Today and yesterday (Sat and Sun) I spent over 10 hours working on statistics homework and a major statistics project, so...I'm just going to post a poem here that I also just posted on Facebook. I am tired and sickish, having one of my attacks of pancreatitis. So No food for me. Hopefully tomorrow's long day and anatomy lab won't overdo me. I can usualy sip coke to keep my sugar up. Isn't it funny coke doesn't bother me? You'd think it would be acidic, but I guess that's the thing, pancreatitis isn't because of acid.  

I made my first power point ever, with some assistance from Reid- the powerpoint master. It was easy and so fun to do, though it has its little quirks just like word, where you have to fool it into doing what you want. And I lost my phone as many of you know, so I had to get a new one, and these complicated new phones have a learning curve. But I like it so far. I just have lost all my phone numbers. This new one will sync, so that shouldn't happen again.   and without further ado...the poem...

Act III

there was a sonnet, a denouement, something french was said.
it was as if I believed breathed drew from within myself every word
after that the pasture was less green, the fence was longer
each time having to walk all the way around became a chore
of carrying two large wooden pails for water and no Jean Valjean in sight.

what is the point of making, crafting, forging, these breaths like bellows
a steam engine propelled by the whim of tiny vesicles
neurotransmitters whose names sound like an angry Scottish woman
sweeping her tired broom at the very corners of memory,
in this room I fast until I can eat again without pain,
in this play I sing all the songs until my epic death, Act III.

Sylace