Microstory 2141: Smol Birb Friends

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I don’t want to talk about my last weekend in jail. It was relatively uneventful. Most everyone in there has read at least a little of my blog by now, and that’s making things a little awkward, but I’m getting through it. It does feel like it’s painting a target on my back, but as I’ve been saying, this is not prison, so it was never going to be as intense and dramatic as you see it depicted on TV. It ain’t no picnic neither, but I’ll be fine. No, what I need to talk to you about today are my new smol birb friends. If you follow me on social media, you already know that I found a nest above my balcony. One of the babies fell out the other day, and died, but then two more babies fell out the next day, and I was able to scoop them up, and carefully place them back in the nest. They were pretty noisy, which the internet says is a good thing, because obviously, it means they’re still alive. It was really stressful being away for 48 hours, though, because even though I could check on the camera feed I had up there once a day, it’s not like there was anything I could do about it. Welp, that turned out to not be so true. My landlord also just so happens to be a reader, so she took it upon herself to unlock my door, and go out onto the balcony while I was away. She returned the precious chick to its rightful place in the nest. Happy ending, right? Not so fast, nothing’s actually ended yet. According to those internet people I’m always going on about, this species of borb propagates like crazy. If you want to take the nest down, which I’m required to eventually, you have to do it in between laying cycles. But that’s a very difficult time to measure.

You see, I don’t know how far along they were in their development when I noticed the nest in the first place, so I didn’t know when they were going to fledge. Once they do, I pretty much have to immediately take the nesting down, and install bird deterrents, or they’ll be right back. Why do I have to do this? Well, it’s a legal thing. I’m not allowed to foster wildlife in or around a building like this, and since house sparrows are considered a nuisance, I’m actually encouraged to just kill them. If I don’t, someone will. Of course, I never want to do that, so I knew I would have a really short window to clear them out to prevent them from coming back. The problem was, I was far too early in this venture. They stopped chirping. I even climbed up there on a chair, and started gently poking on the nest, and nothing. They never chirped at all. You would think that they would have said something, if only leave us alone, we’re babies! But nothing at all. I assumed that they were further along in their learning, and had flown off already, so I began to take the nesting down. Suddenly, two tiny borbs fell out, and landed on the balcony. I was horrified. I thought about trying to stick them back up there, but it was kind of deep in the crevice, and I didn’t know what shape it took in there, or how they moved around. Putting the chicks back was one thing, but trying to recreate everything their mama had done to build their home seemed like an impossible task. I’m sure the internet will be mad at me, but what was I supposed to think? I would not have done that if I thought that they were still in there, and alive. I still can’t figure out why they weren’t chirping anymore. But it was too late, I had to act fast, so I went back inside, and grabbed a plastic bowl. I could save them. I just had to give it time, so that’s what I’m doing. I moved the camera again to just above the bowl, so we’ll see whether mama comes back to take care of them again. I’ll update you tomorrow, probably only on social, though.

Microstory 2081: Half a Surprise

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I didn’t have to go to work today. I worked eleven days straight, so it’s time for a break. I’ve not just been sitting around, though. I got out, and did stuff. First, I walked back to the bike shop, where they let you rent for the day. The first time is free as long as you sign up for their emailing list, and promise to seriously consider buying something at a later date. They have a few used ones, so instead of exploring my options online, I think I’ll just end up choosing one of these. I’ve gotten my first deposit, but I’m not exactly a millionaire yet. I would like to get a couple more before I start making any big purchases. I did spend a little cash on some food. I am not much of a cook, but I can get by if I plan it out, and I’m very careful. My landlord happened to have the day off too, so she planned something with a friend. She’ll be home for dinner, though, so I’m making something for her. I told her that I wanted to pick something up for the two of us to thank her for everything she’s done for me, so shh, it’s still half a surprise. She’s a vegetarian too, which is great. Do you know what the most important part of cooking is...? [...] Give up? It’s eating. Eating, of course; what else would be the point. The second most important thing, however, may be timing, and it’s one of the hardest things to learn. That’s what I’m struggling with now, but I think I’m gonna be okay. Something that really helps is having a bunch of little bowls ready with the individual ingredients. This is how they do it on all the cooking shows. My landlord doesn’t cook much herself, because she’s too busy at the clinic, but she inherited a lot of kitchen stuff from her grandmother, so there’s enough here for me to be ready to go. Wish me luck, I’m making a Mediterranean bowl, which shouldn’t be too terribly hard for an unskilled, perpetual novice like me. I’ll let you know how it goes tomorrow.

