Don’t Shit on My Bookbag


by Sonsyrea Tate Montgomery on Thursday, July 21, 2011 at 11:56am

Black crows are bold. Bold as shit.

This morning I packed five journals in my bookbag and headed to the beach, my “office of inspiration,” already decorated with real-life scenery. Being temporarily unemployed means I get the office with the river view.

I planned to journal to my heart’s content this morning and draft a couple blogs. I carried my “Purpose Driven” journal with Biblical verse and prompts by Rick Warren, my “job acquisition” journal where I ponder advice, strategize over job leads and try to figure out why I haven’t been hired yet. I packed my “Prayer” journal where I list and thank God for the great jobs I’ve already had, account for gifts (monetary and priceless gifts) I already receive, and analyze my current needs and wants. I carried my “Writing Life” journal where I note insights, wisdom, and information I picked up from yesterday’s readings about the writing life, and my journal where I keep notes about novels I read and movies that advise and instruct me on storytelling.

As usual, I also took something for me to snack on  – a bag of cherries and a big cup of ice water, and I took something to share with my foul friends who I imagine enjoy seeing me arrive. After writing a couple hours I stepped away from the table to toss bread crumbs for the seagulls and crows. The ducks were no where in sight this morning. As I was tossing crumbs I noticed a crow land on my bookbag and begin pecking and peeking in the side pocket like it was looking for something.

“Yo! I got your bread over hear,” I said in my mind looking at the bird. “Yo! Don’t shit on my bag. Please don’t poop on my bookbag. I got your bread over here!”

She pecked and peeked a few more seconds then flew away. I imagined she landed on the bag to get my attention. Maybe it was time for me to leave?  She had not shit on the bag, so I was happy. I sat back down and journaled some more.  I looked up and noticed her nibbling at the bread I set out for her and the others. I took notes on much of the bird behavior I witnessed, drawing inspiration and instruction.

(For instance, one bird squawcked and screamed for a crumb from one bird’s mouth instead of picking up the food for itself. “Girl! Get your own food!” I thought, gazing hard at the screaming bird. The industrious bird did eventually drop a crumb in the screaming bird’s mouth and shut the screamer up. I was inspired to be more industrious in my writing career. Find my own readers/buyers instead of screaming for a publisher to feed me. The readers/book buyers are out there as sure as the bread I set out for my feathered friends this morning.)

I left the “office of inspiration” ready to work on the projects I have back home. I’m glad the bird had not pooped on my bookback. Cleaning it would have been one more mindless thing I’d have to do.

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