Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Do You Have the Time?

We have a clock that sings every hour. The time is indicated by twelve lovely illustrations of different birds. The bird o’clock bird of the hour sings or chirps or pecks to sound the hour.  For example, high noon is the owl. At 12:00AM and again at 12:00PM, the owl hootie-hoot-hoots. It’s the same principle as a cuckoo clock, but our clock has a dozen bird songs instead of the one little cuckoo that can chirp up to twelve times. 
Friends have asked why there isn’t a crow or a seagull in the mix. Perhaps their songs could be  interpreted as annoying. Or obnoxious.  I don't think I would go for the crow— there's a reason a flock of them is called a murder of crows. 
I have seen clocks like ours with dogs barking the time or cats meowing, even Harley Davidson motorcycle sounds. And trains.  Not my cup of tea. 

I ride a nice Appaloosa with friends and their horses. We each have plenty of tack and accessories, but there’s always room in our homes or closets for something equine related. OOOOOOOOOOh! We should invent a horse clock! Nickers at noon! Clippity-clops at 3. Horsey farts at 5!    OK.    Maybe not.
In the meantime, we’ll just enjoy the odd little birdsongs on our clock on the wall. It sits near the telephone so when the bird o’clock chirps, peeps or warbles during a conversation, the caller often thinks we are either outside in the woods or at a pet store next to the canaries. We actually had two parakeets that would compete with the bird of the hour, seeing who could chirp the loudest.  
Oh dear. It’s nearly half past Black-capped Chickadee. 
                                                               “chicka-deee-dee-deee, chicka-deee-dee-deee"
I’d better get some work done around here.

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Hello. Who are You?

"Who are you?" Eden asked. 
Like she says; simple question - hard to answer.

I have always felt like I didn't fit in. Something different here. In fact, I reveled in being as different and un-normal as possible. In high school, I was the first to wear green and purple together in the same outfit! I even combined stripes with floral patterns.  Whoa, baby!

I colored outside of the lines. Mostly because I was very impatient to get the blank spaces filled in with color right this minute. I was frustrated that the finished page wasn't very neat and perfect. I always felt I could have done better, but I never stopped coloring.

I have always been an artist. I play the piano and I am learning the guitar. I paint, draw, sculpt and have been a crafter my entire life. From macramé to paint-by-number to building models to sewing dresses. I have all the supplies to prove it.

"Cheer up sleepy Jean, oh what does it mean, to a daydream believer and a homecoming Queen?" (by the Monkees) They wrote the song for ME.

I worry and fret. The weather affects my mood. I'm in sync with the full moon. (Cheer up!)

I am a night owl. My husband describes my morning rising as painful to watch. (Sleepy Jean)

I think and overthink. I analyze every little thing. I have difficulty making decisions.  It's overwhelming. (Oh, what does it mean?)

I have a very vivid imagination. I've been accused of living in denial when in fact, it's my own little dream world. Real life is hard. What's the big deal if I step out of it for a little while? I get to relax in a world where we all ride fast horses through lush meadows and into forests full of wild, friendly animals. I once dreamt of living on a small island in the northwest, near the water, with sandy beaches in a lovely house with room for an art studio. Guess where we live now? Camano Island, that's where! Visualize it—Believe it.   (Daydream believer)

I'm funny, smart, sensitive, compassionate, tender and complex. I love with my whole heart.  Family is everything.  I am eager to please and have always been kinda popular. Ooh. That's weird to say.  I am a perfectionist and I worry that people will discover that I am, in fact, not perfect.  (Homecoming Queen)

Imagine my dismay when my friend, Ruth, suggested I might have adult ADD (attention deficit disorder). Oh no, I don't think so! I resisted with all my might. After a conversation with her, denial in full force, I went to the greatest wisdom I could think of: the internet. There was an online quiz to determine if one might have AD/HD (h is for hyperactivity). I scored a 77 which basically meant that I should get professional help right this very minute, do not wait, do not pass 'go',  get help NOW. Bullshit. It must be a marketing ploy. So I had Ruth take the test. She scored a 2 or 21 or something ridiculous indicating not a hint of ADD.  Dammit!
(Ha! I win! Did I mention competitive?)

Well, I guess it does make sense why I've always felt that nobody gets me. I am battling anxiety and feeling overwhelmed quite a bit lately. And then there's all those piles of papers, files and clutter in every corner of the house. But, there is nothing WRONG with me!

So, thanks Eden, for asking THE question. I'm just beginning to figure out the answer. Self-diagnosis aside, I am getting professional help. There's a shit-ton of stuff going on in my life. I want to be locked and loaded with all the tools to be able to handle it. 

I am going on a new journey for the next third of my life. (60 in October) I want to clear the clutter, control my impulses, take care of myself and thrive. It is rather amazing figuring out what makes me tick. I feel like this ADD business has opened up a whole new world full of discovery and creativity. I am eager to paint again and brave new frontiers. I am not just a left or right brain thinker; I use the whole darn brain. Instead of looking at this AD/HD stuff as a disability, I look at it as a gift. It's power that I get to harness it in my own, unique way.

I'm eager to learn more about this diverse, creative, wonderful brain of mine. I know who I am at the very center of my being. Finally, I get to celebrate my differences in broad daylight.

Edenland's Fresh Horses Brigade