Hello, my name is Otis.

I live with my new mom now. She was nice enough to pick me to come and live with her out of all the other kitties at the Edmonton Humane Society. The people there were really nice, but having a mom and mom of my own is even better. We're not sure how old I ma, because my papers say that I'm 2 years and nine months, but that my birthday us January 23, 2008, which would make me three. I guess me mom has to decide how old she wants me to be.

Obviously, I am a boy, and I have pale ginger tabby fur mixed in with while spots and big amber eyes. I look kind of like my big sister Milo, who was not pleased to see me when I got here! She hissed and growled whenever I came out, which made me very nervous, so I spent a lot of my first few days under one of the beds, or under the basement stairs. Mom didn't like that very much because she had no way to check on me to see if I was okay. Eventually, I can up and had some dinner when everyone else had gone to bed. I was just so overwhelmed by everything that had happened.

Earlier, at the shelter, they were having a big adoption event to try and find as many kitties furever homes as possible, so the nice ladies at the desk all the wonderful volunteers were doing their best to make sure that everyone got all the help they needed to take their new family members home as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, this meant that a bunch of us ended up on cardboard carried behind the desk while our paperwork was finishing up. I do not like confined spaces and managed to break my way out of the carried, so they had to find a stronger one for me. I was so upset. I didn't know what was going on. I'm sure you can imagine: being taken out of my big, warm kitty room (where my mom happened to be cuddling me) and put into a dark box surrounded by other kitties in boxes? It was very confusing.

My mom tried to calm me down as much as she could before she started to drive, but I just didn't like being locked up! I could tell how worried she was when got stuck in traffic on the way home. She let me out when I started biting at the metal bars on the carried, and I happily jumped in the back and went to sleep. It was very reassuring to here her telling me what I good boy I was, and how I was doing such a good job.

Then the car stopped behind a house, and I started panicking again. Mom tried to put me back in the box, but I wouldn't go, so she picked me up and hugged me to her chest but my flight reflex kicked in and a made a break for it. I dug my claws in a little too hard trying to get away and hurt her quite badly :-(. She managed to catch me before I could hide under the neighbors shed and we made it into the house. I didn't get the nice, calm introduction to my sister we were all hoping for because mom had to tend to the blood from the scratches I gave her.

Milo sniffed me while I sat there, afraid of this big new space and all the new smells. I didn't know what I should do, so I just let her growl and hiss until I could find a good place to hide. Eventually, mom got me to come out from under the bed with a little catnip and she showed me where everything is: food bowl, water fountain (one of my favourite things), litter boxes and all the cat approved places to sleep. They have delicious kibble here, and I can't seem to get enough.

Milo was a little grumpy for a while, but we're getting along better now. Mom put my old collar from the shelter on her so she could get more used to my smell and I think that it helped a lot. She likes to groom me when I have the patience for it, and sometimes we sleep near each other, but I'm still kind of a loner. I sleep on top of the bed now so mom can find me, and I can even be enticed to chase a ribbon. I didn't like being put back in a carrier to visit the vet, but once I was in the exam room, I was perfectly well behaved, and the vet said I'm doing great.

I do have a case of the sniffles and a bit of a cough, so I'll probably have to go and see him again next week to make sure that everything is okay. Mom has been fussing over me and making sure that I'm eating a drinking enough. It's nice to have someone who cares so much, and who loves giving me cuddles and pets and cheek rubs whenever I want. I like following her around and letting her know when I'm ready to be loved. All it takes is a little meow and she knows what I need. She's a great mom and I'm happy that I'm part of this family.

I have a dad too, but he doesn't live here so I don't get to see him all the time, but I love his voice. Whenever I here him, I come from wherever I've been sleeping to say hello, and when he has to go home, my new favourite place to sleep is on his pillow. I think that makes me mom a little jealous, but she should know that I love her the most.

My grandma and grandpa are pretty great too. Apparently, Grandpa doesn't like cats, but I couldn't tell. He was very nice to me. The both were, petting me and telling me how handsome and sweet I was. I think I lucked out with these people. I feel right at home.

Notes on an Epiphany

I never thought that I would actually be at peace with myself. I was mistaken.

