Not sure what’s keeping you up at night? It could be all that hot sauce that you keep in your bag.
In one study, men were given tabasco sauce and mustard with their evening meals and had a more difficult time falling asleep. Scientists believe it may have something to do with thermoregulation—the body’s process of regulating its core internal temperature in order to get to sleep.
It’s not just Tabasco sauce either. Spicy meals, in general, could potentially contribute to insomnia and difficulty sleeping.
It’s never simple It’s never familiar When it’s your heart To open up To open wide When hurt abides inside That question unanswered That problem not solved Heartache to heartbreak it seems Delivered potential damage Delivered shattered dreams Holding onto future things Forever there Forever aware Resisting, falling for it all again Clinging fully Clinging helpless Surrender once more After all its part of life After all it replays over and over Move on, must go on Trading some comfort Trading some thoughts Interlocked in life it is
In my mind, I’ve been there a hundred times or more. Each time something different or some aspect for me to explore. I cannot leave until it seems I’ve tried to see what it is my mind is trying to show me. It’s like a long hall that leads to the same places but the places are what change the most, sometimes new faces. An endless trip for my melancholy mind, Remanents of what I have in past thoughts left behind. Tragic to think I could one day loose the main jest The meaning behind these thoughts my brain invests. If it is then lead me another way Be it mental, in person, or another day.
There is a place where the sidewalk ends And before the street begins, And there the grass grows soft and white, And there the sun burns crimson bright, And there the moon-bird rests from his flight To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark street winds and bends. Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And watch where the chalk-white arrows go To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go, For the children, they mark, and the children, they know The place where the sidewalk ends.
Nature puts every chirp in its proper place. Avian sounds—flutish trills, alarmlike buzzes, and one-note squawks alike—are immediately absorbed, reflected, and scattered by everything in a bird’s habitat. Nearby leaves or branches, canyon walls, and even the wind influence notes, so over time, species tailor songs to suit those surroundings. Some minimize echoes by putting more space between notes, while others use low frequencies that travel farther. Here’s how some birds have tweaked their waveforms.
This three-part call often consists of soft, low-pitched phrases flourished with a final, elaborate trill—a complex tune compared with other thrushes. The intricacy makes the tune susceptible to warping when it hits vegetation, so males manage by singing from the lower canopy or midstory of forests, where there’s less obstruction.
Northern cardinal
This seconds-long song often begins with a loud string of two-part whistles and ends in a slow trill. Cardinals nest in dense foliage, but they sing from lofty perches so their high-pitched songs can travel long distances without branches and leaves dampening or muffling their notes.
Eastern meadowlark
Amorous males of this species sing from exposed perches like fence posts or telephone lines—or while in flight. The slurred, slightly drooping whistles are easily heard ringing out through their native grasslands. In open areas with few trees to distort their songs, these birds are free to devise complicated and variable tunes.
These marsh-dwellers sometimes repeat their short, choppy melodies up to 300 times per hour in the summer. The explosive sound can bounce through dense cattails and other tangled vegetation at the edges of their native wetlands. By singing ad nauseam, the species ensures at least some repetitions reach potential mates’ ears.
Canyon wren
This cliff-nester makes a musical ripple of cascading notes. Although the melodies bounce and echo off the surrounding canyon walls, the repetitive nature and slow, descending scale help female wrens (and human hobbyists) pinpoint each bird’s location along the steep rock faces it inhabits.
Black-capped chickadee
Because they often live and feed in dense, wooded habitats, these cute bits of fluff can’t always spot other members of their flock, even when they’re close by. The simplicity of their two- or three-note whistles allows a listener to judge the song’s quality (and therefore the singer’s), regardless of any distortion caused by the surrounding forest.
Starting out it is too small to see but deep down it starts to hurt a small part of me, Though visibly you wouldn’t even know A certain feeling instead that starts to grow. It comes from words that crush your soul Or feelings turned into actions that dig your spirit a hole. Like a plant that is starved of food, It starts to wilt and not look so good. A minute event that can change the outlook A part that nothing specific it seems it took But noticeable and unforgiving in spite It will continue to fracture if not treated right. The only way to make it better maybe To simply leave it alone, you see. Time has a way of correcting the bad Or making happy despite the feelings that once made us sad. Like feelings that became fractures of the heart Learning to let go is a really good place to start, To repair, live with or treat the best way Our fractures will either go or they’ll continue to stay. But to know we have done the best we could make us feel better like we all should.
Mws R Writings 