magellan the cat toddler
june 25, 2020
this morning i woke up just after 6:30am, but stayed in bed until just before 9. noah had already gone downstairs a couple times, because his sinuses had woken him up even earlier. i had ignored some of the morning meows coming from just outside the door, because i knew magellan did not need me to get up; she just wanted me to. i often joke she knows once my eyelids open in the morning.
as i type this she is chewing on electrical cords, because it causes me to respond to her. when she wants to play, she knows how to get my attention. if i don't play along, she gets negative attention, as part of her efforts to ultimately get the playful attention she is insisting on. on her terms.
when i came out into the hallway, i noticed 4 cotton swabs lying in the floor. i chuckled softly, and walked around the corner into the office-room. behind the box fan we have aimed at the computer tower for the hot days, there was a box of noah's q-tips sitting on the floor. so magellan had discovered this endless supply of her favorite toy, and kept going back for more. there were several swabs altogether scattered around the upstairs. i laughed so much. i went downstairs and laughed as i told noah what had happened. the giggles poured out of me. my eyes teared up as i thought about little magellan discovering this goldmine. how she had to extract them from the flap opening. how she would have batted them around a bit before deciding she wanted a fresh one. you can tell how long magellan has had a q-tip based on how much of the cotton is actually left on the ends. she picks up the fibers so gently at the tip of her tiny mouth to trot back with them, swinging back and forth as she goes. she often drops them too far from the person who is throwing, forcing them to either get up and fetch it themselves, or get a new one.
at one point, i started using an arsenal of them to throw, because the cat wouldn't just bring them back to the spot where i happened to be sitting. and i wasn't going to get up every time to retrieve. but when she learned this--that it was possible the thrower could throw more than one--then she wanted that kind of stimulation. no fetching. just throwing so she could run and retrieve it, carry it a short distance, maybe play with it a little more by scooting it around like a hockey puck with her paw curved out like a stick. but then she would start meowing again once she remembered the thrill of chasing one that goes flying through the air across the room.
when i had the laughing fit this morning, it felt really good. it felt like the best way to start my day. it felt like it was setting the tone. not to take myself too seriously. not to take my life or my emotions too seriously.
laughter is such a wonderful reflex. and the way certain things hit differently, making the laughter feel different and more therapeutic. i've seen people laugh the hardest when they hurt the most. when they relate to the absurdity of something.
so it was a nice moment to have that levity in the middle of a pandemic. as the media is attempting to provide us with yet a more direct method of broaching and doing something about systemic racism. people are out of work. people are out of patience. people have cabin fever. people resent that they were deemed "essential" and had no option but to work. people are hurting extra, stuck with their abusers. stuck with no income.
someone had pointed out early on that this pandemic will shine a brighter light on all the problems with our country that already exist. and that has happened. but what it has also shown is how many people cling to apathy or ignorance or cognitive dissonance. it has shown how our educational systems have failed through their refusal to integrate rather than perpetuate racist narratives that uphold white supremacy. it is not shocking that it was because of police brutality that these conversations were (again) sparked. that the unrest bubbled out into the street. it is one of the most overt ways of seeing how black lives do not matter to people who consistently benefit from the systems in place. it's a reminder that even all that white pain hasn't mattered. not under capitalism.
i watched a video this morning in which dr. angela davis talked briefly about her perspective on a variety of questions from an interview through al jazeera.
let me just take a moment to acknowledge and appreciate the breadth of work that dr. davis has done. i didn't even really know about her until i was older. i take partial responsibility for that. but this woman has been working for decades. being an activist for decades. been teaching people about human rights for decades. and she is still at it. and it gave me hope to hear that she felt this was a moment unfolding. a teachable moment in which people can look deeper into the factors contributing to the protests about police brutality, the demonstrations that are supporting that black lives matter.
the doctor reminds me, "even though it might appear that there are no consequences to the organizing that they do that is so frequently not acknowledged. but the fact that the work does matter. and it will eventually bear fruit." she went on to talk about how she never expected to experience a moment like this, and how "if we had not done the work...decade after decade" we wouldn't be seeing what we're seeing now with the worldwide demonstrations.
she mentions trans people. she emphasizes black trans women. she acknowledged black men. she acknowledges women's role "at the forefront of organizations." she reminds us about the long-term impact of the work we are doing today.
i spent a little time feeling guilty for not going to the local demonstrations, because my concerns about the virus were too strong. and i sat with that. i knew i was exercising my privilege to make a decision about my safety when the truth is that black people, BIPOC in this country do not have the same luxury of feeling safe every day. i didn't want to spend too much time beating myself up. i wanted simply to shift my energy, then, to things that i could do. work i could do.
and out of that came attempts at conversation. then i messed up with that too, because i didn't check with a friend about her mental state before confronting her about something i had not known how to respond to (other than internally feeling very upset, confused, and disappointed). out of that i returned to the matter of my difficulty with assertive language. i was processing, and learning, and trying to do something constructive with my pain. trying to do what i was hearing people say it was important for white people to do--to take a look at themselves. to have uncomfortable conversations. to speak up, even when it's uncomfortable. to manage my own mental health and the symptoms that had intensified since the start of the lockdowns. to communicate once my brain had time to reflect. it isn't a perfect process, the learning one. it's messy and uncomfortable and often painful. but i'm always smarter for it.
