Godric Elevens

11 Things About Godric the Kitten

1. Godric loves his tummy rubbed first thing in the morning. He will stretch his legs and purr and purr.

2. Godric hates all talking first thing in the morning. First thing in the morning is for tummy rubs. Only for tummy rubs. Do not talk. Do not answer the phone. Do not make coffee. Do not use the bathroom. Tummy rubs.

3. Godric loves ice cream from Dairy Queen. Though I thought I was ordering him Kitty Cones, I was recently advised they are indeed Kiddie Cones, for children, not kittens.

4. Mr. Man lost his boar bristle flat brush to Godric. It is now a kitten brush.

5. Godric loves Mr. Man. The feeling is not mutual. Though I explained to Godric that love is fickle and inconsistent, he continues to be a traitor by adoring Mr. Man more.

6. Godric wants to be friends with all the animals in our neighborhood. Two kittens have punched him in the face. He is not an alpha cat.

7. I’m trying to convince Godric I am still his human even though my hair is a different color. He is not convinced. He has tried to scratch the dye off the blond strands that are now brunette.

8. Godric’s twin is half his weight. Godric is a giant kitten that happens to weigh 15 pounds. Maxie weighs 8 pounds and so does Izzy, Godric’s mom.

9. Godric does not like moving. He has been extremely confused and anxious about these boxes. I haven’t told him it’s going to get worse… Soon we will live somewhere else.

10. Godric loves watching Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood. I’ve tried to explain about Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood being the original creepy version, but Godric calls me a liar.

11. I have officially become a crazy cat lady. Godric’s IG: http://www.instagram.com/godricthekitten

The Apartment

Song of the Day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6AAXlmMpq8U

I’ve been having this incredibly difficult time looking for a new place to live.  First, I waited a little too long for any comfort in trying to look for a place to live.  I put my notice to terminate my lease in April, but didn’t start looking until… uh, last weekend. Second, in the intervening time between giving my notice and not looking for  a place to live, the neighbors  across the way had a fist-fight, followed by a brick being launched through their dining room window when the non-resident was sent packing.  In response, Godric the Kitten scrambled up the side of my face and I was covered in blood. So, time to move out of here. And I did already given my notice.

I’m working with a realtor to find a little townhouse to RENT, because purchasing a home feels, like, permanent-ish. Anyhow, the realtor has given me tons of options. Plus, I’ve been searching on Zillow AND continue to look at back-up apartments.  I toured three properties this weekend, and they all seem… FINE. Just fine. There’s nothing wrong, but they don’t feel like home.

But, my current apartment doesn’t feel like home anymore. I moved here under pure duress and desperation.  I chose this life, leap of faith.  I became this girl I didn’t recognize, someone who didn’t plan, who wasn’t organized. I came for love, because I loved someone, and thought if I moved to where he was, he’d magically love me too.  And he did. We loved each other, easier, seemingly, when I moved to an apartment without any real furniture and we spent all of our time curled into my queen-sized bed watching my old box TV and planning a future.  Talking about the future seemed easier than changing the present. Thinking about the future was easier than building a future.

I’ve said it before, but it’s this recurring theme/plain reality: The future comes, with or without my consent. And it came, and none of our plans were there to greet us, not one. We were trapped in the magical thinking of being in love and holding so tightly to plans for the future, that the present just elongated for years.  We didn’t do anything to ensure that the future plan became the present reality. Instead, the future came with nothing to reveal, and we both looked at each other with a tiny bit of disappointment that the other person didn’t make the future more real.  I changed into a person burdened by the responsibility of a grown-up, cerebral life… and he stayed the exact same person he was the day we met. I was no longer the girl he fell in love with; he never evolved into the man I thought he’d become. And maybe, we forgot to plan for the most important thing… to love each other, to keep loving each other.  Whatever happened, we didn’t break, we just dissolved.  I understand now why divorce is called a “dissolution.”

So, I think the real reason why I can’t pick a new place to live is that leaving this apartment alone, by myself (sorry, Godric), choosing a new direction, feels like a failure of sorts.  I came here to build a life, to build a love. I leave here, without the most important part of the story.  I really wanted  for him to be the love, the man, the partner, the STORY… and when I leave this apartment, I know that this story must end, once and for all.

And I know there will be other loves, there will be other stories. Sometimes, it just takes me a bit of time to close the cover…

Random Elevens

1. Godric the Kitten has successfully learned how to high-five about 85% of the time.  If he wants to. When there is a treat. And he’s interested in the treat at that exact moment in time.

2. I’m currently obsessed with HBO’s “Big Little Lies.”  I agree that Reese Witherspoon has reprised a non-satirical version of her character from “Election.” I now want to live in Monterey.

3. Speaking of HBO, the last season of “Girls” has literally made me LOL.

4. Love is weird.  And so is the weather.

5. I have bangs again, but long, so hopefully, no endless complaining.

6. I have extreme anxiety about time.  I find myself constantly afraid I may be “wasting time” so I over-plan and actually get nothing accomplished.  I’m not as efficient as I used to be. I’m not sure how to get my mojo back. It isn’t just a random thought, I guess, since I’m obsessed with clock-watching.

