*You Must Be the Change You Wish to See

I keep trying to reach up behind me and pat Ciggie when I’m sitting in the lazy boy :(

He’s not there. He’s never going to be there again and it hurts.

Today I went to the Lort Smith Animal Hospital and patted ALL the cats AND the kittens. It was good therapy. I put my name down for one called Dudley who is the most demanding boy ever.

I can’t wait for Vesper to come here, either!

honestly curious, why does it offend you?


i see lucy as a racist film that plays on negative stereotypes while hiding behind the cover of (white) feminism. 

all this film has done is switch out the white man for a white woman. it’s still a film about a white person getting violated by the evil poc, then gaining power and wiping them out. 

here’s 2 of my favourite scenes from the trailer: 


from top to left to right:

KEEP CLEAN 保持清潔,APPLE 蘋果,ONION 洋蔥,GRAPE 葡萄,CHAIR 椅子 EDIT: sorry it says ORANGE 橘子,TOMATO 番茄

traditional chinese is an actual written language used by millions of people, not symbols to be thrown around at the whim of set designers because they look cool and idk, serves to create a menacing asian atmosphere. this is so disrespectful, and made even worse by the fact that this film in set it taipei, taiwan where the official written language is traditional chinese.

it doesn’t matter that this film caters to a primarily “white” audience who won’t be able to read it, the language and culture of taiwan isn’t something for you to twist and use as you deem fit because it’s “exotic.” 


lucy shoots a guy for not being able to speak english. 

she l i t e r a l l y shoots this taiwanese taxi driver, in taiwan for not being able to speak english. she’s in taipei and she’s shooting people as they are of no use to her because they don’t speak english. 

just think about the sort of message that’s sending out. she’s not being “bad-ass strong female character who takes no shit,” she’s saying that english is useful and better. this is the type of harmful ideology that stretches all the way back from when western countries were colonising and forcing their language and customs on other countries. 

let me explain with a real life example. i was born in new zealand to two taiwanese parents. i am fluent in english, but mandarin is conversational at best. my friends in taiwan say that i am “so lucky” to speak fluent english, when they are fluent in mandarin and their english level is no worse than my mandarin. they tell me that they want to perfect their english but in the same breath tell me that mandarin isn’t worth perfecting because i have english and that’s “enough”. they also tell me how pretty my white friends are when they see pictures.

this is the type of neo imperialism ideology that they’ve grown up buying into. it honestly hurts and frustrates me that they belittle their own culture like this, honestly believing that the western world is superior. this is the type of neo imperialism ideology that this film (hopefully unintentionally) promotes: white people are better and will save the day. 

if they wanted to film a movie about a white women getting back at those who had violated her, why not film it in a western country? if they wanted to film it in taiwan, why not find an asian lead actress?

i do agree that we need more women protagonists in action/superhero movies, but not like this. its not okay that the female lead needs to be kidnapped and have her body cut open without her consent in order to gain her powers, and those said those powers do not make any of this racist bullshit okay. 

i am just so tired and angry of poc always being brushed off to the side as either props or villains in mainstream media. 

as a poc, it’s so frustrating to see that the of the standard of beauty still white women when we live in multi-cultural societies and a diverse world. 

feminism is about equality. a film in which poc are presented as evil and inferior before being killed off by a superior white woman does not promote equality. 

While I like the film I did spend every moment of it noting how it is POC, specifically those of ‘typical Asian’ bent, who play the villains. The film pretty much lumps them all into a whole. The main villain is ACTUALLY Korean but until halfway through the movie I had no idea.

The movie did nothing to distinguish that the main villains were Korean and given that I do not really know what the language sounds like I didn’t recognize it. The only reason I DID recognize it in the end was because there’s a scene where Lucy goes through the sound waves and Korean lettering flies through the air as hence man numero uno speaks to the big bad.

My first cat wasn’t my cat. She was my mum’s cat, my dad’s cat. Her name was Fergie; not after the princess but after the tractors because her purr was really that loud.

My second cat was Catherine. We got her when i was 4. I chose her and I thought she was the most beautiful cat in the the world. We never really called her Catherine though, mostly it was just Puss.

Not long before we moved up to Darwin Fergie went missing. I asked every day where she was but my mother never had the heart to tell me that she was probably dead. I missed her something fierce; she was a gorgeous blue and I always thought she looked so calm and regal. I know I missed her but I don’t really remember it.

Catherine aka Puss came to Darwin with us. Her and Mouse, our chihuahua X. They were almost the same in colour and looking back that’s probably the reason I picked her; she was black and white just like Mouse.

She was your typical haughty, independent cat. While we were renting a demountable from my aunt she had two litters of kittens. The last litter almost killed her and my mother got her spayed. I think that was when desexing your animals really struck home to my mum.

My third cat was Ciggie and you’ve all seen my grief writ large. I got him when I was 12. It’s not unlikely he was born sometime around my birthday because I got him in January . My mum was furious over how he came to be with us.

