I’m excited to announce that I’m participating in my very first livestream charity campaign!
Many of you already know that I spend three nights a week livestreaming on my Twitch channel. In fact, in case you missed it, this very website now has an entire page dedicated to those streams, and you can monitor when I’m live on the homepage! It’s pretty cool, they are a lot of fun, and it’s absolutely one of the biggest extensions of my passion for creating things on the web, so naturally, it should be featured pretty prominently here. And now, I’ve decided to take it up a notch and give something back this holiday season!
I’m going to be participating in Twitch’s own Together for Good campaign, presented by Wicked: For Good, this year. My channel specifically will be raising funds for the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (ASPCA) beginning now through December 2nd. While I will still humbly accept any support from the community in the form of subscriptions, tips, and bits, I’m asking that you instead donate to this cause that’s very close to my heart. As an animal lover, I believe that we share this world with them, and they deserve to feel safe and loved just like all of us do. The ASPCA works to make that happen for as many neglected, abused, and homeless animals as possible here in the United States. Together, we can hopefully make a difference.
My Twitch Together for Good charity livestream schedule.
In return, Twitch and Wicked are offering up a bunch of extra perks! I could potentially be featured on the front page of the website, which in turn, helps new viewers and potential donors find us. And those of you who donate or share clips from our charity streams will earn fun things like chat badges, emotes, and more! Plus, you just might see me get forced to try some weird gaming challenges, catch cameos from my kitties, or try an odd-flavored candy cane or two during an 8-hour streaming marathon that I have planned on Black Friday (November 28th)!
If you have no interest in hanging out during our streams but still want to help out, not a problem! You can donate to the campaign fundraiser any time before December 2nd. Also, since I know some folks are already spending a ton of money during the holidays, you can help out simply by hanging out in the stream chat whenever we’re live or sharing and amplifying the campaign page! Since I still have such a “smol” community, my initial goal is to raise $250 for the ASPCA, but if we happen to smash that goal and go above and beyond… Even better!
Hope to see and hear from you all soon. I can’t wait to get started! ❤️
Some of the time that I wasted on Facebook over the years was actually educational. As Americans, I think that we kinda knowingly turn a blind eye to where our food really comes from. While the words “pork” and “beef” are historical linguistic artifacts, isn’t it a little bit convenient that we have alternate words for a lot of animal products we consume? I mean, nobody really wants to think about sweet little Babe while they’re frying up their breakfast bacon, right? And after seeing some of the videos from activist groups on Facebook about some of the suffering and actual torture these poor animals face every single day from factory farming, I swore off eating meat. And I maintained it for two years.
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There were good days and bad days during that stretch. Even though there are some truly awful “meat alternatives” on the market, I was pleasantly surprised by how many are also delicious! I once even took Beyond Burgers to a cookout, and they were a hit even among the meat-eating crowd. And don’t get me started on Gardein’s faux-chicken tenders… I found that they were virtually indistinguishable from the real thing! I probably spent a small fortune on those suckers while I was living the veggie lifestyle. I used to order a mac and cheese dish topped with them from Yard House whenever I felt like I needed to spring for lunch at the office that I used to work at in downtown Indy, and the scent of the Gardein tenders even fooled a co-worker into thinking I was a fraud!
Sadly, though, after a little over two years, I did wind up falling off the wagon. Getting enough protein wasn’t the issue, although I know that concern does sometimes cause even some of the most militant vegans and vegetarians to go back to animal products. It honestly just got too hard to stay consistent. Being from the Midwest, a large part of socialization and our culture revolves around food made mostly from meat, cheese, corn, and potatoes, and my family is no different. As empathetic as they were towards me and my concerns about animal slaughtering and factory farming, I wasn’t going to convince them to change on my own. And honestly, being the only one who constantly has to find an alternative when we hit the drive-thru while honestly still having cravings for a damn cheeseburger was extremely hard.
I learned something simple but valuable during those two years, however. It may have been the moment in my life that made me realize: Nobody is perfect. And that’s okay.
Eleanor (Kristen Bell) sums things up perfectly in The Good Place.
I was discussing this with a fellow content creator recently, and she mentioned that it is amazing if you even care. That’s a lot more than most people in today’s age. With the planet and humanity practically deteriorating before our very eyes, the fact that you are even making an effort at times is enough. We’re never going to be perfect. Even the strictest vegan you could possibly imagine probably owns or has likely consumed something against their moral code or healthy lifestyle. And guess what? The world spins madly on. And I think we honestly forget that we’re all just kinda making it up as we go in life.
