panterdjuret

And so, I went off on an adventure. I packed my bags, and then I flew away. And, it wasn’t bad. The flying was scary at first, and then… and then it was wonderful.
Kadanina met me at the airport and helped me get to his home. I was confused, happy and still in a state of shock. (In some ways, I suspect I still might be. And still… I feel safe here. I feel.. at home. In a way I have never felt at home, even at home. At least not in a very, very long time. I have felt it at Aiw’s place as well, now and then. But not like this. It feels nice, and safe, and natural.)
Sometimes, I go and sit at the top of the stairs, and look down to the door. And feel safe. Perhaps because it’s a safe place in itself; an almost-cliff where I would have the upper hand on any attacker. Where I would see danger approach. But also, it’s not that simple, even if V really appreciates it.

I feel like I have settled in. Which terrifies me slightly. I am here. And I feel safe here. I have been here for three nights and two days. Soon it will be my third day. But, it feels like I have been here longer. I might be very adaptable, but not like this. I’m usually really twitchy on other people territories. But not here.
I settled right in, in the corner provided. And then I got happy.

Perhaps it is because he’s not a predator, not a threat to me. At least not in such a way. I can feel safe here, because I don’t think he will fight me for food, kill me for my meat, drive me off.. I can feel safe here because we are different, not competing over food or space.
And also, I feel welcome. I feel like I’m wanted. Not just allowed to stay because driving me out would be a bother. But allowed to stay because I’m actually wanted here.

But still, still it is rather strange. Because even when Kadanina is gone, and I’m alone here, I feel safe. I usually don’t feel safe when alone. But I feel surprisingly safe here.
It creeps me out, in a way. Because I usually understand myself very, very well. And I can’t figure this out. I will wonder about it until I do though. Because I find it interesting. And it teaches me a lot about myself.

So far, all is going well. In general, there is no snow, which cheered me up a lot.
It is cold here though. I’m getting used to it.

*

Things are going well.
Still feeling pretty unreal and strange though.
But I am used to that. I don’t mind.

/pao – 6 mar 2010 – 03.38 am (English time, I believe)

(I should go to bed now.)

marrana, marrana, narhile (narhil) nahndaiao.. prandhe, asha narooiao, naii morrhao.. hawsha mitao, mitah ooraiao..
(little cat, little cat, sing the song that belongs to your heart.. listen, the death that belongs to your life, the light that belongs to the dark.. the ash that belongs to the strong, powerful wind, the ash that belongs to the grounds…)

the spring is returning, but it will yet take a while.. but for once, it feels like it can wait…
because now I have hope again.. for a future, with meaning and purpose…

the patterns are clear, once again.. once again marrana’s eyes are clear, and her purpose is known.. once again marrana knows her place.. once again she feels safe in her position, in her capability and knowledge, in her mind.. the patterns make sense again, and they are stronger this time…

marrana, your song is wanted.. marrana, sing!
sing a song for the returning spring, a song of joy for finally seeing it return.. it is in the light, the light has changed.. you can already see it, marrana.. you know what the change of light means.. just another month, and the sun will take over.. every day it grows stronger.. soon, the fire will return…
soon there will be the celebration of fire, a new year, a new start, and life will wake up…

do you see the buds on the trees?
life is not dead, life is but sleeping, dreaming in the cold..
waiting, like you, little cat.

but you, you woke up.. too early.. but what you found was worth it, wasn’t it, marrana?
(it was, it was, it was)

spring is returning.. soon, you can relax, soon there will be food, soon there will be life.. for the sleeping world, and for you.. for all those who sleep, survive, make it through the winter.. for all us who is waiting, restlessly watching the returning light.

sing a song, marrana; a song of fire, of courage, of grief and joy.. you know at least two beings who didn’t make it through this winter; sing for them.. you know pieces of your heart that had to be sacrificed to make it through the winter; sing for them.. you know what you had to leave behind, you know the pain of starvation, how it feels when breathing turns your body to ice.. you know this, so sing it, marrana…

sing a song, marrana; a song of pain and suffering, strength and hope.. the light is returning, little cat.. you can feel it, see it, sense it, but not yet taste it, not yet catch its scent… the winter still freezes your tongue, the air still hurts your lungs when you try to catch breath and sing… but soon…

do not let your guard down yet, marrana..
the cold is still out there, with a soft, white coat and icicle teeth, sharp as knives..
do not fall asleep again during the starvation.. you have woken up too soon, but you have to stay up now..
there is no turning back.. if you wander out there again without a proper shelter, you will die…
but you don’t have to.. you can stay here; stay in their warmth, in their home, in the safe, until spring returns.. you have battled the winter, you have danced in the snow, you have slept and dreamt…
but now you have to return to them, let them warm you until the sun thaw your bones.
it is alright, little cat.

