Pressure Drop (Old Robert Palmer Song Title)

So, are you the type of person who believes that life is a series of random events, or do you believe that there is some sort of grand design? I believe both. Or, to put it another way, a mix of the two. I'm not sure I can explain that. But simplicity is not a natural quality of human existence. Life gets complicated without any serious effort on our part to make it so. However, how complicated it gets is something we usually have a little control of. At least to some degree. If things get way out of hand, you can always run away. I once read that there's no problem too big to run away from. I think it was a Peanuts comic strip. 
One of the central desires for most of us human creatures is to find meaning in, and for, our lives. Meaning, and purpose. And sometimes, we get to choose what events, people, and personal experiences have meaning for us. Sometimes we don't. As for purpose, sometimes we get to choose what we do with our lives, sometimes it's chosen for us by way of that "grand design" concept, and sometimes it's chosen by default. But one thing' certain. As soon we feel set in our course, life intervenes and changes our world. Life may be a one way journey, but it does not go in one direction only. And there are many roads
And so the journey. Like all humans in this new age of the "much smaller world", I am evolving. Somewhat, anyway. Change is a good and necessary thing. But like most humans, I don't greet change enthusiastically most of the time. And because I am evolving (slowly, very slowly), this blog is evolving as well. Originally I started it as a means of helping some ESOL (English as another language) learners expand their knowledge of English. Along the way I seem to have picked up some readers from all over the world: Russia, Germany, the UK, and a number of other interesting places, of which I wish I knew more. This unanticipated larger audience, has actually affected how I've been writing this blog. I can only describe it as some form of mutated stage fright. Not to worry. I promise to go back to my frivolous and irreverent approach immedeately or sooner. 
The world is a strange and wonderful place. And not always a happy place, and definitely very rarely a peaceful place. But, we share it. And it's good that we do. It would be pretty lonely otherwise. No one's an island, and all that. I am one of those people who sometimes wishes I were an island, but lucky for me, it is not to be.
Anyroad, this is enough seriousness on my part for awhile. There's nothing like being laid up for a week with a bad cold to put a dent in my sense of humor. Luckily, that will improve. 
For anyone wondering why the title of this post was Pressure Drop, I received an email from the founder of a new site telling me I had picked up over 20 new followers of this blog from said site. Hence, pressure did drop on me to get out this post. The other reason for the title is that I love that song, which is why I would like to dedicate this particular post to the late, great Robert Palmer. Somewhere, in another place, I imagine him singing, with a large band behind him, surrounded by beautiful women. 
Be well, & be kind to each other.     

The World Is Not Perfect (or: Anger Can Ruin Your Day)

I could not be President. In fact, I shouldn't be in any position of power. I have anger issues. I really don't know how President Obama keeps it together. In his position, I would already have had anyone associated with the Tea Party wacked, or disappeared (same thing really). And probably a number of the non-Tea Party Republicans as well. So, you can see, I should DEFINITELY NOT be president. Lucky for me (& the rest of the world), I have no desire to run for office.
In the political realm, I do what I can, which amounts to voting, signing a petition or two (usually on-line), and that's about it. Oh, I pay attention to what's currently going on, but I do my best not to follow it too closely. Preferably not closer than a mile or two. I just get too angry. And there is too much wonder, beauty, and magnificently strange weirdness in the world to pay attention to the mundane and crass pettiness of the human behavior found in what passes for politics in these modern (there's a word for you) times. 
Humans. You can't live with them, and well... if your my friend Albert, or any of his friends, you definitely can live without them. Albert, of course, is a not so small black bear, who is quite a champion for animal rights. Doesn't think much of humans, however.
Anyroad. I have things to accomplish, fascinating conversations to have, and many wonderful books to read. It doesn't look like the world will be ending in the next few moments, and until it does, or I do, I will forge ahead, do my best to enjoy life, and immerse myself in whatever experiences I can. Will I get angry upon occasion? I expect so. But I am learning to let it go. The world is a wondrous place. And life is too short to waste it on the moronic.    

In A Perfect World...

