Today I woke up and the first thing that popped into my mind was, “Must write for an hour today.” Of course it wasn’t as zombie sounding as it sounds, like “Need brains,” or anything, but my own conviction did startle me nonetheless.
So, what to write about for an hour? I thought about breaking down all my thoughts into coherent, categorized, separate posts, but the rambling that’s about to partake should be pretty interesting. It takes me back to the days in middle school (high school?) when creative writing exercises consisted of putting pen to paper and writing any and everything that came to mind. No stopping. Even if you end up writing “um, I don’t know what to write” over and over, it was encouraged. Your brain can’t be free if you don’t set it free… Something like that. So today, I am paying homage to the educational institution that molded me into the mediocre, not quite successful simp that I am today (over 10 years later).
Keeping the ball rolling… My sister, older, the one I live with in our childhood home, wanted to put our 18.5-year-old cat down this past weekend. The thought’s been growing like a fungus in her mind for months – he’s incontinent, you see. Which is disgusting and unfortunate, and it’s literally like living with a 120-year-old man, except this one can jump on the counter and often nuzzles your neck before letting his bowels loose on the favorite sweater you left on the floor. Now that the weather’s nice enough for grave digging (we bury our animals in our backyard), she was ready for euthanasia.
My hesitance stems mostly from the facts that a. he’s been around for almost 2/3 of my life b. he’s the last remaining of the original trio (we had a kitten, Topaz, before Onyx, his sister, Dancer, and Stubbs, but she died after being spayed – Feline AIDS) and c. no one likes to put an animal down. The girls’ deaths (Stubbs’ and Dancer’s), one a surprise, the other a medical necessity, were not easy. But I digress…
We took Onyx to the vet on Saturday and my sister let the tech know I wasn’t quite ready, were there any other options? After putting up a hissing fight against the vet, it was clear he wasn’t ready to go. She gave him a shot for his arthritis and prescribed pills for his overactive thyroid (both causes for the geriatric to piss wherever it was comfortable and convenient). Now he lives in the sunroom with two litter boxes, puppy pads, food and water, sunshine, couches and television. Although he’s confined, I think he appreciates that slightly more than sleeping under the tree in the backyard.
I recently watched the movie In Time. It was okay. I won’t complain. Anything featuring Justin Timberlake topless is enough to keep me enthralled for at least the time his nipples are onscreen. It was a sort of jumbled, I felt like there wasn’t a ton of explanation or follow through on some things, but overall it was something to watch. The concept, though, that was interesting.
You pay in time. There is no currency, just time. Everyone stops aging at 25 (not too shabby, I’m already three years past and wouldn’t mind a little rewind), and gets a year after. It’s up to you to earn more, to keep living. Your clock, your wallet, your lifespan, is displayed in neon green on your forearm for all to watch the countdown with you. You know exactly how much time you have, down to the second. You can give/take time from others with a simple touch, pay for goods, get paid, live in a constant state of anxiety in how you will survive another day. Their society is split into time zones, classes, if you will, based on the access to time. Obviously those in the “ghetto, ” time zone 7, struggle and live day-to-day, while those in time zone 1 are seemingly immortal. Tolls are paid along the way, ranging in price from days to months.
Makes you think about time. How we spend it, how much is wasted. Now, the people in the movie are still people, so they need to sleep, but I don’t think the poor indulge quite like the poor in real life. In the movie, you literally work to live. If you don’t make time, you run out and die. In real life, the less fortunate (some, not all), often take advantage of the system in place and survive just fine, but they still suffer, everyone still suffers, save for the privileged few. Shit, I forgot to take the garbage out. I can’t wait for my package of a weighted hula hoop and Clarisonic Mia replacement heads today! The movie is a reflection of our society, capitalism, what little I really understand of it, is what I think. In the movie, they say several must die so a few can be immortal. Fucked up, but true in real life – everyone must be poor(ish) so that the rich can stay rich (Republican much?). My animals are strewn across the floor and couches, lying in the sun. I need to take the dogs for a walk before work. I’m excited to start reading The Help, I just finshed Schindler’s List, which was a great book. I’m nervous to watch the movie. AH! Mind wandering. I’m not quite done with my thoughts, but there’s more time. For now, my time is up. Perfect timing. Time is money. Time is love. Time is fleeting. Time heals. Hammer time.