Be My Quack – An Art-Text Mix

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I had a duck in my sneaker and it was driving me crazy. Every time I took a step with my right foot it would make this quacking sound. Quack, quack, quack. I tried turning my foot, pointing my toe, stepping with my heel, stomping, all to no effect, except maybe confirming to all my neighbors that yes, indeed, I am certifiably insane as I hobbled and lurched my way down the street every day.

Nothing worked. I kept quacking on. I started avoiding quiet little streets where there was little other noise to mask my quacking. Why did this happen, you ask? Well, the simple answer is that I washed my sneakers and the right one didn’t survive the cleansing process intact. The metaphysical answer is that this experience was some kinda sign.

Because I was obsessing, ya see. I was letting the quacking drive me crazy. I was fighting the situation. I was not gonna let this rebel sneaker get the best of me. The more I resisted, the louder I quacked. In fancy terms, I was in denial of reality. My present experience wasn’t acceptable to me. Well, eventually I just stopped caring about the noise my sneaker was making. Half my neighborhood walks around with their mini speakers blasting brain-shrinking tunes, and here I was worried about my sneaker’s quacks. F*** it. This was so not important.

And of course, that’s when it happened. When I gave up resisting and forgot about it all together, the quacking stopped. I can’t even tell you exactly when it stopped, because I had stopped paying attention to it. At some point I found myself walking down the street the other day, completely quack-less.

Oh, the insanity of obsessing over little unimportant things. And I know I’m not alone here. So, I ask you, why do we do it? I don’t have the answer. But maybe it has to do with wanting to control things. It makes us feel like the world isn’t such a scary place. That is, if we haven’t watched the news that day. I don’t know, maybe we just can’t help it. It’s the way our minds work. Thinking can become obsessing when you latch on to your thoughts like a dog with a bone.

I am now quack-less, and fully aware of my non-quacking. It’s a relief to not sound like I’ve got a duck in my sneaker. Or let’s be brutally honest here, like I’m releasing little quack-like sounding farts with every step. Yes, I’m happy the quack is gone. I don’t need that kind of attention, believe me. But wouldn’t ya know it, in a strange way I miss the little quack.

And now, that it’s Valentine’s season, my vision is bombarded with little red and pink hearts everywhere I go, and well, I kinda wish I could summon my sneaker to quack one more time for me, to give my little quack a heartfelt goodbye.

Goodbye you crazy quack, you! Thanks for showing up in my life when I needed a little lesson about obsessing. Thanks for being my quack. Happy Valentine’s Day!

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Alex Mitchell

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©Alex Mitchell, BE MY QUACK, Mixed media on board.