On Boredom and Magpies.

I have just realized that I never keep promises to myself. I promised that I would write everyday for the past three weeks. I promised I would get up early in the morning to write. That all went to pot. In life, there are so many distractions which can take one’s attention off creativity. I think boredom is one of the greatest blocks for a writer. Whenever I’m busy, with three assignments, a test and all the rest, I have loads of ideas which just need to be put down on paper. Do you ever get that feeling? Once the brain starts working, it keeps pouring out all these great thoughts, and there is just not enough time to elaborate. But once I have time, the ideas just stop coming, and I’m left with nothing to do except sleep and complain to myself that I am bored. It’s sort of like the magpie that I’ve been feeding. When I’ve food prepared for her, she does not come. When I have no food, she comes. That’s life. Nothing is perfect.

Speaking of which, that magpie hasn’t come for ages. I think she’s nesting. She’s showing the same behaviour as one of the ducks who used to visit us all the time, and after a period of such behaviour, that duck turned up on our doorstep with fluffy newly hatched ducklings. Ah, those were the days. We had so many ducklings. They were all tiny –about the size of a ping-pong ball– cheeping, calling for attention, food, and always getting underfoot. They even let us pick them up, and as long as they were fed, no one minded. There’s nothing quite so exciting as picking up a brown and yellow noisy ball of fluff. I miss seeing ducklings in our garden each spring sometimes, when the peach blossoms are blooming (although I would’ve preferred more variety than just peach blossoms) and the stream in our backyard was freezing and clear. Then again, the ducks often left messes of an unsavoury nature. Ah, well, nothing is all good and no bad, just as nothing is all bad and no good.