maleficentmoi

I was afraid of owls when I was a brat. Well, to be specific, I was afraid of an owl when I was a brat. You see, I was convinced that the same owl that hooted outside my bedroom window in Midwest City, Oklahoma was the same one that hooted outside my bedroom in McClellan AFB and, later, at Base Housing. It wasn't until my family moved to North Highlands (later renamed Antelope for fiscal purposes) that I understood that it was impossible that it was the same damn, single-minded owl flying around and pestering me exclusively from my bedroom window at night. Ironically, the move from Base Housing to North Highlands was the shortest distance (as opposed to freaking Oklahoma to California), but the important distinction that contributed to my understanding of the ridiculousness of my theory was that I was a full-blown teenager. Essentially, I put two and two together and it didn't equal a crazy-ass owl. Why am I bringing this up, considering it exemplifies to a public forum my stupidity as a youth? Well, first of all, nobody reads this shit, so it isn't exactly public. Second, I was a kid, so fuck off! Third, I heard an owl while I was throwing out some garbage this morning. I'd heard it before, but it struck me this time because I recalled the fancies of my goofy youth. I don't know why it happened just now, but it kind of reassured me. I've grown to really appreciate the hooting of an owl, especially in this downtown setting. In a way, it makes me smile to think about how, in a way, I obsessed over an owl in as a kid. Oh, I feel like noting that, for some reason, I seem to have developed an aversion to bathing; in the thick of summer. Why? Beats me... The obvious answer would be laziness. I think more nobly, suggesting perhaps it's the conservationist in me. That's a way better idea. In truth, I know I'm fucking lazy...