Does the earth forgive the plow?

[myujikku_ich]

My new position in the lab is kind of a lot of work. Strangely well calculated to keep me busy during the entirety of my shift. Just enough to keep the hands on the wall spinnin'. Friday was way laid back, though. I spent half the day shipping blood samples to Mayo Clinic and listening to some playlists on the ole' iPhone and the other half talking to the director about art, music, and even got her onto metaphysics. I'm still too new to the subject to speak socially on it, probably, but she was so humble that I didn't have a problem asking her about it or tossing ideas back and forth. She's so beyond my own education. You'd think her, stuffy; She always wears black, big pink stripe on her name badge (indicating she's PhD elite). Very classy little old lady. It commands a huge amount of respect in my mind but I'm way to humble to presume she'd want to talk to a pip-squeak lab crony. She saw a piece i painted for the director of microbiology and used it as a chat-up line. I never pass up an opportunity to listen to someone like her go on about whatever. I just throw all kinds of "Oh yeah?!"s at her. Told me about her wedding at Berkley in the late 60s. Lot of wild stuff happens in 66 years to such a quiet woman. I worked at a retirement home in highschool for quite a while. Talking to her stirred up all kinds of that stuff. It made me sad. Someone so brilliant all the way into their 70s, in all likely hood. One day silenced. Going a little fruit loops and over the moon in their later years, maybe even. I've lost a few friends over the years. They're such tangible objects in my mind. Where do they go or is that just it? They're with me? Where do they go when I'm gone? Are we all made up of eachother? What's the point? I'm not subscribing to 'substance dualism' theory. I don't want just to be happy. That's where it all falls down, ya know?! That kinda stuff flashes through your brain in a blip. Then as the flash of thoughts dull I know how small I am. That we're all just amoebas floating about in the liquid part of the eye of an ant, on the surface of a little rubber ball floating in a lightless and lidless room that you'll never see the confines of which are ambiguously bound at the edges of its opposites.

It makes not being able to find my portable laptop charger easier to handle.
It makes my heart ache, being far from those I love.