A Tubby Tabby, Three Konekos, and a Life with Hello Kitty and Autism

Archive for September, 2007

Of Writing

Friday, September 28th, 2007

I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember.

At three, when most little girls played with their dolls, I was scrawling large fat letters on a little pad my father gave me, copying words in disjointed phrases, pretending they were all mine. One day soon enough, I discovered I could make my own words and string them together to make my own stories. They were horrible stories in the beginning, mostly cobbled fragments of my fascination with the horror genre  and dripping with as much blood and gore as a little girl could muster (what can I say? I truly was a little freak). In the end, an encounter with my English teacher and the guidance counselor at school taught me the power that words can wield. Reading through a short story I wrote on decomposing maggot-infested flesh (hey, I was eleven!), they reminded me that I always have a choice on how to use my gifts. My words are my wings, there to take me where I want to go, they said. And young as I was, I was to make a choice each time I put something on paper.

It took a while before I truly understood but I always kept their words to heart.

True, writing is all about choices. It is precisely this freedom afforded to us that allows one to explore the many avenues and the myriad possibilities available in the world. And once you open yourself up to the world of words, you realize that you can channel the universe and all in it to convey your innermost thoughts, to express deeply-guarded emotions, and to realize goals and long-forgotten dreams.

I did not make a living of writing. I was shunted into a more technical discipline as I grew older, favoring the strictness of the sciences over literary expression. As the years wore on, however, the cracks in my so-called life grew bigger and bigger, until I found out I could not go on. One day, I simply picked up pen and paper again and started writing again. And I wept for joy.

The words, stifled for so long, echoed through pages and pages.

These days, I still write a lot. On and off, I write for e-zines and magazines, but mostly I write for myself. For my sake. For my life.


Mother Cat

Thursday, September 13th, 2007


Finally…my first post.

It took me all of a month to decide on what to write, even where and how to start, until I decided to throw caution to the wind and just sit down and get writing. As a control freak, it wasn’t particularly easy to let go of my obsessive desire for perfection. In truth, even as I write this, a nagging feeling persists that one of these days, I’m going to regret being impulsive and I’ll end up with a foot (not necessarily mine) in my mouth. Then again, if I don’t do this now, I’ll never get this done. And that, by itself, is already saying a lot.

So I’ll start with an introduction, a brief one for now. I’m cribbing my favorite description of myself from an e-zine I write for and posting it here:

 ”…is a homemaker who gave up a promising medical career to care for the three men in her life. To this day, her husband continues to pray she does not wake up from her stupor and wonder what the heck made her do such a thing.”

Somehow, everything I need to be said about me is all there. Maybe one of these days, when the mood hits me, I’ll be better able to tell you things about myself. For now, just call me Kittymama.

 Welcome to my world.