Clicks, they’re everywhere. They inhabit places of work and most social environments to the very out skirts of every territory in the universe. I refer to these creatures as the Field Mice of life. It’s all so cloak and dagger, and it makes me laugh when I see them running amuck, losing their cool, checking over their shoulders, talking in code, and coagulating together like a scab trying to concoct a plan on how to deal with the unconventional and different, (Little Field Mouse Dissertation: “I never make mistakes. I thought I did once, but I was wrong.”). When they are confronted with individuals their little ears perk up and their whiskers begin to tingle. Individuals are those who look at the whole picture, hold their heads up, and laugh in the face of absurdities, (mainly because they can clearly identify the insanity from the real danger in most situations). Individuals skip to the beat of their own drum, they don’t lose their happy thoughts, and as free thinkers, “Think outside of the box” when evaluating a given circumstance, and then devise a plan of action- we dare to be different.
This offsets the world of the field mice, because it causes a chemical imbalance in their little brains, (known as paranoia), where they become rabid and totally freak out. If you befriend an individual, you should know that you’ll be watched, weighed, measured, judged as a threat, and condemned to the purgatory of being an outcast, as well as, the topic of every one of their coded conversations. Field mice could really use an hour with Dr. Phil.
Kit Morgan Feb. 27th, 2011
© Copyright by Kit Morgan; 2007.
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