Knitting Cat Woman

I have been making headway this week in my quest to abandon my dependency on videogames. I must get away from the worlds where one kills monsters for gill or I'm going to end up on the 10 o'clock news, covered in a tattered leather cap (that all claim gives +4 to luck), armed only with the excuse that I butchered the neighbors' dog to gain a level and line my pockets.

In this quest, I have taken up knitting. Lots of knitting. Knitting scarves for everyone. It's going to take me months, and I've already resigned myself to a life of cat owning and smelling bad. It's the slow slide into the inevitable that annoys me. I don't want to slowly become a crazy cat lady just as much as I did not want to become the "unable to leave his wheelie chair" video game player. I want to be the crazy cat lady now. She has class. She has a sense of purpose. A cautionary tale to those around her of what prolonged interaction with wool and daytime television will turn you into. If I keep living my life through soap operas without using the aforementioned object, I'm headed to a bad place. I'll lose friends slowly. My cuticles will begin a forced march north as my hair becomes wiry, while my mind frazzles and burns away.

I'll begin calling myself Miss Havisham, drinking before it's five o'clock anywhere. I'm not looking forward to this process. I don't want to do that. I just want to just be the crazy cat lady (man) now. To move from this world of the real and enter the mythical. So fast will this change happen that people will be unable to remember a time before I walked the streets in shopping bag dresses, brandishing cats like cards in local stores. I expect that people will treat me with mild indifference (except for those who have heard Bette Midler's "Hello In There")

In the current job market, people are always talking about seeing a need and filling it. If I could become the resident town cat lady, maybe I could become some sort of elaborate community theater piece. People could pay me on the side to scare there kids into working hard in middle school. "Make sure you do your Intro to Algebra homework, little Johnny, or you will end up like him. A grown man, covered in shit, wearing a shirt from the Spice Girls concert he went to before he lost all of his dreams." Of course, I would be in on the entire production. They could slip me a fiver through my Paypal account on thistownscrazycatman.com and I could emit specific job woes. "OH, if only I had done my Intro to Algebra work, I would never have lost everything in the depression and now be destitute. Unable to watch ____(kid's favorite show)____ on ___(kid's favorite channel)___." I've decided to take to the streets, advertising my new service. I'm counting on viral marketing, as I have yet to budget any of the money I don't have for it. I'm going to place my future earnings into a savings account so that, in a few years' time, I can give myself a Hollywood style montage makeover and emerge on the streets no longer the crazy cat lady (man) but something much more like a princess (prince) of a far off distant European country. A fable for our generations that is nothing like what happened to Anne Hathaway in The Princess Diaries.