After a warm spell we have the first sub-freezing morning in a few weeks. I found it to be refreshing when I took my first step outside this morning, at 4:30 AM. Slivered moon, scant traces of the Lyrids meteor shower, and fragments of dreams, not often remembered, in this man’s mind. There is a feeling of peace settling in, after three days of severe emotional dives, and I am grateful for the blessed relief. Having a scheduled therapy appointment at the tail end of an episode like that was yet another blessing. And having a therapist who is knock-out gorgeous, along with being admirably skilled at her work, is blessing number three. I find it easier to talk openly with a very beautiful woman, k? Call it idiosyncratic.
I’m going to brew the second cup of coffee – bisy backson.
Admittedly, making coffee and writing is about the full extent of my multi-tasking skills. Does that make me un-American? I don’t know, but these days it doesn’t seem to take much to have your American citizenry put into question. That’s really not something that I usually write about but recent stories of intolerance in this country have got me more riled than Foghorn Leghorn, who is one of my favorite cartoon characters. It seems to me that pundits and politicians (only some of them) have relegated the rest of us to cartoon status. Yet I have the bipolar disorder thing to use as a shield against such inadvertent tomfoolery. What I’m saying is that folks who have enough time to caustically criticize others and maintain a healthy and affluent lifestyle oughtta whittle it back a notch or two. I mean, give it a rest peeps!
Wow, that was vague, huh? I’ve gotta run now. Just kidding.
In this age of plastic facts and disposable relationships it sure is hard to get a grip. That’s one of the things about bipolar disorder – you can’t always get a grip. Life becomes like oily teflon. Grip that! I’m not whining, although I’d like to. Whining would put me in league with such greats as Sean Hannity and Rush Limbaugh. I’m sure them fellas are passionate and dedicated to their lucrative jobs but I ain’t seen much of a proactive tone to their mentations. It is what it is, no? No it ain’t. Deception and reception are two different things with similar sounding syllabic structure. Please pardon my alliteration. It won’t happen again.
In the opening photo you are looking at the Rio Grande, nestled down into a respectable gorge, just south of town. I find the river to be a calming sight. It’s that whole “flows down to the sea” effect. I need calming things in my life right now. The prospects of future prosperity for our blogging hero don’t actually look too promising. That said, I simply have to go to work today, and I am assigned to the Cattery. I’ll note, for new readers if there are any, that I work at Stray Hearts, our local Humane Society. Working with the cats is way mellow compared to them doggies. One step at a time. I’ll be with cats. Other considerations are pending but today it’s cats. I have food stamps to apply for, an appointment with the neurologist to look forward to, and a personal budget that needs corralin’. That last one might require me to call in ol’ Pecos Bill, and after we get it under control we can hop aboard a giant golden trout and cruise on down the Rio Grande, on to the glistening and oily Gulf of Mexico. Yup, you guessed it, I’m still living in archetypal territory.
“It is said that Pecos Bill died from laughter. In the story The Death of Pecos Bill, Pecos Bill is in a bar when a so-called city boy walks in with gator-skin shoes and a gator-skin suit, fronting like he is a cowboy outlaw. Pecos Bill found it amusing and laughed himself to death outside.” ~ Wikipedia
Time to wrap up today’s blog post here at Eyeyotee. Oscar the turkey is gobbling to call up the sun. He lives in the pen just outside my back window. There’s a chicken in that pen as well, and I call her Chickadee. She actually let me pet and massage her yesterday! That’ll look good on my animal care resume: chicken massage. Nice! But seriously now, I am finding that caregiving to animals is gradually soothing my soul. But my beautiful therapist cautioned me to make sure that I give care to myself as a balance, to replenish what I give away to them animals and to the others folks who also give care there. Another caution was to have a plan ready to deal with the internal politics that occur in every workplace. That’s always been a problem for me, especially at that crazy supermarket where I used to work. I mean . . . don’t get me started. Just don’t. Let’s go on and tweak it into a positive note, so we can end on that note, and then I’ll go to work. There, that’s better.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.