’ve actually been losing sleep, which is an extremely rare thing for me.

I felt so guilty about those assignments. I’m pretty sure that I failed one of them. I just need to keep everything in perspective, something that Sam taught me so long ago it seems. Everything feels so chaotic, spiraling outwards like Yeats’ falcon from the falconer. Not that I think the Second Coming as at hand, of course, but things just seem so complicated right now. They’re nothing compared to other peoples’ problems, I know, but I’m not use to being so responsible.

I’m not sure what to think right now, but I know that I’m steaming. I’m boiling. I need to calm down. I haven’t been this angry in a while. I need to calm myself. I need to write while I’m shaking. I need to get this emotion down, and break it apart, piece by piece until I can see why and how I can get like this.

This is all so very interesting. I sit here, my heart beating, my hands shaking, my mind throbbing, breathing deeply, trying to take in calmness with each inhalation. System of a Down pumps in my ears, the scratchy sound of my headphones hurts with the greatest of delight. I miss the bass. I feel my blood pumping through my veins, feeding passion through every ventricle, making me mad with rage.

I try to keep my sanity, my cerebrality, my mind. I turn up my music. Only logic can help me here. I grip to every shred of calm I have, so as to not act on some superfluous emotion.

Only this can bring me closure, can give me resolution. A screen of grey, of sombre colours, of seriousness pointing to serenity.

I have learned.

I have a little friend now. I hope. Things are quite uncertain.

I once made an origami rose for a friend. Written inside was a poem I composed one night when I had an excess of forlorn emotions. One of my best pieces. In order to read the poem, she would have to destroy the rose, ruining the piece in itself, though satiating her curiosity. If she never opened it, she would never be able to see exactly what I wrote.

For me, art must have three attributes; it must be aesthetically pleasing in some way, it must carry a message, and I must be able to understand it or relate to it in some way. So many people seem so superficial to me when they put paintings in their house, or statuettes, about things they don’t understand. They own these pieces because “they like them”. They enjoy looking at them. Do they understand what the artist was thinking when he or she used a certain stroke of the brush? For all they know, the sculpture could be a message about anything they normally wouldn’t agree with. They don’t understand what the artist was trying to do. They can’t appreciate the piece. It saddens me.

So I made another piece, as a representation of the rose I made for my friend, because I enjoyed it so much, it is a symbol for something I created. It is a similar rose, but with the words “art for art for art for…” written all over it. When I look at it, it reminds me of my friend, what I was thinking when I gave away such a precious piece, and what she’s doing right now.

And to this day I don’t know if she opened it.