I just reread The Giver, which I first read as a kid in elementary school, and then multiple times after that. I didn't remember it very well, and wanted to read it again because Aaron has been listening to audiobooks sometimes at work, so we went to the library and happened to find The Giver as an audiobook.
The funny thing is, I remember feeling that the ending was hopeful--that Jonah and Gabe find "Elsewhere" and survive. But no matter how many times I read the ending now, I can't help but believe that they died. Despite the fact that Lois Lowry insists that the ending is "optimistic" and ended up writing a loose trilogy mentioning the fact that they did survive. I don't know if it matters what the author thinks the actual ending is, but rather what is true to the reality of the book itself. And I think they die.
It's sort of disturbing though, to know that I was such an optimist then, and such a pessimist now. Is this what puberty did to me? I still desperately want them to survive, but just can't make myself believe it.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Friday, February 29, 2008
Just now, I was having a snack of flaming hot cheetos, and Dwight was laying next to me on the couch lusting after my cheetos. He laid his head on my shirt and proceeded to drool on me as he watched me eat. The thing is, he never drools. But just recently, he has started drooling while watching me eat. I get a kick out of how unabashed he is about it. A human would be like, "Oh, excuse me, my salivary glands are in overdrive. Here, let me get that for you." (wipe, wipe, wipe away the drool on your shirt). But Dwight, he's just like, "Whatevah, I am cute and you won't mind." And then once the drool soaks through my shirt and I finally realize what's happening, and I say, "Dwight! You are drooling on my shirt!" he just lifts his eyebrows and looks confused, like, "What's wrong?"
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Have you ever had a subject or word that seems entirely random pop up again and again for about a week in conversations, reading, etc.?
A few months ago it was the word "Namaste," which is apparently a Sanskrit greeting word...I saw it on a bumper sticker, and then Aaron's dad sent an email containing the word. Directly translated it means "The divine light within me greets the divine light within you," and neo-hippies around the world use it at farmer's markets and yoga classes...and maybe Whole Foods.
Just today, it is the word "nadir." Two hours ago I read it over Aaron's shoulder in a CNN article about Clinton vs. Obama, and I asked him what it meant. He didn't know, and I didn't care enough to look it up. Now, (working at the library and studying), I find it again in my Physiology syllabus. After 24 years of never having heard the word, it shows up now, twice in a row. I think it means I better figure out what it means, because I will need it someday soon.
From Merriam-Webster online search:
1 : the point of the celestial sphere that is directly opposite the zenith and vertically downward from the observer
2 : the lowest point
I will be sure to impress others with my formidable grasp of vocabulary by adding it to certain sentences:
"The nadir of my life up until now has been attending medical school."
On a separate note, here is a blog that has made me laugh a lot.
A few months ago it was the word "Namaste," which is apparently a Sanskrit greeting word...I saw it on a bumper sticker, and then Aaron's dad sent an email containing the word. Directly translated it means "The divine light within me greets the divine light within you," and neo-hippies around the world use it at farmer's markets and yoga classes...and maybe Whole Foods.
Just today, it is the word "nadir." Two hours ago I read it over Aaron's shoulder in a CNN article about Clinton vs. Obama, and I asked him what it meant. He didn't know, and I didn't care enough to look it up. Now, (working at the library and studying), I find it again in my Physiology syllabus. After 24 years of never having heard the word, it shows up now, twice in a row. I think it means I better figure out what it means, because I will need it someday soon.
From Merriam-Webster online search:
1 : the point of the celestial sphere that is directly opposite the zenith and vertically downward from the observer
2 : the lowest point
I will be sure to impress others with my formidable grasp of vocabulary by adding it to certain sentences:
"The nadir of my life up until now has been attending medical school."
On a separate note, here is a blog that has made me laugh a lot.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Happy Valentine's Day!
In honor of Valentine's Day, I will relate to you my delightful experiences yesterday learning about giving women's pelvic examinations on plastic dummies. When I first walked into the carrels (where they set up for class) four plastic lady-mannequins minus head, legs, arms, torso...basically minus everything but the "private" area were laying on tables, exposed for all to see (plastic labias and all).
Then, a gynecologist starts talking to us about how to do the examination, but I ignored all but a few salient points, because I was dreading having to stick anything into the plastic vagina, much less my fingers (the "bimanual" part of the exam). The salient points that I did catch, however, I did for the benefit of you, my blog readers, for your comedic entertainment.
1. At one point, the lady said, "It just depends on where her labia are the floppiest." FLOPPIEST! That better not ever be a description word connected to my vjay.
2. At another point, the lady said, "The vagina is mostly soft tissue. Except the cervix. The cervix will feel knobby. Like your nose." As she pushed with her index finger on the tip of her nose.
And then we proceeded to split up into groups. My first station was the breast exam station, where they had six individual breasts with fake lumps in them. This part wasn't so bad. Near the end of this station, some random prof ran up, and said, (in all seriousness), "Did everyone get to touch a breast?" and absentmindedly squeezed the one closest to him.
My next station was, alas, one of the four plastic vjay models. I was freaked out when I had to do the "exam" on the model for the first time, but once I realized how un-lifelike the model was, I wasn't as freaked. The plastic was so hard that the edges of the fake labia scraped my fingers as I had to insert them. I began to wish that I had some lesbian experiences, because I wanted to know what a real cervix looks like. Not that most people let their significant others stick speculums up them anyways, though, so I guess I'm not missing much.
This exam is just another of the many reasons to get out as soon as possible.
In honor of Valentine's Day, I will relate to you my delightful experiences yesterday learning about giving women's pelvic examinations on plastic dummies. When I first walked into the carrels (where they set up for class) four plastic lady-mannequins minus head, legs, arms, torso...basically minus everything but the "private" area were laying on tables, exposed for all to see (plastic labias and all).
Then, a gynecologist starts talking to us about how to do the examination, but I ignored all but a few salient points, because I was dreading having to stick anything into the plastic vagina, much less my fingers (the "bimanual" part of the exam). The salient points that I did catch, however, I did for the benefit of you, my blog readers, for your comedic entertainment.
1. At one point, the lady said, "It just depends on where her labia are the floppiest." FLOPPIEST! That better not ever be a description word connected to my vjay.
2. At another point, the lady said, "The vagina is mostly soft tissue. Except the cervix. The cervix will feel knobby. Like your nose." As she pushed with her index finger on the tip of her nose.
And then we proceeded to split up into groups. My first station was the breast exam station, where they had six individual breasts with fake lumps in them. This part wasn't so bad. Near the end of this station, some random prof ran up, and said, (in all seriousness), "Did everyone get to touch a breast?" and absentmindedly squeezed the one closest to him.
My next station was, alas, one of the four plastic vjay models. I was freaked out when I had to do the "exam" on the model for the first time, but once I realized how un-lifelike the model was, I wasn't as freaked. The plastic was so hard that the edges of the fake labia scraped my fingers as I had to insert them. I began to wish that I had some lesbian experiences, because I wanted to know what a real cervix looks like. Not that most people let their significant others stick speculums up them anyways, though, so I guess I'm not missing much.
This exam is just another of the many reasons to get out as soon as possible.
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