Headless Chickens

 

by Okie White

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IN MY HUMBLE OPINION ROkie White

FEATURED COLUMNIST R Ray Collins

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A friend at work suggests I’m having senior moments – like when I walk into a room and forget why I want to be there. Or lose my billfold and find it two hours later in a place where I’ve looked for it twenty-seven times. The past few months I’ve most resembled a headless chicken.

Now for those who’ve never seen a headless chicken, I’ll sidetrack for a short explanation. My own experience comes from watching Grandma’s Saturday afternoon ritual of killing a chicken for Sunday dinner. Grandma had style. Grasping a chicken by the head, she swung it in large circles until she’d wrung its head from its body. The chicken’s body didn’t know instantly it was headless. For a few moments it flapped its wings, running aimlessly hither, thither and yon. Sort of like me the past few months.

Part of it may be attributed to my advanced age – my poor little cranium will only hold so much information at one time before it starts to leak and it’s already jam-packed with copious years of trivia – but I won’t go into detail. Some of this is due to lack of sleep – up at four a.m. talking with friends in Australia and up past the witching hour working on HTML code. I think I figured out the real problem though when I chanced upon this undesignated quote on the internet: I am logged on, therefore I am.

The internet has grabbed my head and swung me around in circles. I log on in the morning before my first cup of coffee. I read the newspaper, comparison shop, read the mail, chat, research, write and even get entertained online. I log on at work where my office cohorts are all more likely to send an email note rather than walk over to my desk and talk. And, of course, all the really nasty office projects are requested via email – which saves a confrontation.

At noon I go home, log on again and chat with my noontime buddies only to return to work where I’m already logged on. Evenings? Well, I haven’t got a tan and I can’t tell you the names of any of the shows on TV. I do occasionally watch a video. And in my own defense, I do spend as much time with my son as he will allow. But frankly, I’m no competition for another ten-year-old male. Luckily my significant other shares my obsession with the net.

This doesn’t excuse me, but it does explain a lot. I’m a chicken whose head is connected to the internet. Disconnect me and I’m headless. It’s a problem I’m working on.