I got a little bit of hope Like a soap on a rope Sweeter than sour But getting thinner by the hour Falling fast, and I'm running out of gas
I need to learn how to write poetry. How do people write poetry? Do they just sit down and write insane metaphors and it's beautiful, or do they work really hard at it and slave over alliterations and word choice? Margo should teach me. I'll call her up and she'll give me a lesson on how to write poetry. Speaking of writing, I should edit my novel. Until 2 weeks ago or so, I haven't even been brave enough to think about it, but now I think I may reread it and print it- just so I can keep it forever. March is National Novel Editing Month, which I'm not going to do, but it is none the less.
I hate the dentist. Really truly. They have all those terrible drills that make me extremely nervous and wreck my body with loud, obnoxious drilling noises. I got 2 cavities filled today. Man, it was terrible. My mouth is still numb. And I never know what they're doing to me, either. All of a sudden, something pinches or stings, or they've got a clamp in my mouth, or tooth-dust is flying in front of my goggled-face. Is it supposed to feel like that? Why don't dentists realize that you can't respond to their questions when your mouth is full of cotton balls? And my dentist is very strange and thinks, for some unknown reason, I'm really upset that I'm not going to Stanford next year, and keeps telling me it's all for the better. And he is certain that my mother is smarter than my father, and why don't I play basketball? and how's that sister of yours- she's a freshman, right? Are you 6 feet yet? Is Pomona near San Diego? In the mountains? Dude, I can't talk! You've got a drill in my mouth.
I can't decide whether or not I like my parents being doctors. It's very handy- as I hardly ever go to the doctor, when I'm sick they just write prescriptions and bring me meds from their office. But they also tell these horribly depressing stories at the dinner table, or when they come home. And I say, I didn't need to know that perfectly healthy, delightful patient of yours has cancer, or that the 3 year old has a strange, unclassifiable disease. And they say they're upset, and maybe they are, I just absolutely hate stuff like that. Please let me deal with the close tragedies rather than dragging me through all the medical emergencies in Boulder County!
