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Post-Apocalyptic Update

Saturday, May the 21st, 2011 has come and gone. As near as I can tell, we are all still here. Saturday was relatively uneventful. Some rain, some wind, but overall very little end-of-the-world sort of things took place. Although the powers that be, whoever you happen to think that may be, did decide to cause a volcano in Iceland to erupt. Which is exactly the sort of thing I would do if I were a deity.

“End of the world? Since when? Don’t I decide that sort of thing? Here, I’ll send them some hail storms and erupt a volcano or two, that ought to make them worry a bit.”

My latest accomplishment is finally getting around to putting away and alphabetizing our books. The room I am currently in, the room what holds our computer and our windows to the back yard through which I often stare and daydream, is also home to our books. It is an office, it is a library, it is a reading nook. This room is many things. I have taken photos, but am experiencing difficulty in that my computer seems to think I’m lying to it when I tell it there is a digital camera attached to any of it’s USB ports.

“It’s true!” I tell it. But it scoffs at me and refuses to recognize it. “What of this mp3 player?” I ask. That it will recognize. So, we have determined that my computer is an avid fan of music, but absolutely abhors photography of any kind.

I’m still working on it.

Eleven and a half shelves of books, most of which belong to my future wife, and there are quite a few more floating around. That’s the funny thing about books, they tend to travel from room to room. They seek out a new location and end up congregating there. There are currently stacks of books, some read, some not, in our living room, our kitchen, our bedroom and our dining room. Not to mention a few in boxes. We may not have enough shelves, at this rate. I dare say we may not have enough rooms in this house.

This is a wonderful article about the importance of honey bees and various ways to help increase the population. It can not be overstated how important all pollinating bees are to, well, everything. Without the honey bee, many of the food we eat every day simply would not grow. It’s said that the overall bee population here in the United States has dropped 90 percent in the last fifty years. A truly disheartening fact.

I still see bees. They fly around my house, even the store at which I work, on a regular basis. But I see far fewer of them and at a shorter timespan than in my youth and it saddens me.

The article linked above also links to this page, which is a program in Britain called “Adopt A Bee Hive”. It’s put forth by the British Beekeepers Association and it seems like a wonderful idea. I have searched, but have been unsuccessful in finding a similar program here in America, but remain hopeful that one will be put into place some day.

I’m unsure if the Adopt A Bee Hive program accepts overseas donations, but it’s well worth looking into. Perhaps even dropping a line through their website and requesting the necessary information to do so.

Here is a three year old article about a man named Hilary (yes) who makes art out of beeswax in truly astonishing ways.

Not much happening in life, right now. Things have been very boring, but in the best way possible.

I have begun writing again. I have a very unique relationship with writing. I do so in spurts, flashes of creativity that last but a moment, then I fade out of it and convince myself that I’m simply not good enough. It’s a problem I’ve had since I first began writing, all those years ago, and it is a persistent one.

As with many writers, or artists of any kind, really, I am my own worst critic, my own worst enemy. I write a page, I stare at it blankly for a stretch of time that feels much shorter than it is, and I deem it unworthy and hold down the backspace key until the text vanishes from existence. It’s a self defeating enterprise, I realize this. But I love writing too much to ever give it up completely. It is too ingrained into my psyche, it’s far too large a part of who I am.

And so I write.

A good friend of mine named Chris Hayner has created a new website, the function of which is to catalog and review all of the truly terrible film sequels floating around the cinematic world. The website is not yet finished, not to the standards at which Chris holds his work anyway, so I can not yet link you to it. Though, I will when Chris tells me I can.

I’ve been tasked with writing some reviews for this website (I’ve already written two and have begun on a third) and it has been a lot of fun. I have a fairly large list of films in mind, so if I am granted the permission of Chris Hayner, you will be seeing quite a few reviews with my name on them in the future.

Again, I will be sure to post a link once the site is a bit bulkier round the middle and things are running at a smoother pace.

I’ve been troubled by rabbits lately. Not in the way you might think one could be troubled by rabbits, mind you. I do not keep a garden, so I have no vegetables for them to steal away. They do not leave their droppings outside my door for me to step on. They do not perform sexual deeds on each other in front of my children. No, they do none of these things.

They just stare at me.

It started on Saturday (could this be the Rabbiture?), when I spotted a single rabbit sitting directly outside my window. It sat very still, still as a statue, and it’s black marble eye was trained on me. It’s nose did not twitch, it’s ears did not flop from side to side. It merely sat there, as it was pelted by wind and rain, and it watched me. As though it were some sort of stalker in a horror film. When I left the room to retrieve my camera and returned, it was gone.

Today, as I settled into my chair to write this very blog entry, I glanced out my window to see, not just one, but rather four rabbits. All of them perfectly still, all of them staring at me as though I were to be their next meal. The neighbor started his mower and they all scurried away in different directions. “They fear the mower. Good, this is good.” I noted.

My very manhood was called into question when I posted to Facebook about my horrifying encounters with these hell spawned beasts of adorableness. I merely explained that when they are feeding on the patches of clover we have growing all around our back yard, with their noses twitching away or their ears flopping to either side of their head, yes, they are very cute. But when they form a line outside my window and stare at me as though they plot my demise, I find them to be less than cuddly.

I’ve heard many excuses for this behavior, including the possibility of them being zombie bunnies, one friend even concluded that it is some sort of conspiracy put forth by a race of alien rabbits who want to abduct me, for reasons unknown.

I do not know the reason for this rash of stalker bunnies in my back yard. I can only presume that, as the days progress, the number of rabbits outside my window will continue to grow until they amass an army of furry little soldiers. What their plan is beyond that, I have no way of knowing.

But if I should disappear at some point in the near future, check my back yard first.

Beware the bunnies, though.

I leave you with the beautiful Adele performing the, also beautiful, song “Someone Like You” from her home.

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