I seem to be disappointing my mother by not posting anything to this blog as of late. Well, we can't have that...
...And so, a quick word squeezed in at the end of the day. A beautiful fall day actually, even if it does feel like October in September. But I do like October quite a considerable amount. Even if it does come in September.
It's very difficult to explain CFIDS to someone who isn't very (VERY) familiar with it. The only ones who really are, are those who have been afflicted. Which is why I don't bother to try. And there are far worse situations to find yourself in life. After all, it's not fatal, even if it doesn't have a cure. 
There are three things that have managed to keep me going, and made my life not just bearable, but worth living. Exercise is one, mainly my morning 6 mile jogs, which I would like to say I do every day, but some days I'm just not up to it. As they say (that damn they, again), some days you get the bear, other days the bear gets you. 
Another is my leading ESOL conversation groups for Literacy Volunteers. It keeps me connected to the world, and it is probably the best thing I have ever done. And in truth, I have never had a more wonderful time doing anything.
And finally, my books. Reading has always been a great pleasure for me since I was very young. I can still remember one of the first truly scary stories that I ever read, when I was 9 or 10 years old. On many days when I simply don't have it in me to face the world at large, books are, and always have been, there for me. 
Which is what brings me to the end of today. There are many writers that I admire, and I have a great appreciation for their work. But every once in awhile, a writer I have enjoyed, actually connects with me. I'm not sure exactly how to explain it. The story becomes more than a story. Within the framework of a fictional story (I don't read much nonfiction; unfortunately it mostly puts me into a coma) the Author is able to bring me to some core of truth, about life, about human beings, of which the story is just the medium that carries this hidden meaning of life and the world. Not sure I could explain that any better.  
Today I really connected with a British writer, Kim Newman, best known for his Anno Dracula novels, and stories of the Diogenes Club. I finally got around to reading an earlier novel of his that I had wanted to read for a long time. It was just reissued recently. Jago. That's the title. Anyroad, it's a monster, over 643 pages. I started it on the weekend and finshed it tonight. As I said, I always enjoyed his work, but now, well...I'm not sure words could express my appreciation of what this book did for me. And, no. I'm not saying it would do the same thing for you. But he definitely reached into my unconscious, and reached me on a deeper level. Besides, the book was worth readin just for the story and his wonderful characters. 'Nough said. 
On that note. I am keeping my bird, Eddie, up with pounding on this keyboard. He doesn't complain much, he really is a marvelous companion, when he's not driving me crazy, which really isn't as often as you'd think. So, pleasant dreams...hope life is treating you well...

The Life of a Superbird Can't Be Easy

Dealing with my immune system related issues does make day to day life a bit more of a chore than the average healthy individual. And yes, I do complain a lot. Usually only to a select few individuals, who do make my life a bit easier in more ways than just listening to me bellyache. Like my friend Eddie. 
Eddie of course, is a captive audience. He spends a good bit of his time in a cage. It's a big cage. Including the play top with a perch on top, it's just about 5 feet tall. Even when I'm home, and the door to his cage is almost always open, he likes spending a good part of the time in it. He feels safe there. But, before I adopted him from a Humane Society Shelter, I believe his first caregiver kept him in a cage for his first 12 1/2 years of life. He's still afraid of the world outside of his cage, but he's gotten his little toes wet gradually over the 5 years he's been with me, and he seems to enjoy spending time on my shoulder, as long as I don't move around too much. He has balance issues. He never learned how to ride a human early in life, so it's always a work in progress.
There are a few things I really enjoy in life. A morning jog; a strong cup of tea (Tazo Focus, I love that stuff) with honey; leading a conversation group of people of mixed nationalities who are doing their best to learn a confusing, and sometimes mind-boggling new language; an occasional good movie; and always, a good book to read. Lots and lots of books to read. Those are a few of the things that make my life bearable. 
There is nothing, however, that makes me feel the way I do when I am relaxing on the couch with my legs up, and my friend Eddie is sleeping on my foot. It is a warm feeling that is indescribable. And I have to wear these old, ripped and falling apart running shoes, because they are the only shoes he will sleep on. It's a small price to pay. The shoes will be here until one or both of us has moved on. As much as I dread the thought of his passing, I do hope that he goes first. Cockatiels don't usually survive the loss of a caregiver they have a strong bond with. But they can sometimes live longer than 30 years. So, God willing, and the creek don't rise, we both might be around for a while, yet. One can only hope.
Ah...please don't mention it in front of him, but certain mixed color cockatiels have a genetic problem with maintaining feathers on the top of their heads. It doesn't, however, bother him in the least as long as you don't talk about it when you're in his presence.   

