cat dander & pigs in shit

2003-05-22 - 9:03 p.m.

life is funny, take 37: i'm allergic to trees, and grass (both american and german), and i'm really allergic to dust and dust mites, and i'm really, really allergic to...cats. yet not allergic in the slightest to dogs. me, the cat girl who all her life has adored cats yet scorned dogs. the girl who wanted to build a separate house in her backyard just for her cats. the girl who's been given cat shit all her life because people knew how much i loved cats. the girl who grew up with 15 cats, who bottle-fed baby cats, who made paintings with her cats' footprints, who used to sneak cats into her bedroom when mom wasn't looking, who wrote eulogies for the cats that died, who still gets a lump in her throat when she thinks of them. the girl who's planned on getting more cats when she moves into her own place. the girl who's looked forward to being the little old lady at the end of the block with 50 cats as her only companions.

i'm allergic to cats.
in the words of depeche mode, 'i think that god's got a sick sense of humor and when i die i expect to find him laughing.'

though i'm not truly upset, because deep down i've suspected as much, what with all the trouble i've had visiting friends with indoor cats. my 15 cats i had while growing up were all outdoor farm cats, hence why i never knew i had problems until i was in confined spaces with cat dander. plus, now that i know, i'll be starting allergy shots. now those are cool. they actually change your immune system. how freaky and matrix-y is that, i ask you? these shots will, over a period of a few years, alter my immune system so that it won't recognize the things i'm allergic to as enemies. that blows my mind, to think that now i'm highly allergic to cats, but by the time i'm 27 i won't be. and when i turn 27, you can be sure that i'm going straight out and finding that siamese cat i've been dreaming about for the past few years.

just now i was prowling through my mom's mail when i saw a card from my cousin ashley. i opened it (hey, it was addressed to all of us) and discovered a very pretty invitation to her graduation. now i feel kind of guilty for not going, but i have no fear that the feeling will pass. on that day in particular i journeyed over the mountain and through the commune to see lane, rikki, kristen, and pretty much everyone i ever knew at wilson graduate. i didn't realize how many people were walking last saturday: michael, charlotte, secret lover man, pablo, mia, chris, my former next door neighbors (*drool*), that artsy thin boy with the punk hair (*drool* *drool*), the other half of the irish girls, that boy who wrote me that love letter (who, by the way, has now grown facial hair and looks like a walking reenactment of dante's inferno), etc., etc. just as i had laughingly told laura that, having been to 3 wilson graduations in a row, i would not be attending a fourth, i realized that succulent sarah will be walking next year. and so once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, else close up the wall with our english dead.

after the ceremony involving everything from a beautiful solo by kristen, a horrible bagpipe player (was he drunk?), dogs barking, and our prestigious president misusing grammar (god i love those wilson graduations), laura and i went to lunch with rikki's family as well as lane's. we ate at this fancy little mediterranean restaurant, and while there rikki and her brother talked to me and put some ideas in my head. now i am currently marinating said ideas, thinking them over and over, doing minor internet research into the situations they propose. and by god, if i weren't so tired and sick from the allergy testing, i'd be genuinely excited. (at this precise moment the only two things that genuinely excite me are food and sleep.)

but i think it could work, by god. i think it could work out just dandy. it would involve a lot of work, and putting myself out there, and shaking up the dull comfort/discomfort of my subtle sleepy world, but by god, i think it might just work. and i might just be happy. if i don't find happiness, at least i'll find something new. i either need happiness or newness, and these past few years i've pursued newness as far as i can take it. what's a little bit more? and maybe, just maybe, i'll get a bit of both.

i know i'm not making much sense, and i know that i'm talking in half-hidden riddles. but secrets are so juicy, how can i not hold on to this one? just until something cements and becomes firm, at the very least.

whatever happens, however the tides may turn, i'm quitting my job by mid-july at the very latest. this makes me happy as a pig in shit.