Loving Like a Cat

I like that you have to play games with cats.
You have to tease them by acting like your fingers are bugs hopping over the edge of your bed just to coerce them into cuddling you.
You have to have some patience first.
Strategy, even.
You have to know how to love a cat.
I love
Like a cat.
Often silently.
My reaction to love has been brutality.
Rub my stomach and I’ll bunny kick you.
I’ll cuddle on my own terms,
But beware,
When I’m angry…
When I’m not in the mood, I run from it all.
Cats are peculiar.
Their moods are rapid,
But consistent.
They have certain behaviors.
Their body language shows signs of frustration or playfulness.
To know a cat is to pay attention.
To love a cat takes dedication.
It’s commitment.
For the rest of your lives together your blinds will not hang together.
They will be crumple and crooked,
Leaking the morning sun in all the right places to hit your eyes at all the wrong times.
Your cat’s head will be stuck while you’re shit out of luck trying to sleep at 4am.
4am, to them, is the perfect time to play.
And that’s when I hate loving cats.

All this time I thought she was a coyote.
A dog more so than a cat,
But I think I was wrong about that.

Her clock is set to rise when I’m saying goodnight.
My cat does that.
She naps all day, so cute.
Then when I want to join her she’s wide awake,
Ready to play the night away,
Getting her head stuck in blinds
And other forms of entertainment.


I’ve never been a fan of words.
I prefer pictures.
Words can get lost in sentences too long.
They don’t really mean anything.
But they mean everything to someone else in completely different ways.
That’s why words get confusing.
Words have so many connotations.
I’ve never been a fan of words because meanings get lost in translation.
Actions show a lot more.
Show me your feelings in picture form.
Show me your thoughts in a sketch.
Take pictures from the internet, hell, if that’s how you can show me your memories.
I’ve never been a fan of words even though I’m good at them.
I can write a five page paper without a problem.
I can come up with a rhyme for almost anything.
I can perform poetry that I’ve written on stage.
I still can’t stage my emotions.
They don’t know when to take the back seat or when to take the lead.
I have a solo and I’m singing my own backup, too loudly.
When people give me words,
Actions need to back them up or else I act out.

Average Thoughts:

1. I’ve always wanted a fish tank.

2. My cat stares at me until I feel obligated to play with her.¬†It’s kind of annoyingly adorable. The other day, at a moment of weakness at Meijer (picking up litter for the cats and food for myself), I bought a new cat toy. I’ve been feeling a tad guilty that they were enjoying their life being indoor/outdoor cats and now have to be stuck inside. One of my cats went on an adventure for longer than I felt comfortable with, while the other one got bit by something (probably a small dog) and had to be on pain killers and anti-biotics…so they haven’t been going outside lately…Well, I bought them a toy; a toy that requires me holding it. So now, I must play.

3. The phrase, “I’m spoken for” in terms of a relationship is messed up. I speak for myself, thank you.

4. I wonder how many times a day I say, “Out of your mouth, please…” while working in the preschool.

5. Yesterday morning I walked out of my house and it felt like Spring. Like we were coming out of winter instead of going into it.

6. Lansing is a bigger city than I’ve ever lived in and last night I took a walk downtown. It’s neat being close to such…bigness. But it also increases my anxiety while driving, that’s something I have to get used to. Now I just need to find some forests here with tons of trees.

7. I met a girl who likes babies.

8. If I could immediately know how to speak every language or how to play every instrument, I would have to choose the instruments.

9. My mentor teacher told me to apply for her job when she retires at the end of this school year.

10. The lady next door brought me no-bake cookies when I first moved in. This morning, I saw her walk out her side door wearing an apron. I wish she was making me more no-bake cookies.

A list of “F” words

Sweet hickory
Wood stove
Warm house
Big blankets
Hot cider in hand
Same color as the changing leaves
This changing season
Is leaving me with reasons to smile
Long drives
I’m the one and only smiling
Pre-school teacher
But still little kid myself
I’m dependently independent
Independently dependent
Tied down
But blown up
Heady mess
Who has nothing correct
But everything right
I guess I’m right where 23 is supposed to be
Fingerless gloves
Floppy hats
Fried eggs for breakfast
Fallen leaves collected
Florida day dreams
Face breaking out
Feeling like I own everything and nothing all at once
I despised Fall for what came after
But I was reminded that moments move faster than I can count
So I don’t count on Winter chilling my bones
I wrap my fingers around my hot cider and bend down to pick up another fallen leaf
I’m collecting so many memories

The dad in me

I feel like my dad when I pull up my sweater to tuck in my undershirt.
The same way he used to before church
And family gatherings.
I feel like him when I lean over the steering wheel during long drives,
My mom’s fingers scratching his back as he stretched.
I feel like him when I play Tetris with furniture while packing a car.
Or when I pull my wallet out of my back pocket.
I feel like him when tensions rise as I run late,
Searching for green lights.
I feel like him when I lay on the living room floor,
Sweat dripping from my brow,
Cut blades of grass stuck to my ankles.
I feel like him when I can’t express anger.
Or when I feel like someone might be taking advantage of me.
I feel his eyes roll in my head when I’m victim to unnecessary rules,
And his heavy breath falls from my lungs.
I feel like him when I toss cereal into my mouth,
Crunching too loudly,
Like he did on mornings I wanted to avoid before going to high school.
I feel like him when I talk about beer,
Or laugh at my own joke.
But I do not feel like him when I sit in a brand new car.
I like things that are used.
He likes brand new.
And maybe my rightful ways are just a new version of his planned out days.
I don’t like time constraints.
But I need them in order to get anything done.
And I’m finally done trying to convince myself I am a lot different than my parents.
I’m more like both of them than anyone else.