For so long, I've been trying to get to a place where I am really comfortable with myself. I wanted to know where I was going, when I was going to get there and how everything was going to turn out. I needed a schedule, a plan. I needed to be able to open up a map and see everything laid out for me or I felt panicked. I felt like I was behind everyone else that I knew. I felt like I hadn't accomplished anything with my life and that everything up until that point had been for nothing.

Because I had this grand scheme for myself, if anything, anything at all, went wrong, I was devastated. I didn't know how to handle it and I needed to do everything in my power to get things back on course. I would push to get things back where they needed, in my eyes, to be, even if that wasn't what was best for everyone involved. I needed to have the plan. My life was ticking away without me, and nothing was getting done.

Eventually, I started to realize how wrong things had become. No, wrong is too harsh a word. Things were incorrect. My life had, at point, the potential to be right, but things had gone off course and become, like I said, incorrect. I started seeing that and knew that I had to do something about it, even if it hurt, even if it tore everything I had been hoping for to shreds. So, I threw out the plan and started everything again.

It was terrible. It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do and believe me, that is saying something. Since that moment, things have been up and down. It seems like a lot more up than down most of the time, but I have been able to live with that because of one thing: I am finally at peace with myself and my life.

It was blindingly simple. I woke up one day and realized that I was trying too hard. I'm sure many other people for many years have been coming to this same conclusion, but for me it was like walking turning off the pain centre in my brain during a migraine. I saw that I had been trying too hard to get things the way I wanted them to be, and that was stopping me from living and being who I was. Yes, that statement is covered in cheese, but that doesn't stop it from being true.

I've stopped trying. My life will come to me as it comes. I know that now. I will find what and who I need in due time. Right now, I'm happy. I'm content. I wouldn't change anything.

The Un-named Tale, Part Two

"Hello. I knew you'd be back."

It wasn't a voice like you would expect a snake to have, Lyna thought, all slithery and hissy. It was instead very precise and sharp on the edges, kind of like the jewels that covered it. "I wasn't sure, of course, but I did hope. You seemed very promising."

Raimy was transfixed. He had moved a few steps closer to the creature, arms limp and mouth hanging a little askew. He was just about to take another step when Lyna realized the Ruby Snake had been addressing itself to him the entire time, and looking straight into his eyes. With a gasp, she grabbed her brother's arm and yanked him back, clasping her hands over both his eyes.

"Stop that, right now! I know what you're doing." The snake turned it's gaze on her, and she swallowed. "We're not country folk around here, you know, and we know all about you. I'll have none of your tricks!" As soon as the snake had turned to her, she had slightly averted her gaze so as not to look directly in it's eyes, but so as not to appear rude. You don't want to upset a snake, no matter it's size. It seemed the creature had realized this, because it made a sound that was suspiciously like a laugh.

"Afraid of a snake charm, are we?" It chuckled again. "No need to fear, little Lyna. I'm a boy charmer, and you are certainly not a boy."

At this, Lyna's head came up. "Boy charmer? There's no such thing. There are snake charmers, but not boy or man charmers. They don't exist."

The snake smiled indulgently. "Then why did you feel the need to protect your brother just now?"

"Ruby Snakes have the ability to charm everyone, lull them into a false sense of security."

"Well, I'm doing a rotten job of that with you. No, I am a boy charmer. And as for snake charmers, they're all frauds. The snakes are in league with them. They just go along with the act and get fed and well cared for, with a warm place to sleep. Not a bad deal, if you think about it. Now," and it nodded towards Raimy, "are you going to let him go?"

"Oh!" She had been so absorbed in the snake that she hadn't realized her brother trying to pull her hands off his face. She released him, only to get a swift kick in the shins.

"I told you, Lyna, I told you! There's a Ruby Snake! It's..." He cut himself short, turned around, and stared. "It's right there."

"Hello, Raimy," said the snake.

"Hello, snake," said Raimy.

"My name is Wistal, and I need you to do something for me."

"Sure." He was starting to get that dopey eyed look again, so Lyna put her arm around him to let him know that this was still the real world.

"I need you to pull all the power of your knowing and push it at me. That way, my snake charms won't work on you. Can you do that?"

"All of it?" He got this look on his face like someone had deliberately asked him to track mud into the house. "Really? It won't... hurt?"

