Kat’s Pause 

Tonight my family said goodbye to Jessie, our cat of fourteen years. She was strong and independent even in her last few months until cancer finally caused her too much suffering for one kitty to put up with. We brought her to the same place we took Della two years ago, and my mother commented that it felt like we’d been there just last week.

Twilight is an only cat now, and I’m sure the attention won’t help her temperament. She was nicer back when she was grateful that we took her in; now she’s getting spoiled because she knows I’ll love her anyway, feistiness and all.

(Title is from my hands-down favourite GH2 bonus track, “Radium Eyes.”)

Today was an atrocious sales day for Mariposa. I did what I could, but the manager calling me four times to check up made me worry the dismal sales were my fault. My recent less-than-stellar new employee evaluation didn’t help.

The truth is, I’m not that great at retail. It simply isn’t my domain. I’m an introverted, sarcastic artist, not a pushy salesgirl with enough energy to power a small city. I can’t get past my belief that, like me, customers who walk in don’t care a whit what Suzy Salesgirl thinks looks good on them, and frankly, I don’t know what looks good on them. Nobody has sat me down and told me what styles suit what body types or explained the benefits of certain fabrics over others. I’m a quick learner when I’m being taught, but I can’t conjure knowledge out of the store’s musty air.

That said, I’m not content to sit in the store for eight hours collecting a paycheck. I may not be used to trying (I generally avoid things for which I don’t show immediate aptitude), but I genuinely want to be good at my job, if only because better sellers get more hours — which of course is fair. If I suck, they shouldn’t keep me on staff. I just want her to know that I am trying. Also, I love money.

But then I realize I’m due for a visit from the Tragic Clown, and cripes, nobody wants that.

Sick with what I hope is a cold contracted from my sister and not strep throat from my colleague. I started getting a sore throat last night, and I woke up this morning to the joy of underused-muscle pain and a low-grade fever that made me achy all over. Mobility is torture. Stillness is heaven. My hair is fluffy and fun to pet. (Pictures eventually, I promise.)

I called in to work to ask if it was busy there; I was only scheduled in for three hours, so missing it wasn’t a big deal. I played some Sims for a distraction, then moped around for a while before hauling my sore arse off the couch for some Guitar Hero against my sister’s obnoxious boyfriend. I whooped his bum quietly and happily before practicing Rock This Town on expert, something I’d abandoned since before exams. My fingers were whimpering for a break on Slow, so I gave up.

Tomorrow my friend is coming down to play GH2 because it is sadly lacking in his life. I’ll try my best to keep my germs to myself.

My foray into the foreign land of Exercise continues. The brother-in-law took me out to play squash today for about an hour. I perspired for the first time in… actually, I don’t remember ever perspiring. Having always been the puny kid in class who’s afraid of the big bad ball, these are all new and strange experiences for me.

Chris (not to be confused with Mori) has been bugging me to play squash for a while, but given my sad history with aerobic sports, I was hesitant. As it turned out, I thoroughly enjoyed myself and despite my body’s protests, I can’t wait to do it again. The chest pains that bothered me when we finished have ceased now that my poor heart has had some rest. I had hoped to go climbing with Mori today, but my body won’t hear of it. It wants me to play The Sims or something. I’m obliging it for now because it served me pretty well today, no pun intended; Chris said I took to the game very well. He goes several times a week, so it would be great to make this a regular thing.

Exercise has always been purely a matter of motivation for me. When I was younger and noticeably underweight, I was afraid it would rob me of what precious body fat I had. After bidding goodbye to gym class in grade 9, I figured that was the last I’d ever see of the dreaded huff-and-puff. I slowly got older and healthier weight-wise until I knew it would probably be good for me to move around a little, get my insides in better shape, but it felt impossible to start something so foreign. I started playing a little tennis with my dad, who is not blessed with my sky-high metabolism, but I got tired awfully fast so it wasn’t any fun. Then this past year brought health problems which, as I was constantly reminded, would benefit from exercise. I don’t think I have to explain how exercise is the absolute last thing a sick, depressed university student wants to do. I swore I would start going to Laurier’s gym, it being free and all, but to my shame, I didn’t go once all year. By exams season I’d accepted that exercise would simply never be a part of my life.

When I returned to Hamilton, I started rekindling things with Mori, and he expressed interest in my forsaken hobby of wall-climbing. Hurrah! We went, it was fun, and then I was sore for days. That would not do.

We decided to make climbing a regular event, and I was surprised at how quickly I improved. It was encouraging to wake up the morning after with functional limbs, rather than four deadweights attached to my torso. I started lifting my mother’s little 5-pound dumbbell occasionally, while watching TV or just out of boredom. My long-neglected violin muscles are starting to peep out again, to my dismay — I want the strength without the bulk. Bulging biceps look absolutely ridiculous on my twig arms.

Now to do something about my squishy tummy.

It didn’t come bundled with anything, but it was $10 cheaper than what I’d seen elsewhere, so hurrah. I’m still playing on the borrowed one for now. Rebuilding my little Mii’s sports stats is not something I’m looking forward to. Perhaps in the future, Miis will be more portable. Eh, Nintendo? It’s never too soon to start improving on your console, darling though it may be.

I’m trying to make use of the exercise opportunities in Wii sports. The little bit of boxing training I did today was fun, and probably useful the next time I’m facing Kathrin’s smug face in the ring. She is my nemesis and I will destroy her. As soon as I learn how to throw a left hook.