Turnip Stew @ the End of the World

I sometimes stew in an odd ('tis I that is most likely the odd thing in this stew) mixture of melancholy, mania, depression; a desire to accomplish things close to my heart (mainly reading and writing), feelings of inability to accomplish not just those precious acts due to physical and mental exhaustion, but also feelings of being unable to stay on top of those trivial responsibilities that I must, at least in a timely manner. I have been in and out of  this funk (more in than out) not just for days or weeks, but months now. So, am I dying? Could I possibly be psychic, and have entered a state of semi-despair (not really sure what a state of this nature would actually be, but I would think not quite as strong as despair itself) due to foreseeing the approaching end of the world as we know it? I don't think so, even though it's possible, I suppose.
Since I was young (well, younger than I am now), I have been prone to bouts of depression where I would lose the desire to speak. In fact, I would feel incapable of doing so. Upon occasion during my teens it even happened when I was with friends. I would become overwhelmed with a feeling of sadness, or spiritual depression (a depression of my spirit might describe it better). They, of course, would pester me to snap out of it, and eventually I would.
As with some experiences in life, these dark moods of mine are something I just have to ride out.
Lucky for me, I do have an excellent support network to aid me through these trying periods of blah. This includes my mother, a sister, an incredibly wonderful and wacky group of ESOL learners, of whom most I am blessed to call friends. And of course, one bird, and one bear. Albert, with whom I have a common spirit, even though he is a black bear, doesn't put up with my self-pity. He calls it a great failing of the human animal. And Eddie. Perhaps my most marvelous of friends. He puts himself completely in my care. He trusts me enough to sleep on my shoulder at times, as well as on my foot. Although he will only sleep on a ratty old pair of running shoes, no others will do. And when he's happy, he sings his little lungs out. Well. I'm not sure you would call it singing. More like a lot of yelling and wild bird calls, with some shrieking thrown in for good measure. It can be annoying once in awhile, but he is a living lesson of what it is to be alive.
So, even when I am in the doldrums, as I am now it seems, I am in good hands all the same. And of course, not just hands, but paws and claws as well, with some colorful wings to boot. Bring on the end of the world if you will. I am one helluva lucky fella'. And I won't go quietly. Later, Humans. Be well.   

Chasing the Elusive Clown with a Flower

No great satisfaction to be had here, at the moment. Oh, I don't really have much to complain about. Although being a sometimes typical human, I do feel it to be my duty to complain about what I can. Things I can't complain about today: the weather, since it's a beautiful day here in southern New England; today's schedule,  my only appointment is with a book, and maybe a little head-rubbing of Eddie's (my little cockatiel brother) feather-challenged crown; and my physical well being, as I have food to eat (both healthy and not so healthy), wonderful tea of many different varieties. And I did get in a decent jog early this morning, which was hollowed by a wonderful shower. Then I was able to enjoy three of my favorite TV programs: The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, The Colbert Report with Steven (or is it Stephen?) Colbert, and 2 hours of Doctor Who. What more could I want? 
Aahhh...You shouldn't ask that question. 
Anyroad. For myself, I am content. But it would be nice to have the money/power (sometimes they equal the same thing) to fix all the world's problems, and give all people (the good, the bad, and the evil) exactly what they deserve. But then, I am only human. And in the end, what I enjoy most, is making people laugh. My dream would be to bring laughter to all the people struggling along in the world, who truly need and deserve it. 
And, me thinks, that is what makes me the happiest. Laughter. Not to laugh alone, but to share it the way you share a life affirming meal. So. Complain if you must. Be sure to appreciate what you have. And do your best to laugh as often as you can. 

