Flight of the Blue Tits

DOES ANY OF MY WRITING ACTUALLY MAKE SENSE? Or is it just me reading it back wonky? It seems to be all biddybangingbong: all over the place. I don't judge other people's writing as good or bad; I just read it. Also, my attention span is all over the place. I'm having a bash at reading a fictionalized biog later on; it's in short sections with rotating perspective (ie one person speaks, then another does, so it's easier to stick with). I need to get my attention span back.

And what was I on about earlier? Akh, I was a bit hyper. I was playing the music you see in youtube screens below today's earlier post which brought back memories of love doves and mitsubishi ecstasy. My mood was up so the music took me higher into full-blown "euphoric recall". It was more than the tingly neck you get from dance music once you get into it, it was a reliving of the E-state. I think that's why I'm now called "bipolar".

Akh, how did me and words like bipolar and schizophrenia ever get together? I always knew there was something wrong and that it wasn't plain depression. Those nauseatingly repeated dsm diagnostic criteria that pop up whenever you google "depression" somehow never described me even when I felt hopeless and suicidal. Partly this was depression deluding me, partly it was having got so used to being in a negative mind-state I couldn't see the positive one required to make sense of diagnostic criteria.

I fit the manic ones far more easily than the depressed ones. Ukh. Me? Manic?? A maniac is a crazy person and crazy people are Somebody Else.

I have been trying to read up on my medical condition because apart from knowing what it is I didn't know anything about it. Now I know a little bit about it. The European and American versions of schizoaffective differ. I have the European version that is, in the language of psychiatrists, mood episodes with mood-incongruent psychotic features. I also do have symptoms of schizophrenia but didn't even know it. I never delved into schizophrenia before: you can't know if you've got it. Stuff like obsessive-compulsive or bipolar you could know about because the patterns are really clear. Schizophrenia just feels like extreme dissociation with everything taking huge effort, even simple things. That's schizophrenia. That's why schizophrenics seem lazy, they're actually stressed. It's a big thing to do a little thing. That's why things don't get done. That's why I'm in chaos. Now I get all these people helping me.

Ukh. People helping me. I just want to crawl away and hide.

I want a bird feeder for all these blue tits. I haven't actually seen a blue tit around here. They're so tiny, they're like blue sparrows only slightly smaller (more wren-like) and highly agile. They hang out more at bird-tables and are frequently seen feeding upside down. They form mixed flocks with great tits, according to Wikipedia.

I can't wait for tomorrow because tomorrow I can get some paints. Whether I actually will get them is anyone's guess. Usually I don't do anything I actually plan to. I know I should do it but get lost in the detail. There is too much gory detail in life. There is too much gore. That is why I hate life. That is why I have to win the euromillions lottery. It's £50 million next week. I need enough to get a house with high prison walls to keep the world OUT.

Well I don't feel depressed any more. I felt depressed last night so I took a load of methadone and slept deeply. Then I woke up feeling fine. There are FAR worse things you can get diagnosed with than "elevated mood" (and my mood is elevated far more than it is low) so I'm not complaining. As Serious Illnesses go I think I got just about the best one. I keep hearing about, thinking about, seeing all sorts of physical injury and disease that scares the living shit out of me. Then I'm really glad I don't have to deal with that. I might be thinking that because I'm ill, but at least I am just thinking it not being it. (And I could get lost from here on in, as I get lost in what I think... ukkkk is that why my Dr thinks I'm crazy?)

O I have to go I don't know where I'm going now. Blue tits! There ya go. Left it on a positive note didn't I!!


Illustrated: tiny tits in various positions in British gardens

A Flight of Blue Tits

IT'S 10 to midnight. I slept a few hours and woke up, finally, with a bit of calm! The following was written five hours earlier:

LET ME TRY and give a less winky-dink expression of today's goings-on than that bunch of crap you see one post below.

I went to my appointment today. Tomorrow I have one at the Psychiatrist rather than the Nutter Club. Unfortunately they crash but I had scheduling problems due to a computer error and I must take the time offered.