Just do your best. That’s really all we can do. Nobody is the morality police, and nobody is perfect. Anyone who tells you otherwise or makes you feel judged or wants to start virtue signaling all over their socials in response shouldn’t be in your life anyway.
I still hate where meat comes from, by the way. And I still stump for animal rights, as ironic as it may sound. I would be beyond heartbroken if someone were to hurt one of my cats, but honestly, what’s the difference between a cat’s life and a cow’s life? And then what’s the difference between a cow’s life and our lives? Don’t we all deserve to live them? I think that we do. But we can only do what we can do. I’m only one person. And I hope that my two years of vegetarianism and my ongoing efforts to still choose compassion when possible in other ways have made a difference.
We’re all just doing our best. And if that best includes a little more compassion, even sometimes, that’s worth something.
This past Thursday, while on his way to pick up dinner for us, my nephew stumbled upon a tiny black kitten crying his little lungs out in our driveway. Before I even had an opportunity to stand up and head outside to see the little guy, Dad was immediately directing just one very firm word at us: “No.”
Honestly, I can’t say that I blame him. Our residence is currently home to my other three feline companions, and potentially the spirit of another, all of which you can read about in this post. In this economy, and with my struggles in finding a reliable source of income, the cost of cat food, litter, toys, treats, supplements, furniture, and occasional medicine or healthcare for my boys can definitely add up. Adding yet another mouth to feed just isn’t a good financial idea. Plus, I’m pretty sure the elder two are still mad about Cinnamon’s arrival a few years ago, so subjecting them to yet another kid sibling would be interesting, to say the very least.
Also, at what point do you stop being someone who has cats and start being the crazy cat person?? I mean, I’ve jokingly referred to myself as the “crazy cat guy” many times in the past, but would I start actively defying expectations by bringing yet another cat into the fold? More importantly, do we really care about societal standards??
Am I becoming Taylor Swift?
Keeping in line with Dad’s wishes, however, we sadly decided to leave the kitten outside. However, since some rough weather was incoming, we did provide him with food, water, and a little bit of shelter on our covered porch. If we couldn’t keep the little guy, I wanted to make sure he at least wasn’t going to starve to death or have nowhere to hide when it storms. We were also keeping our fingers crossed that the reason he was crying so much was because he was calling for his mom, who might still be nearby. Especially since there is a stray calico cat (that we’ve very creatively decided to call Callie the Calico) that we suspect lives somewhere nearby and who very well could be the mother in question. We still wanted Callie to be able to find her baby if that was the case.
Five days later and the all-black kitten, whom Dad had formally given the name Inkspot, was still on our porch. Callie and/or any other capable feline mom were nowhere in sight. Numerous rounds of storms have rolled through the area since the day we found Inky, it is soon forecast to start getting very hot outside, and we’ve worried about him for several other reasons, not the least of which includes a vulture that has been stalking the area due to an armadillo that had apparently keeled over and died across the street from our house. (Doesn’t southeast Kansas sound like fun, you guys?!!) I had told Dad a day or two ago that, if we weren’t able to get Inky to a shelter or find another home for him by today, he was, indeed, going to stay with us permanently. Getting him elsewhere didn’t happen, so today he entered our home for the first time.
Please meet Inky, the latest addition to our family!
Inkspot, or Inky for short, is the latest addition to our family!
While I definitely have some concerns about Inky’s well-being and the well-being of my other three fur-kids, I’m hoping that they will eventually acclimate to one another and be one big happy feline family. I’m also happy we could finally bring him inside and give him a home. It appears as though he was either orphaned or abandoned by his mother, so he needed a place to rest his little head. And that place is here.
You may or may not have noticed that I added a new feature to Jiggy’s Journal within the last month. That feature is the AMA (Ask Me Anything) page! It’s just another way to provide a little more open dialogue with you, the readers!
I got the idea to do this from a similar feature built into most blogs hosted over on Tumblr. Essentially, it encourages readers to submit questions, comments, suggestions, etc. that can later be addressed by the author in later posts, like this one! It’s also a way to provide a little more of an open dialogue with you, the readers!
I’ve only received two legitimate submissions so far (and a whole bunch of spam…), but the AMA page remains open and active. If you’ve got questions, I’ve got answers… Probably. Maybe. So here we go…
C.R. asks: What kind of filter do I need for the ice maker in my refrigerator?
I feel like it’s probably necessary to disclose that this question came from my sister, who is trying to troll me. Not because I’m any type of filter or refrigeration pro. I honestly don’t even know what brand of refrigerator she has.
Now that we have that out of the way, you’re in luck! I did a cursory Google search and found this inline water filter kit from PureWater Filters! Looks to be compatible with just about any kind of ice maker!
