The Un-Cola

I don't take kindly to emotional or physical abuse, and I have endured it for far too long. I also know from previous relationships, I don't have to endure. I can leave you NYC, just as easily and painlessly as I did with the others.

Maybe you never thought I had the courage in me to say that considering we've been together for so long (20+ years!). But I do have that courage and I wanted to say I am leaving you today for a slimmer and sexier town up the river called Sleepy Hollow.

We have been having weekend affairs for about a year now and the love has been growing stronger every week. It's not quite a crazy soul-shaker like you. Sleepy Hollow makes me feel "boyfriend-sweater" comfortable; warm, secure and nice-smelling. The view, the local beach, the trails, the parks, the almost non-existent population of ignorant ghetto people. Call me crazy, but it sounds like a dream. My dogs love it there too; fresh air, trees, long scenic walks by the Hudson, everything they could ever hope for. I was happy with you NYC, but in all honesty I felt like I could never relax. You want all of me all of the time and I'm tired of your hefty demands.

I'm sorry to end things so abruptly, but I have suffered too much for your own sake. The instability of moving from apartment to apartment, the "Sex In The City" wannabes gentrifying old neighborhoods and pushing out the locals with rising prices, working like a slave to just to barely eke by—this is not the life I want to lead. I want to eventually buy a house for me and my dogs, have a sizable savings account, and go back to school for a higher degree. You could never provide this kind of future for me.

Please believe me when I say I will always love you. After all, 20 years is a long time to be together and we've had amazing mind-blowing times together. Much too many to just throw them away as if they were iotas of nothing. You will always be in my heart and in my mind. All those who come after you will be judged against you and forced to live under your immense shadowy image.

I know you won't miss me, as there are countless others who can keep you warm while I'm away, but don't give up on me yet. I'm positive we will meet again for a short fling or even something longer and more fulfilling once I have been able to achieve the stability I so longingly crave. And I know you'll take me right back into your bittersweet embrace no questions asked, because that's just the kind of city you are.

Posted by Cat Peters at 12:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

My dreams, aspirations, hopes, wishes, silver linings to my clouds—call them what you will.
I'm certain you keep them too.

1. See the aurora borealis.
2. Visit California.
3. Go crazy in Las Vegas.
4. Couch surf across Asia.
5. Learn how to pole dance.
6. Travel to another country outside the United States.
7. Finish a Sunday Times crossword.
8. Learn how to drive.
9. Learn how to swim.
10. Meet and hopefully be fondled by Sasha Grey.
11. Buy a winter/vacation home in Trinidad.
12. Find a kindred spirit.
13. Go on a road trip across America.
14. Learn to ballroom dance with a someone special.
15. Live outside of NY.
16. Live outside of the Unites States.
17. Attend a fetish ball.
18. Read everything on my list of interesting books that I see people reading on the train.
19. Eat at every restaurant on my Yelp wishlist.
20. Be a complete tourist in NYC.
21. Go to one of my High School reunions.
22. Attain a Master's Degree in Computer Science.
23. Do a suspension (via rope).
24. Do a suspension (via hooks).
25. Adopt a mountain lion.

Posted by Cat Peters at 4:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Needless to say I definitely had self-esteem issues from Elem. to H.S. Notice my overly-processed hair and awkward face.

The shame and disgust of my natural hair was so great I would never leave my apartment unless my curls were beaten down into neat and straight strands. This would go on for over 15 years. I would try different perms, flat-irons, blow driers, Dominican salons, and Japanese straightening. Ultimately leading to the irreversible damage of my hair.

All I wanted was to have pin-straight hair that was immune to frizzing and I have spent disgustingly large amounts of money trying to achieve just that.

With a stroke of unfortunate luck, I decided to get my ends trimmed at some nearby salon and ended up with nearly a foot of my hair gone. I was mortified. I had been growing out my hair for a long time. But then I realized all of the damaged ends from year after year of hair-torture were magically gone. It was as if my hair was starting a new lease on life. Bitter about my new short hairdo, I still continued to flat-iron it for a few months after the cut to try and make my hair seem longer (when it's curly it looks shorter).

I've come a long way with accepting and eventually liking my own self-image.

Maybe I just needed to get older to accept myself, or needed someone to show me that my natural unruly mop is beautiful. It took me a very long time, but I can finally say I feel beautiful just being me and I am happy with my hair! No more straightening for me!

My new year's resolution is to embrace my new appreciation of my curls and to only straighten it if I really have to. I also want to grow it back to the original length of my lower back before most of my hair got cut off, but that is going to take a lot more than one new year's resolution.

My message to you all for the holidays is to love thyself!! I know it's hard, because you always find things to nitpick at, but if you can find one or two things that you love about yourself that already is a good start. Then things just fall into place from there!

Be happy, be loved and have a wonderful and self-fulfilling holiday season!

Posted by Cat Peters at 1:56 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

It has been exactly a year since you have passed away and I still think of you often. Your picture, collar and ashes have a place of honor above my bed. I still have your 'YumDog' sweater that I had custom-made just for you and a few of your favorite toys. Little keepsakes that will stay bound to my heart forever, etched with loving memories of our time together.

After you passed I thought I would never be able to own another dog again. The pain of heartbreak was much more than I could have ever imagined and don't think I couldn't bear to go through such heartbreak again. But I missed you so much and I craved the joy and affection of a dog that you used to give to me.

