I Have A Migraine In My Eye

I tend to be a bit of a hypochondriac. So, when I started to see some weird flickering (something like a wavy distortion) in my eye that blocked some of my peripheral vision, well, let's just say I became a bit concerned. But my sister told me that it's most likely a migraine in my eye, and they're not uncommon. She convinced me I wasn't going blind, or having a fatal brain aneurysm (a weakness in a blood vessel in the brain that can burst). Which means, I suppose, I will live for another day. This is good news to Eddie, who would have some difficulty getting by without my help.
Most of us are very dependent upon our vision for many reasons. It is nice to be able to see where you're going, whether you're walking, running, riding a bike, or driving a car. In fact, you could say that it's kind of important. Our's is a very visual world. We depend on our eyes for almost everthing. From working, reading, watching tv, and even when we comunicate face to face, we are very dependent on being able to see the other person's face and body language. 
Even in our language, we place great importance on our eyes. "My eye!" is equivalent to "Not a chance", or, "Over my dead body!" Sometimes when someone is trying to convince someone else that he/she is not lying, they will swear "On my Mother's (or it could be wife's, husband's, or children's) eyes."
Anyway, anyhow (or as someone I know says, Anyhoo), the migraine in my eye has moved into my head. So, I am going to take a couple of tylenol, drink a cup of tea, and relax on the sofa while Eddie pesters me for headrubs, and such. So, take care of yourselves, and each other, stay out of trouble, and look out for low flying migraines.   

The English Language Is My Oyster

So, you might ask, how does one speak English fluently. The easiest way is, for it to be your native language. Or, you could have a gift for language, and pick it up the way you would a cup of tea. Unfortunately for most of us, it is a continual struggle to learn another language. Yes, I just battled my way through another Mandarin lesson. And like some other lessons in learning a language that often does not make sense to me, I came out of it feeling wrung (the past of wring) out, both physically, and mentally. Sometimes it seems that I am beating myself over the head (instead of a dead horse), in order to learn something new. Then, when I finally get it (understand), I feel like an idiot for not understanding it sooner. Yeah, I guess I am not the genius I would like to think I am. Boy, howdy (an expression).
Anyway, life is definitely struggle. If it wasn't, who would we be? Probably no one we would want to know. Or hang out with, for that matter.
Well, I can only say, that I am extremely thankful for the example of all my ESOL friends. They keep coming back for more punishment from that confusing, and complex English language. My little headache from trying to learn Mandarin is minor in comparison. Actually, if wasn't for them, I wouldn't even have thought to try to learn another language. And of course, there's always that faint, but persistent hope, that I will meet and marry a beautiful, and rich, Chinese woman. Who can say? Stranger things have happened.

A Walk in the Park

"A walk in the park" is an expression that is similar to "piece of cake," as well as "easy as pie." It can also simply mean, a walk in the park. And some walks in the park are not a "walk in the park," if you know what I mean.
Take my last walk through Central Park in New York City. I hadn't gotten more than one hundred yards into the park, when I had to give up my wallet at knife point. A little bit further in, someone with a baseball bat took my shoes. I don't know why he wanted them. He had a perfectly good pair, himself.
After that, I was chased by three guys, who I think were speaking Russian. They took my pants.
And before I could get out of the park, I had to run from a pack of wild dogs. At least, I think they were dogs, but I didn't want to wait around to find out for sure (certain).
That was just the early part of my evening. When I fnally escaped from my "walk in the park," I was arrested by the police for running around without any pants on. I believe they thought I was some sort of pervert. So, I spent the rest of the night in jail.
But, I have learned my lesson. If I want to go for a walk now, I look for a nice busy, smelly, and unpleasant looking area of city streets and parking lots.
I stay out of those deceptively beautiful parks. Which, just like Rupert Murdoch's wife, can be extremely dangerous, as well as beautiful.

Would You Rather Be A Fish?

