Conkers and cockatoos: social media urges

Yesterday was a weird and amazing day.  I have clicked “New Post” on here about twenty times and then just stared at the screen unable to find the words and instead gone back to mindlessly refreshing the stats on this blog, watching the numbers of views and visitors climb by tens and then hundreds every few minutes… Just because of a little urge.

I’ve always suffered with urges.  More often than not up until 7 years ago, they’ve generally involved alcohol, naughty girlfriends and tables that were begging to be danced on.  I know I’m showing my age and a serious lack of cool but whenever I hear Britney Spears’ ‘Toxic’ – OMG – the urge to slam some tequilas and hit a club…

Generally urges have gotten me into some kind of trouble or at least predicament but I don’t learn because, oouff, there’s nothing like an irresistible urge…

Like the time one autumn when I was walking down the street kicking conkers. Husband warned me to stop (foreseeing a disaster) but I though, hey, what could really happen?


It turns out what can really happen is that you can spend the next twenty minutes being yelled at by the guy whose car windscreen you smashed when your urge to give one more little conker one more little kick results in a weird bounce off a wonky paving slab that creates such spin and velocity… Boom.

Fifteen years ago and I can still see the terror in his son’s eyes who was sat in the front passenger seat as the windscreen made an almighty bang and crazed into thousands of little pieces.

Nothing in my heart ever anywhere would want to scare a kid.  Every autumn I wonder if he still remembers that.

I don’t know why I wrote and shared ‘I stand quietly’.  I just had an urge.  Of course, I want to raise awareness of autism and of course I wanted that to be successful after investing a lot of emotion into it.

But this morning, I’m feeling just a little bit conker-kicker about it all.

A bit overwhelmed.  Over 25,000 blog visitors (and many more visits)… it’s a weird feeling knowing that you have affected a stranger.

In reality, we’re talking about less people than live in my home town of Croydon (UK).  A drop in the ocean.  And there’s nothing to say that the vast majority didn’t just read the first sentence and think “what the F is this sh*t” and click on more appropriate toilet fodder like ’20 celebrities you didn’t know had deformities’ or my current giggle-of-choice: that mouthy cockatoo.

But although I didn’t really think it through before I kicked this shiny conker out there, I can’t deny the thrill of watching it bounce.  Part of me wants it all to stop before it stops being fun and causes a problem, could it?

…but the overriding urge is to kick it again and see how high and far it could bounce.

NB: I don’t generally think keeping birds in houses is cool but he seems pretty happy.  Another lesson in perhaps not judging something you know nothing about.

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