I’d encounter dogs every now and then, but I didn’t understand what they wanted from me with their sniffing and licking and growling. I had very little contact with cats.

So when I started dating C. in 2005, I was introduced to my first cat. Catface was a beautiful, prissy cat who liked to play mind games with humans. It was hard not to like Catface, even though she wasn’t exactly friendly.

When C. moved in with me, we decided to do something together: We went to the human society to get a kitten. This was a huge step for me, as I never thought I’d own a pet, much less actively try to find a pet. But I think my affection for new creatures was growing.

If I remember correctly, there were a few kittens at the human society that fateful day, but we thought the ginger tabby looked the cutest. We sat down in the room with the little guy, who promptly extended his claws, walked up my arm, and across my shoulders, nuzzling against the back of my neck.

He was the one.

In those early days, Biddy (rather, he was named Baby Bok Choy back then) would sleep on my chest or between C. and me. He considered us his parents, I like to think.

As much as I loved him from day one, I wasn’t the perfect father. This little guy has drawn my ire quite a few times. The time that stands out from the rest was when I settled down with a hot dog one Saturday afternoon. I got up to get something to drink, and within a few seconds, Biddy had dragged the hot dog from its bun onto the floor.

I overreacted. I grabbed Biddy by the scruff of the neck and slid him across the room, way too forcefully. I look back and cringe at what could have happened to him had he hit the wall at the wrong angle. C. was terrified and scared, and we ended up hugging it out, both of us crying. I realized that even in anger, I needed to connect to some element of compassion and tenderness–not just with Biddy, but with everyone.

When C. and I broke up, she offered me Biddy, saying, “He likes you more.” I don’t know about that, but it was good to hear, and I came to enjoy having Biddy as the only creature to greet me when I came home. He would take me around the condo and show me things–the leaves on the balcony, the ball he pushed too far under the sofa, his food and water bowls. We’d play and cuddle and wrestle, and I’d give him a few bites of my human food at dinner. He became a companion of sorts.

One of the worst things I’ve had to do was give Biddy up for a few months while I lived in a different apartment and rented out my condo. The man who took care of him owned a number of cats, and although he loved them, he wasn’t the best at feeding them. I visited Biddy the first week, but it was so hard to bare that I didn’t see him again for another month and a half. When I saw him again, he came scampering to the door–somehow he remembered me. I could barely recognize him, though. In just under two months, he had lost at least four pounds. I was shocked and scared, and it took every fiber in my being to not scoop him up and take him away that day. Fortunately, my friends Jay and Erin were able to take him in two days later, and I moved back into my condo with Biddy later that week.

Now it’s just me and him. Two bachelors enjoying the good life.

I know it’s a little weird for a 29-year-old man to care about his cat and talk about him the way I do, but I wanted to share this journey with you for a reason. I grew up without a place in my heart for animals. I almost scorned the very idea of owning a pet, like that was something people did if they weren’t able to connect with other people.

Boy was I wrong. I feel like there is so much more love in me because of Biddy. Because of him, I’ve learned things about compassion, tenderness, unconditional love, and dependency that I otherwise never would have known. He’s a good cat, an affectionate cat, a playful cat. He’s my boy.

This one’s to you, Biddy. Happy third birthday. May we share many more together.

Jamey

While considering NaNoWriMo this past fall, I learned about something called Script Frenzy. It’s essentially the same as NaNoWriMo, but it’s in April, and it’s for scripts. Namely, movie screenplays.

This really piqued my interest. I’ve talked about writing a screenplay for a long time. And I’m not talking some hoighty-toighty epic literary screenplay. I want to write a romantic comedy (rom com, for those in the biz). You can see how much I think about this genre in my dissertation on the movie Definitely, Maybe. I care passionately about rom coms, and I think I could write a pretty solid one. Maybe a great one.