I forgot to post this a little while ago when I wrote it.

—

We climbed onto the roof of a laundromat
and watched the city writhe
under redandblue police car glow.
The ghetto was romantic, then
when we had plans to escape.
The city was supposed to be temporary.
You liked horses and I liked space;
we talked of a farm, grass, woods,
alone together.
Dreams were easy, then,
when we were young enough to keep them safe in
plastic knapsacks.
Why waste our faculties worrying
when there were trees to climb,
rinks to skate, songs to dance to?
Happiness was simple, then,
because there would always be
trees and skating rinks and danceable songs
and kittens were a blessing, not
a nuisance.

Maybe we stayed in the city too long
and it grew up around us like ivy,
refusing to let us go.

On my balcony now,
between the background music of
car horns, child wails, cat brawls,
I hear an old promise to
get out.
I realize that I still remember
your phone number,
though you live elsewhere now.
Perhaps your balcony looks not on
parking lots and chain-link fences
but on endless green,
and you are smiling.

Working in a shopping mall has its perks. Yesterday on my break I popped into EB Games to ask if they were getting any Wiis in soon. The nice man behind the counter told me to call the store in the morning because they’d probably get a shipment in. I slept in this morning so I called them during a slow (read: dead) time at work and it turns out they have 12 Wiis to sell. Joy! Now I’m trying to talk my mother into paying for part of it since she intends to make use of it. In the meantime, I’m considering just adding it to my already-healthy Visa bill before they all get snapped up and worrying about paying for it later. Aren’t credit cards fun?

My desperation regarding possession of the system has been dulled as of late by my brother-in-law’s generosity in lending us his for an absurdly long time. I (and a few choice friends of mine) have been happily satiated with Wii Sports and Smooth Moves. Resisting Twilight Princess has been hard, but having already started a game on his system months ago, I know the sheer anguish of playing it only intermittently, and I’m keenly aware that this Wii’s rightful owner might whisk away his console at any moment.

As it stands now, lust for Zelda is my primary incentive for purchasing a Wii. Though it saddens me to say it, waiting as long as I — and many others — have for the game has calloused my excitement. I’ve been actively avoiding anything TP for a while, at first to keep my appetite subdued when it was impossible to gratify, and now out of fear of spoilers. Hence I can comfortably and honestly say that I can stand to wait a little longer if it ensures that my TP experience is nothing less than excellent.

Finally — a few days ago. This is the last you’ll see of my hair for a while.

The quest to change my legal name into a suitable pen name continues. My dilemma is that I want Katherine (a variation on my legal middle name) as a first name and Kelly (my mother’s maiden name) as a surname, but I dislike the cutesy alliteration of Katherine Kelly. One possible solution is the introduction of a middle name, for which I was considering Sarah, but KSK isn’t that much better than KK, and I don’t want to be known by Katherine Sarah to prevent people from forgetting the S of KS Kelly.

My biggest problem is that I can’t choose a name arbitrarily. I don’t want to have to create meaning from randomness; it wouldn’t feel like people are speaking to me when they address me. So I’m stuck with names that are already connected to me — Katherine from Catherine, Kelly from my mother. I considered Audrey for a middle name because I love Miss Hepburn and it’s my favourite female name, but KAK is not a pleasant acronym.

At this point, I’m considering just gritting my teeth and accepting Katherine Kelly as the best choice despite the double K. Ideally, I want my pen name to be in the format of Initial Initial Surname, e.g. AA Kelly, but I haven’t found anything I like to replace the S if I’m going with K_ Kelly.

I owe it to myself not to apologize for my long absence. Dealing with my problems will always take precedence over online journalling. That said, it’s time for an update on what I’ve been doing.

Effexor didn’t work out so well, and after putting up with its side effects and lack of results for six weeks, I’ve been advised to gradually switch to Cipralex. The psychiatrist I saw told me it could help with some of my OCD symptoms as well as the GAD and (according to his diagnosis) dysthymia with episodic depression. They want me to start seeing the local counsellor too, something I’m not looking forward to given my lack of success with therapy so far and my reluctance to detail my life story yet again.

I broke up with Chris because this isn’t a good time for me to be in a relationship. I’m still trying to sort things out with Ning, whose unpredictable behaviour has been giving me a headache lately. On a much brighter note, Chris and I are now certified to belay, which is very exciting. We went climbing last night and I’m making real progress with the slopers that were killing me before, although one 5.8 wall is proving difficult. I’m at a significant disadvantage as a climber because I’m short (5′2) and so my limbs simply don’t extend as far as others’. I’m trying to compensate for it with muscle power and stubbornness, but I worry about how far I’ll be able to go. Less of an issue is my body’s fear of heights — my palms are sweating just thinking about climbing — which gets annoying when I’m several stories high hanging from little rocks. Chalk has become my best friend.

Yesterday, after months of deliberation, I got my hair cut very short. I’ll take a picture soon — I’m long overdue for a new DA ID anyway. The style is half-pixie, half-punk, very low-maintenance, and I like it a lot. I don’t think I’ll keep it short forever, but this is fun for now.

On August 1, I’ll be going to see Muse with Chris and Dave. This will be my first concert and I’m rather excited, mostly because I love every song from their latest album. Thanks to the magic of Ticketmaster and credit cards, our tickets have already arrived at my house, so now it’s just a matter of trying not to overplay Muse while I wait.