MissTick
Thingish Things

Certain habits we develop to decorate the day…thoughts, music, poems, anything other then what naked day can offer…does it always have to be a bad habit? If it does bring light and colour to your life, a smile, a good day wish, a little splash of happiness mischievously thrown into somebody else's face to wake them from the slumber, to shout Hi into the mountains and listen to the echoes coming back…People tend to hide into the shells, crawl into the corner and wrap themselves in self-pity when they’ve done something inappropriate. Fear the Bogeyman of Consequences comes after them. Like a child in the bed hiding head under the blanket, waiting to be punished for reading after the lights gone off...So often I’m that child crawling…wrapping…hiding, and even in that of my age certain fears are still the same fears that they always used to be. Maybe there will be no reward in trying to do it differently, and I remember listening to my own kid promising me to do it differently, and remember him doing exactly the same over and over again after I forgive him…and am I the same? And sometimes you think where do you get all that patience to believe to the promises that you know will be forgotten as soon as they are forgiven, and you don’t know what makes you forgive and them – forget. And sometimes you changed places. And nothing changed. And in time you come to think what if this is all just a habit of living together, in the same space? So you develop another habit to brighten up the first one. You sing, recite the poems, you smile and suprise those around you with silly gifts of nonsense, of smiles, of thoughts, of bizarre things…and when you do it for a long enough time, they gets to become another level of habits…a something that embroidered into your routine and you stop noticing it until you stop doing it…and sometimes I wonder: are habits something that must get updated when they stopped being a surprise and become annoyance to the others?