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.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
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).
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).
Monday, March 4, 2013
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.
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.
Friday, March 1, 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
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.
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.
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