Naomi [the dual diagnosis lady] phoned me just now and pointed out he is a Consultant and so timewise finds himself practically meeting appointments pretty much when he is and isn't allowed to use the loo. It gets that bad!

If I were a doctor I'd be a Consultant Neurologist (never a psychiatrist: too headfucking that one. People with schizophrenia and bipolar ranting at me half the day and then the other 50% pf patients not wanting to speak. No thanks. Neurology patients usually can speak pretty fluently unless they're comatose in which case the checks and charts do the talking for them.

Now my own head is babbling away. I have Racing Thoughts or a Flight of Ideas. Like little tubbie birdies thrumming from one bird table to another. Now they're in the birdbath. Splish splash splosh. And they're blue tits. My favourite British Garden Birdies. Ask another British person if you don't believe about Blue Tits, They're beautiful..

OK back to midnight: my flight of ideas is safely in its nest boxes, has refrained from chirping and is looking forward to perching upside down tomorrow morning on the feeder.

I think what was wrong earlier was a long day and me just wanting to be home, crossed with the necessity to do endless little things that just got in the way when I was tired and wanted to unwind and the upshot was manic paranoia from which it takes hours to calm down. Naomi was very helpful. She just happened to phone right in the middle. I wasn't "going off on one" in a big way. No ranting. No talking nonsense. She knows how thin the line is between appearing to cope and not coping at all. That's why I like her.

She told me to focus on myself at tomorrow's doctor appointment and not my surrounding issues because other professionals are dealing with those.

All I would need say re today, if that came up, would be "I felt paranoid on the bus, like people were talking about me, so I got off earlier than I would have".

If I were a regular smoker of cannabis or crack I wouldn't be surprised to feel the way I do, but I gave up both. Cannabis went years ago, crack went two years ago (with a handful of lapses). My drugs workers at the time assured me my problems with paranoia and depression (that were only ever eluded to, nobody ever asked about them in any detail, so I never told in any detail) they assured me these problems would vanish in a puff of cocaine smoke. And yet they haven't. Shortly after giving up I realized a common cold had brought a strange return of paranoia and ibbly-bibbly weirdness. And that was a common cold! About 2 years ago.

Well crack has well and truly gone. The last time I used heroin it did nothing for me. Cannabis is a non-issue (never touch it). Uppers I don't go near. Hallucinogens or psychedelics I gave up entirely a decade ago. These had never been a big huge deal though they made a big huge impression on me whenever they were taken. So all these drugs have gone and I am doing all the Right Things I ought to be doing.

Surely I shall see some Fruits of my Labours soon..?

TITS IN THE BATH!
Bluetit playtime in Amsterdam!






Illustrated: blue tits and a Ancient Egyptian space alien ...


THIS is an A1 description of "racing thoughts"...

Birdie-bathing....

FEATHERY FRIDAY ON SATURDAY
FEDERARTIGER SAMSTAG




What an amazing sight; Nikki the cockatiel washing wings under kitchen tap!
Was für ein wunderschönes Blick! Nymphensittich wascht die Flügeln unter Küchezapfen!




Gonzo really goes for it under the tap. You'd think they'd really hate water dripping right between the feathers, but apparently not so:
Man liebt das Wasser so...



Mad French woman strips off and takes squeaky-squarking cockatiel into shower... (no tiny tits)
Verrückte Französin entkleidet und bringt lärmenden schreienden Vogel in die Duschi mit:



Extraordinarily tame budgie goes for outdoor Tupperware bath...
Außergewöhnlich zahmer Wellensitti ch nimmt Tupperware-Bad im Freien:



Blue tit has splish-splash-sploshy jamboree in the bath:
"Blaumeise spielt Propeller im Vogelbad" ~ sehr komisch!




I don't know what this is because it's Russian and it still won't load, but if anyone sees it and likes it, please tell me!
Über diesem hab' ich keine Ahnung...




Only in Japan 鳥風呂 ~ it takes a while to get going, but eventually you see an entire flock of (pet) canaries taking a dip...
Kanarienvogelflug baden....



