I am too kind to myself

After some contemplation, I’ve decided not continue with my list of annoyances because I am annoyed with it. So, being a somewhat thoughtful person, I decided to stop annoying myself.

But don’t fret, I am sure those two specific annoyances will pop up on this thingee at some point in the future.

On another note, I was walking down a street in Greenpoint and saw an old man talking to pigeons. I am fairly bad at guessing a person’s age but I think it’s safe to say that he was in his 70s; he was somewhat physically fit - he stood upright on his own, but not active enough to guess that he recently retired. In front of him there was a pile of bits of bread and about 20 pigeons.

I am fairly good at guessing the number of items, persons, steps etc in front of me because I have a tendency of counting things and by now, I’ve counted different things enough to guess somewhat accurately the number of items in front of me. I wouldn’t go as far as say that I can tell how many jelly beans are in a 3 liter jar but when it comes to 20 pigeons, I think I am right. Now, I realize that counting things is some sort of a sign of mental illness but there is nothing that I can do, I can’t stop counting.

But I digress.

The point is, the old man was standing in front of bunch of pigeons making pigeon noises. Not that there is something wrong with it, I like to sit around and stare at things, too. But as I passed the pigeon man, I really hope I too won’t turn into a 70+ something pigeon woman.

But then a few nights later, as I was chowing down my dinner, I watched a documentary on PBS (oh, how high-brow) about Mary Cane Honeysett, a lovely, quirky, and funny old lady who lives in London and despite her failing vision, she spends her days painting. Her goal in life is to get one of her painting accepted to the annual show at the Royal Academy of Arts (they accept submissions from any artist, somewhat unusual, considering the hoops an artist needs to jump in order to get her work considered for a show in this city). And I thought “Whew! Perhaps talking to pigeons is not the only option.”

I procrastinate. Back to writing about a trauma informed parenting group for women who have post-traumatic stress disorder and are currently in treatment for alcohol and/or drug abuse. Hmm, or maybe I'll go to make myself a sandwich... The fun in my life just doesn't stop.