Bet you didn’t expect a real answer, huh? Also, just in case you’re curious, this is the kind we have. 😉
A. Nonnymus asks: Your cat Rufus is cute, but why is he a turd?
Huh, I wonder who would submit this type of question! How rude!
J. Law’s got the perfect reaction here.
Aaaaanyway, for anyone who isn’t familiar, Rufus is my sweet summer child. He’s very cute, very sweet, and very skittish. When we moved out here from Indiana in early 2023, it actually took him about two days before he would even exit his carrier. Even for food or water. That’s how scared he can get!
And with him being the very definition of a “scaredy cat,” he’s got a very strong fight-or-flight response. When he’s scared of something or someone, he usually runs away and hides from them. If he’s backed into a corner, though, he’ll hiss and start throwing claws. He’s still my “baby angel” around those of us he lives with, but he still runs or skibidi baps my sister, brother-in-law, and nephew, who lived out here before we did. Mostly because he doesn’t know or feel as comfortable around them.
That explains why he’s allegedly such a turd. Anxiety. He fits right in with me!
One of my favorite photos of Rufus, because honestly, have you ever seen a more adorable kitty?
And that’s all for this round! Make sure you get your submissions in for the next round later this month!
The idea of ghosts has actually been on my mind a lot lately. I’ve been reading Trap Line by Timothy Zahn, a short story I found on Kindle that revolves around one engineer’s ability to “project” a ghostly apparition of himself across vast distances and makes first contact with aliens. I’ve also been listening to a lot of P!nk on Spotify while my sister and I continue our obsession with Palia. Recently, while reminiscing on a quest I had done for two of the game’s characters involving their mine potentially being haunted, the song “When I Get There” played, which is a beautiful and bittersweet song P!nk wrote as a letter to her late father in heaven. Today, my older brother told me, during a conversation about UFOs, that while he’s never seen an alien or a likely UFO, he is convinced that he’s seen a ghost. And lastly, I’ve mentioned a dozen or so times that Jiggy’s Journal is a blog and email newsletter publication powered by a platform incidentally called Ghost.
Needless to say, my vision last night could have just been light and shadow playing tricks on my fairly vulnerable psyche. Maybe this is all just coincidence? But I’m thinking not after last night.
“When I Get There” by P!nk.
Kitten Season 🐈
To tell the complete story, I need to bring you with me back to the summer of 2016. I was torn when my Dad came to me with a proposal: a friend of a friend of his in Kentucky had two kittens that were only a few weeks old, no longer wanted them for whatever ridiculous reason she gave them instead of “the novelty wore off,” and was simply going to dump them on the street if she wasn’t able to find a new home for them swiftly enough. “Do you want these kittens?” Dad asked, knowing very well that I wasn’t going to let two kittens get dumped on the street as an alternative. “Do I have a choice?” I asked him, looking at him like he were completely nuts.
I had little time to deliberate whether or not I was okay with forcing Tigger, who was my one and only pet at the time, to adjust to a more chaotic living situation with what amounted to two new babies in the mix. There were also a lot of adjustments to be made on our end in order to accommodate them. Including, but absolutely not limited to, kitten-proofing the house. We even bought a small dog crate to put them in at night when we slept because I was fearful that one of us might squish one of them on our way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. (Don’t worry—two nights into having them at home, they were completely free to roam the house at all hours. I couldn’t listen to them cry!) But I wound up deciding to take them anyway. Because, honestly, who says no to sharing their home with kittens?
Then, one weekend in June, Dad brought home the two adorable little furballs of joy. I didn’t know quite enough about cat biology this early into our journey with cats at home and wrongfully assumed that one of the kittens was a calico—a type of cat that is tricolored and almost exclusively female—due to him being mostly white with patches of gray tabby stripes in places. That explains why my nephew and I had initially given them the Star Trek-inspired names Curzon and Jadzia. We felt that they were highly unique names for kittens, but in retrospect, felt a touch too nerdy when my co-workers wound up needing a pronunciation after seeing my updates on social media. After learning at their first vet check-up that Jadzia was actually a boy, their names were quickly changed to what we know them as today: Rufus and Oliver.
Only about a month later, on what was easily one of the saddest nights of my entire life, Dad and I took a trip to the emergency vet with Oliver in tow. In the few hours up until that point, he had rapidly grown remarkably ill. So rapidly that it almost felt as though someone had flipped a switch in him. He had gone from energetic play with his brother to vomiting and was demonstrating an inability to stand or walk on his own. Dad could tell from his labored breathing simply sitting on the exam table that he was already suffering, and I did not want to subject him to further testing or procedures that they weren’t even sure would help him. Ultimately, as extraordinarily painful as it was for me, I said a tearful goodbye and chose the only humane thing left to do.
