Self-Expression vs. Self-Abuse vs. Self-Control

Last night, my cat moe gave me the ultimate snub… she refused to let me scratch her under her chin and went off to find somewhere warm to sleep (i.e. my heated bathroom floor). She is back to following me around the house today, however; for a few hours yesterday, I was seriously worried that I had lost oh-so-valuable cat-love. Though I acknowledge that I am being absurd, I have this sinking feeling that moe abandoned me in my time of need because I was in such a horrid mood myself. And of that horrid mood, a blog post was born.

The great thing about the internet is that it gives us an outlet for our many grievances against the world. We can rant, rave, and generally drive ourselves mad with the ferocity of our anger and grief. Last night I allowed this spirit of e-vengance to get the better of me and in doing so, I lost touch with the parts of myself that make me most proud: humour and resiliency.

When I woke up this morning, I deleted the blog post. Not because it wasn’t worth reading (at least it expressed solidarity with the other people going through the chaos of graduate school admissions) but because it wasn’t in line with the spirit that I try to project here.

So now I have cat-love again (she is currently playing protective lioness at the foot of my chair), and I have friendship (willing to drop everything and stick their tongues out at those rotten, stinky schools that reject me), and I have a support network (which pats me on the back when I need it and kicks me in the butt when I need to get in touch with reality).

Life isn’t so bad this morning. Moe agrees.


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