What I have is nothing.
Nothing to give you, at least.
It was totally supposed to not be raining today, so the meteorologists are a bunch of lying liars. I just completed my application to the University of Pennsylvania School of Nursing, and instead of feeling relieved, I feel like some sort of poseur. Seriously, Kel? Seriously? (If you cannot tell, it's one of my 'off' days.)
I'm counting down to the cats. I have about two weeks until Anatomy & Physiology foists a dead cat upon me, ready for me to make sagittal or transverse or God knows whatever else kinds of cuts to, and I have to say, I'm disturbed less by the idea of cutting a dead animal than thinking about exactly where that animal came from. That bothers me.
And I'm a dog person. Probably these are cats from kill shelters? I don't know where else they'd come from, unless people who've had their cats euthanized can consent to donating their bodies to science? I find that less plausible than my former idea. Maybe because it's raining, and I'm feeling not-so-very confident in the world.
Also, I burned the hell out of some apple muffins this morning. Their bottoms were as black as coal, which is highly undesirable in a baked good. Although I'd like to pretend otherwise. (What, you've never heard of Martha Stewart's 'Mostly Fine Except for the Hideously Blackened Bottom Muffins'?) They actually were tasty and moist, if you ate it with a fork and stopped 1/2 inch above the bottom. Which is so NOT how to eat a muffin.
This led to three smoke detectors going off at the same time, and I frantically ran back and forth between rooms trying to fan them with an old New Yorker. Finally, I had to climb a chair and just take them off the wall. I had really good follow-up skills though, after finally ridding the house of the smoke. I actually went around and put all three back in their places, ready to call me out on my iffy baking skills some other time.
In other news, I've started and stopped an open letter to gay kids like seven times. Maybe eight. Why? I don't know. Well, I know the 'why' in terms of why I'd be writing one. Because I don't want any more kids to jump off bridges or hang themselves in their rooms or shoot themselves in the head. I don't know why I keep stopping the letter. It's really an epidemic, and we're sending these kids horrible mixed messages. On one side, there are the people I consider the smart ones, telling these kids they have value and inherent worth and need to stick around. And then there are the others, who are in favor of silly policies like Don't Ask, Don't Tell or who campaign on overturning such silly policies, and don't. When we're still trying to define what makes a legitimate couple, on a state by state basis...it's all rather disheartening. And we want to do something about bullies at the school level. Wouldn't the top be a great place to start? Government? Laws? Equality? I feel like wishing for a superhero to save bullied kids is actually more plausible than waiting for anyone in government to actively make a change that will stick.
It's raining, like I said. Maybe I'll try again when the sun comes out.
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10 comments:
oh gosh.
xoxo
Gah, already, with the rain. I feel you.
Write the letter. Bullied kids of any stripe can never get too many letters from those of us who do not want them to die. Post it here.
When life gives you burnt apple muffins, you eat them.
When life gives you dead cats, you cut them up.
When life gives you a passion, you act on it.
Finish the letter and I bet it'll stop raining.
But I'm no weatherwoman.
Nor a good philosopher.
i have to say that the image of you fanning the new yorker at the smoke detectors made me laugh.
cats. eww. i couldn't even dissect a frog in seventh grade. you're a braver woman than i.
and sigh, a deep one, in response to the bullying that's been going on.
hang in, kel.
pan fried muffin tops are gorgeously delish. Just cut off the tops and toast them in some butter in the skillet. OMGood.
I dissected a pig once. I still can't get the smell out of my nostrils.
Sometimes you just have to put the burnt shit in the trash can on the way to the car and go to Paneras and get a big 'ol cinnamon sticky bun with walnuts on top and a LARGE coffee.
I have had this kernel of a writing idea stuck in my head beginning with the question, Who is the person whose job it is to put all the euthanized dogs in the incinerator? And who is it that s/he pities?
It's fascinating what we shield ourselves from and what we cope with when we have to.
I know how fortunate I am that I don't identify strongly with any of the characteristics that are culturally derided because it would make me at best bitter and at worst suicidal. And yet, it's unfortunate because I don't identify strongly enough with any given cause to take it up as my own and fight. People like you who are willing to do that, to stand up for the ones who can't because they're the victims, need to be heard. Need to be loud enough to override the intolerant so that the ones who need to know it know that someone's got their back.
Three smoke detectors? That's impressive.
i, too, am struggling with how to respond to the recent wake of gay suicides. right now i feel impotent.
in fact, I feel that way in most of my life.
the sun is out and it's a gorgeous day, but it feels like rain to me
I have so many thoughts on this, I will just say, I am also a dog person
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