A Cat's Poem and Funeral Arrangements

            (Date written was the 3^rd of January in 2011) Hugo was right. It’s 2011. (As I typed this, before editing, it looked like, “20110.”) I think I’m going through withdrawals, which is odd because I’m almost looking forward to this year! I first realized when I dated my math notebook and felt the need to throw myself out of the second floor classroom’s window. I can’t be sure as to why… 

            I spotted two fictional characters driving around town today. The first one terrorized me and I froze to the car’s seat. It’s a good thing I wasn’t driving. His name was Edward Cullen (I WOULD say Cedric Diggory, but this guy was a creep). He needed a haircut. The second was spotted by my mum. His name: Mr. Dursley. He was about ten years to young, but the resemblance was uncanny. I freaked out a bit inside. I know where the Dursleys were relocated to! And I know how they disguised themselves.

            The day began horribly. I awoke at 6am. The sun was still brightening the other half of the world. It slowly rose as Bebo, Hugo, a friend who will later be named, and I were carpooling to school. Ice was on the ground. About 11:15am, when the sun was above and not hidden, we tried to skate on the ice. We all just about killed ourselves. I went with Bebo to the gym on campus, where we “worked out” on soft mats by stretching and passing medicine balls. Bebo and Hugo did that a lot last quarter…

            We froze our toes.

            We tagged along behind people without their seeing us.

            We didn’t offer strangers candy… Woe is this day!

            I had to explain to my professor what a TARDIS is. “Tell the class your name and something about yourself the rest of us don’t know.” I couldn’t have gone with “I play the piano,” or “I can’t cook.” No. I had to say the only thing that came to mind right away (I was the fourth, I think, to talk), so I had to go and say, “I’ve been in the TARDIS.” And then, with all the confusion of the non-dorky, I had to elaborate. “My friends build a life-sized TARDIS.” And then there was more elaboration with, “It’s from Doctor Who. He travels in it,” among some other such sentences. I don’t think he, or the other people in class, will forget about me soon… 

            Have you ever not liked yourself? Whenever I say that, people always tell me things to boost my self-confidence, or something like that. I happen to think it’s healthy. I don’t mean self-loathing; I mean you see yourself for who you are because, believe it or not, none of us are perfect. That makes sense, right? How are we to grow when we think we can only rot from where we are?

            01-19-20 I know! It’s not my turn yet, but I am sick and stuck at home. Now I’ve missed two days of class. Luckily, I will receive notes for two of them for both days. A friend who has yet to be named (to my poor, pathetic memory) seems to be enjoying herself while taking these notes. That makes me pleased. I would hate to send her into a zone in which she is utterly miserable. She even got to watch a Lego video. And today there’s a guest speaker. I miss all the good stuff…

            Do you know that when I am sick, I have four cats that flock to me? But when I cough, my cat leaves me…

            Speaking of my cat, Pig gave me a birthday card. Ahem:

            I dedicate this to you, Mom,

            You love me even when I’m wrong,

            You calm me down and hold me tight,

            You even sing me to sleep at night,

            You sing that I’m a little ball of fur,

            And that makes me pur, pur, pur,

            I guess all I wanted to say,

            Is that I love you unconditionally.

            I shouted a thank you all the way across the house (family was over, so he was hiding). I love my Pig, even if he is obsessively cleaning a Ziploc bag… He has such an addiction to catnip. He likes to eat it, and sometimes he sneezes because he inhales it. Oh, my little druggie…

            Bebo and Hugo are, quite frankly, ridiculous. They believe I will marry the Stick. We would have Weasley children. Red hair and skin so pale, Snow White would be jealous. (You do realize the girl(s) would have to have specially-made makeup, right?) We would always be condemned to girly weights (as in exercise equipment) and the art of odd and pained expressions. Our children would hate us.

            Ahem. Here I will insert a quote:

            "It smells like death. Everything smells like death. Salmon smells like death. You eat too much salmon. You should bring salmon to my funeral." -Ramblings of Joe

            I think about my funeral quite a bit. I’m not sure how I will die, but I have it narrowed down to a few options; I will choke on my food (which happens quite a bit), I will be mowed over by those golf-cart-wannabes at our campus, I will be attacked by all birds because they have an hatred of me, I will trip over a brick (Teehee!), my soon-to-be squirrel army will turn on me, their leader,  I will run into a wall, my sister’s cat will kill and eat me, or I will spontaneously drop dead. But, of course, these are just the ones I can remember at the moment.

            Some of my favorite songs are about death. I want one of them to be played at my funeral, but they all mention names. Really, though, “How long? How fast? How far?” I hope I answer that the way I wish to. Now don’t get me wrong; I am not one of those black-loving (Haha, okay, so I’m not goth, but I do love my black shirts), screamo music, suicidal teenagers. Far from it! My death songs inspire me in great ways! Um, I’m sounding kind of weird now…

            I hope no one wears black to my funeral, at least as a main color.  Hmm. Maybe I should start planning it out now…

            Well, I think I will recap our school adventures later, in a proper post, not one put up because I was sick and bored. Bebo, Hugo, I hope this doesn’t come between us. I’m sorry that I couldn’t patiently wait my turn…

            Joe