The other day I came home by train from my friend’s birthday party. It was later than 6.30pm and I was alone. I would have been fairly scared, if it wasn’t for the novelty that I was reading Harry Potter whilst waiting for a train on a bench in the middle of platforms 9 and 10. Anyway, when I got home there was an unexpected email awaiting me in my junk mail folder. The subject was titled ‘Lonely Heart’:
Privet, my dear friend!
Do you love me because I am beautiful or am I beautiful because I am loved?
I'm an affectionate, tender, kind, romantic woman; enjoy cooking, home cosiness, active rest. I have a lot to give to the right man - serious, caring, who needs a good relationship. I am looking for someone easy going with a great sense of humour and ability to laugh at life and love it. I believe in physical attraction and intellectual connection and mutual trust. I am looking for a man who is refined in his manners, intellectual, cultured, ready to please his lady, responsible for his family and generous. I can respect a man only if he follows his words. I am looking for a man who can take care of me and find a good solution in a stressful situation.
Have a good mood
Mari
I suggested to my new friend Mari that she try emailing men instead of 18 year old girls like myself before clicking on the website she had left me: http://love-and-talks.com/sweetkiss/
It says:
Maria K.
Age 28 years
oldAge range of man: 25-50 y.o.
My Languages: Russian, Engish, French
I would like to meet an attractive man, witha good sense of humour. I think that honestyand decency are very important qualities. Iwould like to find an active and optimisticperson, who enjoys his life, who never giveup. A man of my dream is intelligent, nice andfriendly, he behaves like a gentlemen andtreats people with respect. I also think thata man should possess such a quality as loyalty.I would like to meet an understanding person.and of course my ideal man is a reliable one..
I figure ‘Engish’ isn’t her first language, so I won’t make fun of her wishing me to ‘have a good mood.’ What I want to know is why a 28 year old ‘affectionate, tender, kind, romantic woman’ who (if you go to her site) is actually very pretty, has come to a point where she has to advertise herself on the internet in order to find the ‘man of [her] dream.’ So then I thought maybe she’s just really pedantic and turns everyone down…. perhaps she is waiting for someone who fills all of the requirements she mentioned. It’s probably just me, but if you’re so desperate to find love that you email complete strangers hoping to get something out of it, then why can’t she go out into the street and strike up a conversation with someone. I think that people who do things like internet speed dating just need to go out into the world and live some more.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Geni
Recently my pet stick insect passed away. Parthenogenic or Geni for short (named after her method of reproduction: parthenogenesis) was a good friend and helped me get through exams, so I wanted to dedicate this post to the much missed bug. The cause of her death is still less than obvious as she was supplied with adequate amounts of food and water. Some suggest that she died from an overload of love.... I can’t argue against this theory. Maybe she couldn’t cope with our ‘quality time sessions’ and the tours of my bedroom I gave her. Possibly Geni wasn’t prepared to be loved as she was, the countless hours spent hanging out on my hand and on my desk as I studied Biology may have been too much for the delicate twig like animal.
I remember the first time I met Geni, after I mistook her tale for a head we got along smashingly. Ah, that first time I gazed into her branchy eyes.... I knew we would be the best of companions.
You may not be aware, but stick insects have a tendency to spread their moth-like wings and fly up to half a metre away, causing their owners to squeal in surprise. She flew only once in my presence... I think that was the time I was patting her too hard (again, too much love) and there was another time when I took a lunch break from studying and accidently left her unattended and out of her cage. I came back to find her on the wall opposite my desk.
Geni spent her days regulating her temperature whilst pretending to be a stick (a talent I was very proud of.) She loved eating gum leaves and laying eggs. During the time I knew her, Geni laid about 20 eggs, which will all hatch in 18 months and I shall have 20 miniature Geni clones because, as I mentioned earlier, she reproduces by parthenogenesis. Should she have stumbled across a boy stick in her short life, then Geni could have laid non-clone eggs. But she never got the chance to meet a boy stick... she never even got to live the full year of her life span.
I will never forget the way she glanced up at me with her legs waving chaotically in the air, she always knew just how to cheer me up. Her company alone was enough to help me study affectively, of course she didn’t appreciate it when I mistook her for a pencil, but she laughed it off and we got over that small mound in our relationship.
