The eternal hunt

There’s a lot of internet-evolved lingo out there that I highly dislike. Blog. *NoJoMo. Bucket list.

Alas, I’m perpetuating all three here. I’ve decided to combine these things into what I hope will be something interesting. I’ll be blogging every day, and each post will be a different life goal I have. I already have an actual list (because I have lists of everything, in case one day I get amnesia and forget who I am. I’m not kidding. I think I could do a post every day for a month dedicated to all the different lists I have), so my posts will be exploring the decisions I have already decided to make rather than coming up with things.

Since I’ve already been pretty verbose today and I want to keep these posts short-ish (no, really), the first dream I shall share with you is a simple one. Humble, easy, already known to most people who have known me for any time at all. No good reason it hasn’t been completed, really:

I want to catch a pigeon with my bare hands.

They’re just all so fat and sleek and  look immensely satisfying to hold. They’re probably a lot heavier than anyone expects. When I tell people this, I don’t get the strange looks I always expect. Instead, I get anecdotes about bird-catching grandfathers and three-year-old cousins, encouragement to “just do it,” and a surprising amount of advice on pigeon-catching technique. Also, sometimes people laugh…with me. (Right guys?)

The truth is that world isn’t even conspiring against this dream like it does to so many others, and I still haven’t even truly attempted to do it. Whenever I pretend to try, I give up one second before I actually should, tending to my pride by wondering out loud how such awkward creatures can be so fast. Why? Honestly, I’m a little scared that when I catch this pigeon, it’ll freak out and peck my hands and I’ll get rabies or bird flu.

There. That’s my confession. That’s the only reason I haven’t done this yet. I’m scared of urban wildlife. 

How can I expect to accomplish anything if I let such silly fears keep me from even sillier dreams?

It seems ridiculous, but it’s actually something that deeply troubles and concerns me whenever I see those slick grey feathers.

*November Journaling Month is the easier version of NaNoWriMo (another hated acronym) – national novel writing month. Basically, it’s one journal entry a day for a month.

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