I have to admit, I complain a lot. Maybe not out loud, but definitely in my head (mind). Well, sometimes out loud. But generally speaking, the one who hears me is a little feathered friend of mine. And he really doesn't care too much, as long as he gets his food and water. And, of course, unlimited headrubs.
In fact, he might actually complain more than me. Mainly (primarily) because I have spoiled him rotten. If I am too slow about getting him out of his cage in the morning, he starts yelling. Even if I am not that slow, he begins yelling, just on principle. If I leave the room without taking him with me, yep, you got it, he starts yelling. But, I can't blame him. It's not the easiest thing to be a small colorful bird. He has to depend on me for just about everything. Having been a domestic bird all his life, he wouldn't survive in the outside world for very long at all. With all his beautiful color, a predator, like a hawk, would have him for lunch in not time at all. Now, I know a predator could get me, too. Maybe one of those seemingly invisible cougars that are wandering around Connecticut. Or, possibly one of the migrating polar bears that have been forced from their homes up north. And I'm not forgetting that dangerous rogue elephant, hiding somewhere around here. But, more than likely, the one that gets me would probably be one of those big buses that lie in wait for some poor human to walk by, and then, BOOM! I'll be history.
Anyway, as horrible as humans can be, for and to the world, we -and by we, I mean I- should be greatly thankful for the life we have. Even more than that, we should be kind and considerate to all those less fortunate than ourselves. And that includes animals. (Although I won't tell you to be considerate of republicans. They're on their own. I have nothing good to say about them).
So, you don't have to be a fisherman, or fisherwoman, but would you really want to be a fish?

Make Good Dreams, My Friends

Make good dreams. That's what I usually tell Eddie when I am saying goodnight to him. It's my way of wishing him well until I see him again, which in his case, will be in the morning. Not having much on my mind at the moment, other than getting a decent night's sleep, myself, to you I say, Make good dreams, my Brothers and Sisters. May you be held dear, in the bosom of the Infinite.

Did Your Day End The Way You Thought It Would?

When I got up this morning, I really didn't think about how my day would end. I generally try to live moment by moment. But I usually don't expect anything out of the ordinary to happen. At least, not too much out of the ordinary. After all, I do have a black bear living under my bed. Or, I should say, mostly under my bed. When I arrived home, it did appear that there was a much greater mess in the kitchen and living room, then when I left. And the tv, which I had left on the comedy channel for Eddie, was now on the animal channel. It was showing the end of some program on salmon fishing.
But that's not where my day ended. I had to go back to the Library where they were hosting an author/writer of strange and speculative fiction, Kaaron Warren. She talked about her writing, her books, where some of her ideas have come from, as well as some ghost, and crime, stories. Listening to her actually inspired me. You see, I think, and sometimes talk, about writing a lot. But I have trouble picking a direction with my writing. Mainly, because I do really like the strange, and horrific, but for some reason, I don't feel free to go in that direction. But that is what Kaaron Warren writes about. And I truly enjoyed listening and talking to her. She has rekindled my desire to write.  
Also, I have to admit, I do tend to be lazy, so I don't push myself to find my own direction in writing. Or, you could say, to find my own writing "voice".
 Well, and it is yet to be seen where it leads, but this evening, I think, Kaaron has given my little brain a tweak.
Anyway (Anyhow), Albert (the black bear) tells me he wants me to take him fishing. He wants to try it the human way, with a fishing pole. That should be quite interesting. I hope I live to tell about it. 