I was determined to look after Geni with lots of care and love because my previous pets (Brie and Feta, who were mice) died from neglect, and I wanted anything but the same fate for Geni. Unfortunately, the complete opposite of neglect also kills pets, especially ones which are more delicate than the twigs in your backyard.
Most people were either scared of Geni or thought she was weird.... or that I was weird for owning her. My cousins, uncle and auntie all jumped across the room in panic when I first introduced them to my new pet. Geni was rather offended, but we had a little chat and eventually she understood the uncontrollable discrimination she would have to face in the human world. Even more insulting to Geni was my grandmas first comment upon meeting her
“It isn’t alive is it?”
“Of course she is. She’s a stick insect”
“Oh! It’s creepy!”
It took me a while to calm Geni down, her dry/soundless/somewhat invisible and nonexistent tears sent shards through my heart, but we got through it together.
There were times when Geni would be unwinding and just taking it easy on my hand, when my imagination would get the better of me and visions of Geni crawling up through my noise and eating my brain would cross my thoughts.... but she taught me that fear is all in the mind and even the weakest of people can overcome their darkest fears just by changing their mind set. She also taught me that persistence and focus are crucial in preparing for exams, it was with her assistance that I managed to get through exam period.
After only three months of life – the final month of which I was honoured enough to have known her- Geni fell ill. I had been on the train reading ‘Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban,’ which I had just borrowed from the school library because I – disappointingly - don’t possess a copy of my own. I was eager to tell Geni all about Lupin and the others, who aren’t as important to name. But she wasn’t acting herself. Usually she perches herself amongst the actual sticks, attempting (almost always successfully) to blend in with her look-alikes, but on this particular day (Friday the 19th) she was at the bottom of her fish tank (which we like to pretend is a proper stick insect cage) and her legs were in awkward positions. She wasn’t even trying to camouflage herself. So I called the doctor and he rushed around with his black bag and stethoscope and fixed Geni up.... oh, wait... I’ve mixed up reality with the story I told myself whilst going through the denial stage after Geni’s death.
In a tangle of her own limbs, Geni struggled through her final hours. I did all I could: provided her with more water, placed her under a warm lamp, whispered comforting condolences in her ear etc. But her health continued to deteriorate and a positive outcome began to look unlikely. As she lay on her death bed, I held her little hand and played the song ‘Second Chance’ by the band Shinedown, because even though I don’t own the song and had to play it off Youtube, I knew it would help her. Because of her love for being as still as physically possible, it’s hard to tell the exact minute she died. But I can safely assume that when her head was no longer supported by her front legs, and she no longer responded to my loving touches, was when she bid the world a last farewell. Of all the ways to die, I think an abundance of love is a pretty nice way to go.
Goodbye Geni, you were more than a pet, you were a friend.
I remember the first time I met Geni, after I mistook her tale for a head we got along smashingly. Ah, that first time I gazed into her branchy eyes.... I knew we would be the best of companions.
You may not be aware, but stick insects have a tendency to spread their moth-like wings and fly up to half a metre away, causing their owners to squeal in surprise. She flew only once in my presence... I think that was the time I was patting her too hard (again, too much love) and there was another time when I took a lunch break from studying and accidently left her unattended and out of her cage. I came back to find her on the wall opposite my desk.
Geni spent her days regulating her temperature whilst pretending to be a stick (a talent I was very proud of.) She loved eating gum leaves and laying eggs. During the time I knew her, Geni laid about 20 eggs, which will all hatch in 18 months and I shall have 20 miniature Geni clones because, as I mentioned earlier, she reproduces by parthenogenesis. Should she have stumbled across a boy stick in her short life, then Geni could have laid non-clone eggs. But she never got the chance to meet a boy stick... she never even got to live the full year of her life span.
I will never forget the way she glanced up at me with her legs waving chaotically in the air, she always knew just how to cheer me up. Her company alone was enough to help me study affectively, of course she didn’t appreciate it when I mistook her for a pencil, but she laughed it off and we got over that small mound in our relationship.
I was determined to look after Geni with lots of care and love because my previous pets (Brie and Feta, who were mice) died from neglect, and I wanted anything but the same fate for Geni. Unfortunately, the complete opposite of neglect also kills pets, especially ones which are more delicate than the twigs in your backyard.