My aunt knew that I wanted a cat. My own cat. Not a family cat. My cat. A cat that would sleep in be’d with me and curl up next to me. My cat. She knew this and one of her nieces or nephews had a cat who had had a litter recently. The original idea was that my mum and I would go there and pick one out so that we got one with a good temperament. That never happened because shortly after New Years Day my aunt comes around with a kitten and, basically, thrusts him into my arms.

My mother was furious. Not only did we not chose him but he was, according to her, the ugliest kitten she had ever seen. I thought he was adorable and at the time I also thought he was a she. He, she, it really didn’t matter to me. He was beautiful and I adored him.

Jump forward 7 years. I’m 19 and living in my own pigs stye with Ciggie. There’s a note up on the noticeboard at the local markets looking for a cat sitter; my fourth cat is called Arrow. She is small and sleek and madly affectionate. She and Ciggie get along after a week or so.

Arrow lives with us for almost four years but eventually I have to tell her actual owner I can’t look after her anymore due to pressure from my mum.

I’m 23 when we help Catherine on. She’s developed dementia - it’s not simply humans that suffer from it - and her kidneys are going. I cry for a while but know we did the right thing. I think she knew what was happening; she left us cradled in my arms.

I move down to Melbourne. Ciggie comes along. He rides in the car with us and we smuggle him into hotel rooms. He seems to like the south better than the north because he’s no longer molting so much fur.

Three or four months into living in Melbourne he goes missing. On the 10th day of his absence I’m convinced he’s dead. So I go to the RSPCA and adopt a blue and white fluff ball called Molly. Molly is my fifth cat. The night of that very same day guess who comes back, yowling at my door?

Some people say that that kind of thing doesn’t happen. You’re mistaking another cat for the one that left but Ciggie had a very distinct face; like he’d mistaken a bowl of ink for milk and stained his muzzle. With Molly in the house Ciggie starts sleeping up around my neck, almost like he’s jealous.

Molly died on February 20th, 2012, Maha Shivaratri, an auspicious day to die. I whisper the pachakshari mantra into her ear as she goes. Looking back I think maybe I should have known something was wrong. Her belly was always very, very round under her skin flap. I think she’d had cancer for a long time. I was devastated when she died because the day prior I had been discharged from a week long stint in hospital.

Bing doesn’t really count as my 6th cat because he was my house mate’s but he was a bundle of joy nonetheless. Unfortunately he stressed Ciggie out so much he started peeing on the bath mat so it was something of a blessing when he and my housemate left half way through 2012.

For the last 2 1/2 years it’s just been Ciggie and me. He would sit in my bedroom window to greet me when I came home. He would wake me up in the morning if there wasn’t enough food in the bowl or, heaven forbid, he could see the bottom! And every night he slept curled up at my neck.

About three months ago - maybe even less - he started to lose interest in food. And during the past month he ceased to sleep with me, not to mention greet me in the window. So on Monday the 18th - on Krishna Janmashtami, another auspicious day - as you all know, I made the easiest and hardest decision of all; I let him go with dignity.

Ciggie has been through all the other cats but more importantly he’d been there for me. Ciggie was more than just a pet. He’s the reason I still breathe. He’s the reason I’m still alive. He can never be replaced but he can be loved and he can be honored.

Hopefully Vesper will be here soon and the house won’t be so empty anymore.

Canada has four seasons.


1. Almost winter.

2. Winter.

3. Still winter.

4. Construction.


I went to the medical clinic today. I couldn’t see my regular doctor so I went to see a different one. I wanted a medical certificate for today and tomorrow. I’m not really functioning very well since Ciggie’s death and I just need some time. The doctor made out that he couldn’t write me a certificate. Like grief for a pet’s passing is somehow less valid and significant than grief over a person. I wound up ringing the clinic when I got home and asking if I could see my regular somehow. I couldn’t but he’s still written me a certificate for today and tomorrow.

Why do some doctors seem to think that grief isn’t a worthy medical reason for taking time off?




sometimes i think “wow wouldn’t it be great if the government provided this basic human necessity” then the other half of my brain goes communism. the thing you are thinking of is communism. and it was so fucking drilled into my head in…


With a cat, you’re never alone.
Photo via Imgur

Far as I’m concerned that’s the best thing about kitties. And using the litter box in solidarity when you’re on the loo.


With a cat, you’re never alone.

Photo via Imgur

Far as I’m concerned that’s the best thing about kitties. And using the litter box in solidarity when you’re on the loo.

The most beautiful boy in the world was helped to leave his body today. It was quick and I pray it was painless; he went to sleep in my arms and in the background gentle music played. He died with the holy panchakshari mantra in his ears.

I love Ciggie more than words can imply. For 15 1/2 years he was with me. He has been, up to this point, the love of my life. I pray that he finds solace in Mataji’s arms.

The most beautiful boy in the world was helped to leave his body today. It was quick and I pray it was painless; he went to sleep in my arms and in the background gentle music played. He died with the holy panchakshari mantra in his ears.

I love Ciggie more than words can imply. For 15 1/2 years he was with me. He has been, up to this point, the love of my life. I pray that he finds solace in Mataji’s arms.

My head really hurts…