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Me and Ev before he departs to San Fran ... last minute packing as usual.
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| Studying for the MCATs: a stream of consciousness
by Kristal Young
Groovy my M-cats, my cats of M-nity not prochirality or velocity which is a vector mind you with both magnitude and direction, direction for what, for what you ask, direction to be a doctor baby, a doctor man! to doctor that free body diagram not on the paper but in your mind daddy-o, with all that friction and weight and normal, what's normal anyway but a force that disappears at the top of circular motion, yeah baby, its the commotion in the motion that really matters and what is matter? matter is the universe baby, its the outasight-can't-feel-it-but-the-energy that turns all kinetic into potential but can't make you reach your potential, no child, that's from inside you pulsing through the ventricular nodes of the left atrium out the pulmonary artery through the bicarbonate ions and hemoglobin of that stream, oh mammas and pappas got to understand that stream because you got to let it flow because it works in mysterious ways like, snap, like positive feedback, and sugar daddy, its not quantitative its no number like avagadro and planck no its amorphous, baby life's no homeostasis its on a delicate fulcrum that undergoes oxidation and reduction and what's reduced? that psychadelic no-holds-acceleration at 9.8 m/s2-project-at-30-degrees-attitude reduced to a simple alcohol-beverage-every-other-day kind of existence and why exist under the mendelian daltonian constructions, simmer baby, play it cool because the natural desire to be a doctor has selected you to drive the pacemaker cells that beats with an irregular but unique oscillation yes my M-cats, my babies, study on. | | |
| when the highlight of the week involves limited soap suds, swim suits, and a dining hall turned dance hall venue, what does that mean? does it harken us back to a time when clarivoyant youth studied assiduously in the institutions of ivy decor? does it laud the technological innovations such as the steam engine or cotton gin? does it fully allocate my student federal loan as a reflection of eager college neophytes turning into academic sages?
perhaps not. but it does color harvard in a hot shade of crimson. and made my weekend unforgettable. mather lather, i salute you! | | |
| Happy Inferiority Complex Day!
Happy Singletons Annonomous Day!
Happy Cupid-is-a-preschool-drop-out Day!
Happy Valentine's Day! | | |
| When I'm fifty I want to be beautiful--in that pensive-obnoxious, memorable-fleeting, stunning-blinding, conservative-liberal, mature-childish sort of way. And I want to be able to eat french fries without worrying about cholesterol. And I want to parade my children in self-tailored clothes with obsequious cuteness.
When I'm fifty I want to be able to touch my toes and do a cartwheel ... in the sand. And I want to paint something and afford to put it in a frame made of koa wood. And I want to own a passport with an attractive picture in it and a stamp for an exotic location you can only read about. Like Timbuktu or Formosa.
When I'm fifty I want to be wise--in that demure-witty, naive-cognizant, amiable-debatable, cautious-spontaneous sort of way. And I want to own a library of alphabetized books. And I want to get arrested for exposure and not have to worry about it showing up on an application.
When I'm fifty I want to be the same person I am at twenty. And I want to throw a party when I hit menopause. And most of all, I want to never regret my grades from the first semester of sophomore year. I want to be fifty--in that vulnerable-perfect, familiar-novel, underlined-undefined, oxymoronish, hyperbolicious sort of way. | | |
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