A Rant About the Keyboard

This is not nice to type on. I think I actually stopped writing after someone commandeered my old one. These ones click less but I liked the clicking of the raised buttons that seemed to chomp on the words that were being written down. Chewing on the thoughts that fed a well-written story. These keys make almost a soft, ‘bloop’ sound, like there is dust stuck between them or something. I hate this keyboard.

Why do people want a “slim” keyboard with flat keys? It’s like typing on a touchscreen, there isn’t enough feedback, it’s like trying to read music without a meter but beat by beat by beat. There is no feedback, you don’t feel it in your fingers, your fingers don’t play it right.

It’s like trying to play a flute without having to press down on the keys because the screws are so loose; you can still use it but it feels weird.

I know I should have gotten used to the old keyboard but it’s like missing your favourite pencil. You can just get another pencil but why get a different pencil if the old one was perfect for you?

It was a grey and hp keyboard with a kinda tacky random curvy line at the top that was all dark grey for no reason. It made chomping noises and the keys weren’t flat.

Man I miss my hp 5181.

Thanks mom, this looks like a better one. No, thanks this one is better. I don’t need to try the other one I can tell because the first one has taller keys, besides and I tried that one before.
Why is it so wobbly? Ooh! Double hold-ups at the back.

Okay this is kind of better.

Ew the keys are slimy.

Okay, dish soap. Wow I don’t think that down button has been cleaned in a long time. Careful! Don’t get liquid between the keys. This is a kind of old keyboard. Maybe I should start collecting vintage keyboards. Some people like vintage cars, I like vintage keyboards that make chomping noises.
Okay that helped, but maybe mom was right hand sanitizer might do the trick to get off that last bit of residue. We only have this shea butter one with coco-coloured beads. I feel like green or blue hand sanitizer would work better but that's all we have. Uugh now it’s a little slimy again. That's okay, Back to the soap and water.

Okay that’s better. The keys are a bit dusty too. At least they chomp, but it feel’s like it’s chomping with gritty teeth that haven’t been brushed in a while and someone just ate an underripe persimmon.

We must have a dust can somewhere with the compressed air and red proboscis thingy that gets between the keys.
Here it is.
Shoot, should have done that first now there's dust all over again. And it still feels like unbrushed teeth.
I still miss the 5181 with its little crisp, spoprano click before you even press it, but it's still chompy.

Okay. This is a nice keyboard.

Pseudoscience

Why does it feel like in order to live
My left brain's got to die?
My brain may be weird but I don't mind.

Yet all the reasons I want to leave
Are the reasons I have to stay
Because reason is science and science is fact,
Fact is it's all pseudoscience to me.

Say sorry for when I'm a mess and sorry when I feel alright,
Seeing the baggage in my eyes from all the sleepless nights.
You say the apologies are empty but scared to look in this eye,
And the saddest part is that I mean it every time.

You'll label me one way just to say what you're not,
Backhanded compliments, with all that sweet your teeth will rot.
You fake believe to make believe that you are something more,
But all the things from your mouth are rotten at their core.

Little cuts sliced sideways with a sidelong guilty glance,
Play it cool maybe they won't notice the fire on your pants.
No I'm not here for you to label what I am or to be,
I'm not less of what you say, just just growing to honesty.

Don't twist what I mean,
Let me speak for myself, please.
You try to knock me down
To hide you're standing on your knees.

You'll make up a reason to make it fit your make believe,
But the truth is I don't believe you anymore.

How to Whisper to the Wind (Throwback)

(edited August 20, 2018 to include blurb from original post at naturenimbus.blogspot.ca)

So I have a thing for the wind. Its capricious beauty affects so much physically within an ecosystem, and its unseen and almost spiritual nature is also captivating for those who stop to listen.

In the summer of last year I had the joy of painting kids' faces and working at a skulls and furs booth, as a volunteer at the Kortright Centre for conservation's 2015 Wind Festival.

The Kortright Centre is a beautiful raw gem in Southern Ontario that does a wonderful job of helping children and their families to connect with nature, and nurture respect and love for the environment and our natural heritage.

The wind festival had lots of nature-themed booths and activities for families, and next year I hope to attend as a visitor (and bring my kite!)

Here is a throwback post to a poem I wrote several years ago. It is in an old meter and very old style (more current works are on lunar-winds.blogspot.ca), but I think it still has a place here.

Whisper to the Wind

Take the path up a mountain, Untrodden trail through forest green.

A journey that must be taken To see the things unseen.

Walk the path of time, Winding mysteries of the past.

"I must continue walking" Til I'm finally there at last.

This journey to be taken By those who wish to connect.

Something done whole-souled, Not a journey to be pecked.

You must swim against the current, and go against the norm.

Stick to the way of nature, with instinct’s natural form.

Answers at the summit, Connect and whisper to the breeze.

To hear the tales of nature, And the stories of the trees.

The whispers in the wind Tell the stories of the Earth.

Dancing with the waves, Sing their gentle songs of mirth.

Sailing with the stars, Flames of heart and light.

Lurking in the shadows That hail to their might.

Learn to speak with the wind and hear the cries of the air.

Harmonize with it’s whistles, See beauty no longer there.

Absorb how to revive Joyous sparks once afire;

Teardrops of the sky for the situations dire.

Live the real life With the life all around.

Learn to sing what is gone Back to our Earthy ground.

Be the peaceful pas,t Bring it to the times now.

Restore what has been lost For it is all what we allow.

An eternal whisper to the breeze, Connection never to part.

Re-tell the stories of the wind With the echoes of the heart.

Movie with Three Colours

It was like watching three colours for two hours and nothing happened.

And bitter humour was at last the resort,

But the truth is it probably wasn't that bad.

     It left me with a bad feeling. 

It brought be back to a very dark place that I never wanted to go back to.

Of a rumoured self-defeat, The theme self-defeating.

Like they shot half the film with the left half of the brain then stuck a mirror between.

     No that was not the mirror that I truly mean.

Where the organic reflection of the water's ripples were the only saving grace.

     We needed more time to reflect on it.

     The truth is it just struck a chord too perfect as the theme goes.

Brought back to see a cold grace.

The pit from which I had to fight to regrow through the cold winter,

And I just didn't want a reminder.

Because here I would so often sit to try to write a sorry line to convince myself I'm fine,

But try too hard and know I lied it felt like inside I've died.

     Now this is not why.

But at the time I seldom had the courage to admit it because I was afraid

Of waking up and realizing that I didn't have a single dream.

Afraid that dreams, emotions, creativity depth and identity were lost with individuality.

If nothing feels wrong than you wouldn't understand and that is a good thing my friend,

But if you do understand and feeling nothing is feeling wrong,

Then yes there is a problem but seeing it also means

That you're still in there my friend.

     Your heart is just under lockdown.

     If these are your words then take them,

Because it is too scary to say them so we often stay silent.

We lock the words up who knows where throw away the key

But then throw ourselves into more anxiety.

     It's hard to say but there are others, and you can make it out alive.

     You're not alone, and though cold alone we can keep eachother warm.

The truth is there is no lock, it's just frozen shut and it will thaw.

If a heart is under lockdown that's because there is something precious worth protecting inside.

The winter we swore to love and make the best of can be oh so cold,

And even the warmest of people may retreat to a part so deep that it feels out of reach,

     But it's in there.

     Deeply as you are.