Most people were either scared of Geni or thought she was weird.... or that I was weird for owning her. My cousins, uncle and auntie all jumped across the room in panic when I first introduced them to my new pet. Geni was rather offended, but we had a little chat and eventually she understood the uncontrollable discrimination she would have to face in the human world. Even more insulting to Geni was my grandmas first comment upon meeting her
“It isn’t alive is it?”
“Of course she is. She’s a stick insect”
“Oh! It’s creepy!”
It took me a while to calm Geni down, her dry/soundless/somewhat invisible and nonexistent tears sent shards through my heart, but we got through it together.
There were times when Geni would be unwinding and just taking it easy on my hand, when my imagination would get the better of me and visions of Geni crawling up through my noise and eating my brain would cross my thoughts.... but she taught me that fear is all in the mind and even the weakest of people can overcome their darkest fears just by changing their mind set. She also taught me that persistence and focus are crucial in preparing for exams, it was with her assistance that I managed to get through exam period.
After only three months of life – the final month of which I was honoured enough to have known her- Geni fell ill. I had been on the train reading ‘Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban,’ which I had just borrowed from the school library because I – disappointingly - don’t possess a copy of my own. I was eager to tell Geni all about Lupin and the others, who aren’t as important to name. But she wasn’t acting herself. Usually she perches herself amongst the actual sticks, attempting (almost always successfully) to blend in with her look-alikes, but on this particular day (Friday the 19th) she was at the bottom of her fish tank (which we like to pretend is a proper stick insect cage) and her legs were in awkward positions. She wasn’t even trying to camouflage herself. So I called the doctor and he rushed around with his black bag and stethoscope and fixed Geni up.... oh, wait... I’ve mixed up reality with the story I told myself whilst going through the denial stage after Geni’s death.
In a tangle of her own limbs, Geni struggled through her final hours. I did all I could: provided her with more water, placed her under a warm lamp, whispered comforting condolences in her ear etc. But her health continued to deteriorate and a positive outcome began to look unlikely. As she lay on her death bed, I held her little hand and played the song ‘Second Chance’ by the band Shinedown, because even though I don’t own the song and had to play it off Youtube, I knew it would help her. Because of her love for being as still as physically possible, it’s hard to tell the exact minute she died. But I can safely assume that when her head was no longer supported by her front legs, and she no longer responded to my loving touches, was when she bid the world a last farewell. Of all the ways to die, I think an abundance of love is a pretty nice way to go.
Goodbye Geni, you were more than a pet, you were a friend.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Mr Bones... Returns
Here’s another part of that story about Mr Bones, his missing belongings and the tearful Lucy. There are two other segments to the story (which I posted earlier.) I haven’t written anything in a while because I’ve had exams, I would have posted something yesterday... but I decided to watch Harry Potter instead. I have plenty of spare time now, so I shall aim to write more for the overwhelmingly huge number of people who read this blog.
Nobody understood. Nobody knew why. But they went along with it all the same.
Nobody understood. Nobody knew why. But they went along with it all the same.
Mr Bones puzzled over the blood marks on Lucy’s neck with such deep thought, that it wasn’t until his entire class had filed into the room, and someone gave a suggestive cough, that he leapt back from Lucy’s grasp. He realised instantly that the embrace would have been less conspicuous, should he have decided to continue hugging Lucy, making it clear to everyone right then and there that he had nothing to hide. But as reflexes would have it, Mr Bones was now standing with his hands in the air as if someone had walked in with a gun. Lucy looked at him questioningly and a student theatrically commented “Mr Bones is having an affair with Lucy!” It was at this point that Mr Bones lowered his hands, massaged his eyebrows and then looked to address the class as a whole
“Listen-” he began.
“Lucy’s crying!” someone shouted, which ignited overlapping exclamations from various class members
“He made her cry!”
“Mr Bones is a sicko!”
“I trusted him!”
Before long the class was hysterical and no one appeared to be opting for Mr Bones.
“Quiet!” he ordered his class, noting that this was the first time he had ever raised his voice during a lesson. “If you let me explain-” but he was cut off by Matthew Parkins, one of Mr Bones A grade students
“We want to hear Lucy’s explanation!” Matthew demanded, and the class supported this statement with an infuriated roar of cheers. The room went silent. Mr Bones followed everyone’s eyes to Lucy, unsure if he too should be looking at her. Scared as she seemed, Lucy took a slight step forward and tried to explain the situation
“Mr Bones did nothing wrong. It was me. I was crying and he was just trying to help.” Her sentences were far clearer than Mr Bones anticipated after her crying episode seconds ago. The class remained silent. Some looked apologetically at Mr Bones, others were unconvinced. But they all stayed quiet.
