The vortex into the universe

If I was ever separated from someone at birth from some other being, it might be this girl. So she might be white and whose to say we're even the same age, but seriously, we might have known each other on some other astral plane. She brings up some very good points about vaginae (however I disagree with her stance on pornography). A good start for the vagina who, what, when, where, and how profile.

I love my vag, my box, my clam, my kitty, my pussy, my snatch, my slit, my muff, my twat, my beaver, my cunny. My womanhood! It's a power-box of hormone producing, life giving, pleasure inducing, energy. We should all get excited about them, think about them, talk about them, and respect them. If there's not a Vagina awareness day, let's make it everyday, now. (even you gay men, appreciate it!)

My vagina is my temple, worship it (and in it, meooow!). And if the vagina is not your religion, you should still respect it when you pass by. In the course of history, woman have gotten the dirty end of the stick when it comes to gender rights. Witch burnings, foot binding, honor killings, genital mutilation, sex trade, etc. those may be the extreme, but that does not dilute the disrespect in daily life. So it's not so bad here, but I won't be the one excusing wolf whistles and grabby hand syndrome.

It's tough on a girls mentality when she's raised as second rate. When a boy child is held higher then an infant girl, it's sad because what happens is this build up of pressure creates walls around people. When women are trapped into thinking their fate is to be caught in the domestic Bermuda Triangle of kitchen, bedroom, nursery. That's no way to live if we are to self-actualize and that should be the goal of both chicks and dicks.

The world moves forward when we all move forward. You can't get that far if one leg is chained to a fix point in your jail cell, now can you? Our mentality is that jail cell and the length of that ball and chain is something we can determine. Free yourself and spread the word, others can free themselves too! Cure cancer? Sure, why not? Colonize the moons around Jupiter? Let's do it. We can do impossible things if we just stop holding each other down. We'd free up a lot more working hands if we did that.

Kiss me into consciousness

I'm laying in bed, naked under the sheets. Behind the heavy black curtains the sun pours in around the boarder and the room begins to glow. I notice it only faintly at first. The way you notice someone watching from across the room. This vague sense of attention directed towards you when you're caught off guard. Steadily it gets brighter until the room seems to fill like a basin of water. Radiant yellow-white light splashing all over, painting a picture of the world outside these four brick walls. Then suddenly I'm no longer in this room, I'm everywhere but this room. I'm outside and inside my mind. I've fallen asleep and found the sun in dreams.

One 12hr midnight dreary

It's 4am, then it's 5. The test tubes tink and chime against the metal rack, in time with my steps. These halls are empty, quiet if you're not used to the calm. The hospital in the day is a different creature than what you would expect to encounter in the middle of the night. From here in this far corner, I can hear everything.

The city is lovely from up here. Most laboratories are in the basement, so I feel lucky to have a view from the 6th floor. There's a glass bridge that connects the newer part of the hospital to the older structure and each time I cross it on my way to deliver specimens to micro I feel like I know the city a little more personally. A secret place where Detroit reveals itself to me in a way most others are not as privileged to see. The nature of my job affords me the simple pleasure of watching the sunrise behind the Fischer building, my favorite structure.

With 6am comes the slow trickle of fresh specimens. All around me patients are stirred to rise, prodded by their nurses to expose their blue veins to the needle or to void the contents of their bladder. In another hour I'll be heading out of here, leaving the hustle bustle of the day for the comforts of a pre-warmed bed and a sleepy lover.

Moments like these are small blessings. A slow night that affords me just a little time for reflection. For once in my short life I can honestly say I'm really proud of myself. I did all that the 18 year old set out to do and I even got a title out of it. I never in my wildest, most tripped out hallucinations did I imagine I would get to do all these awesome things before my quarter life.

I passed my exam now it's onto the next. I've decided to take it relatively easy on myself and just get really good at my job for the time being. In a few more grand in the bank and I'll start taking a classes that will gear me up for grad school. But before I devote myself to my studies once again, I'm goin to get really good at what I'm currently doing, because everything I do now is a lesson, preparation for working out in the field. Since the laboratories the the most dire countries won't have the luxuries I'm use to. I'll have to rely on my collection of knowledge if I mean to be of service.

Le sigh

Human lives are funny to me when I think of all the connections. When introductions become reunions, I feel like the world gets a tad smaller. As if my perspective of the human population inflates and deflates, depending on the degrees of separation between the people that pop in, out, or just pass by.

Which is why I love reading the missed connections part of the paper. It makes me feel a little like I'm catching a secret glimpse into the lives of two strangers whose fates have not been forecast. My imagination gets swept up in a Hollywoodesque fashion as I weave a silly story about someone getting what they were searching for. So of course she's slim and beautiful, he's tall and rugged. She's got the glamor and he's got the suave. Cue the music. Act 1.

Unfortunately, not everyone gets what they're looking for. No matter how much gusto they put into their manhunt. Which gets me thinking, how much have I invested in all my quest/conquest? Since I run around like a woman on a mission sometimes, how much of that effort actually came to fruit? It's a good question to ask, but my imagination neglect to hear it. It's busy writing away at some script that will never get read, because if anything it likes to explore possibilities.