CataTONICally Speaking

As is inherently apparent by the title of this webzine, I have a pesky preoccupation with felines and time - or, more specifically, cats and clocks. Indeed, for me, the two are intertwined; clocks are a way to measure time - or, more concretely, a way to cage in something that intrinsically defies such confinement. Cats, similarly, cannot be confined or contained; their existence is predicated on transcending time and space constraints. Felines embody the very negation of time.

Time is a consequential notion in my life because I am, indeed, NEVER on time. Punctuality is not my thang. I've had friends who are way worse than me, but suffice it to say that in my work and personal life, I am not known for punctuality. Problem is, my line of work is public school teaching, and anyone who has any familiarity at all with public schools knows that time is everything, so much so that schedules are calculated to the very sliver of a minute.




When I first started teaching six years ago, I was amazed that classes would end at such odd times as 10:47. There is very little rounding up or down to the nearest zero or five, the more logical approach. Sometimes I joke that we could start or end a class at, say, 11:03 and 20 seconds, just to compound matters and throw teachers into even more of a frenzy.

A teacher learns, therefore, that every minute literally counts. And a teacher learns how to divide minutes into "packages" in order to optimize efficiency.

But again, I am not a time-oriented person, and so I have had to force myself into these little constructed clock-boxes in order to capably carry out my teaching tasks.

It's healthy, I suppose, to impose such constraints on oneself, in order to attain a certain discipline. If it weren't for work, for example, I would stay up all night, as I am a creature of the nocturne. And if it weren't for routine, I would do nothing but surf the net - which is what I pretty much do anyway.



But really, my impulsive response to the concept of time, or, rather, the caging in of it, is, "screw time." I don't like it. I don't need it. My whimsically creative core resists and resents having to be dictated to by clocks.

So what's the point of my anti-time tirade? Nothing, really, other than to apologize for not getting Clockwise Cat out in a more "timely" manner.

I am trying to get it out every other month, but it's happening a bit more sporadically than that. Clockwise Cat is my passion, truly, and yet, my life is cluttered by too many damn time constraints.

And this is why I have cats - to remind me of the silly futility of clocks.