Death and Resurrection
I guess I've decided to resurrect my live journal page. Woohoo! *waves arms*, but then again...
The whole reason as to why I am bringing this back to life is because I've been hit repeatedly with bad news the past two weeks. To get right to the point, I'm sick of it. I'm tired of the people and creatures around me dying. I hate caring about things, nothing lasts forever, and loving living beings just ends up hurting you in the end. Or so it seems. You could argue that there is some sort of tremendous benefit in being able to love, and that is what makes us human. But then, what's so important about being human? I think people are willing to believe that the capability of love is great because it defines humanity to a degree, and because they are arrogant. People seem to have this vanity, this pride in being human and such pride leads them to easily believe that being human is a blessing and all important. Are they fools? Or are they correct? Those questions might sound sacrilegious, and maybe they are, but I don't care. I like to question everything, and I detest people who eat up the information taught to them by the spoonful without question. It is naive, maybe even anti-intellectual.
Arrg, I'm rambling a cynical rant, aren't I? Haven't even stated the events that have caused me to be in such a mood. I've gotten to used to shoving the things that bother me away, far back into my brain and pretending I don't feel anything. Feelings. They've been bottled up for a while, and I opened this place again so I could vent in a relatively healthy manner. I think that I have perhaps forgotten how to express myself with words, and that isn't helping the situation. For a long time (2 months maybe), I haven't really spoken to anyone, and wished to be alone to brood. I have succeeded in keeping my distance from people, yet the distancing has possibly caused more damage than healing. Ironic, seeing as how the wish of not loving and being aloof came true, and has turned into the problem. I should probably take the hint: Loving isn't as bad as it seems.
Anyway! I promise to speak openly here and now. What really got me so down was my bird, Chiquita, who died on Monday the 23rd of August. I've had her with me for 14 years (since I was 6), and she was a living piece of my past. When you keep an animal around for that long, they become more like a friend than a pet, and that is exactly what we were. Sounds strange, seeing as how she is a bird and not a dog or a cat. But to me she was a special bird. I saw her as an individual, and I know she had more of a personality than most people would think a bird would have. She was always content with life in a cage, and never under stress or aggressive, even though she did nip at me when I was a child for being too rough with her. As I learned to be more gentile, she too began to be more docile towards me and eventually wanted to be handled. She was a cute bird, always attentive and curious, but couldn't fly for shit XD. Seriously, every time she took off she would sink like a rock and PLOP on the floor. My mom always said that she was too fat to fly, and indeed she was rather large for a bird. She also had her wings clipped at the store, so perhaps she never really learned how to fly. But that aside, she always was a pleasure, making the people around her feel a little bit ligher...unless they got too close to her cage. Then it was finger nipping time! Yeah, she didn't much like people crowding around her cage, sticking their fingers between the bars. Territorial I guess? Ah, she also had plenty of near death experiences. First, we (mom and I) accidentally left her out too long on the porch in the heat of August during the peak hours of the day, and when we came back to get her, she was toppling over from heat exhaustion. We honestly didn't think she would survive, even when wet put fans near her and sprayed her with water. She stayed at the bottom of the cage, panting. BUT, she came through and went for a long time with out anything happening. The next significant thing that happened was the raccoon attack. It came during the night, when she and my other Cockatiel were spending the night outside. That damn coon wasn't even afraid when my mom charged outside with the flashlight, and kept biting at Chiquita. Before my mom could pound it's head in with a stick, it ran off, but with Chiquita's wing. It was a pretty bloody sight. the cage had blood splatters, the floor was bloody, and her wing was sitting in a little pile of blood where the coon left it. She was in a serious state of shock after that (who wouldn't be?) and once again we were afraid she would die in a matter of hours. But again, she surprised us by surviving for five more years. Her condition after the loss of her wing only deteriorated, and eventually she couldn't balance on her perches anymore. We got her a small cage so she could sit at the bottom of it and be content. And she was, for about three years. She got to the point to where she couldn't walk anymore, and shuffled around at the bottom of the cage to eat and drink, and soon stopped eating.
Last week, I remember looking at her two days before she died. She was content (as always) but looked incredibly tired. She had a hard time staying awake and keeping her head up. It was then I knew that something wasn't right, and that the air of death was about. Death...a funny thing. For some who are near it, it is like a cloud, hovering over them, growing ever darker and casting a sleepy spell on it's victim. The closer it is, the more tired they become. Chiquita had lost her spark, and was ready to rest. I took a good long look at her shiny black eyes, and she looked at me. I kinda questioned in my head "are you the same? Tell me, are you tired and ready to go? Look at me like you used to, and I'll know right now". After a few seconds of examining her, I got my answer, and needless to say I had to run into the house and grab a tissue( <-- corny story is true story). I knew it was only a matter of time. But was then comforted because I knew she couldn't have died happier than she was. In a way, I think she chose to die a day later because she was content having both me and my mom around. It was like it was the way she wanted it. If a bird could want something of that nature. As I said before, I think she had more of a personality than most people think birds have. Maybe it is ridiculous, and wishful thinking. Yeah...probably is, but I do miss her. My poor bird.
