free as a bird

I ’dont mind flying, it is not what people imagine, but it’s OK. Just don’t give me that „free bird“ crap. That is made up by people who are just envious ’cause they can’t do it themselves. Just try flapping your arms for an hour, you’ll see what I mean. It is exhausting. Big time.
Plus, just because we can fly, it doesn’t mean we can do what we want. Still gotta build that nest, stuff these beaks, lay those eggs, you know what I mean? I’m lucky I don’t have to migrate like the other guy, would be too much for me.
They say that the early bird catches the worm. True. I’m not a morning person, myself, and I can’t see what is so bad about people throwing breadcrumbs from the bridge. Leave the worms to the early birds, I say. Honestly, would you eat worms? Uuh!

Like I said, I don’t mind flying, just there are these days when I simply can’t get myself around to … guess you know what it’s like. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not exactly lazy. I just don’t like work too much. Flying is a great thing. I love to watch them do it.

I don’t fly today

and now to something completely different …

I live in this perennial state of confusion, just sometimes I find it difficult to lose my way around here. I’ve long felt that a map would be really useless, but there didn’t seem to be one available!
So I undecided to make one.

Here it is – the guide to getting lost:

part of "they draw and travel"

being small

I've always been quite small and one day I was just fed up with being pushed around. Some people told me this is just the way it is, there is a reason for the small and weak ones to be in this world, but I just couldn’t accept that.
I just didn’t know what to do about it.

Then I met this guy who had an amazing fertilizer method. He told me there is a solution, I do not have to be this small. He sold me this patented device (Flow-A-Pot it was called, I think. His own invention!), and I had to stay in there four hours every day, my feet in the mud. And I was sprinkled with fertilizer, very good stuff: I spent a fortune on this fertilizer.
It didn’t work right away (this is normal, he said, it can take a few weeks to catch on), and unfortunately he had to leave to Offigo country to save a sick family member’s life. Before he left, he measured me and found that I had already grown some, but in a way the effect didn’t last. He left his yardstick and it was shorter than mine, probably due to a side effect of the fertilizer. So there I was still as small as before.

Then I started this sport thing and the teacher showed me how it can be an advantage to be small. The funny thing is, I don’t need to use it. I just wear this suit and put on my „don't mess with me“-face. That’s enough!

So I’m still small, but it’s OK now, at least the pushing around has stopped.
Still I’m hoping for the fertilizer guy to come back. With the money I saved by now, I’d like to grow a bit more …

the don’t mess with me - face!

difficult conversation

He obviously had a hard time with the hot summer weather. Something seemed exotic or strange about him. I watched for a while, but as I suspected him to notice me staring at him, I brought myself to ask him where he came from.
»Tibet«, he replied curtly.
»Oh, I guessed you come from far away. So are you a political refugee?«
»Not into politics. Don’t like them.«

It has always been my conviction that it is wrong to just mind one’s own business, as we are all affected by the decisions made in the political realm, but I didn’t know the guy and to avoid an argument, I decided to change subjects. (He also seemed to be a lot stronger than I am, by the way.)

»So why did you come to our forest then?« I asked.
»Travelling.« He didn’t seem to be much of a talker. I tried something else.
»So what do you do for a living? It must be very expensive for you to travel so far, you must be doing well. How do you pay off your credit card?« (One of the few things I know about Tibet is that it is not a rich country.)
»Credit card??« There was a fierce gleam in his eyes. Not a good idea to talk about money to a stranger. So another quick change of subject.
»So how do you like it here?« There we go: your all-time favourite standard question to a tourist. »Good to get away from all the snow for a while, huh?«
»Snow. Really fond of it … I miss snow …« was he sobbing?
»Come on! A man like you!« I tried.
»I’m not a man. I’m a girl« it whined.
I was puzzled. That was quite a beard for a girl! But I kept this thought to myself and stayed with the nice and safe tourist questions.
»Where do you plan to go next?« I asked.

This time she smiled.
»London. I’ve been told it is a cool place.«, was her reply.
»It is so hot here«, she added.
»You shouldn’t wear that fur coat in summer«, I told her.

»Fur coat?«

going to a cool place

tales of carrots and terror

When the night falls upon your innocent little houses with your innocent little children’s rooms and your innocent little back yard gardens with innocent little vegetable patches – stay inside, you brave little people, and make sure your windows are closed! For it may be one of these pitch black, moonless nights, when as soon as the deep shadows creeps over the lettuce, unspeakable things emerge from their secret hideouts. Creatures of the gloom. Be afraid! You will not be the first ones to step outside your innocent little houses in the morning and find your vegetables dead – drained of every last drop of carrot juice!

I know you like these cute fluffy little beings, and rightfully so. Just you never forget, there is a dark side to it. I know you won’t believe me. Just listen to the night. Can’t you hear something moving in the darkness?

You have been warned.

be afraid!

the wild one

Now you don’t talk so loud, do you? You were all so sure that I wouldn’t do it. Thought I was afraid, told me it was too dangerous, ha! You don’t know me. I need the thrill of danger like I need my peppermint tea in the morning. An adrenalin addict, that’s what I am, I need the rush of the boiling blood in my veins when I stand unblinkingly facing death, that is my oxygen. Action is my last name.

I showed you.

I told you so.

What’s for dinner?

Mr. Action