For three years I always wondered what the hell it really meant. It's the raven you admire that occasionally snacks on your garbage or some critter in your porch. It annoys you, but its shape, its power compels you. You want to pet it, look at it more closely. The way it moves its head, those eyes, those beautiful wings...and then it flies away.

This semester, it up and decided to land on my shoulder and chill. The weight (wait?) confused the hell out of me. Three years. Aren't I supposed to be some tragically overworked, emotionally twisted racketball flung back and forth for the amusement of others? Myself?

My routine plays into this somehow...

In-between studying and sleep, the roll-call of my activities have always been a drab few. I've saved people's lives by climbing on soap boxes, organized rituals for the lovely pagans on campus (they're good people, not too heavy on the dogma), and bitched about my transgenderedness at LGBTU meetings (or what I affectionately refer to as the 'Q' continuum).

Then there's just stuff: reading, napping, or flittering away my time assaulting pixels on my screen. I like assaulting pixels, they love to see me smile.

So now I have this makeshift parrot and it talks to me. It's not the rubber ducky, but it comes close. It tells me I can have fun, or not have fun, or just not be in student mode. Sure this may seem odd (this whole metaphor is getting that way), but I really meld my personality to my surroundings. This bird blows my mind.

Like today. I could potentially screw off the rest of it, excepting for dinner and finishing a lab, and I'd be golden. 5 classes, research, and I can actually be free for once.

Sure, I'd prefer something..or someone else nibbling on my ear, but I'm happy as is. Hell, at least the beak doesn't reach into my chest and use my heart as a mop wringer; that's a plus.

Also, do any of you know how to create banners? More specifically, any of you willing to help me create one? I've been wanting to spread the love for awhile, but I need someone with skill. Just sign in the guestbook and we can make some arrangement.

Speaking of guestbook, I think Mr. Happypants is gone. This pleases me. Pleases the bird, too. Squawk...and what the hell, squeak.

.

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A few hours later, I just added the rest of my paper into the "mysticism" section. I doubt more than five people will ever read the whole thing, but maybe someone will benefit from it.

Mysticism is my pet hobby. Some people play basketball, some swim, others do choir or shoot at things from long distances with big guns. I read about coming closer to some thing(s) that could constitue what people might call "God," or just the higher truths of the universe in general. There are three outcomes:

1) You go stark raving mad, wear rags, and live out in the desert or central park for 30 years and gather a group of disciples who wanna be just as nuts as you are.

2) You achieve ultimate enlightenment. This is the long-term stock option that needs a few decades to mature into anything equitable (see 1).

3) Become "that weird guy" who reminds you of every anti-hero/fallen priest known to film, doomed to make cameo apperances in other people's lives and be bitter.

I like long-term investments. Besides, I don't mind central park.

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