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Two nights ago, Juan and I were preparing dinner when it finally happened.  He cut the tip of his left thumb off.  The next thing you know, everything was blood, ice, paper towels, and Puerto Rican expletives.  Thankfully, the knife missed the nail, but took out a chunk of flesh about half the size of a dime.  I can’t think of anything that can make you lose your appetite faster than seeing a pale thumb tip sitting among fresh chopped chives with a few fruit flies buzzing around.

Since Juan’s last tetanus shot was 15 years ago, we thought it wise to go to the hospital.  After two hours, we finally left with a sore arm and a bloody thumb.  Now that the shock has subsided, I cannot resist laughing at the hilarity of the situation, especially when I think about the piece of thumb sitting at the bottom of the trash can.

Unfortunately, however, I’ve been employed to help with wound redressing.

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The perpetrator is a red ceramic and stainless steel cutting knife that has, until of late, been Juan’s favorite kitchen utensil.

Now we’ve learned that it is important to pay attention when cutting food and refrain from chatting with persons at the cutting board.  And keep the fingers of your free hand curled!  Juan will have a tiny indent on his thumb to remind him of these all-important rules for the rest of his life.


In high school, my English teacher had us freewrite for half an hour in our journals.  What came out was basically disjointed thoughts and rambling sentences, all mashed up together in a stream of consciousness with disregard for grammar and penmanship.  The idea was not to censor your ideas.  Strangely, it was really difficult for me to do that.  You’d think that an assignment with no-rules-anything-goes basis would be easy, but it’s not.  The lack of rules and direction is actually stressful.

Do you ever have flying dreams?  For most people they’re fun, soaring through the sky over epic landscapes.  Well, I get them too, except in my dreams I have to work to stay afloat.  I’m talking about actually having to pedal my legs or struggling to get airborne with a running start; otherwise, I plummet to my death.  I remember one dream where I had to manually wind up the propeller on a beanie to make it run, only to have it lose tension mid-flight.  There are also plenty of dreams where I am running away from evil-doers with a broomstick between my legs, struggling to get enough momentum to fly away.

Well, I don’t want to read too much into dreams, but my friend says they obviously show how I have trouble relaxing at something that should be freeing.  Maybe he’s right.  I mean, it’s been two years since college graduation and I still get nightmares about taking final exams.

I’d like to think that I’m a generally chill person, but I think I have a lot to learn when it comes to kicking back and enjoying myself.  Even something as simple as getting out of the house.  Without work these days, my plans are so unstructured.  While it’s nice to have time to enjoy the city, more often than not, I find myself sitting at home and making excuses for not going out.  It’s too hot; I don’t want to wait for the bus; I can go tomorrow, really.  Well, it’s high time that I give myself a kick in the butt and just do it.

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I’m not a morning person, but the best thing about waking up early is breakfast.  And the time to enjoy breakfast.  One day, I woke up three hours before I had to get to lab and just went to C3 cafe for coffee and a bagel.  Sitting in the empty cafe and watching the people outside cram into the T station, I felt wonderful that, just for once, I don’t have to be apart of that morning rush.  For once, I don’t need to not have work be the first thing on my mind.  Sometimes, it’s what keeps you sane.