Ruby, the curious kitty-- on my chair In May of this year, Khalid and I adopted a cat from a local humane society. When I looked around at the various animals at this humane society a particular cat singled me out for her attention and I found her enthusiasm and insistent purr to be impossible to resist--so I brought her home. The employees named her Ruby, and we kept the name because it suited her.
Ruby is a sleek black and white kitty who possesses an abnormally long tail with a tiny dollop of white on the end. She looks like she has a pencil flashlight attached to her and she perpetually swishes it around like adoring fans languidly waving their lighters during a rock concert. Additionally, Ruby is vocal--to put it mildly. If she wants food or attention she is not shy about proclaiming it for the entire apartment complex to hear. She obviously enjoys the sound of her own voice and constantly indulges in satisfying the craving. The only time Ruby is silent, is when she is napping.
In this way, having Ruby in the house is akin to having a 2 year old human running around. The only discernible difference being that I could-- theoretically-- control the frequency and duration of a toddler's nap time: I have no such power over a cat. I can't tell Ruby to take a nap, or close her eyes or stop throwing the toy mouse in the air...well I could, but Ruby would likely blink her green eyes in annoyance and ignore me.
Ruby is also very curious...and this highly developed trait has gotten her into some serious trouble. For instance, one time she noticed a large paper bag on the floor. She went to investigate and decided she liked it. She got inside and pawed around: she batted her favorite toy mouse into it a few times, but suddenly she made a kamikaze dive onto it.The resulting loud crinkling sound frightened her. In a panic she turned around to flee but the handles on the bag got wrapped around her neck. She ran furiously around the apartment, all the while with the large paper bag following her and making dreadful crinkling noises.
By the time she ran upstairs the bag was in tatters and Ruby was panting and lounging on the landing with eyes as big as dinner plates. Luckily, she was jittery but unharmed. Since that day, she has looked at any kind of bag with disdain.
Ruby and I share something in common: an acute and terminal curiosity. I've been told by many people this is one of my most conspicuous traits. Although I have never crawled into a bag, panicked and run like a dervish around the apartment --I have done similar impulsive things as a result of my enthusiastic curiosity. Curiosity, like any trait, is a double-edged sword. It can lead to many wonderful discoveries and enrich people's lives, but it can also lead to precarious situations and confusion.
I have always wanted to know how things worked. Well,-- not really "things"-- but people, society and culture. I want to know why some people are "popular" and some people are "maligned" and how culture and society shapes those things. I want to know how morality and customs change --or stay the same between cultures. I want to know why racism, sexism and classism exists and more importantly-- what can be done to alleviate them. (Notice I said "alleviate" not eliminate. We can certainly alleviate these things but I don't believe its possible to eliminate them all together: although eliminating should be the ultimate goal.)
Simultaneously, I've also wanted to know how to make things: draw, paint and master various crafts including embroidery, stamping, and quilling . These two pulls, one between how to "do" certain things, and how to "figure things out" have always duelled within my psyche. In my college career I've vacillated, between majoring in humanities and arts. I want to be an artist and yet at the same time I have a desire to be an academic as well. Previously, I have mislead myself into into believing that I had to choose between the two.
Although curiosity hasn't always killed the cat, it can certainly confuse her.
Ruby is a sleek black and white kitty who possesses an abnormally long tail with a tiny dollop of white on the end. She looks like she has a pencil flashlight attached to her and she perpetually swishes it around like adoring fans languidly waving their lighters during a rock concert. Additionally, Ruby is vocal--to put it mildly. If she wants food or attention she is not shy about proclaiming it for the entire apartment complex to hear. She obviously enjoys the sound of her own voice and constantly indulges in satisfying the craving. The only time Ruby is silent, is when she is napping.
In this way, having Ruby in the house is akin to having a 2 year old human running around. The only discernible difference being that I could-- theoretically-- control the frequency and duration of a toddler's nap time: I have no such power over a cat. I can't tell Ruby to take a nap, or close her eyes or stop throwing the toy mouse in the air...well I could, but Ruby would likely blink her green eyes in annoyance and ignore me.
Ruby is also very curious...and this highly developed trait has gotten her into some serious trouble. For instance, one time she noticed a large paper bag on the floor. She went to investigate and decided she liked it. She got inside and pawed around: she batted her favorite toy mouse into it a few times, but suddenly she made a kamikaze dive onto it.The resulting loud crinkling sound frightened her. In a panic she turned around to flee but the handles on the bag got wrapped around her neck. She ran furiously around the apartment, all the while with the large paper bag following her and making dreadful crinkling noises.
By the time she ran upstairs the bag was in tatters and Ruby was panting and lounging on the landing with eyes as big as dinner plates. Luckily, she was jittery but unharmed. Since that day, she has looked at any kind of bag with disdain.
Ruby and I share something in common: an acute and terminal curiosity. I've been told by many people this is one of my most conspicuous traits. Although I have never crawled into a bag, panicked and run like a dervish around the apartment --I have done similar impulsive things as a result of my enthusiastic curiosity. Curiosity, like any trait, is a double-edged sword. It can lead to many wonderful discoveries and enrich people's lives, but it can also lead to precarious situations and confusion.
I have always wanted to know how things worked. Well,-- not really "things"-- but people, society and culture. I want to know why some people are "popular" and some people are "maligned" and how culture and society shapes those things. I want to know how morality and customs change --or stay the same between cultures. I want to know why racism, sexism and classism exists and more importantly-- what can be done to alleviate them. (Notice I said "alleviate" not eliminate. We can certainly alleviate these things but I don't believe its possible to eliminate them all together: although eliminating should be the ultimate goal.)
Simultaneously, I've also wanted to know how to make things: draw, paint and master various crafts including embroidery, stamping, and quilling . These two pulls, one between how to "do" certain things, and how to "figure things out" have always duelled within my psyche. In my college career I've vacillated, between majoring in humanities and arts. I want to be an artist and yet at the same time I have a desire to be an academic as well. Previously, I have mislead myself into into believing that I had to choose between the two.
Although curiosity hasn't always killed the cat, it can certainly confuse her.
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