Cliché abandonment at a bus stop

"Walk with me," she says
The dulling floorboards vibrate
Crests and troughs phase in and out
A doorknob turns halfway through
The neighbor forgot his car keys again

The synchrony continues to the stairs
Cloth polishes the potholed banister
The same doorknob turns, closes, locks
The polishing hand leaps from a cliff
And lands in a safe pocket

Only to be penetrated by water
Aliquots preserved in hexagons
Crushed by boots and paws and tires
Disrupted crystals breaking down
Into black, as if stains are a punishment

This isn't the city that never sleeps
Today is Sunday, sleepday
Spend time with family day, what day?
Today is Sunday, flyday, leaveday
Play that song from Armageddon day

Tread marks on paper, washed out
With more crystal hexagons turning into ink
Letters don't write themselves, usually
And if they do, the ink bottle tips
To mock the effort and hide its existence.

Grapes of wrath

So last Wednesday, someone threw a grape at my girlfriend...'cause we were acting like a couple.

Seriously, a grape.

Fortunately, I didn't know they threw a grape at her, or else the idiots would've gotten something more along the lines of Kit Porter vs A Prolife Women's Heatlh Clinic. Arson! Arson!

Really, a grape + 'LESBIANS!'

Nah. Pulling a Kit Porter on them wouldn't have been worth it. I like to think that the boy had wet dreams of lesbians that same night.

In other news, there is a blue jet trail across my window. I shouldn't be indoors. Oh but you know...I'll just stock up on golden Florida sunshine over the summer. However, it is a nice 5 C outside, pretty warm. In other news, it'll be around 12 C in Tallahassee about 5 hours from now. Also, I should've called my mother.

how do you reply

when you're lying in bed
comfortable
when the tip of your tongue
is paralyzed
when the back of your throat
evaporates
when the bright clouds
break
when sunlight strikes
the roofs
when the thriving foliage
glitters
when it's time to go

--------

I apologise for being emo, and not being cryptic at all.
I don't know, I don't know, I don't know.

Holy shit I've never liked the number 7 so much

But I still love my grades. Now, let's scour the interwebs for Year 3 internships.

I need a Master's to teach high school chemistry

Today, I received an email from my old uni about an opening for a teaching post in Baltimore, Maryland. Of course, this doesn't apply to me (yet), but I scrolled down the email anyway and read the requirements and details about the post.

Apparently, the hiring body is a private uni-prep school needing someone who can teach high school and AP chemistry. Their requirements are, here goes: Master's degree in Chemistry (or related field, which applies to mine), and excellent communication and leadership skills.

Excuse my french but...there is no fucking way in the world that I am going to teach fucking high school/AP Chem to a bunch of rich kids after going to hell and back while getting a Master's in Chem (or Biochem). 'Competitive rates' MY ASS. 45k in teaching vs 6 figures in the industry. Yes, you may be missing out on the honor of teaching the next Marie Curie, but really now...Marie Curie probably had great mentors, but she drove and satiated her own curiosity. Besides, her mentors were probably doing research themselves, and when you're teaching kids in high school, you don't get to work in a lab. Oh no, you get to prep their practicals and make their own agar gels 'cause they can't be assed to show up at the end of the day to mix agar and water. AND if you teach AP, the school board will probably end up twisting your arm while telling you to teach the AP exam instead of chemistry.

So Careers Center lady, thanks but no thanks. I'd rather work for Pfizer and deal with their ethics, or lack thereof, than teach a bunch of clayheads who expect to be spoonfed and magically get a 5 on the AP exam. meh

Weekend, ay...

Thank you Nathaniel for the excellent training. I found you a match, but I like you more, because one day, our fields will (finally) come together to solve the energy crisis and realize the Venus project. I apologize for not loving Physics as much as you do, looking at little dots of light running around a tunnel just doesn't appeal to me as much as analyzing gels and running centrifuges. But then again, making protons collide is way cooler than looking at PPCs, AS/ADs, or even the Phillips Curve.

So yeah, thanks, blond-haired blue-eyed Eli Wiesel.

When no one answers

sometimes, nobody picks up, and you listen to their voicemail message just to hear a comforting voice
but you don't leave a message
you call again, expecting an apology for not picking earlier, but it's the familiar tone and the familiar message
instead, that pierces through the hum of laptop fans and speeding cars
in that moment, a voice isn't enough
you want the inflections, changing pitches, vocabulary mannerisms, gestures, stories, what they're doing
where they're going, what have they been up to, relationships
and when instructions are over, and you hear the beep
you breathe a sigh of defeat
and hang up