Love’s Least Obvious Threats: Chihuahuas and Mosquitos

Last week I wrote about the challenge of re-inventing happiness, a process I’m in the midst of since becoming blind. Just to keep things in balance and to explode the illusion that I’m always a carefree, positive minded guy, I’m gong to spend some time on the dark side today. Yes grandmother, there is a black part of me, and this negative nexus is easily exposed when subject to the travails of two of Earth’s most ubiquitous and malevolent creatures-

Chihuahuas and mosquitos.

Make no mistake ye of little life experience and minimal exposure to these sinister forces of the devil, these little pests are the most destructive enemies of love on our planet. Let me educate you and hopefully save you from the perils of these noxious aberrations.

First, although I’m a stout believer in the process of evolution and that all creatures great and small have a purpose on our planet, I have yet to come up with one plausible reason for the existence of chihuahuas and mosquitos. Neither of these life forms realistically support the well being of anything else in this world. Their sole purpose, and the only reason chihuahuas and mosquitos are here is to annoy and terrorize us.

But you say, what about all those cute little furless dogs that people go ga-ga over, those little four legged things that run around yipping at everything and everybody and nip at your ankles before scampering back to the safety of their momma’s lap? Aren’t these small time terroristas filling some sort of love void for these women? Notice that I’ve pointed out that chihuahuas are only owned by women, lonely, love forsaken women who have some sort of fear complex about healthy human relationships and so replace their own love needs with those little yappy abominations. Since these women are afraid of real human relations, let’s simply give them wind-up or battery powered doggie robots to lavish their affections upon. Then, at least, there would be an “off” button to push shutting the little monsters off.

No, chihuahuas are not real dogs. They are the devil’s own, hellions sent to provoke and pervert the minds of men and as such should be immediately banished to an uninhabited island in the Arctic where their minimal coats would make their lives as miserable as the two tirelessly barking yappers stationed twenty feet across the alley from my bedroom have made my life unbearable  for weeks.

I recognize that my commitment to living a peaceful, nonviolent life  is in peril with such negative thoughts. Yes, admittedly, I’ve spent hours in deep, sleepless thought considering how to murder these ceaseless yappers. But after countless conversations with the neighbors who own these noise machines, and listening to their typical Mexican response, “Si,” I’m faced with no other alternative but to plot their demise.

Where is the Dali Lama when I need him?

Which brings me to mosquitos. At least chihuahuas have some minimal use as love toys, but mosquitos? I have to think that God took a coffee break during the creation process, somewhere during the “let’s make a million insects” stage, and the devil, always looking to louse life up, took this chance to slip in his favorite human nemesis, the tiny yet all powerful mosquito.

Have you ever been in bed, possibly with the woman you adore and have been dreaming about forever, relaxing together after a perfect day, both thinking similar thoughts that rhyme with “vex? And in this fantasy moment you both become aware of a slight yet unforgettable sound, a sound unlike any other, a sound guaranteed to drive humans insane instantly?

A single blood-thirsty, unseen flying vampire. The most unnerving of insects. The mosquito.

There is nothing so small that so completely devastates romantic notions. The lights go on and you leap around the room naked, thrashing with pillows any speck that moves, and in the process manage to knock over the wine bottle, break a wine glass, and knock ice all over the bed. Your partner suddenly realizes that you’re not the mild mannered lover she’d hoped for, but a mutant life form from another galaxy suddenly revealed for its maniacal manner.

Yes, such are the memories that enduring relationships are built from.

Please, somebody give me one logical, perhaps practical explanation for the mosquito’s existence besides punishing humans who wander into their flight paths. No, I don’t buy that mosquitos are food for fish. No self-respecting fish is going to dine on those minuscule skinny insects unless they are in the mood for a blood soaked or’deurve. No, the only thing mosquitos do is suck other creatures blood, leave an unending itchy reminder of why we hate them, and  by the way, spread terrible diseases.

Yes, I’m a hypocrite. In spite of my dubious desire to harm no other creatures, I make an exception for mosquitos, and beg the Dali Lama’s pardon. I would find it much easier to be happy in this world if all the mosquitos are banished to That lost island in the Arctic where they can feed on all those yippy chihuahuas to their heart’s content.

Do mosquitos have hearts? No. That explains it. The devil had to create such a heartless creature to impose such mischief on the rest of life.

There. I feel so much better. Who knows, having vented my rage against these two lowest of life forms, perhaps I can now elevate my consciousness to higher thoughts and eventually find my way back on the path to happiness.

Maybe, but first I need to find the bug spray and throw rocks at the neighbor’s dogs.

Yours to count on,

Tio Stib Signature

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Am I Happy?

When did you last fall down laughing?

Happiness. What is it? I’ve struggled with this question for more than a week now, rewritten this blog post several times, and still am not satisfied with my answers.

But happiness seems so obvious, you say. It’s when you feel good, light, joyous, filled with laughter, or at least smiles.

Is that all?

My struggle with this subject should come as no surprise to me as I can’t say I’ve felt anything close to happy since I lost my sight. That experience left me very unhappy, depressed, lost in a dark funk.

Thinking back some months, I sense I was disappointed, feeling a deep sense of loss for what I’d hoped my life would be, especially since the year prior to my sight loss was one of the most joyous and happy times I’d ever known.

Time, perseverance, and the love of others have combined to bring me back from that bleak blackness, and now I find myself at a tipping point, considering which path to take forward. Happiness or gloom, joy or despair?

My choice. My life. My responsibility.

I am aware that happiness in my life has taken many forms, and that as the years have flown across my life, what brings me joy has shifted like the beach sands swept by ocean waves. I don’t remember exactly when I last laughed so hard I ached, but it was long ago, it was a different Tio Stib laughing hysterically that day. I am now more closed, less open to spontaneous joy, guarded, waiting for the bad rather than hoping for the good.  It will take considerable effort to change this point of view to an attitude that smiles expectedly at life each day.

An effort I need to make, for without this positive sense of well-being, why bother getting up in the morning? Why bother arising only to feel badly?

My joys are more subtle now. The fragile feeling of a new flower blossom. The sweet scent of honeysuckle unexpectedly slipping into my nose. Songbirds flitting by leaving my ears to puzzle what has just happened. The voices of those I love and care for suddenly filling my head. Small things, small wonders, simple pleasures.

I wonder if this is merely the process of living, starting with the innocence of children, changing to the exuberance of youth, then the pleasures of adulthood, and finally the sweet, soft memories of age.

Am I happy?

Not the way I used to be, but I do find myself feeling peaceful and content at moments. I’m still climbing the mountain of the dream I came here to be. Hope has once again begun to green up in the garden of my mind, and my heart now stands anxiously high in the tree of life, a young bird trembling, yet aching to soar

Yes, we will fly free once more.

Yours to count on,

Tio Stib Signature

 

 

 

Looking for more thoughts on Love and Life? Click this link to Remedies for Reluctant Romantics, 100 Ways to Sweep Love Off Its Feet..

Remedies For Reluctant Romantics

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