Because this page is where the juices of my brain like to ooze when under too much pressure to remain in my head, ooze they shall.
My unhatched chickens are preoccupying me. Though obviously it would be unwise to count them, they are many. There are job-chickens, exam-chickens, thesis-chickens, travel-chickens, love-chickens (you knew they were in there somewhere), .... I'm finding the chickeniness of my life these days a little overwhelming. There are a few things I find helpful in fending off visions of the white, wobbly fragility of it all: blog-oozing, for one, tea, TV, foreign languages and music.
Lately I've been hearing music everywhere -- the disco beat of my drippy tap, the old-fashioned-sounding kerclunk of Louise's bathroom fan, the sighing and whining of bus wheels, the subtle chirping of my computer's thought. When I feel like I'm about to topple over I pick up my guitar and try to elaborate further on the latest jig to emerge from it -- inspired, of course, by a certain chicken. The more I play, the quieter the rest of the noise in my head becomes. If this is insufficient, tea is consumed, and I immerse myself in the plot of a TV series. (Currently my dreams involve a lot of lawyering and whiskey-drinking, along with the usual train station hullabaloo.) And should I begin to get jittery and queasy over an academic task, I magically wind up on Google Translate or Wikipedia finding out things I don't need to know and reading languages I don't speak aloud just to see what they sound like. Some of them sound lovely; I sound entirely insane. My poor roommate had to pull me up off the floor of my bedroom and make me some tea today because I was consoling myself with a page of Italian ('frastagliata' was my favorite). Odd as it might be, it is strangely therapeutic.
So as my brain bastes in a larger than usual puddle, I am greatly appreciative of all the hands extended to help me up. And of coffee.