The red tulips help some. So does seeing the buds on the tree outside my window. The birds yak and chirp madly, keeping both Miep and I from a good deep nap. But the grey is still here, spitting rain as if it could barely be bothered to be wet weather.
My mood does not improve with this low light and slightly inconvenient weather. Finding that Iggy-Pop-lust-for life is not a simple matter.
I've been hurting since I bought the gimmick
About something called love
Yeah, something called love
Well, that's like hypnotising chickens ...
Hypnotizing chickens ... that is a pretty good metaphor for life in general, not just love. All for naught?
The dementors banged on my door today. Maybe that's why I couldn't hear the UPS folks ringing the bell. Even without actually keeping company with the messengers, the bringers of depression, I felt a strong pull to the dark side.
Not sure if I have ... um ... shared it with y'all here, but I am going to see my mental health professional three times a week. That's a lot. So between that psycho-emotional time and wrangling with the demons of stuff and regret, AND the schvitzing sky, staying up, upright, and all that is quite a task. Just not in top of the world form.
Stressed out and exhausted with this hypnotizing.
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Chickens are a four day a week part of my work life. When I get out of my car to go in and teach, they are there, supervising. Often they have little easter style (but non-yellow) chicks. They like insects and the leaves of the taro garden Hawaiian Studies has planted. Once, when I was showing a movie about a sad older couple keeping their son's rooster, a rooster crowed in sympathy. Sometimes, the sort of teenager who carries a rooster around with him under his arm (Kaneohe is surprisingly rich in these teenagers) comes and tries to start a cockfight with the resident chickens. When this last happened, I was obliged to break it up with the aid of the security guard.
ReplyDeleteThere are many people who work here who hate chickens. Periodically there is a posting proposing their extermination on the WCC listserv. When I try to lighten it up or at least propose eating them if we're going to kill them, I am accused of making frivolous use of the list serv and told darkly that if I had grown up on a farm (which I didn't) I would know that these chickens are not suitable for eating.
Yes this is too anecdotal, but then I probably know more about being hypnotised by chickens than I do about hypnotizing them.
I hope things look up (not at a threatening sky, but at an overkill blindingly sunny one like the one that makes me feel light-headed and
hurts my eyes). Your slightly ill friend, Laurie