Would you like some rage with that clutch?

"God Megan! You're going to kill the clutch!" My mother says accusingly to me. All I can do is look at her with bewilderment because she actually thought I could do this. We're sitting on probably the steepest hill in the world, it's my second time driving a standard, and my mom suddenly has this faith in me that's failed to show through on more appropriate occasions.

"Well fuck, mom, I can't do it." Is my huffy response. My mom chuckles to herself. What is she high? High on the fact that she can do this with the utmost ease, but all I can manage are spinning tires and the all quiet of a stalled car... again.

Welcome to my latest challenge. But it's all good because soon I can get out of the beast of a van that I've been lugging around since my car got stolen. By the way I've decided not to be mad about that because if someone wanted that car so badly, they must have really needed it more than me, really, it was hideous. Anyways, I'm pretty sure that in day to day life, I won't be starting on streets that are vertically perpendicular to normal ones, causing me to stall roughly 20 times in a row.

I think I've calmed down by now, so it's all good. Hmm, so, I dissected a pig heart today, and I have to say I was kind of dreading it 'till I got there. It was sweet. Did you know that blood clots are stretchy? Or that you can stick your finger through the pulmonary artery and have it come out the atrium and move it around like that hand game where you lock your fingers together and tell someone to "open the diaper" and you wiggle your finger around like a little tiny penis? No? You didn't play that game? Oh, well...too bad.

Hmmmm

The old brain is really pissing me off today. You know when you're trying to go about your everyday life but for some reason, its just not working. The wheels are turning way too fast about way too many things that you really don't want to think about. I've come to realize my biggest fears in life recently. They're all along the lines of wondering if I'm always going to be as ridiculously shy and cowardly as I am right now. Anyways, I sound pretty emo, but don't worry, I have more normal, surface fears too. Like having my blood taken, and being in the presence of over-sized statues. Oh, I also don't like walking in front of fake cannons (don't EVER go to the war memorial museum if you share this fear). Yeah so here are some goals I'll set for myself: 1) get my blood taken by an over-sized statue, 2) walk right up to the next fake cannon I see and introduce myself. My skin is crawling at the thought of it, and now I'm going to have crazy nightmares.

"To the Virgins, Make Much of Time" Ah yes, sweet Robert Herrick. Don't worry, I don't know who he is either...well not really. He wrote some poems a very long time ago, that's all you need to know. A little insane? I believe so. Completely off his rocker? I think not. Although I'm sure he loved his long fantasies about young girls taking advantage of their youth and beauty, maybe there was an inkling of reason to his warnings. It's more the carpé diem part of it that I'm referring to, although I kind of don't agree with that at the same time. For I do believe I will be here tomorrow, so this whole eat, drink, and be merry thing seems to be a hidden plot to get people fat and knocked up. And, yes, they too wake up the next morning. Anyways, I was getting at something a little more relevant to... anything? Yes, right, carpé diem, allow me to redefine it n my own words. "An attitude, which opens one's mind to all of the opportunities presented before them. This attitude also entails that one will grab these opportunities by the balls, and 'swing 'em around like they just don't care'. Sorry, um, as I was saying, pretty much don't be stupid and cowardly so you don't wake up the next morning full of regret. Regret sucks, especially when it's something you didn't do." Hmm, perhaps I should write a dictionary.

I couldn't figure out why people with blogs always found time to write in them, I've now realized it's a wonderful, never-before-experienced (for me) means of procrastination! It's always more fun to write about you and you problems, if only school would cater to our needs. Oh my, I just came up with an excellent idea, instead of a creative writing class or whatever, they should have a blogging class. That would be fantastic.

Mmm, bread

So, i'm innocently telling my family about the horrors of Grey's Anatomy's most recent episode. It's the part when that guy had to have his legs sliced open because they were swelling up too fast, obviously, I mean he took an aspirin before running a marathon, what do you expect? Anyways, let's put my highly trained medical knowledge behind us, so I was reciting this when my dad breaks into his little "I'm going to break out with a: horrible pun, stupid joke, or mocking comment" grin and says "Well, I mean Hollywood is so telling of real life, you should really play close attention to these things." Simultaneously my mom is going on about that time when I was about ten and she had to roll me around in a stroller because I had stepped on a bee and my entire leg had swollen up and become covered in blisters. "You didn't need to get your leg sliced open..." Tell me, since when does taking an aspirin before a marathon and stepping on a bee entail the same treatment? And no, I'm not saying that I believe that's even how they would handle it in real life. I don't know about you, but I watch TV and read books to get away from reality, ok? Anyways, so to deal with my frustration I throw a hefty piece of bread at my dad, of course. Then he chuckled to himself and slowly ate it.