Cats and Insomnia

I'm wide awake at almost two in the morning after two hours of trying to sleep at a friend's house. Luckily she has two very friendly cats to keep me company, as well as a TV but she's sleeping so I'm not going to pop in Little Miss Sunshine, much as I'd like to. One cat, Conan, is particularly fond of sitting or lying on me, though he seems to find my ribs quite a mystery and was clawing at them through my shirt until he got bored and took a nap.

Cats are such good company. I want a cat. They're selfish, quiet, and slink around the house doing not much at all. Like me at home. Of course they demand occasional attention, like me, and even sometimes like to be cuddly, like me. The only reason God didn't make me a cat is because I love chocolate and have mild caffeine addiction so if I were a cat I'd be dead. Some things were never meant to be.


May I have your attention please?

Earlier this week, I had little else to do and so I was bitching out thinking refelctively about how nobody listens to me or cares what I have to say. Then I started listening to myself (including reading old hidden journal entries on my xanga) and I realized that maybe it's for the better. I mean, holy mackerel, I'm such a whiny teenager, making it seem like I have these insurmountable life problems when really I know and have always known that I've got it pretty damn good. Most days I'm pleased/content with myself and what I do but on the occasional off-days I make it seem like the world is imploding.

So to the people who listen to me, thanks, and I admire pity am impressed with you for continuing to do so. And to the people who don't, good idea.