I’m toying around with some ideas that I’ve come up with over the years, and I’d like your help. Do any of these sound interesting to you? There’s a poll at the bottom that allows you to select more than one screenplay idea. I haven’t fully developed any of these, so I’m just giving you the snapshots I have so far. Some of these actually seem pretty cliche as I write them up!

• “Benefits”: About a friends-with-benefits arrangement.
• “Coincidence Engineering”: About a company for hire for creating coincidental meet-cutes. (alternate titles: “Meet Cute” and “Manifest Destiny”)
• “Focus Group”: Two people meet as part of a product focus group. The entire movie takes place in the context of the group.
• “Derby”: Follows a group of friends/lovers for a single day as they attend the Kentucky Derby.
• “Sampson”: About a woman (Kim Sampson) who uses sex for power, but when her head is shaved (cancer? Bubble gum? Locks of Love?), she loses her “power” (Biblical reference!) and learns about herself.
• “Closure”: An unimaginable number of missiles have been launched at the U.S., and it’s only a matter of a few hours before they strike. The movie takes place in those few hours, attempting to answer the question: What would you do if you knew you only had a few hours to live?
• “Wake and Bake”: A group of friends honors the passing of a good friend by getting high…on life.
• “Poker Night”: About a typical guy’s poker night and where it takes them (think The Hangover, but with deeper conversations).

Fifteen minutes into this search, I was simply overwhelmed (it’s a good thing Twitter was there to hear me rant). It had nothing to do with this particular wedding registry; rather, I’ve perused my fair share of registries, and this one provided the tipping point. There are so many items on registries that (a) are ridiculously overpriced and (b) will hardly ever be used.

You're really going to use this goblet? Really?

How do any of these gifts represent the strongest legal union of two people? Does a $170 gravy boat say, “We’re madly in love with each other”? Does a $225 saute pan say, “We’re in this for the long haul”?

The number one justification I’ve heard for all this stuff is: We’re never going to buy this stuff ourselves, so the wedding is the one time to get it.

That logic seems inherently flawed to me. Just because you have an opportunity to get gifts doesn’t mean that you need all those gifts. Does anyone really need good china? How often does it get used? Isn’t it more of a hassle than anything else?

Granted, some of the stuff looks useful. Even some of the more expensive appliances like the blender. Nothing wrong with a good blender.

The problem with those items is that they’re pretty expensive. I could contribute to those items by giving a gift card to one of those stores. The risk, however, is that the gift card will be used to buy Vera Wang china. Again, I want to contribute to a strong, loving union. Smoothies made in a blender could contribute to such a union. China that gathers dust and creates a hassle when moving, I believe, will not.

The other solution doesn’t exist. I wish there were a way on these registries to pay for part of a gift. I think divvy.com is aiming for something like that, but currently not with registries (and I think there is a surcharge). But on Macy’s website, I’d love to pay for part of the blender, but I currently can’t do that.

I’m curious about your thoughts on my little rant. Also, I’d like to hear what you think about wedding gift-giving standards. My rule is that I have to travel to get to a wedding, I don’t have to give a gift (past girlfriends scorned this policy). Again, I think being witness to a loving union is much more important than giving a gift, and shouldn’t my $300+ airfare and hotel room count as that gift? I don’t consider myself “cheap,” but I just don’t think I should be expected to pay for travel and lodging and a gift on top of that.

I hope you do whatever works best for you. I don’t want to impose my opinions onto you. But in truth, I think the current practice of wedding registries is a little…dare I say…greedy? It’s like the greedy, grabby little kid comes out in people when they have that registry gun.

The best wedding registry I’ve ever seen was focused on the couple’s honeymoon, not material items. The couple was going to vacation in Hawaii for a week following their wedding, and there were a number of activities they wanted to do–ocean kayaking, hiking, para-sailing, romantic dinners, etc. On their registry, they listed all these bonding activities and let you give any amount you wanted to help make them happen. Compare that to an $30 goblet and tell me which gift feels more like a blessing to the new married couple.