"Not a lot. Now, concentrate... and push." Wistal stood up so it's soft belly was exposed. Raimy stood right in front of it, his little hands balled into fists and just stared, but the intensity on his face was like nothing Lyna had ever seen before. Of course, she had no idea what any of that had meant, but Raimy certainly had, and she was just going to have to...

Her thoughts were struck dumb. Raimy's light as sand hair had started to glow, and in almost the same instant there was a thump in the ground, as if someone had struck it with the biggest hammer in their father's forge. The glow surrounded Wistal, was absorbed, and was gone.

Wistal slumped to the ground, panting for breath. Raimy, back to his normal self, rushed to her. "No, Raimy, stay away from it!"

"Her, Lyna. It's a girl. And she's going to be very tired for a while."

"That's well and good, but it wouldn't be tired if you hadn't... hadn't... what was that? Your knowing? Your power? I don't understand."

Wistal raised her head from where it had been resting in her brother's lap. "I can explain it all to you, after I sleep. For now, let me tell you this. I have been looking for your brother for a long time."

The Un-named Tale, Part One

"I don't believe you." The look of skepticism was plain as peaches on Lyna's face. Her younger brother was making up stories all the time, and there was no reason to start believing him now.

"I'm telling you, I saw it! By the brook! In the bushes!" Raimy had a tendency to shout when he was excited. "Come and look! The tracks will still be there. It's not like you're doing anything important with your time. You're a girl!"

"Girls have important things to do too, you know." His eyebrows rose, clearly unconvinced. Apparently, cooking food and learning (or pretending to learn) how to tend house was not as important as pretending to hunt and getting into trouble. "Fine, I'll look. But if you're lying..."

Raimy stuck his tongue out. "I don't lie! You just don't see what I see, is all." This was a common line of his. He never lied to anyone. They just didn't see things the way he did, and that was their fault, not his. Turning on his heel, he started away from the back of their house.

It was a middling house in the middle of  Cullough, a middle sized town in the middle of the country of Penchram. Lyna often thought that she was always going to be stuck in the middle of everything, with no way out, but there was nothing wrong with her family's life, really. The house had two floors with a room for her parents and each of the children, a kitchen and a sitting room, and even a bath house in the back of the garden. Cullough even had a wooden wall around the outside, although if anyone ever thought to attack it they could just burn it down. That's what Raimy said he would do, as if he knew so much about attacking towns.

Out the gate Lyna followed her younger brother, watching his sandy head bob up and down the way it did when he was excited. He was the only one in their family with hair like that. Everyone else was dark, and on days like today, with the sun shining off it, she noticed it especially. "Not so fast! You'll trip in the ruts!" With an annoyed look over his shoulder at her, he slowed to keep pace. They were only two years apart, but sometimes it felt like decades. Twelve was so much more mature than ten. "Which brook was it? The north or south?"

"You know they only like the south! Come on!" He grabbed her arm and pulled her onto the main road, which was paved with round river stones, hurrying past all the shops and the South Gate Inn. They hurried left off the road and into the sparse forest. It seemed unusually quiet.

"Where are all the animals, Raimy? I don't like it. We should get father."

"No, we're here now and father is at the forge. Besides, you said you would come and look." He pulled her farther under the trees to where they could see the brook that ran just of the town and across the road. It's twin ran just outside the North Gate. "Look, just going into those bushes. See the slither marks?"

"That could be from anything. Someone dragging a big branch to the water."

"Then where are the footprints? And how come there are no broken branches?" He had a point, but she didn't like it. "Go look in the leaves. You'll see. It glints in the light, but be quiet."

Lyna froze. It glints in the light? They were supposed to be looking at tracks, not... "You mean it's still here? Are you mad? Everything we've ever been told about them says they're dangerous! I can't believe this! I'm going to..." That's when the bushes started to rustle and Lyna realized she had been shouting. Even Raimy's eyes had grown to the size of ripe apples. A huge, long shape was rising off of the ground, shafts of sunlight glinting on the jewels covering it's back.

Raimy had been right. There was a Ruby Snake by the South Brook, and it was staring right at them. What they didn't expect was for it to speak.

