March 2012 - Panterdjuret

03/01

Sunlight scattered across the floor, warming it.
Paws almost white in the beginning spring.
Warmth like a blanket over the back,
warmth of a fire thawing my bones.
Morning song of summer birds thawing my heart.

One - Our love like a lighthouse, sending out its flickering messages.
Two - The distance between us, the curve of the Earth.
Three - Messages that get lost between us and never.. ever...

Lost
I try to follow
the directions
of the stars
sailing on
and I know
I know
I have to..
eventually...

Four - make it to the other side of the ocean between us.

03/02

Digging sorting planting watering
loving waiting purring nurturing
finding poking burying soaking
thinking pondering forgetting wondering

*

Spring has come for real, and the light and warmth compels me to plant seeds and rearrange things in my nest. To clean things out; let life go on.

*

the stars - soon fading
the nights getting brighter
the darkness retreating
pulling away until the next time
light everchanging

*

Oh, if only I could tell you. If only I had words to explain all that goes on in my head right now. The songs, the dreams, the wishes for another future and what I want to do with the now...

03/03

It was her special, hidden place; by the garage, between and under the red-currant bushes. She had dug a hole down under the concrete slab of the garage. It had taken years and years, but she had a burrow now - her cave - in which she was a dragon, jealously guarding her treasure of pretty stones and shiny pieces of metal and sun-bleached bones.

A place out of bounds for any grown-ups; she spent her days there - summer and winter - until she could no longer fit through the hole and realized that she had become an adult herself.

03/04

The date was not going very well at all. They had seemed to have so much in common according to the dating service match making software, but now they were both poking the cold food on their plates silently, the conversation dried up.
Eventually he said:
"Listen, I think you're a nice person and all, but this won't work out."
"Why?"
"I don't find you interesting or attractive. At all."
"If this was the last day of your life, would it matter?"
"Ehm," he said, laughing nervously. "I guess not."

She opened her coat and let him see the bomb.

03/05

I rarely answer when unknown people call me. Usually unknown people have no business to call me in the first place. Yesterday I made an exception, and my did it strengthen my idea that I really shouldn't answer when unknown people call me.

I am at a loss for words. I will just push this aside and go and write on that email I should write to K's mother. She seems to need some upcheering anyway. I can provide.

What was that all about? No, not right now. I don't care, and he was sensible enough not to push it.

03/06

I love proofreading other people's texts. I think why is a combination of me loving to read anything people put in my paws and loving to learn new things. Also I feel very honoured every time; a person is showing me something it finds important - something flawed and unfinished! - hoping that I will spot the weak spots and imbalances in the sculpture of words.

It is also a great lesson in humility and understanding; I may not like or even agree with the text. I may hate it, but I'm not there to judge...

I'm there to help it shine.

03/07

Sovfk rdh oasdp ejtgaep kag sdro fhjtsdepi. Rdh tapweirengd jifva szfnjkg kag. Rdh df nipgh pshifgnfp kj kag gfia? Epd jhgdfh aps kag iehga sa epsdi hgn psdi.

Ehn df gedhuf ahj disha. Engf soighj rdh df edio.
Ahg sdihn foei hjaso, edfh kag sa osda.

Hih sdieah gapsior iosdhj rdh ehah dfiashr. Ldfh aesdj fijasdf eshiad hih fiaeshgis. Df sa hih kag esifadh gji dji askj sa rdh gepdifohj ghna klhig jiohg biahg sihjfepi haisdjfh ijgs dija oj.

Oj sa faklaj rdh df kdlja gifodaj?

Can you figure out the code?
(Hint: the base is 32-40-1-1.)

03/08

Sometimes, things turn out in completely different ways than one has expected. This can be both exciting and frustrating; one does not usually know in advance how one will react when life takes an unexpected twist to the left or right, dives down under a bridge or sets off into the forest. When it does, it's usually far too late to go back and fetch the things one thinks one might need; far too late to prepare oneself; far too late to change anything in any direction.

One can only dive headlong into the changed plans and learn from them.

03/09

I finally got a new phone. I have been dragging around a six year old phone with a broken microphone for some time now. But now I have a new one, with a keyboard and all sorts of shiny things. I can even watch the only television series I like on it.

Tomorrow will be a busy day, but I think it can be fun. I will bring along a book and Paobook and stuff. I will be fine.

Spring is coming. A bit more every passing day. Shoots poking up through the soil, stretching towards the light.

03/10

A very long but interesting day indeed. I will probably pay the price of this wonderful day for days to come, but it has been worth it. I met my male's mother's mother and about ten other people I had no idea would be there. (On the other hand, no one else seemed to have any idea that all these people would be there either.)

