Squid, Anyone?

I attended a Hawaiian gathering, with good Hawaiian food and music. It was a fun new experience, especially one thing in particular. That was trying squid for the first time. I came to the meal telling myself I would at least try one new thing, even if it looked and smelled gross. So the time came to go through the buffet line and I stuck to the familiar stuff, potato salad, chips. I wasn't that hungry. I came to the end and decided to take the most disgusting looking food in the assortment. I had heard someone ahead of me say it was calamari, I thought it sounded and looked strange and different so I put a few pieces onto my plate before I could change my mind. Back at the table I took my time coming to it, not that I was afraid of trying it, but I wanted a good taste in my mouth first, so I nibbled on chips. I think everyone at my table was thinking I wouldn't try it, and my mom finally asked if I was going to. I said yes and without thinking took a piece and put it in my mouth. The first couple of bites I had to force myself to chew. Up down, up down. I tried to think of anything but the texture, I have always disliked stuff with a rubbery, squishy texture, and that squid was every texture that I can think of that I dislike. But the taste was actually quite good. I tried to tell myself it tasted a lot like cheese, one of my favorite flavors. I laughed to see the faces of everyone around me. I reassured everyone that it was good and that I kind of liked it, but I had to add that the aftertaste wasn't that pleasant, like a bunch of dead fish. I told myself that I'm going to finish all five or six pieces, and I did. But each piece was harder to swallow than the last. Not because of the taste, I'm not lying when I say I liked it, but the rubbery texture made me want to gag. Indeed, I thought I couldn't finish the last piece without throwing up. That experience reminded me of something Emile from Ratatouille said, "If you muscle your way past the gag reflex, all kinds of food possibilities open up!"

From My Notebook: Valentine's

This is a poem I wrote for my parents for Valentine's

For this Valentine's I have nothing grand,
 To tell you the truth, I have nothing planned.

 No chocolates or a graceful note,

 That my hands would have lovingly wrote.

 Instead, I have something simple and true,

 Just three little words, "I love you."

Happy Valentine's everyone!

The End of the Game

I look up from my book; a few seconds remaining on the clock. I keep my eyes on the clock, not the game. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1, finally it’s over! Everyone around me bemoans the loss of their team. I smile a small, mischievous grin, New York had won. I look back down and continue reading.

Walk Around the Capital

Today my family and I participated in a protest march around the Minnesota capital, something people do every year on the 22 of January, the anniversary of when our government made abortion legal in our country. It was a very interesting, fun experience. We walked around once or twice in the twenty degree weather then listened to some speakers talk briefly about the subject. Emily got too cold so Mom and I took her to find a warm store to look around in until the speakers were all done. On our way over to the capital we ate out at Burger King. They've changed their small cup design and I like it better, very creative. Another cup to add to my paper cup collection, which everyone always tells me is a weird collection to have. But it's free and fun, unlike some collections you could have.

From My Notebook: Healing Begins

To all those who mourn,

 To the broken of heart,

And to those who think all happiness from their life is torn,

Do not let hope part.

Those who weep will laugh again

This blanket of despair will fall away

 The demons you fear will be slain

And you will awaken to a new day.

 

Writing to a Prompt

I have recently found a cool generator that gives random writing prompts, so I have been doing a lot more writing, here is one of them, the prompt was "my room reminds me of myself because..."

My room reminds me of myself because it has a scattered randomness that becomes a unified whole. There is not one empty place on my plain white walls; every inch is covered with handmade posters, pretty pictures, and drawings. The once plain, ladybug wallpapered walls that are left over from the rooms last tenet, my older sister, is now transformed into an explosion of color. Everywhere you look there is something of my handiwork, not one thing in there has not been modified, moved, built or redecorated by me. My furniture has been arranged by myself more times than I can count, even the old heavy chest that was placed in my room to get it out of the way has been shoved into many different positions in my room. My room is now set up more like an apartment; I have my bedroom area, an office area, an entertainment area, a storage area and a miscellaneous living area. Almost every little piece of furniture and décor has a story, from that giant old chest down to the small little rocks on my desk. Misfits and outcasts from the rest of the house gather in my room, given a new lease on life, sometimes being completely changed from one thing into another. Even though it may sound like a cluttered flea market in my room, it is surprisingly organized. Everything has a place, even if that place is to sit in the middle of an open area just looking pretty. My room has a personality, and to me is perfect and beautiful, even if some wouldn’t agree. My room reminds me of myself because it is always changing, evolving, and improving. It is like me because it is made by me, and my heart and soul is displayed on its walls.

Neala, Our Princess

We just got back from taking our dog, Neala, to a specialist vet. We had to leave her there for them to do a biopsy on her. 

About a month ago, she had stopped eating her food, and at first we thought she was just being picky, but a week later when she wouldn't even eat the scraps that we gave her, we knew something was wrong. After we took her to our vet, and he gave her some medicine, she got worse and didn't eat a single thing. A second visit to the vet today confirmed that she had some sort of growth in her throat and so this very same day we took her to a specialty vet. My parents got a call about an hour after leaving her there and what the vet said wasn't good. The thing in her throat is most likely cancerous and it seems to not only be in her throat but throughout her whole body. Her kidneys are shutting down so that her calcium levels are so high their measuring tools at the clinic can't even read it. The treatment for this would be very expensive, and since my dad will be losing his job next year, we most likely will only be able to afford to put her to sleep. Even if we do let her live out the time she has left, with medication, she will only live for about 4 - 6 weeks. 

Quite some years ago, on Christmas Eve, my family came home to find our cat, Rosie, dying underneath a chair, later that night, my dad threw her body away in the garbage can. That memory was so sad and tragic for me that it will forever be seared into my mind. It would be too much to have to watch our dog die before our eyes also, so putting her to sleep is probably the best thing for her and for us. In this last week I have watched her grow weaker, becoming listless and when I looked into her eyes, I saw suffering. We would be cruel to make her live longer in her misery just because we want her to be with us. Now that I know we will lose her, I look back and see how perfect of a dog she was. She is so smart, most of the time too much for her own good. She became almost like a sergeant mother to our three cats, nipping at them if they were up to no good. Neala is the most well behaved dog we have ever owned, but since I can only remember as far back as our last dog, Jenny the Devil Dog, as we nicknamed her, I don't have much to compare her to. But I know she will forever be our princess.