Not being able to take the morning bus is certainly a drawback of the teenager’s “Early Bird” class, but on the plus side, she’s trapped in the car with me for a minimum of ten minutes (up to 20 in bad traffic) while I discuss topics such as birth control and she presses her face against the glass of the passenger-side window, praying for a miracle along the lines of swift abduction by space aliens.

There’s a Facebook app called “Death’s Time” which allows users to randomly generate answer to the question, “When and how will you die?” It was one of the few apps Priyanka ran on her page, and when, two and a half months ago, it came up in her feed (complete with an image of the Grim Reaper), I felt bad for the kid, but I also laughed. That’d be, of course, an awfully gory way to go, but I knew the automated result had to make her smile - a prediction, however whimsical and ridiculous, that she’d live.

No one commented on or “liked” the item, I imagine out of discomfort. I mean, how do you joke around about a teenager confronting, in that very morbid way, her own mortality? (For my part, I refrained from any comment out of fear her mother would be furious with me; while I loved Priyanka’s family and they were always kind to us, there were significant cultural and other barriers to understanding one another even during much brighter days, and I did not want to risk offending them.)

When Priyanka learned, months back, that her brother was a bone marrow match, we were all so hopeful. But she could never get well enough to undergo the surgery.

Now I’ll think of her whenever I see a utility truck. Or a limousine.

She was such a fantastic kid.

EDIT: The first version of this post misspelled “philosopher.” I know, right?

__

My girl, who is, in a great number of spheres, a total smarty-pants, is nonetheless skeptical about why she should be taking Chemistry (an honors course).

I go through all the stuff about how chemistry is all about the finest components of life, and how that’s all sorts of fascinating, and she’s all “yeah, yeah, I don’t give a fuck.” (Yeah, she really said that. We are still, I’m afraid, dealing with this.)

I’m not the best role model here, of course; I went to a shit high school (the Hawai’i public schools, particularly on the outer islands, is not known for its academic excellence, to say the least), and also, had all the same ambivalence about the subject (“how is this whatsoever applicable to me?”).

So I try to think of people we know who actually used chemistry in their daily lives. BIG BLANK. Then, “Oh wait! There’s Stephanie.”

Here, I might have chosen my words more carefully. Instead of something like “she works for a pharmaceutical company,” I said something like, “She… um… makes cough syrup, I think?”

“I don’t want to make cough syrup! I want to be a philosopher or a poet!” (To which I responded with a weary, “Oh, kid.”)

So, awesome, right? I try to give my girl some validation for the notion that she should hang in there with the chemistry, and then can’t think of a single person we know who uses chemistry every day, except in the bungled example of Stephanie. (Storing this phrase away for future reuse: “the bungled example of Stephanie.”)

So, internet friends, back me up. Which of youse actually use chemistry in your daily lives? (Specifically, in ways that rely upon your knowledge of chemistry as gained through schooling.) Serious replies encouraged.

Anyone???

Is this where I say BUELLER?

If it seems like I’m tweeting too hard, I am truly sorry - it’s just that I’m in the middle of falling apart.

Or repairing. I can never tell which it will be, when it starts.

Some variation of which I’ve probably said before.

(Maybe it’s all been said.)

Anyway, kindly “Excuse Our Mess” (e.g. erratic material, post frequency excess) while we conduct renovations/ seek medication adjustments/ hope husband can come home soon/ etc.

(“Our”/”we” because of fragmentation, multitudes, etc.)

He has posted an item on his Tumblr that (twice!) includes the phrase “my beloved Anus.”

And yes, he capitalized “anus.”

[link, if you really want to know]

“Leaking anecdote” is not the same thing as writing.