7. I have acquired a love-hate (mostly hate) relationship with hot (not bikram) yoga.  It does make my non-heated practice easier.

8. I tried to join a meal delivery diet program.  It was actually too much food, so I quit.  Then today made five pounds of baked tortellini. SIGH.

9. Not sure if I want to see the live action “Beauty and the Beast.”  Belle was my first nerdy heroine.  She loved books. What if Hermione ruins it?

10. I’m trying with incredible difficulty to declutter. It just makes my brain hurt.

11. I could listen to Tailor’s “Shaped Like a Gun” on repeat for an hour.  But at 61 minutes, it would be too much.

Found Quote – March 1, 2017

From “The English Patient” by Michael Ondaatje

“The new lover enters the habits of the other.  Things are smashed, revealed in new light. This is done with nervous or tender sentences, although the heart is an organ of fire.

A love story is not about those who lose their heart but about those who find that sullen inhabitant who, when stumbled upon, means the body can fool no one, can fool nothing – not the wisdom of sleep or the habit of social graces. It is a consuming of oneself and the past.”

ELEVATORS, Part IV

On the day of my father’s death four years ago, I wrote this about a man I loved, only a handful of hours before I received news that my father had died.  I loved this man, but, simultaneously, I found I hated the relationship I was in.  Today, I still love this man… and somehow, somewhere, forgot that the relationship is volatile at best, and vicious at worst…  He still loves me, which is not consolation, it IS a prize.  I could leave, but would be empty.  I must stay, obliged to stay, though he feels no obligation to me.

Non-attachment… it is a constant theme in Buddhism, and though I am not Buddhist, it is a concept I try to incorporate everyday.  Obligation is smothering. Love… is love.

I re-post these old words to remind myself, that on that day, when I was told my father died, what pounded through my chest about this man was not all of the ways he failed me, not all of the disappointments, and waiting, and wondering, and insecurity, but love.  My knowledge that my loving him gave me more joy than sorrow, and that despite his lack of worldliness, and unfortunate immaturity about many things, he is an incredible old soul and his love of me is simple and sincere.

I chose the elevator ride with him, chose the ups and downs.  Some days, the ride is without interruption. Some days, other people get on, and distract us from each other. Some days, the elevator breaks completely, and one or both of us leave the confines of the tiny space to find another way to get to where we need to be at that exact moment. And yet, despite this, or maybe because of this, we find ourselves back to where we must be, together. I am still consumed by love, I let it devour me and nurture me.

I choose.  I can push the buttons, I can take the stairs.

I choose him.

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Some days, I get on an elevator, and I forget to press the button.  The doors close, but I stand there, inert, waiting. I wait, and nothing happens.  Sometimes, a person from the outside will press a different button, and the tiny box-carriage will rise or fall and I don’t realize where I’m going until I arrive at someone else’s destination.

I fell in love with a man I met outside an elevator. For the entire ride, I felt this sense of strange anticipation, as if something powerful was about to envelop me, conquer me, maybe consume me alive.

He did.

In the world of odd couples, there is not a worse possible match.  There is no man, that on paper, could be any more wrong. But I fell in love slowly, cautiously, stupidly. I protected myself for as long as possible, steeled against love at first sight, tried with mighty force to throw myself in the path of other, more appropriately designed men.  But the force of love, of passion, of need for this particular man was more than I could stand.  Eventually, it was as all love is for me… entrancing and devouring.

I don’t believe we choose love; love chooses us.  This love chose me because I was weak and unable to be immune to the power of someone so raw and ill-designed, I was raptured by something outside my control.

But rapture ends when reality creeps in.  I can no longer ignore the actions of someone who forgets me too often, who can promise me he will regrow my heart only to eat it whole…

Someone else pressed the button on the elevator. It’s time for me to get off.

Mantra Years…

2017:

  1. If it comes, let it.  If it goes, let it.
  2. As long as your actions are reactions, someone else is still in charge.
  3. Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.
  4. A tether, my love.  Not an anchor.
  5. There’s a difference between pursuing your goals and being in a constant state of chase.
  6. Love hard or not at all.

2016:

  1. Brain-space does not equal wordspace.
  2. Success = The Best Revenge.
  3. Loyalty is not free. Allow it to be earned not given.
  4. Don’t let them change you. Others will conform if you set the norm.
  5. Love exists for the subject, not the object. The love you give is for you.
  6. Expect nothing, live frugally, on surprise.

2015:

  1. If equal affection cannot be, let the more loving one be me.
  2. Eggshell Plaintiff Rule.
  3. One dreamer, one dream.
  4. Never say “no” without a reason. Never say “yes” without knowing why.
  5. Comparison is the thief of joy.
  6. Not everything that needs to be told should be heard.