What do you think? Also, any guys here? Read up on my tips for how to be a great wedding date.

I’m not worried about that. I’m not dumb enough to stick my tongue on any frozen surface. Or really any surface. (Okay, any non-female surface.)

However, there are frozen things that I must touch. More often than not, those things come out of the freezer.  I make cookies for work sometimes at work from frozen cookie dough. Our industrial freezer is so cold that it’ll turn any surface into skin-stick central. I literally cringe at the thought of this happening. What would I do, lug around a box of frozen cookies attached to my hand for the rest of my life? I’m too young for that!

The same with ice cubes. If I ever touch ice cubes, I make sure that my skin is completely dry before doing so. I simply can’t stand the feeling of ice sticking to my fingers, even for a millisecond.

This is part irrational fear (getting poison ivy in your eye) and part tactile discomfort (getting your fingernail caught in a cotton ball). The combination of the two makes me queasy.

Do you share this fear? What’s your greatest fear? My others are spudopticaphobia, dinner-roll-open-ophobia, carlockophobia, and leftturnophophia?

This makes me immensely happy.

I have a few spots like this in St. Louis. One is a curb in the Central West End that looks like it’s too small for a car, but it’s actually plenty big enough. At one point in history this curb had yellow paint on it, but that paint has long since worn off. I’ve parked there dozens of times and only been ticketed once.

I also have a spot near the UMB Bank Pavilion (an open-air concert area) that lets me avoid all parking fees and avoid outgoing traffic after the concert.

Do you have a parking spot that no one else knows about? On a scale from one to eleven, how much joy does it bring you?

For me, I don’t think any of these are dealbreakers. There are some I feel strongly about, others not so much. The key for me is a date’s ability to have a decent conversation about them. Someone who can express what they think, listen to what I have to say, perhaps find some common ground, and talk about the big picture and what it means.

Here’s the list I’ve compiled. If you have any other significant topics that should be on this list, let me know and I’ll add them. Thanks to Belle for the brainstorming.

• Gay marriage
• Abortion
• Euthanasia
• Animal testing
• Death penalty
• Universal health care
• Reinstating the draft
• Abstinence-only education
• Welfare
• The war in Iraq
• Political party affiliation
• Rights of the father
• Gun control
• Legalizing marijuana
• Section 8 housing
• Religious affliation
• Existence of God/afterlife
• Existence of extraterrestrial life
• Having/not having children
• Stem cell research/cloning
• The environment

What are your big-topic dealbreakers?

“Hey, we match,” I told her.

Another coworker piped up. “Yeah, I was telling Alan earlier that we match too.”

Two other coworkers looked at each other and realized the same thing. Then two others.

Sometimes the stars align and you have a twin day. We had a twin day on March 1, 2006. Completely unplanned, completely coincidental, and very, very eerie. You probably wouldn’t believe it even if you had seen it. Fortunately, we took a photo, so take a leap of faith and salute Twin Day. The weirdest day ever.

1. What if you were sitting on a flight, getting ready for take off, and they found a problem with the plane and had everyone de-board because the plane was going to take at least three hours to fix?

I’d be annoyed. I basically have no faith in airlines, so it wouldn’t be completely unexpected. I’d actually be somewhat happy that they let us deboard so we could go to the bathroom and get food. I’d spend the extra time reading, chatting on the phone, and people watching.

2. What if your significant other told you they didn’t want to exchange Christmas gifts?

I’d be ecstatic! I’m completely tired of the rampant commercialism during the holiday season. To me, Christmas is about being with people you love (and, if you’re Christian, celebrating Jesus’ birthday), not about buying and receiving tons of stuff you don’t need. If a significant other told me they were on that page too, I’d be so attracted to them that I’d do naughty things to her on the spot.

3. What if you received a phone call that a close family member had been in a car accident but there weren’t any other details available?

