Cogs can think.

As I pulled out of my parents’ driveway earlier this afternoon, I noticed one of our cats sitting by the side of the street. Jari sat there, in his usual pose, his gaze resembling that of a supermarket assistant before his first coffee break. He’s rather old, 14 years now, and the years are starting to show. About two years ago he started to get thinner rapidly, his majestic black fur losing its glossy shine due to him being ill. While Jari reclaimed some of his physical glory from before the mysterious illness the vet couldn’t put his fingers on, he’s still noticeably different.

I clearly remember the day we went to pick Jari up. I was 9 years old, and wanted a kitten desperately. My parents already had cats, but they passed away before I was born. A girl in my class told me her cat had kittens, so I probably started my usual nagging cycle, and somewhere right around where I threatened to tie myself to the front of our car, my parents gave in.

A few weeks later, we were driving back home with a small black furball stuck in a cardboard box. Right there and then, Jari demonstrated his extraordinary strength and determination by completely ripping apart the thick box and going all mental inside our car. He jumped up against the car windows, jumped from back to front, and in general, made driving quite a challenge for my mother.

Back home, like all kittens, he showed a fondness for tiny, dark spaces, crawling in every little dark corner he could find. Within days, this behaviour passed, and he started to grow more confident by the day, slowly turning into the emperor he would become. I remember how my brothers and I used to take Jari into our bedrooms, and play with him under the covers of our beds.

As I drove passed Jari this afternoon, and looked him in his eyes, I realised why that stupid old cat means so much to me. He’s not as sweet as Roza, and not as loving and charming as Jobje - in fact, he’s grumpy, sometimes even aggressive, and he can be quite annoying too. Still, this cat means so much to me because he is the only tangible thing in this universe that binds everyone in our family together. No matter what has happened over the past 15 to 20 years between my parents and I on one side, and my brothers on their respective sides, we all love Jari.

Those memories, of playing with Jari under the covers of our beds, might very well be the last unambiguously happy memories I have concerning my brothers. And because of that, no matter how much I love my Twiek and Alice, it will always be Jari that has that special place in my heart.

I was forced to blatantly lie, yesterday evening.

Yesterday was my last day at work before what I now refer to as ‘pre-vacation’. I have 3 weeks off work starting next Sunday, but in the coming week I only have to work on Wednesday, Friday evening, and Saturday. In other words, barely - hence, pre-vacation. Yes, my mind always works like that, and no, it’s not contagious.

Anyway, my best friends and I decided to go out for dinner at the restaurant where on one of us works. The thing is though - this friend of mine, Martin, has a really, really cute colleague. I remember when he tried to get me active on Hyves (the Dutch variant of MySpace), something which I absolutely loathe. He showed me his Hyves page, and right there, in his friends list, was this really, really pretty lady. Blonde hair, round face, rosy cheeks, the whole nine yards. Who’s THAT? I said in a forced casual manner. He explained she was one of his colleagues at work - mind you, a little young though. Like, 17. Well below my mental comfort zone, but my mental comfort zones have been known to bend (what, you mean 1 hour of sleep doesn’t make you completely sober and fit for driving?).

Oh, he did get me active on Hyves. It took a little more pushing from Renaatje, but I’m a perfect little young person now.

The whole thing with that girl kind of started to lead a life of its own, becoming one of our catchphrases, one of our topics of conversation, but never in a real, three dimensional way. I had never seen her, never met her, never talked to her, so she was just the flat, 2D image on her Hyves page. Mind you, a very good-looking and cute image, but just an image nonetheless. I had no notion of who she was, didn’t have any judgements to pass. From what Martin could tell me, I did realise she was a perfectly fine lady, intelligent, interesting.

We’ve eaten at Martin’s restaurant before, but she was never at work when we were there. Until, as you may have guessed right about now, yesterday evening. Yes, Martin told me, she’s going to be at work Saturday. I was kind of excited (in a perfectly normal social and psychological way) because I would finally have the opportunity to add depth to the 2D image. I only have to meet someone once, and bang, I can make a snap judgement. And these judgements have never failed me. I’m always right. It’s a gift that I cherish. And one YOU should fear.

My friends and I were seated - completely coincidentally - in The Girl’s area of work. She’d be taking our orders. I was presented with the perfect opportunity to seize her up, and when I did, I was all like, nice. She had what I call presence. I don’t really know how to explain the concept of presence, but some people just have it. When they enter a room, people look. And they don’t have to be hot or whatever - they just turn heads.

And boy did she have presence. By the bucketloads. You could paint the restaurant three times with it.

Marco wanted to know if I found her to be everything that I thought she would be. And now I need to tell you a little bit about Marco. You see, contrary to normal people, Marco doesn’t descend from Adam and Eve. Consequently, Marco doesn’t carry the original sin, nor does he carry the burden of having a sense of shame - much to the dismay of people like me.

So, from experience, I know that having a conversation with Marco about women that are within shouting distance is kind of like running into a minefield with a blindfold on. It will end with me making a total ass out of myself. Marco will make a total ass out of himself too, but he doesn’t have a sense of shame, so he doesn’t give a crap. If I were to tell the truth about the whole The Girl thing, I’d be in serious trouble.

So I lied. Meh, she’s not really what I thought she would be, I said, casually.

He took the bait, but still, I can’t stop and think… If I hadn’t lied, would this have been a better story?

A place for everything, and everything in its place.

The best idiom man has ever invented.

It sums up everything that I am, everything that I stand for, everything that I do and love. If you have problems understanding this idiom, you’re probably going to have difficulties with dealing with me.

I have a new computer. My dad and I switched machines, since his was way overpowered compared to mine. It’s an Asus Terminator 2 Deluxe, packing an Intel Pentium 4 2.8Ghz with hyperthreading, 2GB of DDR-RAM, and my own GeForce 6200 128MB DDR-RAM.

My dad had been running Windows 2000 on it for years now (with 512MB of RAM and the on-board video cad), and it was clear Windows 2000 was holding the machine down. It absolutely FLIES with Vista on it, in any case.

I’m quite happy. It’s also a lot quieter than I’m used to. Sassy.