Everyone wants to be profound. It’s almost funny how hard people try. I think we’re beyond profound by now. I see the profound as the ramblings of a drug addict in the middle of his or her journey to oblivion.
That’s so profound, man.
Is it really that important? Be honest, even if your honesty is boring, or irritating, or completely misunderstood. I’d rather be with one boringly honest person than a hundred “truly profound” individuals.
I’m not profound. I never have been. There was a time in my teens when I believed a whimsically beautiful view of the world could bring about a sense of enlightenment.
I was happy, but I was wrong.
Call me cynical, jaded, or whatever else you might like. I enjoy the cold, hard reality I’ve found outside of the comforting fog.
If what you know is this beautiful and optimistic world, or the dream of changing lives with just a few words, then by all means continue.
I’ll stick to what I do, even if it isn’t always so pretty and well-received.
I have recently been seeing an occasional bug in my apartment. I only saw one or two over a week, and they were tiny so I did not worry about it. I killed them, of course, but I was not overly concerned. I continued to see more as the days passed. Not often. One, maybe two a day. I decided to look them up. The next time I saw one on the carpet, I caught it in a small container to get a better look and turned to the all-knowing google. After several attempts at searching insect sites I finally found it.
I have weevils.
The name says it all. We Evils. While they are not harmful, they do eat rice, grains, seeds, etc., which can make them a nuisance. Not to mention they’re creepy and gross. Who wants little bugs crawling around their apartment? Certainly not me.
Google was helpful, as it often is with simple information requests. The wonderful thing about this search; it was actually pretty consistent in its results.
Weevil larvae can travel into your home in any of the food products they frequent (rice, grains, seeds, etc.), or they can fly in. Through a quick process of elimination, I believe I have found the source of my weevils.
My bird seed.
I have two pet birds, Rannon and Mims, and I bought new food for them just before the weevils showed their ugly little faces. When I moved my bird cage, I found several weevils under the cage, and in the treats I threw away. Their full bag of food, not wanting to waste it (the weevils and their eggs will not harm Rannon and Mims), is in the freezer to kill anything still in the mixture.
Now, I am set with the task of throwing away half of my pantry, cleaning out each of the cabinets, scrubbing my entire apartment, and setting out bay leaves to keep the creatures from infesting again. I have already purchased a number of containers for storing the rice and grains I will have to re-purchase after the infestation is under control. It’s going to be a process, but the weevil infestation will be manageable.
What I may not be able to manage, though, is the heebie jeebies plaguing me. My entire body itches, and I’m afraid to walk through my apartment without shoes. I can’t sleep thanks to the images of my unconscious body being covered in small insects. It is a feeling I expect to live with for at least a few weeks, even after I am certain I have destroyed the monsters invading my home.
Now, I am going to take half of a muscle relaxer to knock me out. The faster tomorrow comes, the faster I can vacuum and scrub my apartment.
Thanks Rannon and Mims.
Ranon and Mims have left me. During the cleaning process (which took place outside), Ranon made a quick escape out of the cage. I released Mims shortly after because they are a mated pair and because Mims hated me anyway. I hope they are able to enjoy their freedom while it lasts. Sadly, their bright plumage, and their seed-fed/caged upbringing, will hinder their ability to survive in the wild.
I once had a plaque with these words on it. It was a simple, cheap knick knack I found at some random store I can’t even remember. The plaque was only about two inches high, three inches wide, and was a floral arrangement of blue and white that looked like it belonged in some elderly woman’s home, not a college student’s apartment. It was also something that made me smile every time I noticed it sitting on the shelf above my television in my old homestead. I’m not sure where the knick knack is now; probably still sitting in a box somewhere still wrapped in paper from one the moves I’ve made in my seemingly infinite desire to find my place in the world. It doesn’t matter. It’s not the object, but the words I love.
I love the phrase for its innocent truth. I am reminded of the words every time I hear someone talk, or more often see someone write, about how unique they are. “I’m a special little pebble unlike all the rest.” Yes, you are; just like all of the other special pebbles, or pearls, or butterflies, or unicorns, or whatever it is people around you are calling themselves.
I do not mean to mock these people. On the contrary, we all like to think we are unique, and we are. That is the point. No matter how similar we are to anyone around us, we are not the same. We have different experiences, preferences, emotions, and reactions to the world around us. We suffer our differences together and rejoice in our individuality all the same.
Be you, that’s great. Just don’t forget that weird person next to you is just doing the same.