And last but not least: bizarre Japanese bird-tin antics:
Bizarre Vogeldosegrimassen aus Japan:

Winziges Blaumeise-Baby in der Straße

English-speakers: this is a German adaptation of yesterday's story about the baby bird in the street, "I nearly grabbed a tiny tit".

Gestern habe ich einen kleinen blauen Vogel in der Straßenmitte gefunden. Das winzige Küken sah zu mir auf, und piepste, "was willst du mit mir?" Es war ein Blaumeisebaby, vielleicht ein Teenager, noch nicht flügge.
Ich sagte, "Du kannst nicht in der Mitte der Straße bleiben. Also gehe!"
Ich kniete nieder, dann flog es in die Gosse. Da blieb es, und piepste und piepste.
Ich sagte, "Da kannst du auch nicht bleiben! Fliehe zurück zum Nest!"
Ich winkte die Armen. Dann flog es zu einer niedrigen Mauer, wo man sitz um seinen Dealer zu erwarten. Dann klingelte mein Telefon. Mein "Freund" erzählte mir, "Ich fahre nun die Straße entlang." Also, zuerst musste ich damit abfertigen. Ich dachte, ob das Vogelein noch da ist, werde ich es zuhause mitbringen.
Also traf ich meinen Freund. Zwei Minuten später kehrte ich an die Wand zurück: aber von dem winzigen Küken ~ keine Spur. Ich suchte und suchte wie eine Stecknadel. Ich horchte und horchte auf seinen kleinen Piepser: nichts.
Vielleicht ist es doch nur zum Guten. Was hätte ich getan? Sollte ich es wirklich zuhause mitbringen? Dort habe ich einen Hamsterkäfig in dem es gelebt haben könnte. Aber wie würde ich ein winziges Küken füttern? Wäre es nicht zu zahm werden? Wie würde ich wissen, wann es freizulassen? Würde ich es jemals freilassen können?
Na ja. Es ist jetzt nach Mitternacht. Ich hoffe nur das die klitzekleine Blaumeise zurück im nest schlaft, und träumt vielleicht von eines Tages im großen blauen Himmel zu fliegen...

I nearly grabbed a tiny tit...

I WAS CROSSING a quiet road near one of our largest local parks when a tiny blue bird fluttered down from a tree and sat in the middle of the road. I crossed and stood over him. What looked like a baby blue tit stared up at me, chirping indignantly as if to say "and what do you think YOU are doing here??!"
Wondering what was wrong with the little bird, who still refused to move, I made a motion to grab it; he fluttered clumsily off a couple of feet away and sat in the gutter cheep-cheeping at the top of his tiny lungs.
I thought "you can't stay there in the gutter like that" and made yet another not attempt at grabbing the little birdie, who did a better job at flying this time and found himself on the footpath beside a little wall where drug addicts sit waiting for their dealers (this of course this had nothing to do my being in that vicinity...)
Then my phone rang and "a friend" said he was driving down the road right at that moment, so I had to deal with that. I thought to myself, if the tiny tit is still there in a couple of minutes, then I'll take him home with me. He cannot sit on the path like that. He'll get trodden on or killed.
Three minutes later he was gone. I looked everywhere for him. He could have strayed under the parked cars where a cat would have made a tasty meal of him... I searched high and low, but could not hear his cheep-cheeping from anywhere. I have no idea where he went, or whether he suddenly learned how to fly.
Judging by his cheeps, he was a great tit, not fully fledged, but very spirited. I didn't want to take him home, though I do have a hammy cage he could have gone in... When would I have known to set him free? Would he ever have been able to go free if he'd lived in my house and become hand-tame?
Perhaps it's a good thing he vanished...

If you go to my first post yesterday and look under the German, you'll see some wonderful video of baby blue and great tits being hand-fed worms, etc. There's a particularly funny one of a blue tit getting soaking wet in a birdbath...

So why did this happen today? Is it the laws of attraction in action?

Illustrations: top, great tits; bottom, blue tit. Mine looked like a blue tit (very blue), but the chirrups sounded to me like a great tit, so I'm not sure...