being strong is knowing when you are weak, and accepting it.. accepting your limitations and doing what you can to solve them.. sometimes, that means a bit of help…

marrana, out lady Bastet cannot kill.. our lady Sekhmet cannot create…
both are needed, both the creator and the destroyer..
and Anubis, who sings the dead to rest…

do you remember when you used to sing the dead to rest, little cat?
(who will sing me to rest?)

the fire, the warmth, the food, the patting and the laughter..
do not forget what you have, even when you wander out to do battle with the winter, the storm, yourself, little cat.. remember? you wanted to be free, to be allowed to come and go as you wanted, do you remember, little cat? that they would be there, let you sleep in their arms, let you share their fire, that they would understand when you had to leave, and trust you to return?
to what use is that wish if you walk out the door and forget that they exist?
you have danced with the snow, done battle with the winter, you have starved and you have slept out in the cold.

it is time to return, little cat.
the dream has ended; now it is time to remember.. grieve that which died, which froze, which ended.. the pain, the starvation, the cold…
the dream has ended; now it is time to remember that which you still have…

remember, and return now…

*

now I have to walk off to bed.

the tears are gone for now, and the fire has made me stronger.. the winter made me cold, starved me.. but now I has worn the snow in my hair, adorned myself with jewelery of ice.. now I have dusted my face with ash, and my eyes have life once more…
my clear glass cut my frozen skin, and my blood was still red, still flowing, still warm…
my tears reminded me of the sea…
the pain reminded me of Life.

I am still alive.
I am alive, again.

A part of me died in the fire, and now another part can grow.
We have to know what has to die, and what can be saved.
What is broken beyond repair, what can be mended.

The scars are there.
Time to remember.

*

marrana, marrana, narhile (narhil) nahndaio.. prandhe, asha narooiao, morrh naiiao, naii morrhao..

*

I have songs to sing.
Songs of fire, grief and joy.

/pao – 23 feb 2010 – 06.37 am
(narooio marrana)

I tried to write a ghazal. At the time of trying, I was speaking to friends about how – when I was a younger Pao without friends, when I sat alone in a corner of my room, surrounded by books – I used to feel like I was a dusty, forgotten doll in an old, abandoned library.
I had this mental picture of a small library out in the forest. The roof was made of glass, and had been broken and shattered in places. Thick ivy and vines were taking over, overgrowing the building. The books were wrinkly with age, just like people get. The dust was settling over the place, and the eternal golden autumn sunlight would sift in through the broken glass and growing vines.
And I was a ragdoll, left sitting in a armchair in a corner. Watching the place slowly decay and fall to pieces. The air smelled of old books, autumn, lavender and clove oil.

I miss that place.
I wish I could draw picture of places like that.
.

In an armchair in the golden dusty light
sits a ragdoll forgotten by everyone

The dust settles, gathers on the memories
in the still woods forgotten by everyone

**

After having been quite sick, having a crisis and a lot of crying, being terribly broken and being otherwise in a terrible condition, things are finally looking better again. Tickets to go to England is booked, and I am leaving the third of march. I am still not sure I believe in the existence of aeroplanes, and I keep on forgetting the whole thing. That I am going to fly. Say wooosh. It is rather scary.

Things are getting better, but it is still a rather unstable and fragile thing.

I want to be writing more, here and at the other blog, but I have really not felt well enough.

**

Today, Mothersister is coming over with her kittens. I will have them here, while she and her male renovate and repaint their lair. White paint and black fur does not constitute a winning combination…

**

I find myself missing Second Life. I also want to create First Life clothes for myself. Or buy new ones. And a bag or three. Good, practical, nice bags.

**

I am torn between feeling happy and hopeful, and clawing despair. Content with my life, and hating myself and everything about me.

Tomorrow, I will become twenty-four years old.
What am I doing with my life? If I were to die now, what would my regrets be?
I usually don’t do regret. Regret is not my strong side. I try to not do regrets at all, at least not get new ones. But… I have a few ones now.

Have I done what I could? Have I tried my best? Could I have done things any different?
No. Yes. No. Nothing could have been done differently. A few things might have been able to have been done slightly better. But, I shouldn’t have any regrets. I did the best I could. Didn’t I?
Is that true? Isn’t that true?

I have a nagging suspicion that I really didn’t.

So many things has happened and changed the last year, the last few months, the last few days.
It felt as if I died, and as if I have to find a new life again.

I should do things that I like and enjoy doing.

