Ribcage jail cell
I consider my Bearblog and Spacehey account to be the vitals of my online identity with sturdy rib-bars protecting it; anything else and it's just a distracting skin tag that needs scissors. I really need to clean up my accounts, but that'd need a whole week dedicated to doing that, so I'd rather postpone that task.
I don't give myself much room to flourish in the real world, so I settle to grow online instead. This is why my accounts online mean a lot to me, and I'll do anything to protect it.
I need to hide from the mainstream, mainSTREET. I scatter behind and within the alleys of the internet, like the mouse I am I'd probably just hide in a dumpster eating trash: absolutely no advertising this to sites like YouTube; those are way too people-dense, people? more like a herd, a herd that'd verbally ram and break one of my ribs.
"A dumpster sounds barbaric and disgusting." with words that sound like they are chewing through the softened plastic of a garbage bag, okay, how about something more ethereal then?
A lovely canyon with walls that extend upwards. It's my garden to grow seed packets of all the things I like where my garden's nurtured with the flowing water glittering from the sunlight next door. Every gentle tap on a tree's bark sends pulsing notes of music that describe my mood in an abstract form. It's a paradise only a handpicked few are allowed to climb over the towering rocky walls to witness for their rewards...
...But this makes me sound like I'm some sort of god. A god? sounds too big, too powerful, and too responsible. I'm not a god! I'm just an itty bitty mouse that climbs and burrows inside humans' house walls and comes out to steal and stash their bread crumbs, and correlatingly give them diseases, too.
So I think I'm going to make this place my new home! A mouse's nest hidden inside that one unused cupboard. The cupboard's beige, sterile... dusty, bare. It's vacant, a perfect home for somemouse like me. I don't need to pack any of my knick knacks, I can just borrow from these guys! My nest is made out of bottle caps, cotton, cardboard, and thread; I have a special corner full of breadcrumbs for food, no stashed water because the cupboard is more thirsty than I am. It's quite quiet here and I'm very content for the day, I'm ready to sleep in my fully handcrafted bed...
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG!!
RETREAT ESCAPE! they've found out I've been living here and they're making everything around me rock like an earthquake with their banging of the broom from outdoors, trying to make me pay rent. I can hear them dialing pest control, I huff and scamper my tiny feeble feet on the floorboards to outside; for them to yell truly unspeakable words to me, I'm only so little...
So that was a blow, I guess having roomates around isn't a great thing, I'll have to go somewhere even more vacant than my cupboard... how about a broken down house in a field? Unappealing enough for nobody to want to live in long-term but mysterious enough to have visitors. Something that's already so forgotten that I doubt I'd get fined for trespassing... and that's what I want! but also, what my pathetic instinctual need for socialization wants too. Well, time to go scouring! *Walks through the lands like this guy*
Update: I found the house! more like a shack though, however it's settled in a nice prairie with loads of dead plants and grass! The walls have managed to keep themselves up but I can tell this house has been left alone for just about a human's full lifespan. The wood is rotting, everything's caked in dust and there are cobwebs galore but that's what I like about this shack.
Because I was still nostalgic, I built my new nest similar to the nest when I was living in that nice cupboard. When I was going house-hunting I decided to bring my briefcase full of my personal things with me, it may be 50 times larger than my whole body but trust me they are essential things that I need. Including my bluetooth speaker in which I can freely play Party Rock Anthem whenever even though others consider this behaviour "corny". However nobody's opinion matters when I have this house all to myself!
Now this has lead me to the next phase, I need to protect my place from any bad guys that can walk by. Unfortunately I doubt there are any girl scouts selling their gill scott cookies to me; I would allow the girl scouts in if they did come over here.
I'm not that big, not big enough to be scared of my own kind, I do not need this much space. I'm fully content with just living in a singular room, but that raises an issue; what if people start setting up tents inside of this house? I'm already weird enough to stand out, people might start camping in my abode just to look at me with their microscopes. I must solve this issue, in a very old fashioned way, so old it fades away in the sands of time.
I took the trip and then back to go get a bunch of Legos, and filled the floors with a thin layer of Legos. Yes, all of that had lead to a cheap "Stepping on a Lego" joke. Anyways, I've made the floors full of Legos because my personality is like stepping on Legos the first time you learn about me, rough and the edges aren't sanded down to be more inoffensive to the public; somehow that doesn't translate to me being very rude and edgy, it's more like a simple shock thing.
Kind of like how I'm literally NOT a mouse but describing myself using mice is a little easier than scanning through dictionaries to find that one singular obscure word. Words are cookie cutter, cutting cookies into a specific monotonous shape, I'm not a solid enough force to be baked into cookies, let alone ones that'd taste good. Moving on...
As I've set up, I realized the Legos look too colorful; infact this entire house is too aesthetically pleasing. People are more focused on visuals, and that can't happen. You know what people do hate? reading; literacy is dying for a reason. I'll pack in a double whammy for this one: an ugly house with many, many words. I've painted both the walls and the Legos to be the same ugly brown. Nobody will ever want to visit and try to pry things from me when all they see is an ugly brown with paragraphs so dense it makes it hard for them to see straight.
The sane thing would be putting a padlock on the door, and you're right! only for certain people though. It's called "blocking"! b...locking! One would consider my criteria and my tastes to be picky, but it's what I must. If someone looks at me weirdly or has a weird way of speaking their syllables, I block them. I'd be more of a social sponge, absorbing everyone's words and allowing anyone to climb in my holes. Unfortunately I'm not a sponge at all, I'm just a tiny little mouse, and mice like me get chewed up and stepped on daily by those felines from outdoors.
In negative connotation, everyone's a cat: with their sharp claws, sneered expressions towards anyone and drooping laziness and attention span. Confessing my hypocrisy, I'm a bit of a cat as in I'm picky about forbidding certain people to look at my profile, even though we'll statistically never meet in the future. Sipping my pretentious-flavoured tea, it's called... 'CURATING'! all you overfed spoilt domesticated cats eating your overproduced wet food just wouldn't get it.
...Christ, nevermind, the cats are building their tents from OUTSIDE! I should've just been more generic about the stuff I blog about because I seem to have many eyes on me at all times. Hmmm, what's uh not outdated and considered mainstream in the 2020s decade... fsh! I'm too sheltered! whatever I'll just surround my house with oranges to ward off these Felis catuses, you all better not eat any of them.
Alas, I have to do many things just to protect myself, both from those cats and the herd. Luckily since I've stood under the radar I can live peacefully. A day in life: I wake up, clean my ribs with a toothbrush, have my daily sesame snaps, watch my baby shows, fantasize about dying within a rat king, write one of these blogs, and sleep.
I love my humble abode.
Or alternatively, I could just move into a tree and live like this girl instead