sesquipedalien

So, I walked into the bathroom this morning and findthis oval, antenna adorned, spiky tailed bug crawling around in the bath tub.

I am not afraid of them. Sure, they send a chill running down my spine, but I don’t fear their annoying, amazingly freakish structure. So I stared at it, in my drowsiness, wondering what to do. It didn’t seem to notice me, the immediate judge of its dear life.

I always marvel at the human ability of defining life. There are scores of people defending it, saving it, capturing it, even giving it.

And yet, everyday, those same people may wake up like me to find this little Attagenus unicolor, or a Phalangium opilio in their kitchen corner or an Anopheles quadrimaculatus flying around, only to beat it away with a swat and be done with it.

I’m still staring at the little thing, imagining what it’d feel like suddenly finding myself in a sea of H2O then going down a dark scaly pipe to nothingness.

I knew it wasn’t going to think it that way. I mean, it’s a bug.

But I decided that I was not a serial killer after all.

It’s amazing how much a name can give.

When I think of my own, I cannot thank my parents enough for it’s originality.

I once had two friends, both bearing the name Michelle. Both of them were opposites. One was punk, the other a proper preppy school girl. One had sharp features, almost like a sack of jutted bones, the other slim and fit, a cheerleader too. One had a tendency to leave school work a distance away from her, the other immacurately scoring perfects on every thing she ever took.

It was amusing to see them both turn at the same word.

Despite this, whenever I come across a Michelle, my mind formulates a cross between the two. It is an automated response. Then facing the person, I am struggling to stifle my laughter because she is nothing at all like the delineation…

I feel utterly sorry for the people who are doomed to carry with them a name which they have to strive to give some meaning to. It must be hard. A Jacob or a Jessica would have to prove to the world exactly how unique they are from the millions of other Jacobs and Jessicas.

Unfortunately, Jessicas have fake pouted lips and a love for poodles before I meet them.

No offense.

So I was flipping through blogs and words and ideas…

It’s downright overwhelming. There are so many of them!

There is only so much I can do with a minuet:

~ Stare at the wall.
~ Stare at a blank word document.
~ Stare at the Organic Chemisty muddle.

And now I am spending a minuet wondering why I just spent the last two hours indulging myself with my sole addiction:

~ Stare at a life in words.

Too bad my nosiness is distracted by an abstract.

I have joined the mass of commoners.

Climbed into a seat of this cyberworld bus.

So, welcome me.