The only photo that exists of me with Oliver.
I was profoundly heartbroken. The veterinarian, who remained very kind and compassionate throughout the entire ordeal, had told us that it was likely that Oliver had been suffering from an underlying disease such as FeLV (Feline Leukemia Virus), and we just didn’t know since he hadn’t been exhibiting any symptoms up until then. It wasn’t our fault, but it didn’t feel that way to me. I was highly upset at the possibility that maybe he had gotten ahold of and eaten something that he shouldn’t have. I was also wildly fearful that his illness could have been spread to Tigger or Rufus, which resulted in us taking them to two different vets to be tested for FeLV and other diseases known to affect cats. Thankfully, except for Tig’s constantly recurring issue with ear mites, they both checked out to be perfectly healthy. Thus, the world spun madly on…
The Bond That Lives On 💖
Even though Tigger and Rufus received clean bills of health, I was still uneasy about them. Especially when it came to the youngest of the two. Oliver had technically been the only constant presence in Ruf’s life up until then. The way that Rufus constantly searched for his brother in those first few weeks without him made my heart hurt to watch. Sometimes, I think that animals have a better awareness of emotions and the world we live in than we do, but this was one instance in which I wish that I could have somehow given him the ability to say goodbye.
I consider myself a “crazy cat guy.” I love all three of my kitties, including my old man Tigger and our more recent addition, Cinnamon. They are practically my children. They are, without question, the loves of my life. But my bond with Rufus is special. The day we came home with Oliver’s empty carrier, I made a promise to Ruf that I would always love and take care of him. Now that he didn’t have his brother to confide in or to protect him, I felt like he was going to need a little extra love. While still painfully shy and could be considered the very definition of a “scaredy cat,” Rufus has been my best friend. He sleeps every night right beside me. And he has a way of always finding me when I need him. That old cliché about rescued pets rescuing their owners instead is true in a lot of ways between us. I tell my father constantly that Rufus is the best gift he ever gave me.
Perhaps the recurring theme of ghosts visiting us was what set the stage for last night’s encounter. I’ve been up late gaming, tooling around with my website or server, and launching my new public forums (which you should totally join!) a lot lately. Last night was no different, until I walked into the kitchen to grab another soda and caught, out of the corner of my eye, what looked like a white-ish colored cat sitting in our living room. I had to do a double-take, and even after taking a second look, I still thought the cat was sitting there. It wasn’t one of the others either, since they were all accounted for. It took completely glancing away and then back to the same spot again before the realization set in that no cat was sitting there and likely never had been. It was alarming, but after thinking about it from a few different perspectives, I’m convinced…
Oliver had paid me a visit that night.
I’m still uncertain as to why, but I do have a few theories. The first is that I’ve been dwelling a little on my own mortality. I’m still just learning at the ripe old age of 40 how to code/program and actually develop an understanding of how computers work. You see, I thought that gaining these skills might make me more employable, but I’m also aware that I’m getting into an age bracket that makes companies think twice. I’m also facing the unfortunate truth about how difficult it is to make friends as an adult. I’m an introvert, so it was already pretty hard, but trying to find time to “hang out” just isn’t a top priority for people who juggle multiple jobs and/or take care of children. Almost everyone else my age has a mortgage and grandchildren. It’s probably why the only other people I still know in this town outside of my family are retail co-workers that I don’t even work with anymore. Whatever the case may be, I think Oliver’s appearance last night—whether it was actually him from beyond or just a personal spiritual experience—means a couple of things.
It was a reminder of him being one of my babies, as brief as it was. It’s a reminder of how much I love my family and my other cats. It’s a reminder of my hometown back in Indiana and the friends I still have there. And the friends that I make going forward. I’m choosing to believe that the significance of Oliver’s spirit being felt nearby means something. These connections never truly fade away, despite time or distance. Love transcends physical boundaries.
My grandmother passed away in 2011, but I still recall having a serious conversation with her during one of the major holidays before her death. I told her about how the days leading up to holidays like that one made me incredibly anxious. I knew that I was going to see distant relatives that I rarely saw throughout the rest of the year, and I would be socially inept. But it never shook out that way because when the day actually came around, striking up a conversation with everyone wasn’t difficult at all. It was always as if no time had passed between any of us. And she told me that’s just what it’s like with family. My grandma, my late mother, and even little Oliver all remind me that love is maybe the only thing that lasts forever.
