February 29: "Random," Leap Day, Control Freak

Billy Collins plays darts . . . 

Random

by:  Billy Collins

Tossing a dart

at an open encyclopedia,

I happen to hit a flying squirrel.

Their kind, the entry explains,

as I close in,

are seldom seen

due to their nocturnal habits

and high dwelling places.

So much there to admire!

It isn't easy to find something interesting to write about on a daily basis.  It often feels like throwing darts at an open encyclopedia, as Collins does in this poem.  He ends up writing about flying squirrels.  Tonight, my dart has landed on leap day.  

In my time on this planet, I have lived through 14 leap days.  (Yes, you can now figure out how old I am, which is right between "ouch" and "boing!")  I know some people who take this gift of extra time very seriously.  They make a point of leaping every February 29th--doing something they have never done before.  Sky diving.  Oil painting.  Cake decorating.  Distance running.  Poetry writing.  

I've never really taken a leap of faith like that, and I'm not about to start today.  I'm a creature of habit and routine.  Purposely upsetting the applecart of my life is not a practice I enjoy.  Perhaps its a matter of control.  Translation:  I'm a control freak.  I eat the same breakfast every day.  (I'm also an insulin-dependent diabetic, so that helps me control my blood sugars.)  I watch the same movie for weeks on end.  Read the same poems over and over and over.  Know what I'm having for dinner tomorrow night and the night after that.

About the only leap I will make today is into my pajamas.  I've reached the age where a good night is sitting on my couch in my PJs, eating a bowl of Special K, and watching Netflix.  I'm still a night owl.  Have been most of my life.  Falling asleep before 1 a.m.--now that would be a leap for me.

I have friends who do crazy shit all the time--ski jumping, ultramarathoning, voting for Donald Trump.  Perhaps those same friends think that writing poetry is crazy shit.  Maybe it's all relative--one person's leap is another person's everyday.

Saint Marty hopes the next time he throws his dart at an encyclopedia it lands on "nap."