Specimen C is out of food. She’s a very particular creature. Only eats wriggling things. I refuse to catch spiders for her. Crickets are sparse. I’ve enlisted the help of local inhabitants to dig up worms. Let’s see if she will eat them.
Success! After letting 2 escape and 3 dry up, Specimen C has ingested 5 earthworms. Now let’s hope she has no reaction to this new and plentiful food.
Chief Mate's (left), Co-Captain Dad's (center), Captain Mom's (right) The world needs color. We can't get by without it. Maybe some individuals can, but as a human race, certainly not. I was dipping down into the land of the low, and it was color that brought me back. It's funny how the new norm now has its own new routine. The days still oscillate between wondrous, mundane, and sheer torture. At least the mundane days are growing in number and the space between wondrous and torture continues to get farther apart. Overall, things do seem to be getting more and more manageable. The highs are incredible. Hiking with Chief Mate and Co-Captain Dad. Grilling with Admiral Grandma and Uncle Commodore. Finding time, if even for five minutes, to read a book of my choosing amidst the hundreds of assigned pages. Grad School Black Hole still looms large, but those five minutes of mine are everything. I've been riding the wave, trying not to complain when suddenly a
Needless to say, I got slightly derailed since my last post. I was about to give up writing this blog all together when someone thanked me for writing these today. So, here I am. Back in the saddle. But...how can I write about my goofy self when humanity continues to spiral downward into a withering hole of its own making? I have gone back and forth in my head daily about what I could possibly write on this page that would be appropriate. If I stay silent, I'm not doing my part as a white person. If I speak up, how can my words not sound preachy and white privileged and all wrong? Whatever I write, it will not be enough. It won't right the wrongs. It will sound wrong. It won't scratch the surface of making a difference. But it is a start. And it will be from my heart. Perhaps at the very least, it will spark a ripple in the right direction. My heart is still breaking. I still suck in air and fight back guttural sobs when I watch heartfelt videos or hear moving speec