There's A Bear In My Bedroom, And It's Not Me

It always seems I am waking up during the night with the bed covers down at the bottom of the bed. I just assumed I had somehow pushed them down while I was sleeping. It never crossed my mind that some other being could be pulling them down from under my bed. Who would have thought that?
So, the other night, I was partially awake, and I felt the covers being pulled down. Thinking that, maybe, I was dreaming, I climbed out of bed and knelt down to take a look under the bed. And there, looking back at me with a mouth full of teeth, was a black bear. And not a small one either. I have no idea how he (yes, it was a he) managed to get under there. As he climbed out of there, I wasn't sure if I should be afraid of him or not. But it seems, thank God, that he would rather talk than eat me. He told me later, that people really don't taste good anyway, and he was partial to pancakes.
When I asked him what he was doing under my bed, Albert (yep, his name is Albert) told me he liked it under there. He was sick of living in the, slowly disappearing, wild. He told me it was a bear eat bear world out there in the woods. Not only did he have to worry about other bears, but he also had to keep an eye out for hunters, and almost as bad, maybe even worse, land developers. These developers are cutting down the forest, and building houses and other buildings, along with creating huge parking lots. He believes most of them are Republicans, who are intent on wiping out all the bears, as well as all the other poor little animals.
I told him he could stay as long as he wanted, on the conditions that he not tie up the bathroom when I needed it, and that he not scare Eddie. He said, No problem.
He only plans on staying until the Republicans cause the collapse of human civilization, and the forest, along with the animals, take possession of the world once again. And because of my kindness, once that happens, he will protect me in the new world. Or, I should say, the return of the old world.
In the meantime, I guess I will just have to bear with him. (ouch!)

Security Is A Feeling

Many people believe security means financial independence (being wealthy). But security should mean, feeling safe. Or, at least, make someone feel safe. Now, I think everyone can probably agree, that having enough money can take away a lot of worries. It can also "grease" the wheels of life (make life easier, in other words). But there really is nothing, including a few million dollars, that can make someone perfectly safe. But feeling safe, well, that's a horse of a different color (an expression that, in this case, simply means, that's a different thing altogether).
There are many things that make us feel safe. It's a personal thing. I feel safe when I am relaxing at home, lost in a good book, or enjoying the company of friends. Many people feel safe when they are in bed. Eddie likes to relax while sleeping on my foot, when I have my legs up on the sofa. I like to believe he feels safe then. 
At night, when I am getting ready for sleep, I cover his cage with a dark sheet, which only covers three sides of his cage. He has to have a nightlight shine in the fourth side, because cockatiels are prone to (tend to, or have a tendency towards) night frights. If he hears a noise at night, and can't see, he will panic and try to fly. And being in a cage, of course, if he tries to fly he will injure himself.
But after I put the sheet on his cage, I have to talk to him for a minute or two, so he will calm down enough, and feel safe enough to go to sleep. It's a routine we have. And maybe, we both need it.
Anyway, I think the feeling of being safe is kinda' like the felling of being loved. They have a lot in common. And if you can't grasp that concept (understand what I'm saying), then I'm wasting my breath. Or, in this case, wasting what little typing skill I have. 

It's Those Little Moments

Most of the time, I am caught up in my little life, going from task to task, doing all those things I have to do. And, of course, when I have some free time, I then hang out on the couch with Eddie, either reading or watching tv.
But every once in a while, something manages to drag me out of my little world, out into the big, wide, beautiful world around me. Yes, there are many times, in fact maybe most of the time, I really don't have a fully conscious appreciation of the world around me. At least, not as much as I should. Take today, for instance. I lay in bed as long as I could, until I had just enough time to take a shower before getting Eddie up for the day. I did have a productive day, however. I cleaned and disinfected Eddie's castle (he has a very large cage), which is more than a two hour job. After eating, I did my laundry, and ran the errands I had to get done. After that, I hung out with Eddie, finished reading a book, and watched a little tv. Not a bad day, but nothing earth shaking about it.
But then I had one of those moments.
I usually start getting Eddie ready for sleep around 9 pm. One of the first things I do is clean the husks (the shells from the seeds he eats) out of his food dish. I do this outside my front door. Tonight, when I went out there, it was twilight. And it was one of the most beautiful evenings I can remember ever seeing. There was still a little light in the sky, and the sky itself was an amazing shade of purple. There were these little white wispy clouds floating in it. And the sky was all I could see, because it was much brighter than anything else I could see. 
For a moment, a moment that seemed to last much longer than it did, a moment I could have lived a life in, I forgot my little life completely. I was reminded how big the world is. A world spinning through space, in a huge galaxy, with a star at it's center. For a moment, there was nothing more important than this glorious vision.
It's those brief moments, that make life so completely worth being alive for.