![]() It's midterm time at Lewis and Clark so the suite is in a constant state of shambles. Sneakers lay on the floor besides my gnawed, catnip-filled toys. Open textbooks rest on couches while the roommates are in class. Forgotten bowls of ramen, coffee cups, and other study junk food sit on the windowsill I usually occupy. This would be fine, of course, if they left out stuff I actually like to stick my face in, like rice or hummus. No one will let me have hummus. Instead, they leave out Coke cans. How am I supposed to stick my face in a Coke can? Like I said, shambles. Clare has an exam for psych on Friday. Hannah has a women's history one coming up and Audrey has an interpersonal media midterm, which basically means articles about online and offline communities are always open on her laptop. Gone are the days when I could lay on her bed (and by that I mean my bed that I generously let her sleep on-all the beds in this suite are mine) while she took pointless, oddly specific Buzzfeed quizzes. Now I'll never know which celebrity should be my Galentine based off the apartment I decorate. Now I'm just forced to read articles about what happens when you're part of a forum or Twitter group instead of a real group of people. Naturally, I'm here to weigh in on the matter. I don't have anything else to do now that everyone here just studies all the time and is generally boring. In John Perry Barlow's article, he argues that one if the benefits of offline communities is the drive to conquer adversity and I tend to agree. Because I am forced to live with my roommates, I can't just vomit on their rug, fart next to them while they're studying, or claw their hands when they try to rub my pudgy stomach without apologizing later. Offline, I am not allowed to be as much of a troll as I am inside of my head, because I'm held accountable by social norms and cues. Offline, I'm not allowed to be the worst version of myself. My roommates would agree this is a good thing.
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Hello, humans! Today I'm here to talk to you about the world of online cat gaming, similar to the article posted here that discusses gaming and the psychological effects it has on human children. Why should anyone care about this? Well, because there's currently a highly publicized debate about whether teenagers/children spend too much time playing video games instead of playing outside and once again, I'm here to bring in the kitty side of things...you know, the one that's been left out AGAIN. To be honest, I rarely venture outside. Clare tries to take me on walks sometimes, but I sink my claws into the rug, arch my back, and wait until she gives up and leaves me alone. It works about 80% of the time. The other 20%, I suffer.
So what games do I play when I'm not forced out into the world? Weeeeellll, I usually steal my roommate Audrey's laptop to purchase and play some feline-featuring games (Audrey does not actually own any of these games). Some of my favorites include Hot Tin Roof: The Cat That Wore a Fedora, Catlateral Damage, Purrfect Date, and Neko Atsume for those days when Clare or one of the roommates leaves their phone behind. Hot Tin Roof unfortunately sticks you in the role of human instead of cat. In it, you're a private investigator partnered to a cat named Franky. In Catlateral Damage, you're a cat who can knock anything off the counters. What's wonderful about this is that there's no repercussions whatsoever so it's a lot better than doing it in real life and your owner coming in and yelling at you for knocking over her makeup or action figures or tea or whatever . Purrfect Date gives me the chance to go on all the dates with cats that I never get to, because I hate leaving this suite and I don't actually want to meet anyone new. What's better than a cat dating sim? Think about the possible puns, the awkward furballs falling out of mouths over dinner, the tails twitching in anticipation. Ah, young love. The fourth game I play a lot is Neko Atsume, which just lets you collect cute cats! No, it's not weird that I like to watch animated cats play with yarn. I mean I have to do something when the people around me don't give ME any yarn. Aaaaand that's my two cents for the day. Chime in, let me know what your favorite games are! I won't tell you why mine are better, but you should know I think they are. And that I'm right. In Nancy Baym's book Personal Connections in the Digital Age (available on Amazon and my roommate Audrey's desk), she says that community has five characteristics. These characteristics are shared space, shared norms, shared resources, shared identity, and it being facilitated by individual relationships. One such community is of course my suite. We share a space consisting of two bedrooms and a common room that often gets filled with bowls of mostly eaten ramen the girls forgot to pick up and my toys. Oftentimes, this common room has a lot of traffic from their friends. Dan comes in to do homework with Clare and debate about whether Chicago or New York pizza is the best. Emily and Kaitiln come in to watch youtube videos and play loud 80's music. Keegan comes in after he works out to make my roommates feel lazy for not ever going to a gym or eating a vegetable. Sometimes it feels like we're running a bar with the constant dancing and games after 9pm. Not that I'm complaining. More people usually means more ankles to swat at. The fleshy temptresses stroll past me without a thought for their safety and then my claws sink into them. Then the owners of the aforementioned fleshy temptresses scowl down at me, but it's worth it.
One of our shared norms is quiet time during homework, meaning I have to keep my yowls to a minimum. Our shared resources include two mini fridges ($60), chairs (who knows), a small TV ($25 off Craigslist), and paper towels (priceless). These paper towels came in handy the other day when I had an upset stomach. I wasn't about to relieve its contents on the rug in me, Clare, and Ellen's room so I strolled on over to Hannah and Audrey's. I vomited to Audrey's, "NOOOO," and Hannah's shocked laughter. I marched back out with a calmer stomach and a smug grin. As a member of a species without opposable thumbs, it isn't my job to clean up after myself. It's why I keep so many humans around me. As for our shared identity, we're all roommates. We all care about each other to some extent I guess, which goes into the facilitating individual relationships. I spend time with each of them. I lay on each of their beds when they're not around. I make sure to harass everyone just a little bit, just enough so they know I care and don't really care at the same time. ![]() I've been considering something lately, human readers (I say human readers, because I am one of few cats with a computer available to me as I have no respect for my fourth roommate Audrey's personal belongings). There have been a lot of complaints about the pressure Instagram puts on teenagers to always look and act perfect. In Jean Twenge's article, she discusses the negative affect smartphones have had on teenagers, specifically on their mental health. She explains how teenagers now more than ever before cannot escape the social pressure to be adventurous and talented Barbies and Kens, never revealing any flaws or showcasing a moment of uneventfulness. To this I say, Twenge, what about me? I have to battle with the likes of Snoopybabe, Winston Smushface, and Princess Monster Truck. The first has giant eyes, the second a perfectly pushed in face, and the third, an underbite. How am I supposed to compete with an underbite? Yes, I do have a grumpy disposition but so does that super famous cat. Sure, my human partner Clare constantly tells me how cute I am but that's like your mom telling you you're pretty. It just doesn't count. Right now, I have a bit of pudge I'm pretty self-concious about. I've been trying to work it off by climbing around the room as much as possible but Hannah and Audrey have taken to calling me tubs and cooing over my stomach. Ellen won't stop feeding me treats whenever I demand them with my eyes. Is it really my fault they're so delicious? Shouldn't Ellen have the self control to tell me no? Now, onto the topic of my name. These other Insta-famous cats are walking around with rockstar names and here I am stuck with Leroy. It's like comparing Madonna to Fred Smith. My roommates say they all love my name (they're always screeching it around the dorm like a couple of partying banshees), but I feel like it's not enough to make me an Instagram celebrity feline. The lesson here, cat lovers, is that sometimes we just have to settle. I might not have thousands of fans like Princess Monster Truck, but at least I have four superfans...even if they're annoying sometimes. And yeah ok, maybe I'd prefer to have fans who can only praise me from the other side of a screen many miles away. Ugh. Being a cat is hard. |
MeI want to live my life like Steve Buscemi in Fargo. Some other idols I have include Garfield and Beyonce. Archives
April 2018
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