-ism on the Side

Where in the world is my trashcan?!

Oh hi, I didn't know anyone still read this thing. Yes, this is Skye... And yeah, I'm sitting in the art room on a perfect September evening. Tuning out the mess in here is a must for tuning into the past few happenings of the much celebrated Friday-Saturday combo.

Friday:

I finally moved my stuff out of the Larisey-Causey refugee camp. So, now I'm down to the Causey refugee camp, located conveniently in the Prelude. Ha! For years, Mom said that I lived out of my car. Well, it looks like I finally moved in. The teacher from Pepperrell High School, Dawn, was looking for more rent money than I could offer her, so it's to the streets! I'm so tempted to make a shirt that says "That's how I roll..." with a car full of crap on the front. Anyways, what looked to be a shoe-in for a residency has turned out to be a total flop. Surprisingly, I'm not that upset. Perhaps in the back of my head, I know I can move back into my parents' place. However, I have a strong urge to chalk this peace up to the fact that I know the Lord cares for me.

And you know, I don't mind living in a car. It's pretty much camping on wheels. Pretty sweet, eh? Don't tell my folks; they'd just worry. And if you see me parked outside your house, I'm perfectly fine. You know, the whole safety in numbers thing... even if we are separated by steel and drywall.

So yeah, I moved out. After that and a day of teaching, I went on a run from Unity in my new neon yellow-green vest. The plan was to run 5 miles, but that plan was never actualized. For this reason: a bird.

I was barely past the intersection of Turner-McCall and Broad when I looked down to see a bird in the road. Thinking to myself about the stupidity of birds that eat from the asphalt in four lanes of traffic, I was two strides past the bird when I decided to see if it was really just hanging out. After looking both ways, I stooped down into the first lane, closer to the bird. Instead of flitting off, it flapped around haphazardly. At that point, I figured I had a wing injury on my hands. I just had to secure the bird in my clutches.

No small ordeal.

Chasing the little black bird around the amazingly empty four lanes I was sweating and thinking about how dumb I looked to everyone sitting at the red light behind my back. My life for a wounded bird... Thankfully, I gathered it into my hands and gently jogged back to the curb.

"Great. Now what?" I wondered.

Looking over, I saw a man and his wife standing next to a large truck. She was gabbing on a cell phone while he stared at the perplexed look tattooed on my face. Sensing that he wasn't going to offer out-right assistance, I made my way over to them.

What followed was a queer conversation to me, but I won't bore anyone with the details. So, I ended up hitching a ride with them, and they dropped me and my new patient off at Unity. Thanking them, I slid out the backseat and towards the front steps. Mary, the science teacher, had a a startled look as I appeared in her doorway.

"What do you have?!" she asked as her young son stared me down as if in reverie.

"I was running and found this bird. His right wing is probably broken, and I couldn't just let him get killed! His head, feet, outside, and left wing look fine. I couldn't just let him get hit again on the road," I explained.

So, we put him in the second half of the giant aquarium, next to a snake... The snake is on the other side of a glass partition, but it's still ironic to me. I suppose if the bird makes it through the physical injury, it'll still have psychological wounds!