Observations from under the bed

I've always loved Robert Fulghum.  Years ago I read Uh-Oh: Some Observations from both sides of the refrigerator door.  Before that I time I had never thought about the idea of "observations" in life.  We see things, we learn things, we think about things, but observing things was always reserved for the science lab.  Little did I know at the time but I would later make a degree and career out of observing people.  However, I digress.  This blog is about observing my life and the things that pass through it.  From under the bed: now that's a good one.  When I got my first big girl bed as a child, I inherited my grandfather's bed from his childhood.  To a toddler this thing was stories off of the ground.  But the flip-side was that I could easily slide under the bed.  Whenever I wanted to be left alone I would crawl under the bed.  This often came with a book or toys and at least one stuffed animal was requisite.  This was my castle, my sanctuary.  Grown-ups may look for me, but they could never fit under the bed.  It was my chance to see without being seen.  Hence the name for my blog: Observations From Under The Bed.  This is my chance to see, observe and reflect without having those same constraints placed on me.  My chance to say what I think, feel what I feel, see what I see, without the need for censure or the fear of judgement.  If someone unknown finds this then I hope they love it for it's honesty but if they leave there will be no hard feelings.  If someone known finds this then they came looking for me and I hope they are pleasantly surprised.  However, I see it like this: It's like walking in on someone getting out of the shower.  I hope you like what you see, but if you don't, just keep it to yourself.  Remember, I didn't invite you, you let yourself in.

I have a migraine

I have a migraine.  In a nutshell, that's how this blogging venture has begun.  Now the lengthy version is that I have been having cluster headaches again for several weeks and the cause is all too obvious: stress.  Too much in my head and on my shoulders.  So, while lying in my dark, silent bedroom this evening waiting for the world to stop swaying I decided that it was time to embark on a much pondered adventure.  So here I am.  Someone who never had a diary, no patience to write a book and way too much to continue holding it all inside.  My stress is killing me; quite literately says the good doctor.  Not sure if this project will turn into a lasting therapy or just a passing fancy.  Either way, it is an attempt at restoring sanity.  Pass or fail, I mark it off my list.