Socar Myles

Bird has taught Other Bird about unscrewing, and they just worked together to knock down a toy, one bird unscrewing the hook, the other one lifting it. I need to find hooks with larger screwy bits, which their beaks can't grip hard enough to manipulate.

Why can't kids and animals play with their toys the PROPER way?

What puzzles me is, why make consoles that NEED to be jailbroken? Games with strong modding communities become almost infinitely replayable, which should, at least in theory, make the platforms that allow this more popular. Is it a liability thing, the worry of bad actors introducing malware?

The song in my head today is "Time So Hard." Every daaaaaaaaaaaaaay...things are getting worse! Every daaaaaaaaaaaaaay...things are getting worse!

It's weird that it's not "Là ci darem la mano." I had a vivid dream last night where I was singing that on stage, having somehow been thrust into an operatic production. I was bracing myself for the inevitable booing, but somehow, the voice I sang with was not mine. It was actually good.

Bird has taken to "buzzing" me when I sit near her cage. She flies all around me and occasionally lands on me, but then she bounces right off. I think she's trying to be social, but I'm not perch-shaped, so she's not sure how to land on me and stick. (Either that, or she's trolling.)

For a long time, I used "first world problems" to mean any problem I had while living in Canada. Lack of access to food during COVID? First world problem. No access to medical care? First world problem. Somebody DID explain what it meant, but if they hadn't, the fake bird drama would've.

(That really DID suck, during COVID. Out of nowhere, everyone and their dog started using the food delivery services the disabled community had relied on for years, overwhelming them and leaving regular customers waiting 2-3 weeks for their orders.)

My first day of school. I couldn't do anything right. Kept getting shouted at for reasons I didn't understand. Sitting wrong. Queuing wrong. Writing wrong. Looking wrong. I was a bit younger than everyone else, four instead of five, but the real problem was, I was starting mid-year.

Everyone else had learnt how to queue, learnt how to sit, learnt how to write properly (skipping every other line). I didn't know any of that, or the million-and-one other things I was expected to know, like when to talk and when not to. So I was bewildered and frustrated that whole year.

Problem: new, massive cage assembled; birds have NO clue where to go. They're clipped to the last toy still hanging in their old cage, doing confused little chirps. (I'd catch them and move them, but a) they don't want me to, and b) they're too fast.)

I put this together by myself, and it's taller than I am. (Wanted everyone to know. I'm not good at this kind of thing. And today, I am under the weather. Still, I got it done.)

Problem: new, massive cage assembled; birds have NO clue where to go. They're clipped to the last toy still hanging in their old cage, doing confused little chirps. (I'd catch them and move them, but a) they don't want me to, and b) they're too fast.)

You know what drives me bonkers on TV? The "psychic cutoff." That's when one actor cuts another off mid-sentence, but Actor A breaks off BEFORE Actor B butts in. "Thought you went to the hoote--" "No, I got lost." Nobody breaks off mid-word in anticipation of being interrupted. Come on!

Bird is being weird today. She pecked violently at the air when I changed her food and water, despite her beak being three feet from my hand. I moved my hand beside her so she could peck me if she wanted to, but she STILL only pecked the air. Guess she just wanted me to know she CAN peck.

Bird's bad mood has continued, in the form of her chasing Other Bird repeatedly out of the cage. I've ordered a larger cage, which should be a right nuisance to put together, so thanks for THAT, Bird. (She's taking a nap now--they both are--so hopefully, her bad mood will wear off.)

Here's a question: what's the first book you remember giving up on? For me, it was "The Water Babies" by Charles Kingsley. I begged for it in the shop because the illustrations were beautiful, then reading it felt like being scolded by my mother.

René Bull's illustration of a cyclops from "The Arabian Nights." When I was four years old, my Primary 1 teacher rubbed that cyclops in my face when I refused to turn the page to reveal it. Also, Michael Hague's illustration of the Hammerheads from "The Wizard of Oz."