But it is still so cold. It is still winter. The world is still sleeping, dreaming. But my dreams have all ended, and I woke up to find myself starving again, the world still frozen, no food to find.
No food for my body. No food for my soul. Hambre del alma.
Grammar for my mind, words and patterns for my mind, to distract me. But no dreams. No drawings.
A poem written in patterns, by rules. No feelings.

It’s so cold.

paint the walls with your blood, little cat.. cry your song to the heavens…

***

It is so cold.

Tomorrow, I will be one year older. And in a bit more than two months, the new year will begin. I haven’t needed it this much for several years. But I have a lot of regrets to burn…

/pao – 18 feb 2010 – 21.09

My female is not here. After having finally fallen asleep yesterday (after a lot of talking to my dear Kadanina about Swedish and other languages), I woke up this morning, far too early. First by a terrible nightmare, and then later with a creature sitting on my laptop, staring at me about two inches from my face.

Well, I didn’t do much today, mostly spoke to Kadanina, and dreda, and a male of a friend of my male, and waited for Mothersister to end her shift and come over.

Ate pancakes today, and later fishsticks and egg.

Mothersister came over, I wnet to the door to meet her, bringing New Rat Kadana with me on a lead. Later Mothersister anf I talked a bit. Hugging, discussing small humanlings, being awed and me being awed and impressed by the complexity of placentas…

Then, Kadanina introduced me to another person I am not allowed to hunt. It was alright, I was the best Pao I could. Trembling and nervous and filled with suspicion.

The creatures started saying bad things about her and Kadanina, but I am already too drugged to mind them much..

I have to go to bed now though. Mothrsister is already there, sleeping.

Nightycat
high as a kite
/pao – 10 feb 2010 – 06.05 am

today I got a new rat.. a big, twitchy male rat, who doesn’t like to be held or picked up.. I named him Kadana.. there’s also another rat here at the moment, a female rat with a wound, that I will take care of while her human is in another country over the weekend…

today I actually worked a little with languages.. mostly Latin.. it was very nice…

I worry a lot over my male, but I have no idea how to help him.. I really hope he would come to me and/or tell me if there was something I could do…
I miss him a lot, but I have almost no energy to eat, I don’t get enough liquid.. I can’t visit him… it makes me sad and worried.. but I hope he remembers that he is very loved and very important for a Pao…

*

other than that, I still try to plan for my trip to England.. I don’t count on getting out of this alive.. I don’t trust in aeroplanes.. not even sure if I believe in their existance…

*

besides all that, I really need food..

*

also, I wish my friends could be magically happy and have good lives all of a sudden…

*

Here, since I have nothing interesting to say, have the two last parts of a recent poem I wrote for a friend instead;

And she wears her scars proudly
saying “It’s only pain, it will pass”
and “They remind me of lessons and
things that should never be forgotten”

The scars tell their stories
and whisper in her ears
and she knows deep inside
that most of them could have been avoided
if she would have sometimes accepted
the love and the help of her friends
but she would rather take the fall
all alone and keep the scars
than to call out and reach
for a hand that wasn’t
there for her…

*

Nightycat.

/pao – 05 feb 2010 – 03.57
morrh narhile, marrah imaile

“Without seriousness the body dies, but without playing the soul dies.”
Once upon a time I wrote that, and I believed in it.

And I still do.
Only sometimes, I forget.

***

Vingnut (grey mouse) seems to be singing her last song. Will sleep on the sofa tonight, watching movies, keeping her company.

***

It is very strange.
Life is strange.

/pao – 8 jan 2010 – 04.37

Not only have I been terribly busy, but also physically unable to log in here and update the blog due to chronically misspelling my password. Obviously, that last problem is no more.

Christmas was celebrated with my dear Marrawa’s family/families, and New Year’s Eve with Marrawa and Narraiao.

I got many nice gifts. I felt very loved. I have bought whisky. I have a laptop again. I am terribly tired.
I have made a very unplanned and fun trip to my abban in the North.

***

bring him to me without bruise nor scar / white as snow / clean and whole / with fear not dulled off by drugs / and I shall mark his body with claw and knife / cut my name deep into his flesh / and make him cry / and make him tremble / all for me / all for me…

***

The old cockroaches are dying off, but they are old. So it’s not unexpected of them. Still it is a bit sad, and makes me a bit melancholic.

They just slow down and stop. Like wind-up mechanical toys. Slow down and stop, with legs gently folded to their sides as if they were just sleeping.
Just stopping.

***

I am going to England. Hopefully I will know when soon. But it scares me. Can I do it? Can I do this? Can this go well? I think it can go well. And that also scares me.

What to do? What will it become of Pao?