No details? I’d struggle with no details. I like details. But if there truly were no details–just that a family member had gotten in an accident and was being taken to the hospital–well, I’d probably wait for more details. I’m not the type of person to rush to someone’s side. I think some people do that out of genuine concern, while others do it because they feel helpless and need to feel like they’re doing something. If I can help, I’m there. But if not, I understand. I’d fly out to the hospital if I could be of assistance. This probably ties into the love languages a bit too. I wouldn’t want people rushing to my side, but I’d like to know that they care. If people fly in to take care of me, I’d end of feeling like I had to entertain or host them, which would actually cause me more stress than if I had to struggle to take care of myself. But like the love languages, I have to understand that other people are different than me.

Now go see how Penelope’s answers differed from mine.

What are your answers? Do you have any questions like this that you’d pose for this type of a blog entry?

One key characteristic he designed into these new creatures is that they don’t have sex for pleasure. Although they derive pleasure from sex, they only do it once every couple of months when it’s time for a female to conceive.

This, coupled with what seems like a constant stream of adultery on the news, got me thinking: Would the world be a better place if humans didn’t have sex for pleasure?

Other than humans, only bonobos and dolphins have sex for pleasure. So obviously we’re the exceptions to the rule. That would indicate that there’s very little evolutionary purpose to having sex for pleasure.

Of course I see the benefits of sexual pleasure. But think about all the downsides that come with it: Wars have been fought over lust. People lie and cheat and defile and do all sorts of horrible things to have sex for pleasure. All the pain and suffering the pursuit of sexual pleasure causes.

The flipside is that dolphins seem pretty darn happy. They’re doing something right.

All of this is just hypothetical, of course. I’m not at all saying that people (including myself) shouldn’t have sex for pleasure. I’m just pondering an alternate evolutionary history of the world and how things would be different. What do you think?

Is this a coincidence, or are creative people more likely to get migraines?

I’ve been getting migraines since I was a little kid. They happened the most frequently when I was in middle school, I think. Several times I had to go home from school. Other times I endured until the end of the day, feeling every bump on the school bus shatter my mind, until I could stagger to my room, close the blinds, and try to sleep while my mother covered my forehead with her hand (when I think of the great acts of my mother, that is number one on the list).

I used to think that sunlight caused the headaches. Later I realized it was combinations of various factors like too much sodium, too little sleep, not enough protein, irregular meals, and dehydration that caused the migraines. I closely monitor those factors now to prevent the headaches from happening regularly, but they still occur on occasion. Lately they have been a problem.

But is there a connection to writers? Are migraines more likely to occur in creative minds? Or in some warped way, do migraines cause creativity?

I will say this: One of the most profound epiphanies I’ve ever had came during one of my worst migraines. It was during my second summer in Hiroshima in high school, and my host family decided to drive up to the mountains to have tea and take a hike. I couldn’t say no to the trip, but as we drove, my headache got worse and worse until I dreaded every bend in the road.

It was then that I started to experience what I can only describe as an opening of my mind, an outpouring of thoughts. Maybe it was caused by the headache, maybe by the lush green surroundings; whatever the cause, my mind opened up in a way that I had never experienced.

This is going to sound crazy, but as I was driven through the mountains, my mind figured out the meaning of life. It was not 42. It was much more complicated than that. I let go of my mind–I stopped trying to control my thoughts, and I just let them wander, as they seemed to want to find the answer to the question of why we are here.

When we reached our destination, I came to my senses. My headache was completely gone. It was the weirdest feeling. I felt like a new man.

When I got home that night, I wrote down everything. Unfortunately, those papers are long gone, so I have no great enlightenment to share with you today. It had something to do from making mistakes, learning from them, sharing them with others…and then something big that followed that process that really gave meaning to life. Oh well.

It just makes me wonder the sheer amount of brilliance you could generate if you induced headaches among a dozen people and had them meditate in a room for an hour. I bet the readings on that room would be really weird.

What do you fellow writers think? Do you get migraines? How do they affect your life? I know many of you have them way worse than I do.