Splintered

Sufffering some kind of personality disorder, I watch part of me frenzy about the house getting ready to leave it for a few days. The other part of me curls up on the lounge and is not motivated even by the cries of a waking baby. I call myselves today “Panic and Pained”. Pained cries quietly when Panic is splinted by the linen cupboard door. Panic grumbles at Pained, “why won’t she get up and help? Why won’t someone get me a bandaid? Why do I have to operate on myself and pass out all on my own. I’m going to die and no-one is going to care”.

Pained doesn’t care. Something inside is aching and so she is simply concentrating on that and nothing else. Nothing else can get in while she is working on the knot deep inside. Working working working with her mindless digits. Trying to untangle her heart and her mind. Panic is shouting again and Pained is going a strange black colour merging with the leather on the lounge. Soon Pained is nowhere to be seen and Panic is madly making dinner with red raw fingers.

“Why do my fingers hurt so much? Maybe I am getting arthritis? Maybe I have cancer and I shouldn’t really leave the house? Oh this dinner is never going to turn out right. Too much to do. Too much going on. How will I ever survive?”

Unfolding

I am not very good at learning new things. I tend to go for gist and guess and good luck. But I do like to observe and let things wash over me and around me. It is a poor substitute for actually swimming in the ocean but it is far more interesting.

I’ve jumped into a number of social media sites recently and started following some of the world’s premier bloggers. You know, the fine line on the cutting edge of the steely knife of the Internet beast. Anyway what I’ve observed is simply too much of the same. Same same same. People sharing knowledge already shared. What is the point of sharing the latest news on blog Z when blog A has already been read by 99% of the people. Most likely blog Z will never be read anyway it is buried under a pile of cheese shavings and google listings.

I think I am going to start building a list of people who are being creative online as opposed to tech and social bloggers. Build up on the poets, the artists and the comedians. People writing purely for themselves and in the process entertaining and inspiring the world.

The Story Of A Little Helicopter

No this isn’t something Fergie whipped up in her spare time.

This is the story of the big adventure our remote control helicopter went on, one windy Sunday afternoon.

Well that’s basically all there is to it. One windy Sunday afternoon my husband and daughter were in the backyard playing with the helicopter. Kat who is only 3 took it to new heights and predictably enough it was caught by the strong wind and taken up high above the houses in our street and beyond radio contact.

We lost sight of it and with great creativity put together the note:

“Some people lose cats, others dogs, we lost our remote control helicopter. If you find it, in any condition, we’d love to see it again”.

It was a great experience for Kat to run along and put these in letterboxes. Personally I thought it was gone forever.

A big thank you with a bigger dollop of amazement to the people who found our helicopter one week later and today returned it – in one piece!

Such a simple simple thing but a true feel good moment.

Credit goes to the toy company too who made such an indestructible beasty. It fell probably 15mtrs to earth and did not break, warp, disintegrate or even give us angry looks… and he still flies.