***

I have read a lot of Latin. I am very happy. The patterns are clearer now, and the edges less fuzzy. And yet, I have no one to test out my theories on. I have one, but I can’t bring myself to. Not yet.

Soon, perhaps, but not right now.

***

Now, rest.

The winter is beautiful and deathly cold outside the windows,
and the tea in the mug in my paws is warm.
.

/pao – 02 dec 2010 – 17.05

I remembered today that I am a child of the winter. I had forgotten how beautiful snow was, and how little the cold chills me.

This day (last day) was wonderful.

/pao – 16 dec 09 – 07.33

for three days, i have had an empty wordpad document open.. ready, if i should decide to write anything, listen to me if i should decide to speak…

but all i say, i say to them..
no words left for myself…

Mothersister was over last night.. she held me in her arms and spoke of hunting, with her soft voice filled with love.. wrapped up in her arms I found comfort, rest and warmth.. my dear Mothercat, speaking to me, her kitten, of things I had forgotten.. a mother cat telling her kitten about the joy of the hunt, the taste of blood, the sound of suffering.. and I told her things I hadn’t been able to tell anyone in a while.. wrapped up in her arms with her soft voice in her head, speaking to me at my level, it felt like a dream…
a wonderful, restful, peaceful dream…
soothing, calming, slipping over me like something cool, something fresh.. Calming.

and I snapped my teeth together and grinded them as if severing some poor prey’s spine, and sometimes I extended my claws.. and her soft voice in my head was just like a dream.. speaking of death and violence and pain and tears, lovingly…

And now I feel a lot better.
I will probably sleep good this night too.

/pao – 13 dec 09 – 05.08

i was supposed to write, but i can’t bring myself to.. too much pain, too little energy.. i have lovely music to listen to, but everything seems wrong.. they are not the songs i have in my head…

physical pain, mental pain.. hunger (starvation?) and clawing despair.. i tried to sleep, but the nightmares came.. listened to music and cried as dreda made food…

how can it hurt so much? how can i be able to have so much pain in me?
i am not eating much.. i ate some cheeseburgers today.. but i am not drinking much either.. it is hard to keep my head up, to keep myself warm.. and when i get cold there is just even more pain, and i get awfully tired…

i began a project.. a big one.. i am still thinking about how to do it the best way possible, practically speaking.. because i am a masochist who tries to manipulate pictures in ms pain(t).. because i never learn…

i feel so cold.. and lonely.. i bet that even if i set myself on fire, i would still die cold.. and the salamanders would probably not want to hug me… (i am not sure if salamanders finds paos attractive..)

i have this very, very bad idea about taking a cold shower and go out to sleep on the balcony and freeze to death.. but it is not a good idea.. and O reminds me of that.. as soon as I bring it up…
no hypothermia for pao…

i do not want to go to england.. i am not sure it is anything but a desperate attempt to flee.. flee from what? the winter? the fear? the despair? i cannot flee from myself.. i will be as depressed and sad and desperate there as I am here.. probably even more so…
because, even if I have been there, many years ago, it is too far into the past.. england would be a new place.. with new people.. new houses.. new routines.. new food…
perhaps i would be too overloaded to be depressed.. perhaps.. but i am fairly sure i am very capable of sitting in a corner, being quite sad…
(i am always in corners, being sad.. sometimes new corners.. but always the same sadness…)

it doesn’t matter…

i miss kopparberg.. i want to go back there.. only, that i don’t.. i never want to set a paw there ever again… but i miss the forests.

i miss my boulder.. i miss my howling song.. i miss the clear, human-created lake…

*

“under the rose bush / in the crystal clear autumn / i made him a bed of feathers.. / i put up the white ribbons / and laid his body to rest.. / i lovingly covered him with a blanket of leaves / then i left him, never to return again…”

*

will it ever end? will it ever stop hurting? there is joy and happiness too; there is love and there is laughter, but the pain never goes away.. is it supposed to be like this?
it is breaking me. again and again and again…
every single time it claws my lungs to bloody ribbons and i cannot breathe because of the pain..
how long will it hurt?

*

also, i feel fat.. i look fat.. but i know i cannot possibly be.
i am constantly hungry, but no food can chase it away.. so, there is no point eating.. (O – “But there is. You are hungry just because you do not eat enough. You have to eat more. You should eat more.”)

i am supposed to be the human one of us, right? a human, a pantherlike feline, and the grey pantherlike thing with wings.. so why am i the one who wants to hunt and bury my teeth and claws in a soft, twitching body?
shouldn’t that be V’s job?

*

time to sleep and face the nightmares..

*

/pao – 10 dec 09 – 02.12