Secondly, Chiquita made me cry for an entire day on Monday, but then I got the news just this Saturday that someone who was rather important to me died. This time it was a human being, and one that I hardly knew! I mean for fuck's sake, she was more like a friend of a friend than my own!! Yet she was able to impact my life in a way I find incredibly meaningful. Her name was Esther, and had a cancer that kept her bed ridden most of the time. But because of her, I told people that I loved them, (and meant it) who I never would have told otherwise. It was a crazy day filled with anger, confusion, and arrogant joy. But in the end I was glad that I participated in Esther's activity. She was always one to believe that family and friends were the most important people, and should be loved, so she had us all tell a friend or family member "I LOVE YOU" whom we had the most trouble saying "I love you" to. I did it, even though it was hard as hell for some, and things turned out alright. After that her condition seemed to be rather consistent rather than escalating, so I had high hopes for her. Also she never had a "kick me" sign or a defeatist attitude, and that right there is half the battle. But then, Saturday I learned she had died in her sleep around the 25th, and was really quite crushed. I never really knew her on a very personal level, but I know good people when I see them, and yeah she was one. I only regret not getting to know her better, and the fact that she died at such a young age (16). I can only hope that when I die, can make such an impact on several people, as she did. Even to those I don't know very well at all, and in a way she is more powerful in death. Her close friends are raising funds to pay for her past procedures and end "worldsuck" as we know it in the future.
Now for the last bit of BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW. My cat Rika (bonita) has gone missing for a whole day. For her, that is exceptionally weird. To be honest, I fear for the worst. The last time this happened, my cat never came back. Well actually that isn't true, Genesis went missing for 2 days but I think that was because Andrea came over with her dogs and scared him away. Rika has no real reason to wander off like this. I'm not sure what to think yet, but I am beyond worried that she has been killed or trapped somewhere where we can't find her and die. If she doesn't show up in another 2 days, I'll pretty much figure she is dead, just like Duchess. I remember for the longest time I kept looking for Duchess, despite the fact that she was dead, it was like I needed to see her body to believe it. In a way I have never gotten over her disappearance, and still miss her terribly. Now to have another one of my cats pull a Houdini like that, it scares me shitless. I'll continue to be on nerve's end until that cat comes home.
So there you have it. My explosion of emotional crap that has been pent up for a long loooong time and during the past week, overflowed. I blame all the death and disappearances. But lately I've had quite a bit of philosophical thoughts, and have been radiating cynical waves of DOOM. Best get it out here, and I will continue to update this (hopefully) every other day. Ha, I'll believe that when it happens *eye roll*. Ciao!
The whole reason as to why I am bringing this back to life is because I've been hit repeatedly with bad news the past two weeks. To get right to the point, I'm sick of it. I'm tired of the people and creatures around me dying. I hate caring about things, nothing lasts forever, and loving living beings just ends up hurting you in the end. Or so it seems. You could argue that there is some sort of tremendous benefit in being able to love, and that is what makes us human. But then, what's so important about being human? I think people are willing to believe that the capability of love is great because it defines humanity to a degree, and because they are arrogant. People seem to have this vanity, this pride in being human and such pride leads them to easily believe that being human is a blessing and all important. Are they fools? Or are they correct? Those questions might sound sacrilegious, and maybe they are, but I don't care. I like to question everything, and I detest people who eat up the information taught to them by the spoonful without question. It is naive, maybe even anti-intellectual.
Arrg, I'm rambling a cynical rant, aren't I? Haven't even stated the events that have caused me to be in such a mood. I've gotten to used to shoving the things that bother me away, far back into my brain and pretending I don't feel anything. Feelings. They've been bottled up for a while, and I opened this place again so I could vent in a relatively healthy manner. I think that I have perhaps forgotten how to express myself with words, and that isn't helping the situation. For a long time (2 months maybe), I haven't really spoken to anyone, and wished to be alone to brood. I have succeeded in keeping my distance from people, yet the distancing has possibly caused more damage than healing. Ironic, seeing as how the wish of not loving and being aloof came true, and has turned into the problem. I should probably take the hint: Loving isn't as bad as it seems.
