cats and laptops, being 25, and the end of summer

FOR STARTERS
Why is it that cats love laptops so much? As I type this I have to fight with mouse space on my desk with Gatsby, who's taking over Nikolai's normal job of sitting contentedly on top of all my stuff, purring. I'm watching the cursor move slowly across the screen, and I don't know what time it is because earlier in a fit of happy Gatsby bumped up against my clock and knocked it to the floor. Now he's playing with whatever's being shifted with the air from the fan. Gatsby is too big for this.

But I wouldn't give this moment up for anything in the world. I am not ashamed to admit that I am in love completely with my cats and their silliness. This is why I must pass on the wealth to you, dear reader, in the form of a kitten. Please. Please take her.

Aaaaand....there goes my pen and my day planner. Commence self-satisfied paw licking session!

AND FURTHERMORE
I'm good. I'm really good. It dawned on me the other day, in the midst of my angst-ridden misery, that I should be glad to have these feelings. I should be glad to know that I can deal, that I understand myself, that I am a grown-up in that sense. Sure, I still act like a kid. The combination of me, Jason, and alcohol is enough to make my maturity level drop to about that of a 19-year old. A slutty, self-centered, alcoholic 19-year old.

And one time, in Intro to Music Research? Yeah, I couldn't stop laughing because I'd accidentally shot a pen cap across the room after I'd been pretending to pick my nose with it. Yeah, I'm 5, too.

But no, seriously. The things I can do now with self-confidence and enjoyment amaze me. I can flirt, dance, sing in public, drink people under the table, have sex, have and demand safe sex, socialize, meet new people and make friends with them in seconds flat, plan a vacation, pay my bills, grow cantaloupes, make people laugh, act without caring the consequences (in other words, act in a way that means I accept the consequences), disregard the consequences, act in a responsible manner when need be, plan my career, pay for my own schooling, teach, network, cook amazing meals, manage a household, care for pets, keep in touch, cut my own hair, embrace the joy of crayons, make obscure pop culture references from the 80s and 90s, ogle dancing girls in their bras, dress up as Joan Jett or a sexy gypsy lady and go out in public without shame, have sloppy make-outs, masturbate, live without regrets....

All of these things have been on my mind lately. Sometimes I go back and read through my archives here and am amazed at how much of a transition I've gone through. I guess it's normal, this steady path toward adulthood. But I'm happy, mostly because I can do all of these things (and more!) and not feel like I have to analyze them. I just do them. And that for me is the biggest aspect of maturity, the fact that I can, very simply, be myself in any situation. Instead of going through everything in my head, thinking 'is that funny?' 'what will people think if I...' 'who's looking at me? is it safe?', I just...am.

I like that. I remember that my freshman year of high school I went on a church trip to Boulder, CO. We worked for Habitat for Humanity, building, tearing down, making birdhouse donation boxes, secretly shaving even though it was a camp rule not too (something about saving water), feeling creeped out by the male counselors, arguing with the Minnesotans over whether it was 'soda' or 'pop', and having those camp chat sessions where you get all touchy-feely and let everyone know what you think of them and what you've learned from the trip. One of the older girls, just starting college, told me, "You remind me of me. You're shy, but that's not you. One day you'll grow up and that's when I'll be thinking 'Watch out world, because here she comes.'"

And I think finally, now, I'm beginning to understand what she meant.

IN CONCLUSION
Summer is over, and school starts tomorrow. Of course, I don't have classes...but I am going to teach lessons. I'll hopefully find out soon how I did on auditions, but I realize too that I don't really care. I'm not here to fight for ensemble space. I'm here to get better, to make myself a good trombonist in spite of odds and whatnot. If I'm not in an ensemble, it means more time to practice. I've had plenty of experience and I'll have time to get more. I've got a recital to plan and DMA auditions to arrange. A competition to do. Connections to make. No time to stress over how 5 minutes of my life affected one school year. No time. I SAID NO TIME!!!! Jesus.

Private joke/personal quip o' the week:
"And for a bit, all I could think was 'Oh my God! My hip! Uggghhh!!'"