“One of the painful things about our time is that those who feel certainty are stupid, and those with any imagination and understanding are filled with doubt and indecision.”
― Bertrand Russell (1872 – 1970 )
― Bertrand Russell (1872 – 1970 )
seems this one needs a little more work around the eyes and some more exaggeration
one half of the duo
my two feline guests have no definite names yet, mainly because they will – more likely than not – have to move on. seemed so easy at first…
due to the colour of their eyes Amber and Opal would seem a reasonable choice, but noone here would pronounce their names correctly…
or maybe with reference to their footwear: Schtroumpf & Sansculotte – with and without socks
or, considering they are mean little machines given the opportunity (watch how they deal with feathers, fake fur and the occasional poor moth or spider crossing their paths – or paws)…
plus: different personalities, one more chill, quiet and observing, the other experimental, Miss Trial-and-error, vocalizing her moods.
Hanni & Nanni, Bib & Pout…
Doom & Foreboding
to be continued…
into the rare realm of topical caricature…
two kittens have unexpectedly strayed into my life.
well, five, I should say, but I managed to ‘disperse’ 3 of them. The popular tabby ones were the first to go. they found brilliant homes and I am confident they will lead content and happy cat lives together with their human companions. the last two are still in need of rehoming.
or are they?
little buggers, they are in the middle of sneak-stalking their way into my heart.
one looks like ‘Toothless‘ from How to train your dragon, off-black stripes, green eyes. the other one has a black face, white bib, tiny white gloves and socks, amber eyes.
great. workspace invasion.
the little devils are robbing my pens and dragging them to their secret den of treasures. Nonchalantly strolling across my keyboard – like just now – they are editing content, stopping the music and taking endless snaps with the screenshot application.
Right this minute they are beleaguering the screen, watching the letters forming these words appear one ofter the other, which is, apparently, mesmerizing. One kitten is literally looking over my shoulder – from a comfy position on my back. Comfy for the cat, mind. The more cuddly one is sitting between my hands. As it is still a junior cat I can just about take a peek at my ramblings over her head. This constant provider of purring sounds is about to collaps into a sudden morning nap when the movement of my fingers disturbs and – there is a tiny regulative paw being placed on the back of my hand as if to say ‘halt, your foolish endeavours to capture or personalities by writing about us does not warrant the interruption of a cat nap at such a critical stage in my personal development. Such activity should cease with immediate effect and instead be replaced by a chin and belly rub.’
Whereas black-and-white would ramble across, shove everything out of her way and give you a tug: ‘here! come on! give us a cuddle. that’s enough. I’m off again! See you!’
if I get up for a moment to grab a mug of coffee, they are stretched out together on the office chair.
the two don’t exactly cling together at all times, but they play a lot, wash each others faces and it is clear that they take comfort in each others company – especially in situations that otherwise could be stressful: at the vet’s, going by car, exploring new locations, getting to know the part-time dogs (which is still a bilateral challenge).
Black-and-white has just snatched one of the little fake-fur pompoms that send her and her sister into a playful frenzy. I had put it in my pencil case to avert said madness during the night. Walking across the table she passed the pencil case, extracted the bobble and off go the two.
There are so many things I should be having kittens about. Maybe the soothing effect of felines lowers my blood pressure too much to be productive?
PS: the wee witches have made my toothbrush disappear. should it pop back up, I’m not sure I’m interested in continuing to use it…
as of yesterday my indispensable bird guide has a truely dispensable feature:
one of the part-time dogs* got scared in the car whilst awaiting my return and as a result this volume on our feathered friends – in mint condition right up to that point – now has a certain whiff to it
*this refers to spending time with me only part-time, not that they’d be spending some time being dogs and opting to be some other animal of choice the rest of the time.
When your only tool is a hammer, suddenly every problem starts to look like a nail.
oliver markus malloy
There’s a blog I enjoy a lot reading: https://redswrap.wordpress.com/
Jan just published a post ‘One’s own fire‘ sub-headed ‘self-doubt and second-guessing’ that I’d recommend and I think you’ll need to read in order to make some sense of what I am writing here and what it tapped into for me.
(the following ponderings will meander away from the thoughts, imagery and content of the quoted piece, but I hope you’ll bear with me)
My initial response was – still is: I can totally relate to that – if the solitary approach focusses the female in the story.. way to go!
Seems to me, though, that not unraveling when in company may be the greater challenge, no matter the gender of whoever may be calling your decisions into question. Doubt may be, or at least have been, engrained more strongly into the psyche of females. I am quite positive this is or has been the case. Not even entirely without merit, just not based on gender, it should not be. Simply coming across as more decisive and being accepted as a lead to be followed (chiefly because you are male) no matter how wrong you are should well be a thing of the past.
So should be the cliché of women always wanting to discuss issues ’til the cows come home, wanting men to express their feelings verbally at any given moment and always rather opting for a slushy compromise. And this alleged thing about shoes. I don’t get it, and don’t think I know a single real-life woman who does.
I know, the author is not saying nor implying the following, but a tricky conclusion could be drawn from the story that I would wish to oppose: Women should not by default have to withdraw from the society of others to follow their own compass. There is strength in following your compass in solitude. but there is strength also in following your compass when having to guard it from critique perceived or suspected.
If mind sets were given away to children as train sets were given to boys in olden days, then the instructions should read something like – ‘stay open for critique, re-evaluate your actions if needs be, then go by your own judgment and accept the outcome.’
Both approaches – ‘solitary/lone-wolf-style’ or staying focussed and headstrong when faced with diverging points of view – could well be interpreted as ‘male’ behaviour.
But I would refuse to have my behaviour thus labelled as a gender issue. It is my behaviour. It can be criticized, argued or agreed with.
In that the behaviour of males and females should be ‘judged’ or rather evaluated using the same measure. Maybe we should try and grant our ‘Behaviour self’ to be beyond categories of male or female but a natural expression of self.