cretins and feral kitties
My husband is at a sound studio somewhere on the west side. He and his co-author have been invited to write liner notes for a cd currently being recorded. There's some possibility that Bob Dylan might show up. I have to admit I'm a little envious, but whenever I think about what it would be like to meet Dylan (or any number of other artists I admire) I can't imagine what I could say. "Oh my god! you're Bob Dylan! did you know that?" That's pretty impressive, right? "I've listened to your music since I was 13." Never heard that before, I'm sure. My other experience with meeting a musician I admire happened about 20 years ago.
I was working at a fundraiser where the artist was performing. The concert was over and I was looking for my supervisor. I went flying into a room somewhere backstage and came face to face with the artist and someone with whom he was talking. I'm sure absolutely every bit of blood drained out of my face. I mumbled something about looking for Anne, but no one there knew where she was. My husband was with me and we leaned against a table while my husband talked to the artist. I didn't say anything. I was mortified that I'd inadvertently invaded his space. I also just couldn't think of a thing to say.
Hubby is having a pretty good time, whether Bob shows up or not. Meanwhile i'm stuck at the company from the twilight zone. I haven't had much contact with my co-workers today; I've been trying to limit contact lately. Too much negativity. I did get to spend some time with the feral cats I've been feeding since they were babies. So far, I've managed to tame four of them. One of the little guys allowed me to pick him up and put him on the bench where I was sitting. He lay down next to me so that his whole body was touching my leg. After about ten minutes of petting, he started grabbing my fingers with his paws, claws in. I wish I could take him home with me, but my beautiful huskies would kill him in less than five minutes. I'm going to try to get him neutered next week. I hope to get all of them spayed or neutered, but I don't want to rush the getting-acquainted process. I'd like to try to minimize the trauma, if I can.
iIm so happy some of them started trusting me. It's far more important to me that animals like and trust me than humans. Animals are completely predictable. they won't hurt you unless they're scared or injured. I suppose the same could be said of people, but it's not as easy to intuit their fears and wounded places. I think I've always preferred animals to humans. I spent most of my life as an only child, but I had animal companions from the time I was very little. My experiences with other children didn't inspre a lot of confidence. My mom started taking me to daycare at some point. She says she feared we were too close and she wanted to try to help me individuate more before I entered grade school.
Unfortunately, those experiences at day care did little to move me in the direction of sociability. There wasn't much adult supervision at any of the day care places I was in. It was a little like Lord of the Flies. Kids would just come up and be aggressive for no apparent reason. (I don't know...maybe there was a reason and I just couldn't see it.) My solution was to stay as far away from them as possible.
Another critical incident occurred at home. I was friends with a little girl who lived across the street from us. One day, she had a cousin (I think) over and I was going to go over and play. The girl I knew told me not to come over. Well, hell, I just thought she was kidding. I think i was laughing as I crossed the street. When I made it to her side of the road, she picked up a Coke bottle and slammed it down on my head. The coke bottle didn't break, but it caused a deep cut and I started bleeding heavily. I was infuriated. I went into my house, blood streaming down my face, and demanded a Coke bottle. My mom says I was white and shaking. Fortunately, she didn't give me a weapon. Her primary goal was to make sure I wasn't going to bleed to death in the kitchen. When my father came home, he was irate. He made me sit out on our back porch for about a week with a huge stick, waiting to beat the shit out of the little monster child. I never was very good at that sort of thing, though. I hit people when they hit me first, but if they cried, it made me cry, too, and I would try to comfort them.
By the time I got to the first grade, I was extremely wary of other children. My mother says my dad would drive by the schoolyard sometimes at lunch or recess to find out how I was doing. I was doing fine. I immediately crawled up to the very top of the jungle gym and hung out there until it was time to go back in. He told my mom he felt really sorry for me. When I got my first report card, all of the grades were a's except for one that must have had something to do with socialization. I got a "needs improvement" on that. That really pissed me off. I was forced to start socializing with the little cretins. I don't think anyone ever did me any harm, but I really resented the teacher forcing me to do something that didn't even seem germane to my education. (Yes, I thought I was imminently qualified to make that judgment.)
My relationships with people never improved much. There have always been one or two people I trusted and cared for. As an adult, I have many acquaintances (who would probably call me their friends) but few friendships. I'm a very unusual person, in part because I have a rare personality type and in part because of my highly unusual history. I like most people, but I maintain an unbreachable emotional distance.
here's the quote of the day:
"Odd things: animals. All dogs look up to you. All cats look down to you. Only the pig looks at you as an equal."
~ Winston Churchill (1874-1965)
British prime minister during World War II, winner of Nobel Prize for literature 1953
