“Change your thoughts and you change your world.” – Norman Vincent Peale
Today was just one of those sort of days that when I had opened my eyes and looked out the window, I just wanted to roll back over and get some more sleep. Which is not surprisingly exactly what I did with some rather meditational music to shut out the usual stomping about the house before heading out to the Elk’s Lodge that my uncle does for his Monday mornings. The reason why was because it was wet, raw and especially gloomy here in the Tundras of New England. Really… 48 F (8.8 C) going on here while I’m sitting having my morning coffee, listening to some old-school stuff from my distant past and having my morning coffee; I just don’t know what’s going on with the weather. I mean we started out all right, but now? It feels like we’re not in spring at all, but rather having a step back to what I would expect for this sort of weather for March instead. Then again, I tend to suffer from the same problem most New Englanders suffer from in regards to short-memory when it comes to New England Weather. Thinking back I remember it being cool like this all the way up to my birthday for several years in the 60s and 70s. This shouldn’t be unusual to see 30 and 40 years later. *shrugging* I should be thankful really… It’s not as though it’s like when I was living in the south and having to turn on my air conditioner on by the middle of April (sometimes even end of March depending on how bad the year was for heat).
Though it’s sort of cutting into my exercise routine because of the amount of rain and wet there is out there. Meh, but we can’t have everything can we?
It’s been mostly quiet here at the homestead the last couple of weeks. My Aunt and Uncle have done their usual movement of winter/summer clothes from the basement to their respective closets. Banged my head pretty badly helping them move their boxes and clothes on hangers to the back part of the basement where they put their seasonal clothes. Didn’t even realize I had been bleeding either until I scratched my head and came back with caked on blood. Ugh… That’s all I needed — particularly given that I’m beginning to feel like a hippy and wanting to cut my hair in the next couple of days. I swear that it’s amazing that I haven’t ended up with tumors or blood clots in my head from the amount of times I’ve bashed my head against the low-hanging support beam in the wash room. Then again, if it were to be discovered during a physical — the fourth generation hypochondriac that I can be will probably turn all Chicken Little about it for months to come after the diagnosis.
Cricket’s being… Well… Cricket lately. Seems that she’s had some problems keeping some foods and liquids down when we had the warm-up a couple of weeks ago, though I suspect it’s from the usual problem that happens when she’s shedding off what winter-fur she has for a lighter coat. Once I started brushing her weekly whatever puking she had been doing stopped and she’s no more worse for wear. She’s maxed out her eating to about 3½ cans a day (and it’s not the cans of food that the vet originally urged her to eating when the vet saw her last year). No, she would have no part of either the Fancy Feast or anything that’s pâté either. I think it’s because I had to purée it and feed it to her by syringe that she positively despises it. Also seem to have problems wanting to eat things as big or bigger than her mouth (other than perhaps the table scraps she gets from me as tithe to make her stop staring holes into me). It has to be shredded or Tuna or she simply won’t touch it. And finally, she’s having no problems eating dry food either. While the majority of her meals are wet, between meals I find her nibbling a bit from the dry until it’s time for her next can. Pity though she’s not going to be gaining any more weight since the last illness. Then again, this is to be expected really given she’s 14 now (73’ish in human years according to one table I’ve found).
Though this new habit of hers is particularly unnerving and gives me the impression of either dementia or senility. After she’s had enough of her food — either for the moment, or for a couple of hours — I find her sitting at my feet looking at the wall and doing nothing. She doesn’t look around, she occasionally flicks her ears if she realizes I’m talking to her and not to myself… She just, sits there waiting for something. And it’s not as though this is the only place I’ve seen her do it. I’ve found her sitting in the middle of the bedroom looking at nothing in particular, or in my den behind me, occasionally looking at me before she starts looking forward at nothing in particular. One day, I ignored her to see how long she’s keep this up and from what I’ve seen, she’s done it for close to an hour, not sleeping or even closing her eyes. It’s like she’s waiting for something and forgot what she was waiting for.
