I may have mentioned before, that I am extremely afraid of ladybugs. It is an irrational fear, which makes  it difficult to explain, and even more difficult to overcome.

Today, I was doing yard work. Which I usually don’t mind. I like gardening. But this work was gross. My dog, Spice, has a small yard where she stays when she can’t be supervised. This is due to her penchant for digging and being a general nuisance. She has a special area where she goes to do her business. With my brother out of town, and the winter being the way winter generally is, this area has been slightly neglected. So, today, I had to clean it out. Which wouldn’t have been too big of a deal. I’ve been a dog owner for 9 years. I am used to poo. I also have cats.

I wasn’t prepared for the HUNDREDS OF LADYBUGS living and breeding under the dog poo. It was my worst nightmare, come true! I cried. But, I was also yelled at for being silly, and told that I must to my job. So, I cried, and shovelled, and attempted to kill as many of those little bastards as possible.

I am proud to say that now a large chunk of the population of EVIL are dead under my shovel. Which I was quickly told was an awful thing for me to do, since supposedly ladybugs are helpful.

NO THEY ARE NOT! THEY ARE THE DEVIL INCARNATE. HOW DARE YOU!!

I’d much prefer aphids.

“Look into my eyes and what do you see..?”

Eyes are weird things. At least, I think so. My eyes are the weirdest of all. Firstly, there is the colour. Okay, I suppose “hazel,” is not that odd of a colour. But the way my eyes are layered to form hazel is just a little odd. The inner circle is brown, the outer edge is green. When I cry, they become super green, to the point where, if someone were to look at me, they’d say “She has green eyes.” A lot of the time, I have super huge pupils, which result in them looking mainly brown. I must have been in this state when I registered for my I.D. card, because that’s what it says– eye colour: brown. I have no clue why my pupils get so big, although it has resulted in some playful teasing about my “drug dependency” (which does NOT exist, to make that perfectly clear). Especially in grade 10, when I accidentally scraped one of my cornea with a contact lens. This caused the white of my eye to turn red and water (thus, making my one eye green, and the other hazel), and I remember sitting down at my English table, and having the guy across from me ask if I was stoned.

I’m used to my eyes giving me trouble. When I was very young, I had an eye-disease, which I think I’ve mentioned before, but shall not mention now, nor post the Wiki link to, because it’s been a long day, and the photos can be icky. This disease caused my eyes to be misaligned. When I was four, I had surgery (my doctor is also the lady who first used BOTOX as a cosmetic tool! She’s loaded.) to correct this (not once, but twice.). In the surgery, they pop out the eyes, play around with the muscles behind them, then pop them back in. Ew.

Now my eyes are somewhat perfect. Other than the fact that I wear glasses for a totally normal, and unrelated reason. It never occurred to me the significance of this operation until I worked with the Canadian National Institute for the Blind in late 2006. It was here that I learnt about the consequences of not having the surgery before eye muscles are fully developed around age 6. Such diseases can cause one eye to shut down, and one to overcompensate resulting in a much quicker wear-and-tear effect. In effect, had I not had the surgery all those years ago, I may be legally blind today!

Also working at the CNIB, I realized just how much I rely on my vision. I took a crash course in orientation and mobility training in which I learnt some basic life skills. But it was hard. It was frustrating. And what of the films that I adore so much? What of the flowers? I am a big fan of colour.

We- that is to say, this half of the world at least- are now entering summer. The sun is bright, and dangerous. Please please take precautions when enjoying the heat this summer, and invest in some sunglasses. Age-related Macular Degeneration is more and more common. We’re living longer than ever, and not all of our bits and pieces are designed to live with that. You know what they say, “you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” But, most of us are young, and I daresay it is easier for us to learn to slip on a pair of shades than it will be to re-learn how to live as a visually impaired person at age 80.

Not only are your eyes the window to your soul, they’re also the windows to the world around you. Take care!

I’ll admit it, I am an emotional masochist. I’m a bit of a physical one too, but that fact is irrelevant to this entry. I purposely put myself into situations where I will cry. Like, chick flicks. I am a wimp, I am a romantic, and I burst into tears during chick flicks. I’ve yet to sit through “A Walk to Remember” or “The Notebook” without crying. Curses on Nicholas Sparks, really, but it doesn’t start or end with him.

I listen to sad songs. Although I recently removed “I Can Wait Forever,” by Simple Plan from my iTunes due to my tendencies to get upset and distracted and accidentally burn my house down (long story, and whoops!) when it played. But, in general, I keep them on and just tough it out. I like emotion. I like being able to feel things. I like the flow of heartbreak from the music to myself. I can relate to human anguish!

There is one song, though, that I just find so heartbreaking, that I don’t understand why people play it. That song is “Tears in Heaven,” by Eric Clapton. I’m sure you know it, it’s universal.

The song was written in 1991 after Clapton’s four year old son fell from a 53rd-storey window. It is essentially, all Clapton’s pain related to the tragic accident in song form. It’s a beautiful song, but at the same time, it is horrible! I can’t help but be reminded of a life cut short when ever it comes on. Of all lives cut short. Of all the important people in my life, and what happens to them when they’re out of my sight and I can’t be there to save them. It’s horrid.

And yet, it is played in public areas. My work plays it- they played it a few days ago, and as my eyes welled up I shouted “Why does anyone play this song?” My mom just played it during her bath, which is what prompted me to write this- I don’t understand how someone could play it when they should be relaxing. It’s a slow ballad, but it is in no way relaxing.

I know that a lot of people have songs they simply can’t bear to listen to- what are some of yours? Is the emotion you feel in the song the artist’s, your own, or a combination of the two?