Microstory 737: Credos, Convention Nine: Commitment, Chapter Two

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For a long time, the girl was embarrassed of her shameful jalaxian harmony bowl performance. She immediately gave it up, and fell into a depression, spending her days in self-pity and remorse. Her father decided that she needed to get out of her own way, and stay busy. If she couldn’t play the jalaxian harmony bowl, then maybe she needed to help other people play it. Though he was not known for designing the bowls himself, he was an accomplished metal worker, and knew he could figure out how to do it. He brought her on board for a new department in his small business, where they learned to make harmony bowls together. She took to the trade quite well, enjoying the tediousness and focus that metalwork forced her to adopt. She was starting to think that she should go into the family business permanently once she was finished with her general studies. Meanwhile, her infamous recital piece was uploaded to the global network so that anyone and everyone could see it, and make fun of her. Some of the comments on her video were offensive, but many were more playful. A not insignificant number of people were actually suggesting that she become a comedian. Those closest to her made their own remarks, saying that what she lacked in talent for the harmony bowl, she made up for in her stage presence, and comedic timing. When she wasn’t in school, or building harmony bowls with her father, she was practicing her comedy act at local establishments. This was becoming difficult to manage, however. She never had time to sleep. Her studies faltered, her work at the factory was subpar, and her comedy routines were rather weak. She asked her mother, “what am I to do? I cannot handle all this at once. But I must study to earn my degree, and I have an obligation to the factory, and comedy is my passion.” The mother sat down and spoke. “You are trying to do too much. You cannot divide your attention to so many things at once. If you want to be good at any one of them, you must devote all of your time to it.” “But what will happen to the other two things?” the girl asked. Her mother answered, “you will not be able to do all three. You must decide what is most important to you.” “I don’t know what that is,” the girl said, “they’re all important.” “I cannot choose for you.” So the girl made the decision on her own. She stopped working at the factory, and started concentrating most substantially on her education. She continued to work on her comedy, but only when she had extra time, for no matter what she ended up doing with her life, she would need her degree to fall back on. When she grew up, she refocused her efforts back on comedy, committing to her skill with vigor. She utilized what she learned in school to make her jokes more meaningful and thought-provoking, able to make references to history and pop culture she would not have been able to without a well-rounded education. She even incorporated a little manufacturing into her routines, building her own custom-made props to accentuate the skits. And she became one of the most famous comedians in her world.

Microstory 736: Credos, Convention Nine: Commitment, Chapter One

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The wandering boy lifted his lower leg from the canister. “Wow, these stories all seem to be about people working together.” He filled his special communication cup with water and sought help from the fish woman. “What am I to learn from these canisters?” he asked. “They all seem to be teaching me the same thing.” “Be patient, my child,” the fish woman said. “You will understand, but you must finish the canisters first.” “Has anyone else been on this quest before? Or am I the first? If so, will I be the only?” “The canisters are meant for but one. They are meant for you. Others have tried, but failed to learn. Because of this, they have lost the new light...and have lost themselves. You must complete the task, and you must figure out what it means.” “I will,” the boy affirmed. “I will.” And so the boy placed his leg into the much deeper ninth canister, and watched the next lesson, which was much shorter than the others. There was a girl who wanted to play the jalaxian harmony bowl for scores of people. But she never wanted to practice. She dreamed of the day when she would be able to walk on stage and start playing and everyone would be soothed and happy by her music. But she didn’t understand what it took to get to that point. She figured all she had to do was decide to become a jalaxian harmony bowlist, and one day, she would be good enough. She failed to recognize all the hard work in between. Her teacher kept asking her to work harder, but she would not listen. She could not hear her own notes; that she was not playing them correctly. Finally the day of her first recital was upon her. Still she thought she was good enough to play, for she had never truly listened to herself. The performance was a disaster. She made a fool out of herself, and made it awkward for everyone else. She had not committed to her trade, and because of this she could never be great.