Other days, she’s what I expect to be doing. Begging for attention… talking at me like some needy wife wanting attention, food, attention, laying out on the rug sunning herself, pointing out I need to clean out her litter box, attention and… did I mention attention? Oh and she’s back to drooling when she’s purring which means I need to have a nappy handy so whatever I’m wearing it’s covered in drool. Like my leg at the moment as she’s draped over my thigh while I’m writing this entry.
With the summer coming, what few television shows I watch are going to be going out on summer vacation so I might finally get back to collecting the series that I’ve been watching on and off since last year. Namely Battlestar Galactica, Farscape… Though I know that I’m going to get extremely depressed the further BSG goes on, and there are parts of third season of Farscape where there’s entirely too much “beat the Muppet” going on with Rygel. On an impulse when I bought Cyber Clean to clean out some of the gunk between the keys on my keyboard, I had decided on buying the complete season of Witchblade. Man was that show ever trippy, it’s a pity that at the end of the first season TNT cancelled the show based on stories that the star — Yancy Butler — needed to seek rehab because of alcoholism, and coupled with the way the story went from trendy and weird to banal and reset. I remember vividly how betrayed I felt for the first season finale and how everything was reset — the death of her partner Detective Woo not ever happening… Things going back to the way it was for the series pilot… It felt as though I had been watching an episode of Star Trek, where Rick Berman (AKA Beavis) and his ass-licking sycophant henchman Brannon “I’m no Fan of Sci-Fi” Braga (AKA Butthead) used the time travel reset button so much that the show became a farce onto itself. Still though, I’m sitting there watching Witchblade with a combination of entertained and impending dread as I know it’s only a matter of time before it comes to a crashing end and the old memories come rushing back to the present.
One show that I’m not going to be returning to next season is Fringe. The season finale felt like a mind-frell that I was all too familiar with when it came to another show I had high expectations for that crashed horribly: Alias. It would seem that Abrams, Orci and Kurtzman at Bad Robot are suffering from the same mentally damaged problems that they seem to be suffering from since they became producers: wanting to wow the audience with blinding ideas but at the same time making shit up as they go along. It might seem all right if one has the attention span of a goldfish, but when it comes to someone like me who has a slightly longer attention span, the niggling issues rapidly grow into a legion of problems and wtf-like attitudes until the story literally comes apart at the seams.
Take for example, the ending of Fringe‘s episode The Day We Died. By making it as though Peter never existed, basically takes the last three seasons of Fringe and saying, “nope, it never happened”; which once again feels like the terrible reset experienced when dealing with Beavis & Butthead in the Star Trek Universe. Also gone are the understood motivations as to why Walternate Bishop (the Walter Bishop from the alternate dimension) launched his campaign to destroy our dimension as we know it. I had read a couple of interviews from the producers that asked questions about why and what, of which like a good little executive stated, ‘wait and see, wait and see!’
Blah… My breaking point in Alias was when at the end of Season Four, Michael Vaughn (Michael Vartan), suddenly out of the blue states that he’s not an FBI agent and that he’s actually a deep cover operative for a group which would later in season five be called the Prophet Five. There was no proof to this throughout the four season, and only toward the end it was being hinted at by Sydney’s mother telling him to “come clean” was it feeling more as though it was being made up then, instead of something that’s been going on for the previous four years. I also heard from Lost fans that the same thing happened with that show as well, and only those that were able to ignore the gaffs and made up stories were able to watch it toward the end (and even then, word was they were “glad it’s finally over”).
And so my breaking point with Fringe has occurred. If I ever do get around to finishing up my collection for Fringe, it’s going to be with Season Three and my making up the ending that the two Walters, Olivias, and Astrids work to fixing what was broken and peace in the Multiverse is once again restored. Oh, and I won’t buy Season Two or Three until they hit bargain bin. Which will be in a couple of years.
Well, that’s about it for the time being. Off to play Mass Effect 2 for a bit and get the hang of what’s going on in the last DLC I’ve picked up for that; The Arrival. Heh, seems I’ve already hit a snag/bug in it which is forcing me to replay that part of the game and hope it doesn’t glitch out. Until the next time.