Giant Birds, Wonderful & Scary Bears (Ok, One Wonderful & Scary Bear), & Wackos (Both Good, & Bad)

I've been quite lax as of late in maintaining a blogging flow, so to speak. Mainly due to sleep issues, which are related to my continuing battle with CFIDS (Chronic Fatigue Immune Dysfunction Syndrome). But they still say it won't kill me, and because I have to take care of Eddie, my little brother of the cockatiel persuasion, and provide a sanctuary as well as look for Albert, my cousin (he doesn't like to think of himself as being closely related to humans) of the large bearish type, I can't kill me. Besides. My mother, sister (one of them, anyway), and brother wouldn't forgive me.
Anyroad, while wrestling with what little sleep I could snatch from the jaws of insomnia last night, I had a strange and disturbing dream that bordered on being a nightmare. I was at my Mother's house, where my sister (the one I don't get along with; I have two), had let Eddie out of his cage. I was attempting to get him back into his cage, but he had grown to human size, and he was wearing clothes. And I, Eddie and his cage were in the bathroom. At least the window wasn't open. Although if it had been, Eddie would not have fit through it in his new giant size. The only meaning I can draw from this particular dream, is that I am a very disturbed individual. 'Course, I knew that already. I blame it on the very disturbing world we live in.
Which brings me to wackos. My heart goes out to all those who were killed, injured, or with family and/or friends either killed or injured in the Boston Marathon bombing, and the subsequent aftermath. I don't how a bomber, suicide or otherwise, or a mass murderer of any kind is created. But I do know it takes hate, a seriously twisted mind or minds, and the mistaking of great evil for something good. The end result is a wacko of the worst, and most dangerous sort.
A wacko of the best sort, is one who views life in an "outside of the box" kinda way, and has an excellent sense of humor, although some people might consider his/her sense of humor somewhat irreverent, and even inappropriate upon occasion. But he/she, like all the best wackos, has a great reverence for life. All life. Yeah, I know a couple of those. Even some famous ones. Some people might even think I'm a bit of one myself. More recently, I was called a weirdo. I suppose I am, sorta'. But a very nice one. Honest.
Anyroad, it was about 70 degrees out there today, with plenty of sun. The trees are budding, flowers (at least some them) are blooming, birds are singing, and there's a bear sleeping under my bed. I don't know how he does that. I can barely get under there. Albert is mostly a nocturnal creature while he stays with me. He complains there are too many people around with guns. He is of the belief that humans shouldn't be allowed to have guns at all. I can understand his point of view.
So. Be well, be strong of heart, and take care of each other. If you see a wandering black bear in the moonlight some night, don't shoot him. He's a friend of mine. And if you see a very large cockatiel dressed in clothes, I can only assume you are some kind of a fruitcake.

    

My Fractured Reality, & What it has in common with the Multiverse...What??!

Ah, the blunders we make. Well, make that the blunders I make. I was talking to a friend on the phone, which is always Eddie's cue (Eddie's my cockatiel roommate) to climb my arm and get his 2 cents in. Eddie's idea of communicating via the phone is to yell as loudly as he can into the telephone, and consequently into my ear. He alternates these screams with a few different imitations of wild bird calls, including some I think he just makes up. So, while this is happening, someone knocks on the door, and as I open it to what appears to be a well dressed, too clean-cut, and far too good looking (think The Omen) young man, the tea pot I had on the stove (I put it on for tea, of course) begins to whistle. While I am rescuing the tea pot, still listening to my sister telling me her secrets (which I will spill to my Mother later; we are all blabbermouths in my family) with Eddie still doing his best to drown out our conversation altogether, this angelic young man (although the outward appearance is quite different, think of the rotten-to-the-core politician in Stephen King's novel, The Dead Zone) begins talking about his political campaign of which a major component (part) will be to protect our right to bear arms, and to make sure it is not restricted in any way by the evil government forces.
Now, if I hadn't been distracted at the time with the phone and Eddie's yelling, I might have been able to nip a catastrophe-about-to-happen in the bud. But, I was barely listening to the foolish young man who had stepped across my living room threshold. Albert, however, who had been sleeping under my bed in the bedroom (Albert is a sometimes roommate, who also happens to be a black bear; it's a long story), was paying attention to the stranger's discourse (conversation). Albert, who is quite intelligent, even for most humans, is very anti-Republican (technically, he's not very fond of humans in general), and very, very, VERY anti-guns, particularly if they are in the hands of humans. The look of surprise on the face of the would-be-Governor of Connecticut's face might have given the painting of The Scream a run for its money when Albert came out of the bedroom.
Well, you can imagine the result. I had to spend the next 24 hours cleaning up the mess in the living room (you really wouldn't believe some of the places I found blood-splatter). After which I had to package and remove the remains from the premises, and then dispose of them. Albert, of course, took no responsibility for the situation. He grunted something about it being all my fault for answering the door. 
Anyroad. We just got back from a little vacation up north, where we felt it might be a good idea to lay-low for a bit.
And that, in a nutshell, is the story. But if asked, I will deny everything. 
Be well. Don't answer your door if you can help it. And please, think carefully before taking in any bears looking for a place to ride out the winter (or any other time of year).     