Sexually Transmitted Chocolate

My mind has been taking a really warped turn today. I was thinking about how much I love chocolate, and the old adage, "We always love the things that are bad for us," popped into my head. Chocolate, in itself, isn't bad for you. Sure, if I ate the amount of M&Ms I consume on a trip to Vegas or Ottawa on a regular basis I'm sure they would eventually be detrimental to my health, but I do try to metre my intake. I think the word "bad" has gotten a little blown out of proportion.

This is how I was thinking: Herpes is bad for me, and I definitely don't love it or ever want it. So is cancer, and I'm not going to send the cancer fairy a Christmas card. Maybe "blown out of proportion " is the wrong phrasing. Maybe it's just one of those things that has a lot of grey area. Eating a lot of fast food is bad. That's one end of the scale. Coming into contact with the flesh eating bacteria in a scummy pond while you have a scrape on your leg is also bad. That's the other end, and there are so many levels in the middle that it can seriously mess with you if you actually took the time to stop and think about it.

Why did I go off on this tangent this morning? I have no idea. Not many people would make the leap from eating too much chocolate to STIs (unless they happen to use chocolate in the bedroom a lot, which I don't.) However, in the future, I will definitely think twice (or more) before I eat candy off a stranger.

A Day of Dim Views

There are three hours of my life today that I can't remember. Not because I was asleep, or drunk, or stoned, but because I was knocked unconscious. My blood vessels contracted and cut off blood flow to the left side of my brain and that caused me to fall and hit my face on my coffee table. I don't know exactly what happened or I would tell you, but the smack to the face erased it from my mind.

Sure, I have a chronic illness, but I don't want your sympathy for it. I'm just frustrated, and I need to put it in writing. My brain loses blood, I lose the ability to speak and move the right side of my body, and I get helpless. Obviously, no one wants to feel that way. When it happens (and I'm awake for it) I get to lie on the floor and try to find a way to get to my phone with my good arm and call for help. Most people jokingly say that they can't live without their cell phones, but in my case it's a harsh reality. I used to have one of those medic alert buttons. You remember the commercials with the little old lady saying, "I've fallen and I can't get up." That was me, only I'm in my twenties and I felt like a fool having to wear a call button around my neck twenty-four hours a day.

At my age, dependency on anyone but myself is painful. Having to sit on the couch and watch my mother clean my house because I can't hurts me. Most people think something like that would be awesome, but when you have no other choice, when you have to be a burden on your family, it gets to be really hard. I can't really trust my body to do what it's supposed to. I don't think that I'll ever be able to live without prescription medications, and the thing that really gets me about the pills is that even though I swallow a handful of them twice a day it only makes things manageable, not better.

I know I'm not the only one living through something like this. I wish that I was, because it sucks. On the other hand, I wish I had someone who knew exactly what it was like that I could talk to. It feels like those are the two halves of me, left and right, always in opposition. The half that works and the half that doesn't. And, in spite of all my deep wells of frustration and flashes of hopelessness, I remain an optimist. This is the worst thing that's happened to me so far. Three hours of unintentional napping. I have survived falling down numerous flights of stairs, in the shower and bath tub, outside, in narrow hallways and holding boiling pots of liquid, and I've come through it all unscathed. There must be something that I'm doing right if this is the first major injury in all these years.

I will be here, attempting to write each day, sick or not, and I promise: I will try to keep it more sunshine than rain.

Where has all my potential gone?

Do you ever get the feeling that you've lost an important part of yourself? That happens to me every time I sit down at a key board or pick up a pen and paper. I used to be able to write like a fiend. The words would just flow from my brain to my fingers and people would be awed. Now, I get nothing.

The plan was to be the next great fantasy writer, and I can barely get out a decent blog entry. It's not drivel. It's readable. The spelling is good without having to use a spell checking program. The grammar is relatively easy to digest. It's just lacking a certain... wow factor. I don't think that I could walk into an English class and dance out with a 98% like I used to be able to do. That makes me sad. I've gone stagnant, kind of like that rain water that just ends up sitting in the ditch beside the highway. It was good water at one point, but as soon as it ended up at the side of the road, not so much.

My brain needs flexing. That's what it is. I just need to get on here, write my fingers raw and be the writer I know is in here. I need to be aware that some of it is going to be bad. There is a high probability that no one is going to read any of this, and that's okay. The important thing is to get the potential back to the surface. Potential doesn't dissipate, I don't think. You just forget you have it.