A Bug's Life

During my walk home today, I got a spiderweb facial. The strangest part is that I walked through it in the middle of a street intersection. I was so fascinated with how that was even possible that I pretty much ignored my disgust for having sinewy spider fibers all over my face; well, not entirely ignored... I still made a bit of a scene that to onlookers might've looked like strange miming. The point is, the whole thing kinda snapped me out of a daze.

Yesterday, another, less invasive, natural anomaly occurred. A grasshopper planted itself outside my window on the tram, perfectly eye-level. I watched its long antennas being blown back as the tram moved and I could see it breathing. When the sun caught it, it became this brilliant light green color, almost translucent; and I sat there, watching in awe, for a good ten minutes.



I liked how delicate it was, and yet there it stayed, affixed to the glass despite the strong current. Perhaps it's my loneliness speaking, but I connected with the grasshopper, and with that moment, as if it was exactly what I needed; and I couldn't help but take it a little personally when a boy flicked it down at the next stop. These things seem so small and insignificant, and yet their importance can be paramount. The things that stop you in your tracks, that take you off autopilot, are worth appreciating.

I'm learning a lot about myself right now; about how I respond to fear, how I'm affected by loneliness, and how perspective plays a huge part in my ability to overcome them. Though my coping mechanisms were strange to me at first, they've forced me to take a step back and acknowledge that I'm adapting to change. It's pretty amazing to realize that your intuition is always there to fall back on. In the end, you're just as equipped to face the odds as any other creature; and when you trust yourself a little bit, clarity appears out of thin air as easily as strange bug phenomena.