So many good dogs are being put in shelters for whatever reasons and need good homes, just like you did when we first adopted you. So I gave it another shot. Despite the initial reluctance and disapproval of the family, I opened my heart and my home to two new dogs and gave them all the love and affection I could. I do not regret it. They keep me sane and happy. They can never replace or erase my memories of you, but then they are not meant to.

I know you are happy for me where you are (in puppy-heaven with Kiwi) and are glad to see that I am giving other dogs a chance on a new and better life just like we did with you.

So thank you Yummy for being mine. You will always be my one true love and the sweetest, most loving dog I could ever to have hoped for. I will always love you and miss you dearly.

Memories of Yummy:

Posted by Cat Peters at 4:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I'm kidding about the Iraq part, but their stupidity and hypocritical racism does annoy me to no end.

Here is what happened to make me say this:

Every few months or so I cross paths with this really stupid ghetto guy that lives in a building around the corner from my house. It's always when I'm walking my dogs. Always. Even when I had Yummy this guy would harass me.

This is how long it has been going on.

I can only assume he dislikes dogs and girls with dogs because I have never done anything to this man to warrant his disgusting behavior towards me. He sees a small defenseless girl with her small dogs and feels the need to be an asshole to someone, probably because he is broke, jobless, (on drugs?) and has a shitty life in general. I suppose if my daily activities consisted of hanging out on the corner all day and smoking weed I would be a bit pissed about how crappy my life is as well. Although who's fault is that?

If I were a man I guarantee not a word would have escaped his lips, but I am a female and a small one to boot. I have to deal with moronic ghetto assholes who watch BET all day and think a woman's worth is whatever some half-brained rapper of that moment deems it to be.

I am not the kind of person to retaliate if someone is being stupid, but he has made me so angry that I have cursed back at him many times and I will continue to do so if provoked, despite his empty threats to shoot and stab me. For every threat ever made I have openly laughed in his face, followed by a "fuck you". I would feel threatened if he were actually a man, but as of right now I really can't take him seriously. He picks on women literally half his size to make himself feel better. What a “tough guy”, right?

Today he called me a "snooty white bitch" who is taking over "his" neighborhood. A bit racist, no? But god forbid someone call him a stupid black bastard. Holy crap, call Al Sharpton!! Mind you, I am no where near being white (can Trinidadian even be considered somewhat white?) and I have lived in this neighborhood literally for my entire life. There is no possibility of me "taking it over" since I've always been here!

What annoys me the most is the fact that I grew up in the same environment, in the same public school system, with minorities for parents and I somehow managed to make myself successful, educated and well-spoken. Just because I do not sound ghetto and I am of a slightly fairer complexion he assumes I do not belong. Thus I am labeled as one of "them" (them being white people).

This would not be the first time some retarded thug-wannabe has called me "white." Due to the fact that I try to speak using proper English and I do not dumb myself down to fit the neighborhood stereotype of sounding like a raging dumb-ass, this gives ghetto people the impression that I am what they consider to be "white". It doesn't insult me that he called me white, rather it insults me that he tried to put a negative spin on my own intelligence by saying that smartness is limited to one race of people (I am obvious living proof that it is not).

I never could understand how being educated and well spoken is immediately a "white" thing. I know many people of all different races, colors, nationalities who speak just as well, if not better, than I do. Should we consider them “white” as well? I also know just as many different races, colors and nationalities who come off as ghetto, uneducated fools.

I am tired of the mentality that comes with such a backwards culture (if you even want to call it a culture) where being educated is bad, sounding educated is worse, and anything having to do with bettering yourself is completely looked down upon. What kind of way of life is that? It only proves to perpetuate ignorance and intolerance, as well as aiding in the creation of bitter washed out losers who have nothing better to do than harass hard-working young girls who are just trying to walk their dogs in peace.

Posted by Cat Peters at 9:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Just as my faith in men was about to be flushed away like a half-dead pet goldfish, I met him.

The ex-jock turned computer nerd. (Or maybe the computer nerd turned ex-jock.) A midwestern boy lucky enough to get entangled in the worldly affairs of New York City. Then luckier still to get entangled with an average morally-devoid New York girl. (That would be me.)

An average male, of average height and average build. Complete with an average first name and a peculiar not-so-average last name. You really could not get any more middle-American. However, in New York average is different. Most newcomers we get quickly assimilate themselves into the fast-paced lifestyle of New York and try to blend in; try to be ‘unique.’ But he was fresh meat. I could still smell it on him, like a new car smell. He had yet to take in the tainted atmosphere of our City and become “one of us.”

This what initially attracted me to him.

I can't say I had the best intentions when we first met, but after having dinner, chatting and being rained upon together I began to develop a completely different feeling for him.

I swear it was probably the damn rain.

Breakfast At Tiffany's (1961)
Paul and Holly share a kiss in the rain.

I often feel beautifully naked when caught in the rain.

~~~~~~~~~

So here marks our one year anniversary together. A year of laughter, happiness, dog-children and hope.

I would like to blame it all on the rain, except I know that it's not true. I know it takes more than good weather to stay with someone for a full year and to look forward to what the future has in store for the both of you. It started with the rain, but it grew into something quite unexpected; something I thought I was finally immune to. Something so irresistible I couldn't stay away.

There's nothing more to say except that he has rekindled my faith in love (and in the existence of smart men), and I hope to have many more happy years together.

Posted by Cat Peters at 4:46 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)