And now it's time for an excellent band: Travis.
I want to sing, to sing my song
I want to live in a world where I belong
I want to live, I will survive
And I believe that it won't be very long
If we turn, turn, turn, turn turn
We might learn.
Okay, those lyrics do the song no justice. Frankly, I think the band writes some gorgeous melodies. The music is pretty mellow (aside from what I think is their first album, Good Feeling), the band is (according to all-knowing Wikipedia) "Scottish indie-rock," and you should listen to something. The big singles that I know of were "Why Does It Always Rain on Me" and "Sing." I think this "Turn" song was featured on a recent episode of Scrubs. I COULD BE WRONG, AND I'VE WRITTEN TOO MUCH.
The reason I'm listening to music, a strange phenomenon I haven't been doing enough of lately, is that I'm packing for--what else?--a trip to California. Normally, I'm nerdtastically enthusiastic about packing; frankly, it's fun to plan outfits, make lists of things to not forget, and strategically place objects in suitcases so that they fit perfectly (a feat that's never as easy to do when you're repacking your stuff to come home). But tonight... meh. In fact, "meh" seems to mostly describe the past week or so. I'm in some sort of summer funk; I like nothing better than to sleep for 12 hours a day, take care of the requisite 3-5 hours of work four days a week, then spend the remainder of my day on the couch. No bueno, I declare. I usually have to work to keep myself from packing days in advance; tonight, it's been a struggle to bust out the suitcases, 12 hours before my flight leaves.
Hopefully, the trip out to California (and some much needed interaction with other people, including of course the boyfriend) will make this mood lift. I'm looking forward to it, even if I'm too tired/lethargic to realize it.
As for cats. It's been rather freaky, actually, but I'll try and make this story short (I'm pretty sure it interests no one but me). The Saturday before last, I had a Most Adorable Kitten show up at my door. Anyone who knows me knows that what I want more than anything is a kitty, so I found this pretty weird; here's this cute and very affectionate cat. I know I can't have a cat, though, so eventually I went inside and left him outside (where he cried). The next morning, he was still hanging around; I left to sing, and he was still there two hours later when I returned. Eventually he left for good, and I spent the week regretting my lack of balls--why didn't I just take him in?
Exactly one week later, as I walk out to my car, a black cat sees me and runs up to me. A second black cat runs up to me from the other side of the parking lot. A third runs up to me from behind me, a small gray kitten in tow. ...Double-you tee eff, I ask. They hang out for awhile; I go inside. I peek back outside a while later, and they have literally left this kitten on my doormat. I remind myself that I CANNOT HAVE A CAT, and go back inside. The next morning, I'm woken up by a kitten crying; it's the same gray kitten, this time outside my apartment's back window.
I was terribly amused when I stumbled across the following children's book at work, which repeated the lines, "Hundreds of cats; Thousands of cats; Millions and billions and trillions of cats." It felt very like my own story. (Except the cats around me didn't end up eating each other, as in the slightly disturbing book.)