Contrasting Realities, or, Warm Tea on a Cold Day

So, after a bumpy night of wild dreams, I managed to crawl out of bed in time to stagger through a shorter than usual jog. It's a shame I can't remember the dreams, one in particular that stood out, but the complete memory of which still escapes me. It's the mental equivalent of having a word on the tip of my tongue, but it continues to elude me. C'est la vie. 
Anyway, after bumbling through my morning, it was my good fortune to go to a birthday/bon voyage party at one of my favorite Chinese restaurants. It will be one of my friends birthday on Wednesday, and one of our mutual friends leaves for Hong Kong tomorrow, for a month. So, we celebrated one's birthday and the other's departure today, along with some other friends of ours. And a wonderful meal it was. It also was an opportunity to exercise my ear for mandarin. It's ain't easy training your ear to listen to another language. Two phrases I learned in Mandarin today are: I am full, and Do you know what I mean, among others. 
Being a sunny, but rather cold and windy day, it was exceedingly pleasant to sit in the front window of my friend Tommy's restaurant with friends, eating good food, and drinking hot tea, while outside people of all types, and walks of life, walk by. The thin plates of glass that comprise the windows, seem to separate two different worlds. Days like today make me feel extremely fortunate to be alive. For awhile I can forget my tiny problems, and not dwell on the Republican SOB's that are seriously screwing this country up. Although I did have a brief discussion with the only other American born English speaker, the husband of my friend Hong, about what a man-made catastrophe the sequester will now be for all the social service organizations, including food banks, and all non-profit organizations. It's always the poor and disadvantaged who get hurt the most.
Eddie, my feathered little brother, and Albert, who looks like a glossy black bear rug with the bear still inside (and alive I might add), are both napping, and I am drinking another warm cup of tea. After this, I will be relaxing on the sofa myself.
Anyroad, the world is still here for the moment. And even though I know there are bad things happening in the world, and horrible people doing many of them, for a time I can forget them, relax, and remember that timeless moment sitting in the front windows of a warm restaurant, sharing food, drink, and wonderful conversation with friends. Zai jian. 

All Along the Watchtower, Looking for Jimi

I always loved the music Jimi Hendrix created with his guitar. He was a artist extraordinare, a musical genius if you will. And as so many musicians and artists tragically do, he died young. There are those who have a major impact on our lives, whom we can't help but shed a tear for, even long after they left for realms unknown. It is a magical experience when a piece of music, or literature, or a painting or picture, or a film, reaches into our world and moves us to some place we would not have never gone if we had not experienced what that musician, artist, writer, or cinematographer, had created and shared with us. 
I sometimes feel I have become too complacent in the midst of my little life, and allowed my world to become a bit too vanilla. But then, as if heaven sent, someone's artistic gift reaches out and touches me, and my eyes are opened in a new/different way.
So. This is homage to all the Jimi Hendrix's, alive or dead, whether they wield a musical instrument (including, of course, a beautiful voice), a pen or keyboard, a pencil or brush, or a camera of any kind. I can give nothing but my deep appreciation, and very humble gratitude. 
That is my "piece" for today. If you are in the US, you might have expected a comment on the "sequester". But you already should know where I stand. In a word, the Republicans are evil, and must be destroyed (to misquote a famous horror movie line). 
As for my current state, I'm quite exhausted. I managed to get up in time this morning to get in a decent jog for the first time in a few days. Had quite an interesting conversation with some of my English learning friends at the Library, as well way too much food, ie, pesto pizza, Chinese spring rolls, as well as other assorted things. Anyroad, now I am going to play couch cowboy, give Eddie headrubs, and maybe get some reading done. Purely for pleasure, of course. 
So. Look out for trouble, in all its devious forms, and treat each other well.  