Then I went to the bus terminal and haunted that place for a while, waiting for a pretty male to arrive. After that, we haunted the place together for several hours. Waiting. Talking.

Good times.

03/11

So many things I want to write; all these things longing to get written getting blocked up by things that long to be written just as much. I try, but another thing pulls at my sleeve and begs for attention. An idea just as worthy of being written down as any other one of them.

I want to tidy up, but the chaos is everywhere. Where to put things when the place it should be is cluttered with other things? I could move them, but where?

Both are giant catch 22's that cannot really be solved without solving them first.

03/12

Adventure again. Adventure is a great thing, especially if it's sudden. Especially if one knows that one can get home. Especially when one is feeling slightly restless. I'm tired and in pain, but I am full of happiness and excitement. I managed to write a little bit earlier at the library, but I wish I could write more.

But adventure came. Adventure came and I went out into spring dusk and looked at the melting water. It really feels like spring now. The sun is warming in the daytime and the snow is almost all gone.

Tired but hopeful now.

03/13

I have finished yet another blog post which I've still not published. There is another one I want to write first, and these two are not yet good enough to make me want to publish them.

I feel as if the new cat who wandered into my life might actually be a friend. Perhaps, perhaps I can even be a friend in return. If not, two cats meeting and wandering side my side for a while and then once again going their separate ways... it's very cat-like.

We are all the cat who walks by himself, only together.
Sometimes.

03/14

I wonder where my dear Sister of questionable sanity is. I've not seen her in a while and her absence is making me feel slightly nervous. I wonder if something has happened to her. Can things happen to someone who is most likely a ghost? Can ghosts lose their way? Can ghosts get hurt?
I almost called for her earlier; I caught my tongue between my teeth before I did, biting down on it painfully hard. She's not here, and I am no longer her kitten. I'll manage, somehow.

Besides, her advice is usually unhelpful and only makes things worse.

03/15

Another adventure with music and trains and paths which still do not take me where I want to go. Spring is here and my legs twitch with longing to run and chase and hunt. To sit and howl a greeting to spring. To run around and feel the winter-cold, sun-stained ground to my paws as I stretch out in the air and leap and laugh and live. I wish there was an overgrown forest trail I could run on and follow to another place, an unknown place, watching the roots of the trees and forgetting that I'm rootless.

03/16

I wrote a bit over 5100 words very suddenly without warning or plan. A thing completely out of normal Min/Pantherina canon; it was mostly to get a thought out of my head and a reason to play around with phrases and words and descriptions, and it all turned out fairly all right. Some parts I'm even proud of, despite their lack of context. It's still nothing I want to show people because it probably makes no sense for others who lack my mythology.

"You did what you did because a pathetic mythology is better than no mythology at all..."

03/17

Went out to celebrate Saint Patrick's day with my male. We were supposed to go to a place and meet some people from mainly his circle but that place was full so we went to another place and had a beer there, but then we set off to go home. We changed our minds though and eventually found some of his other friends and had a wonderful evening with them.

I was happy and giggly when I came back to my male's place. Perhaps it had to do with my thoughts about making pretty ribbons out of someone's hide.

Perhaps.

03/18

Home again. Soon time to sleep, I have to get up in time to go to meetings and then I want to use the remaining sunlight to tidy up a bit more in preparation for the visit by K and his friend. Less than ten days away now. Soon. I'm still not sure I can really believe it.

I have never met his friend before, and yet I invited him to my lair. K knows that he is the one who have to take the responsibility, though.

It feels like it should be me, but that's not how it works...

03/19

"I don't understand your logos.. I don't understand your dreams..."

"This is the last song I will write to you. The inter-titles of our silent picture show..."

"You're not mine.. it's all right.. I am fine... just left with scars to remind me where the wounds are..."

"I don't believe in you any more..."

"I spent my whole life singing to you, but you never seemed to know..."

"Tried to disturb some comforting words, but they bared their teeth and bit me and hid..."

"Don't say you never believed because you did, just not enough..."

*

"You're a monster, monster..."

03/20

The cat was chasing through the dark, dark woods in the autumn twilight, following the paw prints of her prey in the cool mud by the singing stream. She found a place where the stream was like a slowly moving mirror and took a step into it. A sudden flash of orange caught her eye; the smirk of cruelty on her lips made her flinch.

For a moment in the autumn light she looked like her tiger friend and it chilled her to the bone. A warning; a shiver down her spine.

A divided heart.

She could still turn back.

03/21

"I did everything to break the surface
but I never dared to read what you wrote
I am careful with my hands
I cut myself on your letter..."