Anyway! I promise to speak openly here and now. What really got me so down was my bird, Chiquita, who died on Monday the 23rd of August. I've had her with me for 14 years (since I was 6), and she was a living piece of my past. When you keep an animal around for that long, they become more like a friend than a pet, and that is exactly what we were. Sounds strange, seeing as how she is a bird and not a dog or a cat. But to me she was a special bird. I saw her as an individual, and I know she had more of a personality than most people would think a bird would have. She was always content with life in a cage, and never under stress or aggressive, even though she did nip at me when I was a child for being too rough with her. As I learned to be more gentile, she too began to be more docile towards me and eventually wanted to be handled. She was a cute bird, always attentive and curious, but couldn't fly for shit XD. Seriously, every time she took off she would sink like a rock and PLOP on the floor. My mom always said that she was too fat to fly, and indeed she was rather large for a bird. She also had her wings clipped at the store, so perhaps she never really learned how to fly. But that aside, she always was a pleasure, making the people around her feel a little bit ligher...unless they got too close to her cage. Then it was finger nipping time! Yeah, she didn't much like people crowding around her cage, sticking their fingers between the bars. Territorial I guess? Ah, she also had plenty of near death experiences. First, we (mom and I) accidentally left her out too long on the porch in the heat of August during the peak hours of the day, and when we came back to get her, she was toppling over from heat exhaustion. We honestly didn't think she would survive, even when wet put fans near her and sprayed her with water. She stayed at the bottom of the cage, panting. BUT, she came through and went for a long time with out anything happening. The next significant thing that happened was the raccoon attack. It came during the night, when she and my other Cockatiel were spending the night outside. That damn coon wasn't even afraid when my mom charged outside with the flashlight, and kept biting at Chiquita. Before my mom could pound it's head in with a stick, it ran off, but with Chiquita's wing. It was a pretty bloody sight. the cage had blood splatters, the floor was bloody, and her wing was sitting in a little pile of blood where the coon left it. She was in a serious state of shock after that (who wouldn't be?) and once again we were afraid she would die in a matter of hours. But again, she surprised us by surviving for five more years. Her condition after the loss of her wing only deteriorated, and eventually she couldn't balance on her perches anymore. We got her a small cage so she could sit at the bottom of it and be content. And she was, for about three years. She got to the point to where she couldn't walk anymore, and shuffled around at the bottom of the cage to eat and drink, and soon stopped eating.
Last week, I remember looking at her two days before she died. She was content (as always) but looked incredibly tired. She had a hard time staying awake and keeping her head up. It was then I knew that something wasn't right, and that the air of death was about. Death...a funny thing. For some who are near it, it is like a cloud, hovering over them, growing ever darker and casting a sleepy spell on it's victim. The closer it is, the more tired they become. Chiquita had lost her spark, and was ready to rest. I took a good long look at her shiny black eyes, and she looked at me. I kinda questioned in my head "are you the same? Tell me, are you tired and ready to go? Look at me like you used to, and I'll know right now". After a few seconds of examining her, I got my answer, and needless to say I had to run into the house and grab a tissue( <-- corny story is true story). I knew it was only a matter of time. But was then comforted because I knew she couldn't have died happier than she was. In a way, I think she chose to die a day later because she was content having both me and my mom around. It was like it was the way she wanted it. If a bird could want something of that nature. As I said before, I think she had more of a personality than most people think birds have. Maybe it is ridiculous, and wishful thinking. Yeah...probably is, but I do miss her. My poor bird.
Secondly, Chiquita made me cry for an entire day on Monday, but then I got the news just this Saturday that someone who was rather important to me died. This time it was a human being, and one that I hardly knew! I mean for fuck's sake, she was more like a friend of a friend than my own!! Yet she was able to impact my life in a way I find incredibly meaningful. Her name was Esther, and had a cancer that kept her bed ridden most of the time. But because of her, I told people that I loved them, (and meant it) who I never would have told otherwise. It was a crazy day filled with anger, confusion, and arrogant joy. But in the end I was glad that I participated in Esther's activity. She was always one to believe that family and friends were the most important people, and should be loved, so she had us all tell a friend or family member "I LOVE YOU" whom we had the most trouble saying "I love you" to. I did it, even though it was hard as hell for some, and things turned out alright. After that her condition seemed to be rather consistent rather than escalating, so I had high hopes for her. Also she never had a "kick me" sign or a defeatist attitude, and that right there is half the battle. But then, Saturday I learned she had died in her sleep around the 25th, and was really quite crushed. I never really knew her on a very personal level, but I know good people when I see them, and yeah she was one. I only regret not getting to know her better, and the fact that she died at such a young age (16). I can only hope that when I die, can make such an impact on several people, as she did. Even to those I don't know very well at all, and in a way she is more powerful in death. Her close friends are raising funds to pay for her past procedures and end "worldsuck" as we know it in the future.
Now for the last bit of BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW. My cat Rika (bonita) has gone missing for a whole day. For her, that is exceptionally weird. To be honest, I fear for the worst. The last time this happened, my cat never came back. Well actually that isn't true, Genesis went missing for 2 days but I think that was because Andrea came over with her dogs and scared him away. Rika has no real reason to wander off like this. I'm not sure what to think yet, but I am beyond worried that she has been killed or trapped somewhere where we can't find her and die. If she doesn't show up in another 2 days, I'll pretty much figure she is dead, just like Duchess. I remember for the longest time I kept looking for Duchess, despite the fact that she was dead, it was like I needed to see her body to believe it. In a way I have never gotten over her disappearance, and still miss her terribly. Now to have another one of my cats pull a Houdini like that, it scares me shitless. I'll continue to be on nerve's end until that cat comes home.
So there you have it. My explosion of emotional crap that has been pent up for a long loooong time and during the past week, overflowed. I blame all the death and disappearances. But lately I've had quite a bit of philosophical thoughts, and have been radiating cynical waves of DOOM. Best get it out here, and I will continue to update this (hopefully) every other day. Ha, I'll believe that when it happens *eye roll*. Ciao!