“Take your seats, and we’ll begin” Mr Bones instructed, trying to maintain the rage which accompanied the reality that his respect and trust in the class could be so easily broken. They shuffled around the rows of desks and took their usual places. Occasional whispers amongst friends and sceptical glares, delayed Mr Bones from beginning. It was more than evident that over half the class still hadn’t been fully clarified. No one communicated with Lucy, she looked excluded and alone.
“Do we need to discuss this further? Or can I start?” he asked rhetorically to try and silence them. Becky raised her hand, bringing everyone’s focus to the back of the class where she sat. Mr Bones looked at her, terrified of what she was about to say but acknowledging that it needed to be said
“Do we get our SACs back today?” Becky asked chirpily, helping Mr Bones out by changing the focus of conversation
“Of course!” he gratefully replied, before remembering that it isn’t possible to hand back tests which are missing
“What was the class average?” Matthew demanded, apparently still on edge
“It’s just come back to me that I don’t actually have your papers here-” Mr Bones began to apologise
“But you said-” interjected the usually reclusive Alice
“Yes, I know what I said. Look, I really am very sorry about your SACs. They went missing this morning, I think someone has stolen them” he reported. Mr Bones glanced down to Lucy, who had since stopped crying but was now three shades more pale than before. She looked up at Mr Bones with an expression of utter shock, surely she couldn’t be so distressed over not getting her work back? Mr Bones was well aware that he wouldn’t be able to continue looking at Lucy’s alarmed face any longer, without another outburst of accusations.
“Unless there are any questions” Mr Bones continued, trying to get the lesson underway “or problems” he directing his gaze to Lucy as subtly as he could, leaving a slight pause for her to speak up “.... then we’ll get started on the new chapter. If you could all please turn to page 69, “DNA, proteins and proteomes.”
Without further questioning of Mr Bones authority, the students did as they were told and listened with their usual level of focus for the rest of the lesson.
Eventually the bell sounded and he dismissed the class, before rubbing the black board clear with one of the tissues from the box he had earlier offered to Lucy. Before long everyone had shuffled their way out, except for Lucy, who hesitated to collect her books. She looked up with a similarly worried expression as before, went to say something, but decided to quickly rush for the door instead. Mr Bones was somewhat worried that she hadn’t regained any colour in her face
“Lucy” he called, and she stopped unwillingly, her hand poised on the door handle “if you wanted to go to sick bay, I can write a note for your next class’ teacher?” for a second he thought she was going to ignore him and open the door, but she took her hand off the handle and smiled
“No thanks. I’ll be fine” she tried to reassure him “and thanks for helping me before” she added, as if everything was perfectly alright now.
“Lucy! What’s that on your dress!?” Mr Bones exclaimed, noticing the left side of her collar was now soaked in blood, he swept over to her remembering the two blood marks on her neck.
“I’m fine. Really. It’s nothing” she splattered. A drop of blood fell to the floor near Mr Bones’ shoe as she dashed out the door.
Without further questioning of Mr Bones authority, the students did as they were told and listened with their usual level of focus for the rest of the lesson.
Eventually the bell sounded and he dismissed the class, before rubbing the black board clear with one of the tissues from the box he had earlier offered to Lucy. Before long everyone had shuffled their way out, except for Lucy, who hesitated to collect her books. She looked up with a similarly worried expression as before, went to say something, but decided to quickly rush for the door instead. Mr Bones was somewhat worried that she hadn’t regained any colour in her face
“Lucy” he called, and she stopped unwillingly, her hand poised on the door handle “if you wanted to go to sick bay, I can write a note for your next class’ teacher?” for a second he thought she was going to ignore him and open the door, but she took her hand off the handle and smiled
“No thanks. I’ll be fine” she tried to reassure him “and thanks for helping me before” she added, as if everything was perfectly alright now.
“Lucy! What’s that on your dress!?” Mr Bones exclaimed, noticing the left side of her collar was now soaked in blood, he swept over to her remembering the two blood marks on her neck.
“I’m fine. Really. It’s nothing” she splattered. A drop of blood fell to the floor near Mr Bones’ shoe as she dashed out the door.
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