Catalyst: Hamsters and Vintage Game Shows

Hamsters never stop to smell the roses, look around, and realize that while they sprint on their wheel, that there is an entire world that may be worth paying attention to.  For as busy as they seem, hamsters are pretty unproductive.  I would only run on a wheel if I was a contestant on Double Dare and the next obstacle was The Doggie Door.  Not to digress, but Doggie Door was ALWAYS the hardest, when I would see Marc Summers describing the course, I would cringe and shake my head as he got to the foodbowl.  Not many contestants made it past the the Doggie Door.

Anyway, back to hamsters.  In the last few weeks, I caught myself describing my life in such cliche’s like:

“Just keeping my head down and running.”
“Busy running on that hamster wheel.”
“On the wheel that never stops.”

These responses were acceptable, and even encouraged by those that heard them, and I started to envision myself as a hamster- wood chips and all.  Growing up, my brother had a hamster named Hamsty (the first in a long line of highly inventive pet names like BunBun and Ratsy) and he lived in our room.  He stunk to high heaven, but my brother loved him.  I don’t remember spending any time with Hamsty,  as I wasn’t a particular fan of rodents/animals.  However, I do remember the clear ball that was his one escape from his square foot cage.  He would run all around the house, the bubble shielding him from wall corners, chairs, and feet.  Upon being returned to his atrium, Hamsty would get back on his wheel and do his thing.  He didn’t stop and think about all the things he saw, where he had been, and what it would mean for the rest of his life...because he was a hamster. 

I’ve been living my life like Hamsty, just running and not looking.  In the last year, I married my best friend, a wonderful man that has stood by me through thick and thin, gone on trips, moved into our own house, and started our own life.  It sounds so utopian, and it probably could be, but add in corporate jobs, commuting, grown up responsibilities and commitments, and you have two hamsters living in Sausalito, California. 

I’m not going to be a hamster anymore.  The beige woodchips, beige food, even beige fur do not represent who I am.  I’m not going to only look 6 inches in front of my face, run for no reason, and stink up the place.

For my first mission, I’ll take the physical challenge: my beige house. 

This is a picture of Hamsty with my brother and sister, you can see his plastic ball, but mostly you can see what freaking cute kids my siblings were.