Letters. I ought to send more letters. To friends nearby and far away. There is something special about a physical letter in one's hands, knowing that a person sat down to write it. People write emails and things like that too, but a letter can be put in a box, taken out, patted. A physical memory touched by the hands of a friend.

A physical reminder that stays after the body and ghost has faded.

03/22

The cat was wandering all alone through the dark, dark woods in the autumn twilight, thinking about all the things she had seen and felt the days before. Unsteady on her paws, disoriented even on the paths she knew by heart because her heart was absent-minded. She cried out to the birds, to the sky, to the gently sifting sunlight; asking for advice; begging for answers to her questions.

The world went on like always; the birds sang their songs and the clouds chased over the sky casting their shadows getting lost in the dancing shadows of the branches.

03/23

The cat slowly walked out of the dark, dark woods to the marshland where the silver-leaf trees grew here and there amongst the scattered pools of black mirror-water. Outside the woods the night fell softly and the cold wind made the trees sing their tinkle-jingle song in greeting of the stars and the moon.

The darkness that was no darkness; above her head the wondrous night sky with a thousand stars and more and around her every star had a shadow of light, scattered in the pools of water while the ground was now a compact darkness.

03/24

The cat returned to the dark, dark wood in the golden light flood the next day. She followed her own steps back to the singing stream of water and then to the flat surface where she had seen her startling reflection a few days earlier. In the golden light her fur was still a reflected golden copper, but her smirk was gone and her eyes were once again her own.

In the trees the summer birds were still singing and in the sky the clouds were drifting slowly. In front of her paws the water moved slowly but steadily forward.

03/25

In a few days my dear Englishman and one of his friends are coming over to visit me. I am tidying up a lot. Frantically. I think that in the end all will be well, at least. More or less in order.

I have been too busy being lost and confused that I have forgotten to write that the spring's first chives has come up. The rhubarb too is coming up again. So they both survived the winter.

As did I. And how much I have learned, once again.
Now, come, let the light grow in your hearts.

Towards adventure!

03/26

There were other creatures in the dark, dark woods. Some of them were known to the cat, others were still unknown to her. Some of them were friends of her, their patterns known to her and overlapping with her own. Sometimes her path would cross with one of theirs and for a while they would walk together through the twilight.

Not all of them were predators or even like her, but everyone had something to teach her and all their songs were different to her ears. Everyone held another part of life in their hearts, all as important to live.

03/27

I've slept in total about forty-five minutes since I woke up Monday. The sunrise was incredibly pretty and I sat outside on the balcony. The air was chilly, but everything was so beautiful. The world was waking up, jackdaw by jackdaw, forest pigeon by forest pigeon. The magpies were playing outside, diving past the balcony chattering. I brought out some food for them and then I watched them eat from the kitchen.

I have no idea how long I had actually been awake, but I forgot everything about how tired I was when I curled up in his arms.

03/28

Sometimes I wish I could take all my friends and run off into the forest with them. That we could be the pack at the end of time. Perhaps we wouldn't get to see the world end or pass, because out in the forest nothing much usually changes. People pass and seasons change and animals are born and die, but the forest mostly is. Seeds crack open and trees grow and trees fall and birds nest amongst their dead branches, rabbits beneath their fallen trunks.

The forest never changes much, yet it is always changing. The change never changes, though.

03/29

Every breath is a thing we want to say but never said. You want to say something and you draw a breath, but then you hesitate. Is it the right thing to say? Which words should you use? It is important, that thing you think about when you breathe in to say it, and it should be said. But what if it is taken too lightly? What if you get laughed at? What if you say it the wrong way?
The carbon dioxide is building up, and you have to breathe again eventually.

You exhale, another thing left unsaid, again.

03/30

Planted the fresh herbs in a bucket today, except for the lemony thingy that I will have to plant later, with parsley or dill or something. Something low and shrubby, preferably.
Today I bought licorice root seeds that I will have to plant at some point later. The female in the store seemed a bit worried that I would give up on them since they germinate very sporadically at between one to three months, but I assured her there was no problem.

Perhaps I will be able to grow them outside this summer. Would be interesting and quite fun.
Tastiness!

03/31

Some rest, kind of. Nothing planned today. I washed some dishes and watched the stars.

Script Frenzy just started, and I have no idea what to write about. I have no characters and no plot, no setting. I actually don't even have any idea what sort of script I am going to write. I sense interesting times ahead, in other words.

In the end I'll probably have written a page or two which will be awesome in a soup of nonsense and confusion. In the end that is all that really matters, I believe.

Every page is its own adventure.