Animal Summer

I've heard the expression "the dog days of summer" before, but I am really beginning to understand them now. It's a couple of weeks into summer weather, and a few weeks into my broke living habits, and I am starting to understand just what it's like to be a dog hung up on a hot summer day. Kept up in doors, not able to go any farther then the backyard. Lying around the house, panting and wanting to play. Sweating it out, with my tongue hanging out. Tethered to the house, not wanting to get in trouble, but just wanting to get into some fun. Only able to bark out instead of getting to go out. The dogs days of summer are what it's like when my brain reverts to thinking like a puppy, just wanting to play and enjoy life. Then, at other times, I'm reminded that everybody wants to be a cat. Because the cat's the only cat, that knows where its at. And it's fairly accurate. Lounging around the house, not bothered with anything trivial, or really anything at all. People watching through the window. Then warming myself in a sun bath. Grooming. Watching. Taking it all in without getting worked up or envious of action. Just keeping to myself and working on being purfect, while being up to my whiskers in money free activities. Adopting a feline state of mind helps me out when I'm beginning to feel caged in. Acting like a kitten keeps me from raging like a tiger. But on certain days, I don't feel very domestic, and I feel like the streets and sidewalks are holding me hostage. This is when I wish I could flush myself down the drain and end up in the ocean. Completely free to swim and make bubbles. I'd be as happy as a dolphin and as carefree as a clown fish. Only having to worry about getting caught up by a bird. It would be just as freeing to fly away, as it would be to swim away. Often times I have to resort to the cleverness of a bird, especially the ones that are caged. They always find ways to keep themselves occupied, with their wit and songs. Singing to themselves while they are perched, content as the world passes them by. I'm surprised they don't molt more often, because sometimes perching and singing is all that keeps me from pulling my own feathers out. So for the time being I'm alright with stalking and prowling around the house, keeping myself entertained and distracted. Whether by ball of string or the next best thing. But sooner or later my creativity will run out, so let's hope by then I've got more money coming in. The rest of this summer is going to be an interesting one. A tiger can only count his stripes so many times, before he has to find someone else to count them for him.

“From the oyster to the eagle, from the swine to the tiger, all animals are to be found in men and each of them exists in some man, sometimes several at the time. Animals are nothing but the portrayal of our virtues and vices made manifest to our eyes, the visible reflections of our souls. God displays them to us to give us food for thought." -V. Hugo

On Repeat/Preheat To Disaster

It hasn't even hit seventy degrees yet, and already this summer is getting overheated. The climate might be lagging, but the climate in my house is somewhere between sizzling and boiling over. I was worried about getting sunburned from staying outside for too long, now I'm worried about getting heat rash from staying inside for too long. Remember a couple weeks ago when I wrote letters to everyone, and two of those letters had to do with a housemate of mine and the girl who he is entangled with; well they started up again. And it's not a good thing. Because she's not a good thing. She might be three fourths evil and one fourth nasty, in my opinion. But now him and her are back together and she is back at the house, on the daily. And no one likes her, no one wants her around, and no one wants to speak to her. It's tricky for one of my other housemates because he's brother to the one repeating his mistakes, so he's caught in the middle of it all. Where does your allegiance fall when you have to decide between your brother and his tramp, and your girlfriend/one day wife? That's not a position I'm envious of at all. I'm slightly detached from it all, because it's plain and simple for me. She's a tramp! With a capital C. I've known about her all the way back in the day when I was still at my first college. Then she popped up on my radar again years later, and then she wrecked the heart of one of my boys. Sorry bitch, but unless you pay off my student loans, we will never "be cool" with one another. You hurt someone I love, you might as well move to penguin land, because Imma freeze you out of my life anyways. The thing that really pisses me off, is that the stupid bitch parades around the house like nothing ever happened. She should be so, so, SO embarrassed to even show her face around this house. She's a two faced slut, and we all know it. She should be quieter then a church mouse when she walks through the door. Instead she's saying "hello" and asking us "how we've been" and acting like life is sunshine and daisies. Wrong move bitch! Life is thunderstorms and poison ivy. Especially when it comes to you. Now I know what you're thinking: why aren't you mad at the housemate for repeating his mistakes? Well we are, or at least I am, but since I love him like a sibling, I can't freeze him out. I just feel a great, enormous amount of pain when I see him falling back to her. He's caught up in this, either by balls or brains, so all we can do is love on him and hope that he figures it out sooner rather then later. But as of right now, the battles lines aren't declared just yet, but the maps are being drawn up. This summer is going to be a hot one, a dangerous one, one full of burns, and I'm not even talking about the weather. Do they make SPF for friendships? Because my house is going to need some of that. Getting sunburn is going to be least of my concerns these next couple of months. I just can't shake the feeling that things are going to get heated, and quickly. And it's going to turn ugly. Oh dear. I'm getting all worked up. I need to preheat the oven and do some stress baking. My kitchen is going to look like a bakers counter if things keep the way they are. Haha. I guess we are creatures of repetition. Live, Stress, Bake, Repeat.