Brain Constipation (Better than Brain Death)

They call it writers' block, and yeah, every time I sit down lately, and bring up this blog, my mind goes completely blank. I am befuddled, becalmed, tongue-tied (or would that be finger-tied?), my brain is frozen, couldn't find a decent thought if my life depended on it, etc., etc. What's wrong with me? No clue. Maybe I need to shake my world up a bit. See things differently. Try to find a new perspective on things. 
Let's face it, the world is pretty much the same. But my view of the world is stuck in a rut the size of the Grand Canyon. Maybe I've been human for too long. I should probably switch places with Eddie for awhile. Better yet, how about I trade consciousness with a wild bird. I could spend some time in a tree. I haven't done that since I was young teenager. That could inspire a new outlook on the world. Or, if I was an eagle, I could perch in high places, and view things from a completely new kind of perspective. That could be interesting. And that's not even considering the actual experience of sailing through the skies on feathered wings. I think I would really find that an incredible experience. And for me, being bird would have the added bonus of being self-pity free. Birds don't feel sorry for themselves. Humans spend too much time indulging in that particular occupation. At least I do.
Of course, that would assume I could actually find a bird that would wish to trade places. I don't think it would be easy. I mean, I'm human, and many times when I look at the behavior of some of the other humans I share the world with, I'm not sure I want to be. 
There are a lot of good people out there, however. Once in a while, one of them is in the news, and there is the Ellen Show, which has more than its fair share of very decent people ,and is good for a spiritual lift (or a lifting of the spirit if you prefer). Of course, I am a very lucky fella' in the wonderful human beings department, because I get to see and meet quite a few through my work with Literacy Volunteers. So, yeah...there are some amazing people out there. And as far as I can tell, none of them are Republicans, or belong to the NRA. 
Anyroad. Don't remember where I heard or read this, but to quote, Today is life. It's the only life we have. Make the most of it. 
So, whatever you're doing, get on with it. Be well, and treat yourself and others as best you can.    

Aarrrgg! Two Days to the Snow Apocalypse!

What a day...First, I woke in the wee hours of the morning when Albert mumbled something about going south for a week or two, and if I was smart I would, too. Albert, being a black bear, is hard to understand at the best of times, and I wasn't even close to awake, nor feeling like it was a best of times for that matter. So I went back to sleep. Unfortunately, I was unable to get the quantity of that wonderful drug (sleep) that I would have liked, and woke before the sun was over the horizon. And so, rather than lay in bed moaning and groaning, which would have aggravated my feathered friend, Eddie (a cockatiel with a feather challenged head; yep, male pattern baldness), I went out jogging. 
What always amazes me, is that no matter how much time I have in the morning, and today I had quite a bit, the sand always runs out of the hourglass before I expect it to, and always before I come close to getting everything done I would need to. And then to add insult to injury (or is it injury to insult?), I always end being late getting to the Library, or wherever else I am supposed to be. And today, after finishing my stint as "talk show host" at the Library, I ran around town trying to get some of the thousands of errands done that I need to do this week. And the sooner done the better, particularly considering the current weather forecast. But more on that in a minute. 
Now. On this particular day, I couldn't get a hold of my Mother, who I go walking with when we are both able to do so, for a good part of the day, covering about six hours. She does have some medical issues, so I became concerned. Anyway, I drove across town to her house, where I found her car gone, which did ease my fear of her lying on the basement floor after falling down the stairs, or something equally catastrophic. Instead, I could now worry about her being in a car accident, or in the emergency room at the hospital. Upon driving back home, I called my sister  up north, who then said she would text my other sister. She called me back and said they were at Lincoln. So, I ask, Lincoln where? Lincoln, Nebraska? Nope. They went to see the movie, Lincoln. Wow. I'm now like an idiot, and as our British friends might say, quite put out. So much for that. I am, however, quite happy, that the outcome was what it was. It could have been so much worse.
If you watch the news, you are probably aware how weatherpersons (the PC version of weathermen) really enjoy the opportunity to scare the hell out of us when the chance of a big storm seems to be developing. And people do scare easy it seems, especially when there's going to be snowstorm. If you have ever gone to the supermarket the day before one of these life threatening meteorological events is scheduled to take place, big or small, everybody's there snatching up all the bottled water, milk and bread. It's like they believe they will never be able to buy these things again. It's the end of the world. But they refuse to die without being allowed to drink as much water and milk, and eat all the bread they can. After which, the snow and cold will claim us all. C'est la vie.
Anyroad, all those wonderful weatherpeople are forecasting a massive snowstorm starting Friday morning, and ending on Saturday, here in the winter wonderland of New England. That s.o.b., Albert, knew exactly what he was doing when he headed south. Well, to be honest, I kinda' like a good snowstorm. As long as we don't lose the electricity. At least, not for long. 'Cause if we do, I hafta' (have to) get Eddie to some place warm. Otherwise, he'll turn into a popsicle. And that, would just be too much trauma for me. Wouldn't be much fun for him either. 
Wherever you are, stay warm, be well, and look out for each other.

