Do you play in your daily life? What says “playtime” to you?
Toro the General and Camille the Puss in the Black Boots 😄
I never get bored with my two cats, Toro and Camille, at home. Although my playtime is either in the Witching Hour or before dawn, I love our playtime together.
If I lose myself in reading or writing, they jump so agilely like Olympic athletes on my lap, bed, or desk to attract my attention that instead of feeling annoyed, I am amazed by their humanlike need for attention and care and thus drop what I am doing and play with them. Camille, the Puss in the Black Boots, is the most elegantly athletic cat I have ever seen; he flies in alwhither when we play, whereas General Tabby Toro prefers playing hide and seek with a toy bite.
Sigmund Freud said that times playing with cats are never wasted. Indeed so. Each time I play with my cats, I feel warmth and affection. The feelings I contemplate are what a mother might think of her children because sometimes when I awake in the middle of the night, I see my cats sleep in my arms or lie at my feet.
Little more than kin, and less than kind: Toro and Camille frm L to R
Relationships are a web of connectivity that can be toxic or beneficial. Of my web of relationships, I treasure the ones connected to my team at work and my cats at home.
My new team manager neither scolds me nor drives me to the highest level of stress, which is detrimental to my health, especially the neurological aspects. She gives me the autonomy to perform my tasks at my own pace and style, and I always get the jobs done on time or beforehand. Her liberal management style, blended with concise organizational skills and firm leadership, lets me utilize the best of me in performing my assignments efficiently.
Also, my relationship with my cats Toro and Camille has provided me with emotional warmth and a sense of togetherness, which I find hard to receive from my fellow humans. Toro and Camille are transparent in expressing their emotions and unique in looking into my inner world. They know who I am and greet me when I return home as if they knew about my wrestling with the existential dilemmas and despair from working in the office packaged with favoritism, cliques, and discrimination. My cats are indeed little more than kin and less than kind.
In conclusion, my relationships with the current team manager and my cats have felicitous effects on my continuous ebbs and flows of mood waves as kind nurses tell me that I am doing fine and will do fine.
If you started a sports team, what would the colors and mascot be?
My Softball Team’s Mascots are Toro and Camille from L to R
My softball team would be co-ed, all classes, every race and ethnicity, aged 40 and above, as long as the players can do daily exercise consisting of push-ups, sit-ups, and 2-mile runs (in their own paces) with no serious medical issues.
I am not affiliated with the company 🤗 image creator: Google
It would be a league of amateur sportsmen and women who want to spend their leisure actively and healthily with good, clean fun in the credo of Mans Sana in Coporore Sano (“Healthy Body, Sound Mind”). Therefore, ASICS will sponsor our team’s sporting goods, such as uniforms, shoes, socks, etc.
Camille’s bow tie has it: red, blue, and white ⭐️
Accordingly, the team’s color will be an American tri-color of red, blue, and white, representing Health, Inspiration, and Simplicity consecutively. The mascots will be my two cats, Toro, the Tabby, and Camille, the Puss in Black Boots, symbolizing Fellowship and Sportsmanship successively.
At first, I didn’t like the movie poster, which was too screaming of “HORROR” aimed at the teenage audience. So, I avoided watching it for over a decade since its release in 2009. But for some reason, unbeknownst to me, the movie advertisement kept popping up on Amazon Prime and NetFlix until I clicked on it last week out of curiosity blended with 90% boredom and 10% of my brother’s words to try it. I know I was destined to watch it now that I have watched it.
The movie’s protagonist is Christine, a relatable character, a young woman from a country to Los Angeles, the City of Angels, who wants to build her own life as a successful career woman so that nobody will look down upon her. She is more naive than innocent, with a good heart, if not golden. Nevertheless, she cares about people’s feelings and does not have the iron will to harbor her vengeance against those who insulted her. But sometimes, it’s those little people who get the biggest shoutout. She meets her Waterloo and literally crosses the Rubicon to face the demon. Still, the question echoes: did she deserve the curse? Why is it always that the ones who are good ninety-nine times get picked on and punished without mercy for a one-time fault? What makes them scapegoats for an offense in the eye of the beholder?
The movie’s director is heartless and sarcastic about human nature in the face of reality by being merciless to the protagonist as if he were trying to play God, who he appears to think is remote and unsympathetic to the plight of his children. Otherwise, why does he let things happen to her and do nothing to protect her from evil? Christine might be nervously anxious to prove herself worthy of better opportunities as a single woman away from her not-so-pleasant past, but that cannot be the cause of sinister consequences. She could have loved herself the way she was, and all would have been well. Indeed, we should be kind and attentive to those in need. Still, the politicians and the celebrities with money are evasive of punishments for their wrongdoings because they know they can get away with anything, even from the curse. And I do not pity the spiteful Gypsy woman who drags the meek, not the powerful, to hell.
The stars met in the celestial jar and made me of Fire, Dew, and Spirit. From the jug pours the streams of ideas into the palace of the heart and the dome of the mind. I am Aquarius, whose inspirations from the outside invoke the creative spirit from within. The impulses are like flashes of fancies in a frenzy of visions springing from the mind’s spring as though to be possessed by a jolt of magical madness like the ancient sybil or oracle of Delphi.
Writing is my hobby, and I write best when I feel like doing it without the restraint of perfect grammar or fear of infelicities of expression. Freedom and individuality are the Aquarius, and so I am. I write for leisure, which applies to three facts of Why I Write by George Orwell: (1) Sheer Egotism– I want to let the world know that I am also a practitioner of the witchcraft of writing – particularly in English – that is not a prerogative of the professional writer; (2) Aesthetic Value – The words always fascinate me, and the English language is the most excellent of all because of its richness in vocabulary and diversity in meaning. I want to write English as beautifully as Charlotte Brontë as creative as Wistawa Szymborska, or as heartfelt as Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and (3) Historical Impulse – Writing on my blog and my other off-line writing will be a record of someone who lived this contemporary era that I lived and wrote something which could be attributed to archeological and anthological artifact. Who knows?
Some say depression is their Muse who awakens their creative sphere from within. David Lynch, Jim Morrison of the Doors, and Dolores O’Riordan of the Cranberries believed so. But mine is pleasantness. I don’t want to make a Mephisolean pact to be the most adored writer. I may not be the best or even famous writer or blogger, but I write on my blog because writing as a creative value is the best way to actualize the purpose of living in search of finding who I am. When I am on the ridge, looking over the Pacific Ocean from the top of the Canyon, or watching big airplanes flying the skyways, the Muses whisper in the ear, awakening the dormant spirit yearning for the pep of creative stimulation. Also, my cats Toro and Camille are reliable and the best natural Muses who invoke the creative spirit within me. One day I want to write a short story based on them.
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