Today was an interesting day. I woke up early (as I seem to do every morning since starting medication), let the dogs out to go pee, then fed them. W came home a little bit later, I guess Leah pooped on the floor. I didn’t realize that she usually goes twice or more in the morning. What a weird dog. She is though, she’s like a little human. I’ve found that the pets I’ve had have all been little humans – which is absolutely fantastic.

After eating breakfast (which consisted of a juicy red watermelon), my Dad and I went on a bit of an adventure. We had to drive to the vet’s office.

It has come to our attention that the dogs have fleas. They’re always scratching, so at first, we thought it was just dry skin; that is, until we started getting bitten ourselves. I find fleas all the time, even when the dogs aren’t infested, and believe me, I kill those suckers! It’s so hard to kill them too, you have to dig your nail into them and wiggle, I really dislike doing it. Anyway, the dogs are infested so we had to get pills. We don’t use Advantage or whatever it’s called, we use something called Comfortis. Within 4 hours, all of the fleas that are on the dog just die and fall off. Then, for a month, the dogs are protected and whenever a flea jumps on them, if they bite, they immediately die and fall off. It’s an incredibly product. Our vet is pretty nifty too, he works with all the zoo animals. I’ll never forget bringing Thumper in to get neutered though… nor will I forget my little cone-head Leah.

After we had gotten home, I went over my essay one more time. We had to write an essay on a poem, again, and there was a few to choose from. I don’t remember all of them but the 2/4 I remember are “We Real Cool” and “the mother.”

I like reading for pleasure, so sometimes reading other things bothers me. The road to a good essay is writing on something that stands out to you and makes you feel. I chose “the mother” by Gwendolyn Brooks:

Abortions will not let you forget.

You remember the children you got that you did not get,   

The damp small pulps with a little or with no hair,   

The singers and workers that never handled the air.   

You will never neglect or beat

Them, or silence or buy with a sweet.

You will never wind up the sucking-thumb

Or scuttle off ghosts that come.

You will never leave them, controlling your luscious sigh,   

Return for a snack of them, with gobbling mother-eye.

I have heard in the voices of the wind the voices of my dim killed children.

I have contracted. I have eased

My dim dears at the breasts they could never suck.

I have said, Sweets, if I sinned, if I seized

Your luck

And your lives from your unfinished reach,

If I stole your births and your names,

Your straight baby tears and your games,

Your stilted or lovely loves, your tumults, your marriages, aches, and your deaths,

If I poisoned the beginnings of your breaths,

Believe that even in my deliberateness I was not deliberate.   

Though why should I whine,

Whine that the crime was other than mine?—

Since anyhow you are dead.

Or rather, or instead,

You were never made.

But that too, I am afraid,

Is faulty: oh, what shall I say, how is the truth to be said?   

You were born, you had body, you died.

It is just that you never giggled or planned or cried.

Believe me, I loved you all.

Believe me, I knew you, though faintly, and I loved, I loved you


Obviously, it’s a poem about abortion and the pain that a woman feels after going through with it. I’m iffy with abortion. Personally, I’d never get one if I were ever pregnant (the thought of pregnancy is terrifying, but abortion… even worse). I’m a pro-choicer though. I believe women should be given the choice to do as they please, though I believe in it more for rape and incest, or there being an extreme risk for the woman or baby. I have a lot of opinions on abortion though. I think the man should have a say too, but not to the point where he can force the woman to have one…

Confused yet?

Anyway, we had to write about theme, I said it was “pain doesn’t lessen with time.” And then there was also the tone, which is definitely remorseful. The woman is talking to her dead children and almost warning other mothers that if they do it, they’ll never forget and the pain will always be there!

Hopefully I get a good mark on my essay. It’s very difficult for me; I used to be a straight A student, now I struggle like no tomorrow. I’m so anxious about my midterm grade, I had to guess on so many of the questions… And I guess I can’t beat myself up too badly, after all, my memory is just coming back to me, though it’s not the same, but it still hurts. And you know, it’s funny, I’m doing so well in Math… I’m holding a B average in Math. That is the best I’ve ever gotten, it’s pretty unbelievable. I just wish I could pull at least a B in all of my other classes too. I MISS being a straight A student! It made me feel so good! And ah, to not study and still get 100%! Those were the days!

* * *

My first class of the day started a little bit later – 2:30. My teacher had a funeral to attend. Most of us showed up though, which was nice. I have a bit of a wait for my next class (3:50-5:30) so I studied for my math test. It isn’t a structured course, you do everything at your own pace, but I studied. I did pretty well. I would have gotten 100% except… A) I used a calculator instead of my brain because I second guessed myself, and B) I accidentally multiplied something instead of added… oops. I still got 78% – that’s a B! I’m really proud of myself in Math, I really, really am.

After class, I took the bus home. Today, I got a friendly man. He wasn’t a great driver, but compared to the grumpy man from last time, this was a nice change. I know how to take the bus home now, so I figure it can’t hurt… as long as I’m wearing my braces anyway. I’ve been trying to conserve gas for my parents. I can’t take the bus there because the stop on the other side of the road is a bit of a walk, but coming home is easy.

Now, all I have to do is finish reading “Secret Daughter” and write a journal response on it.

I can see it now… “This book was so emotional to me, I wanted to throw it at a wall!” … yeah… we have to do an oral presentation on it. I don’t mind, I get anxious over it, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.

We’ll see how everything goes… I’ve made this blog far too long anyway!




  1. hmmm is that good or bad wanting to throw it at a wall, did it evoke emotions because of well crafted words,.. or you were hoping they would fall out of the book when it hit the wall?

    non grumpy people are always more fun, when he drives the bus in a ditch you can all talk waiting for the tow truck. *nods wisely*

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s