  

The Good, The Bad, & The Fake

News, is what I think I'm referring to. The good news? As far as I can tell the world is still here. Of course, have you ever wondered if it might not be the same world today as it was when you fell asleep at the end of yesterday? It's not. The only thing constant in life is change. Sorry. I forget who said that. But, that it's true, I have no doubt. And there is the multiple alternate world theory. Every time we make a decision, an alternate world is created where we decided the "other" way. So think about this, what is the "real" world? 
Anyroad, it's good to be here. So say I.
The bad news? You know as well as I. Human beings are treating other human beings in horrible and dreadful ways. Not to mention what some do to animals. Murder, mayhem, torture, cruelty, indifference to all those less fortunate and the inhumane conditions they live in, such as hunger and poverty. And more. 
I prefer my horror and violence to be fictional. And, I do have to say, I love a good story. It doesn't matter whether it's one of science fiction, fantasy, horror, crime noir, steampunk, or whatever other fiction genre or label that comes to mind. It just has to be a truly exceptional tale. Well. At least a very good one. It doesn't even have to have a happy ending. But it has to move me. The best tales, be it short story, novella, or novel, leave me not just changed, but uplifted in an undefinable way. So. Throw in some excitement, a few tense and/or horrible moments or situations, some romance (as long as it fits in with the story line), with random elements of violence, apocalypse ( I have always liked apocalyptic novels), magic (good and/or bad), heroic but flawed protaganists (main characters), and very importantly, a villain or villains that I love to hate. 
I will list some of what I've been reading on my other blog, Books & Birds, but not today. Hopefully before next week.
And as for the Fake, mentioned in the title of this post, there are a lot of fake things in the world. Scam artists try to sell knock-offs to us. Fox News tries to convince us that their "fake" news is the real thing. And sometimes our own minds have real trouble telling the lies (including our own) from the truth.
In conclusion, staying the same is impossible; it's good to be alive; all violence and horror should be fictional; and it does take a clear head, and heart, to know the difference between what is fake, and what is real. 
That, I think, is enough for today. So, embrace life no matter what, and try to take care of each other. And of course stay out of trouble if possible. If not, well...have fun getting in trouble at least.      

That's No Bluebird On My Shoulder

Rough week, last week. But after all is said and done, I survived some how. Eddie had a rough few days as well. I have seriously spoiled him by being home the majority of most mornings, and of course, giving him a good amount of attention. Last week, however, there were at least 3 mornings (+ Saturday morning) I had to run out the door almost immediately after getting him up for the day. He didn't take it well. But after my being a couch cowboy yesterday, and being around the house most of today, he seems to have gotten over his dissatisfaction. Truly a blessing for me.
And, after a complete down day yesterday, I was able to get something done around the house. Which helps with my feeling of being able to cope with the insignificant, but very necessary, bullsh-- of day to day living. I am pretty much a failure as a conscientious house keeper, among other things. Albert, my sometime roommate, doesn't care in the least. If anything gets in his way, he bats it aside with one of his baseball mitt sized paws (He's a bear. Literally). And Eddie makes an incredible mess all by himself. As long as he has food to eat, and water to drink, and can demand headrubs routinely, messy or clean makes no difference to him.
But I believe he does have bad dreams sometimes. It would appear that the carefree bird stereotype is not a true picture of life as one of our feathered friends. My sleep is routinely interrupted by symptoms of  my chronic fatigue syndrome, and I often hear him whimpering (best word I can think of to describe it) in his sleep. Sometimes I say something to him, and it seems to help, but I really can't say for sure. I don't know what worries or fears my little friend harbors in his dreams, but I wonder about it occasionally. But I do try to make his daily life as pleasant as I can. He deserves it. He adds color to my life.
Anyroad. Life is a funny old bear (an expression that more commonly ends with dog). Which leads to another old expression, Some days you eat the bear, other days he eats you. And no, I'm not talking about Albert. Lucky for me, thanks to my lending Albert shelter when he wants it, he's at least grateful enough to not eat me. But if I were someone else, say you for instance, well...all bets are off. And as for life, I don't need to eat the bear. I'm happy for a draw (tie).      