as i type this she is chewing on electrical cords, because it causes me to respond to her. when she wants to play, she knows how to get my attention. if i don't play along, she gets negative attention, as part of her efforts to ultimately get the playful attention she is insisting on. on her terms.
when i came out into the hallway, i noticed 4 cotton swabs lying in the floor. i chuckled softly, and walked around the corner into the office-room. behind the box fan we have aimed at the computer tower for the hot days, there was a box of noah's q-tips sitting on the floor. so magellan had discovered this endless supply of her favorite toy, and kept going back for more. there were several swabs altogether scattered around the upstairs. i laughed so much. i went downstairs and laughed as i told noah what had happened. the giggles poured out of me. my eyes teared up as i thought about little magellan discovering this goldmine. how she had to extract them from the flap opening. how she would have batted them around a bit before deciding she wanted a fresh one. you can tell how long magellan has had a q-tip based on how much of the cotton is actually left on the ends. she picks up the fibers so gently at the tip of her tiny mouth to trot back with them, swinging back and forth as she goes. she often drops them too far from the person who is throwing, forcing them to either get up and fetch it themselves, or get a new one.
at one point, i started using an arsenal of them to throw, because the cat wouldn't just bring them back to the spot where i happened to be sitting. and i wasn't going to get up every time to retrieve. but when she learned this--that it was possible the thrower could throw more than one--then she wanted that kind of stimulation. no fetching. just throwing so she could run and retrieve it, carry it a short distance, maybe play with it a little more by scooting it around like a hockey puck with her paw curved out like a stick. but then she would start meowing again once she remembered the thrill of chasing one that goes flying through the air across the room.
when i had the laughing fit this morning, it felt really good. it felt like the best way to start my day. it felt like it was setting the tone. not to take myself too seriously. not to take my life or my emotions too seriously.
laughter is such a wonderful reflex. and the way certain things hit differently, making the laughter feel different and more therapeutic. i've seen people laugh the hardest when they hurt the most. when they relate to the absurdity of something.
so it was a nice moment to have that levity in the middle of a pandemic. as the media is attempting to provide us with yet a more direct method of broaching and doing something about systemic racism. people are out of work. people are out of patience. people have cabin fever. people resent that they were deemed "essential" and had no option but to work. people are hurting extra, stuck with their abusers. stuck with no income.
someone had pointed out early on that this pandemic will shine a brighter light on all the problems with our country that already exist. and that has happened. but what it has also shown is how many people cling to apathy or ignorance or cognitive dissonance. it has shown how our educational systems have failed through their refusal to integrate rather than perpetuate racist narratives that uphold white supremacy. it is not shocking that it was because of police brutality that these conversations were (again) sparked. that the unrest bubbled out into the street. it is one of the most overt ways of seeing how black lives do not matter to people who consistently benefit from the systems in place. it's a reminder that even all that white pain hasn't mattered. not under capitalism.
i watched a video this morning in which dr. angela davis talked briefly about her perspective on a variety of questions from an interview through al jazeera.
let me just take a moment to acknowledge and appreciate the breadth of work that dr. davis has done. i didn't even really know about her until i was older. i take partial responsibility for that. but this woman has been working for decades. being an activist for decades. been teaching people about human rights for decades. and she is still at it. and it gave me hope to hear that she felt this was a moment unfolding. a teachable moment in which people can look deeper into the factors contributing to the protests about police brutality, the demonstrations that are supporting that black lives matter.
the doctor reminds me, "even though it might appear that there are no consequences to the organizing that they do that is so frequently not acknowledged. but the fact that the work does matter. and it will eventually bear fruit." she went on to talk about how she never expected to experience a moment like this, and how "if we had not done the work...decade after decade" we wouldn't be seeing what we're seeing now with the worldwide demonstrations.
she mentions trans people. she emphasizes black trans women. she acknowledged black men. she acknowledges women's role "at the forefront of organizations." she reminds us about the long-term impact of the work we are doing today.
i spent a little time feeling guilty for not going to the local demonstrations, because my concerns about the virus were too strong. and i sat with that. i knew i was exercising my privilege to make a decision about my safety when the truth is that black people, BIPOC in this country do not have the same luxury of feeling safe every day. i didn't want to spend too much time beating myself up. i wanted simply to shift my energy, then, to things that i could do. work i could do.
and out of that came attempts at conversation. then i messed up with that too, because i didn't check with a friend about her mental state before confronting her about something i had not known how to respond to (other than internally feeling very upset, confused, and disappointed). out of that i returned to the matter of my difficulty with assertive language. i was processing, and learning, and trying to do something constructive with my pain. trying to do what i was hearing people say it was important for white people to do--to take a look at themselves. to have uncomfortable conversations. to speak up, even when it's uncomfortable. to manage my own mental health and the symptoms that had intensified since the start of the lockdowns. to communicate once my brain had time to reflect. it isn't a perfect process, the learning one. it's messy and uncomfortable and often painful. but i'm always smarter for it.
and ultimately if i can't laugh at things, at the absurdity, at the cute little moments in my life, no matter where they show up in my day, then i am taking things too seriously too often, and that doesn't do anyone any good.
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