Lyme, Literature, and Life –>A Little Gentian

Blog title change!

John Mulaney once said,”Growing up, I always thought that quicksand was going to be a much bigger problem than it turned out to be.” It seems it’s the same with me and Lyme disease: my biggest health problems were apparently being caused by my thyroid instead, which is pretty easily treated, so this is definitely not going to be a blog cataloging my struggles with chronic Lyme: struggle’s already over, apparently! So instead, I renamed it after a poem by Emily Dickinson, my favorite poet. Header image has changed too; URL hasn’t. 🙂

God made a little Gentian —
It tried — to be a Rose —
And failed — and all the Summer laughed —
But just before the Snows

There rose a Purple Creature —
That ravished all the Hill —
And Summer hid her Forehead —
And Mockery — was still —

The Frosts were her condition —
The Tyrian would not come
Until the North — invoke it —
Creator — Shall I — bloom?

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Riding the Wrecking Ball

The story looks nothing like this.

My uncle Lee was a carpenter, and one day in late seventies, he was working at a job where he was up on a scaffold, a couple of stories up. Nearby, other members of the crew were demolishing a building, and they were using a wrecking ball.

The unfortunate thing was that the man running the wrecking ball had been out drinking the night before. And he fell asleep. At the controls of a wrecking ball.

As one might expect, when the wrecking ball  operator falls asleep, the wrecking ball gets a little out of control.

Lee was working away on his scaffold when he suddenly realized the wrecking ball was coming his way. It was going to hit his scaffold, and he was going to fall.

So Lee got ready and waited for the wrecking ball to come for him.

Just before it hit his scaffold, Lee made a flying leap and grabbed the chain of the wrecking ball. It demolished the scaffold, and then he slid down to the ball itself, standing on it and shouting for all he was worth.

The noise woke the wrecking ball operator, who stopped the ball immediately, white-faced and shaking. Lee hopped off the ball, annoyed but okay, and went back to work.

I’ve never heard if the wrecking ball operator kept his job…

On Gatekeepers in Politics

You can’t be a feminist if you’re pro-life. You can’t be pro-life if you believe in the death penalty. If you voted third party, you might as well have voted for Trump/Hillary. Everyone who voted Trump did it because they’re a bigot.

I’ve been seeing statements like this all over the internet–and hearing them come out of people’s mouths–for quite some time now, and I think somebody needs to say something about it:

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Why Getting Married Won’t Make You Happier

As a 30-year-old woman who has never had so much as a boyfriend, I have spent a great deal of my life feeling like I’m missing out on the greatest happiness life can offer. I mean, doesn’t almost every single movie and book point to being in a romantic relationship as the happy ending, the goal of one’s life narrative? I love love stories, I love romance, and I have always wanted to get married (though I’ve never wanted kids). Until recently (when not having a full-time job was my biggest stressor), this has been my biggest disappointment in life: that I’m still single.

But this has been changing recently. I’m starting to really value my singleness.

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Happy New Year!

I’m on a visit to Jen, and our friend Luann got a hotel room for the three of us for New Year’s Eve! It’s 9 PM, Luann’s taking a little nap, and Jen’s going to take a soak in the tub, so I’ve got a little time to myself: just me, my computer, and my leftover dinner from Wegmann’s. Yum, yum, yum!

So clearly, it’s time for me to blog about new year’s resolutions. Lots of times people’s resolutions are things that are bound to make them feel bad if they don’t accomplish them: dieting, exercising, other good habits they want to form or bad habits they want to break. And I’ve done that before, sometimes successfully, and sometimes unsuccessfully. But I’ve decided to take a different approach this year.

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