Chronicle of the Bat

Every once in a while a bat somehow makes its way into our house (I imagine this is why they call it a character home, well, that and my Dad). About a month ago a bat over-nighted in a decorative watering can upstairs. In the morning I dumped it out on the lawn hoping that it would fly away. However, it was too shocked refused to move. I wasn’t sure if it was even capable of flying. I picked it up from behind and watched as it attempted to scare me off by making itself look as big as possible. It arched out its wings and opened its mouth wide. It was absolutely adorable.

I threw the bat in the big garbage can in the back allay. Somehow I justified it to myself that the lid was open and it should be able to fly out. Besides, it was just a bat and it didn’t really matter if it lived or died. But the instant I watched it borrow itself down under the bags of trash, seeking someplace dark, I knew without a doubt that I couldn’t live with myself if I allowed to perish (which I knew it would if I left it there).

So I saved it. I tipped over the trash can and extracted the even more traumatized but still living bat. I placed it in a shoebox and spent the remainder of the day worrying that the poor thing was dead or going to die. When the late evening came I placed the shoebox, still containing the apparently lifeless bat, in the backyard with the lid open. I then prayed that some cat wouldn’t come by and eat the bat.

Later that evening I was greatly relieved to find the bat gone. I hope for the best for it. Nature may be cruel, but I find I can’t reject the siren call of compassion.

Rambling

I started this blog just to experiment with actually writing down my thoughts, something I’ve never done before. Five months later I would have to call it a failure. I can’t just compose my thoughts for a computer in nice discrete packages and then retain them until I have the time to write them down.

There isn’t enough time in life to actually do what you want to do, so you have to decide what you want to do. Living from assignment to assignment is hardly living, yet making other choices requires a kind of strength I don’t seem to possess.

Pi-Throw feels like it’s going to kill me. It’s funny; I’m more organized, detail-orientated, and creative than most people and therefore more qualified to run this event. However, all this is essentially outweighed by my overwhelming inefficiency, complete inability to type, and most of all, my constant state of crushing fatigue. Yet again I find myself wondering what it would be like to wake up and think that getting up felt better than staying in bed. Maybe after I’m down reading this anxiety booklet thing I’ll have some better coping strategies, this I ever get around to reading it.

I had a job interview today and it went alright. I don’t think I’ll get the job, but I never think good stuff will happen to me, so that doesn’t really matter. The fact that they still interviewed me after I submitted the wrong cover letter must be a good sign.

Say hi to the new S.E.S.S. Charity Director.