My Issues Have Issues, & My Bird Doesn't Care

Sorry about the lapse. One of my chronic fatigue symptoms is giving me continuing problems sleeping through the night, which in turn is making it difficult to get in my morning exercise on any kind of regular basis, which, in its turn, is leaving me even more energyless by mid to late afternoon. I'm working on it. Eddie, as you can see, is not particularly happy with me at the moment. I've had to dash out early in the morning the last couple of days for a dermatological problem. Although not life threatening, it could have developed into a serious infection. Of course, being on my lower lip, it was definitely an issue of vanity. Anyway, the ruptured cyst or bacterial infection (he wasn't sure which), was painfully, but successfully lanced (thoroughly punctured with a needle), and I was put on antibiotics as a precaution. However, today, after coming back from said "lancing", I grabbed a bite to eat, and ran right back out to the Library, with Eddie yelling in protest the entire time. Then to add insult to injury, I didn't return until late afternoon.
So, Eddie, the spoiled beast of my heart, is showing his disfavor by doing his best to pay me no mind (ignore me).
Anyroad (anyhow, anyway), that's how it is at the moment. Life rolls along, and we either roll with it, or it rolls right over us. I'm doing my best to not stand in one spot too long, and Eddie is doing his best to make sure I don't move too fast. Between us, maybe we'll find some balance.

Do Wah Diddy Diddy Dum Diddy Do

And so it goes...I've been recovering from last weeks overindulgence. No, not alcohol, drugs, or sex. I actually lead a pretty boring life in those areas. I was helping someone getting ready to open a restaurant by doing some proof reading of the preliminary menus, as well as making suggestions about the titles in English of some of the dishes. Yes, the owner and staff are Chinese. In the process I had several Cantonese (southern Chinese) lunches, as well as drinking far too much coffee, which I haven't drank since it first started making me ill way back in the mid 1990's. Needless to say, by the end of last week, I was not feeling so well. Nothing against the quality of the food, but I ate a good bit of certain Chinese dishes that I had never eaten before, and some of it simply didn't agree with me. And so, it's back to watching my diet closely, as well as abstaining from coffee altogether. It is a shame, really, 'cause I love the smell and taste of good coffee. But my nether regions pay me back with what remarkably feels like pain. I'm not big on pain. So. No more coffee. Damn.
In other news, I read a wonderful book by Michael Swanwick, Dancing With Bears. Science fiction with all the right ingredients, including a very healthy dose of humor. Also, I returned to the Library today to continue performing my remarkable talent of confusing everyone who was there as to the proper use of the English Language. I was fulfilled, and entertained. What more is there. I can only hope that it was as enjoyable, regardless of any and all confusion, for those there to actually learn some practical English, as well as enjoy my gift for storytelling. They leqarn so quickly. None of them believe a word I say anymore.
Almost went and saw the movie, Lincoln, with my Mom & sister, but in the end, Mom wasn't quite up to it. Eddie, however, was very happy to have me at home. He does enjoy having me there to serve his every whim. Albert (my sometimes black bear roommate) meanwhile, is out seeing if he scare up some gun control support. He says that what's most upsetting about all the guns out there, are the people who own them. And he's not referring to the criminals. It's not the criminals with guns that bother him, it's all the other nuts. I can't say as I blame him. I believe it's only fair for us to arm all the bears. And the deer, too. That would truly make hunting a sport.
Anyroad. I hope the new year will be a good and productive one for all. I don't really make resolutions, but I am going to try to pay more attention to as many of the people I come in contact with as possible. Sometimes I get a little too wrapped up in my own little world. So, be good, be kind to each other, and as always, stay out of trouble.