Fish, latex, alcohol, things like that...
Nov. 4th, 2003 06:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ravenMy hands and hair smell of fish and latex and all things not-nice.
Yes, dissection. More on that in a minute, as it's been a long day and I'd rather go through things one at a time. My mother left surprisingly early, so I went with her into school. It was about five past eight. I wasn't quite awake at that point. It takes me a while to wake up in any case, but it was worse than usual this morning. I can actually barely remember most of what happened this morning, as I must have been asleep.
Something important did happen, though. Mr Donan, careers adviser extraordinaire - at this moment I feel compelled to quote Becca's description of him, which is, "He hates everyone and everything and wishes they'd all just go away so he can read the Sun and smoke" - held a meeting for anyone "considering a medical career."
No, I don't know why I went. But go I did, and heard what he had to say. He's got hold of the material for a two-day sixth form conference for wannabe doctors, with a load of stuff going on - advice and lectures, that kind of thing. I think I ought to go. Because I need to decide. I need to go to something like this and say, this is really not for me. The drawback is it might give my mother false hope. But I would like to do this. Also, I wouldn't be alone; Fidan and Sarah are going, and plus of all places it could be it's in Liverpool, which is good.
Lunch is proving more and more difficult because I've lost my lunch pass. I have to hide and look inconspicuous when going in. Of course, the alternative is going to see Mrs Stubbs about it. I foresee myself having to be very, very apologetic. Very, very apologetic.
English was fun. I'm really enjoying it nowadays; unlike![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
purplerainbow, who enjoys all her lessons, I don't. I like Chemistry and some Politics, but English is really... for lack of a better word, cool. I saw some of Becca's essay titles the other day, and they're things like "Discuss use of contrast" and "What themes are explored" and stuff like that. Ugh. I like my own essay titles, which are different, as they focus mainly on linguistic features. I like linguistic features. Almost as much as Becca likes glacial features. She was telling me how she hates human geography, but likes physical. I thought this was strange but then found that most people agree with her. In conclusion, rocks are more interesting than people.
So are fish. The dissection, yes! We had to look at the gills. Because there were three of us together - Meg, Steph and me - we got two fish between us. Steph immediately named them Nemo and Dory. I found this disturbing - "Steph, they're herrings, and in a minute you're going to slice into them with a razorblade, but in the meantime you've named them?" - but she was unperturbed. The fish flopped down into the dissection trays - squelch - and I picked up the scalpel and began to cut. It was surprisingly fun. I snipped off the operculae (flaps covering the gills, you know) and one by one, cut out the gills from beneath. Well, I tried. The first one came out nicely in a rush of blood and filaments. Yes, I was wearing gloves. The second one was all right, too. However, the third and fourth proved problematical and somehow or other (I blame Megan) I managed to stab right through the fish's head and out the other side. Ugh.
The gills were deposited on a watch glass for magnification. Meg asked for permission to cut up the rest of the fish, and got it. She picked up the scalpel and whoosh. She loves dissection, does Megan. She goes in forceps blazing and spurts blood all over the place. Today was no exception. Um, eww. I had a go and ended up practically savaging the fish to the point where there were scales and blood everywhere.
We weren't the only people with problems. Some other people had found nematode worms inside their fish - and they were still alive. Might I add, these fish were originally sold to be eaten? And those same people ascertained their fish was male by the simple method of finding its testicles. They were two thirds of the length of the fish. It was all surreal but a lot of fun, and Steph made things funnier. Every time I open my mouth, she laughs. She seems to think I'm absolutely hilarious. I asked her why, and she just giggled and wheezed and pointed at me. We were standing at the sink at the time. "You won't stop laughing at me," I complained, leaning in for the Fairy liquid, "and giggling at me, and aaaargh! Stabbing me!"
There was a pointed needle stuck in my thumb. I yelled, she shrieked with laughter and Mrs Rice Oxley inquired, "Are we behaving like adults at the back there?"
She said, "She made me laugh!" and I said, "She stabbed me!" and then:
"She started it!"
When I wrapped up my fish for disposal, Sarah remarked that it looked like it had been shot. "It's subconscious," I said. "I don't want to be a doctor so I savage everything."
Following all of that, the debate was almost an anti-climax. It was "This house believes that people over the age of eighteen should not be allowed to drink" and it was weird. Manpreet was there, so I lent him Sleeping With Ghosts. I didn't really contribute much to the debate, merely deciding that the boys' speaker was pretty, and making one comment that runs as follows: "If alcohol makes you infertile, and without it you can't get laid, how has the human race survived so long?"
I walked home through Crosby after dark. I can't go through the park much longer, methinks; I'll have to go the long way, as it's safer. I didn't get home until about half five, but it was to see that my mp3 player is back! And it's fixed! My grandmother signed for it; there's a postman somewhere with a Hindi signature to decipher.
And now I need a shower. I smell of fish.
Yes, dissection. More on that in a minute, as it's been a long day and I'd rather go through things one at a time. My mother left surprisingly early, so I went with her into school. It was about five past eight. I wasn't quite awake at that point. It takes me a while to wake up in any case, but it was worse than usual this morning. I can actually barely remember most of what happened this morning, as I must have been asleep.
Something important did happen, though. Mr Donan, careers adviser extraordinaire - at this moment I feel compelled to quote Becca's description of him, which is, "He hates everyone and everything and wishes they'd all just go away so he can read the Sun and smoke" - held a meeting for anyone "considering a medical career."
No, I don't know why I went. But go I did, and heard what he had to say. He's got hold of the material for a two-day sixth form conference for wannabe doctors, with a load of stuff going on - advice and lectures, that kind of thing. I think I ought to go. Because I need to decide. I need to go to something like this and say, this is really not for me. The drawback is it might give my mother false hope. But I would like to do this. Also, I wouldn't be alone; Fidan and Sarah are going, and plus of all places it could be it's in Liverpool, which is good.
Lunch is proving more and more difficult because I've lost my lunch pass. I have to hide and look inconspicuous when going in. Of course, the alternative is going to see Mrs Stubbs about it. I foresee myself having to be very, very apologetic. Very, very apologetic.
English was fun. I'm really enjoying it nowadays; unlike
purplerainbow, who enjoys all her lessons, I don't. I like Chemistry and some Politics, but English is really... for lack of a better word, cool. I saw some of Becca's essay titles the other day, and they're things like "Discuss use of contrast" and "What themes are explored" and stuff like that. Ugh. I like my own essay titles, which are different, as they focus mainly on linguistic features. I like linguistic features. Almost as much as Becca likes glacial features. She was telling me how she hates human geography, but likes physical. I thought this was strange but then found that most people agree with her. In conclusion, rocks are more interesting than people.So are fish. The dissection, yes! We had to look at the gills. Because there were three of us together - Meg, Steph and me - we got two fish between us. Steph immediately named them Nemo and Dory. I found this disturbing - "Steph, they're herrings, and in a minute you're going to slice into them with a razorblade, but in the meantime you've named them?" - but she was unperturbed. The fish flopped down into the dissection trays - squelch - and I picked up the scalpel and began to cut. It was surprisingly fun. I snipped off the operculae (flaps covering the gills, you know) and one by one, cut out the gills from beneath. Well, I tried. The first one came out nicely in a rush of blood and filaments. Yes, I was wearing gloves. The second one was all right, too. However, the third and fourth proved problematical and somehow or other (I blame Megan) I managed to stab right through the fish's head and out the other side. Ugh.
The gills were deposited on a watch glass for magnification. Meg asked for permission to cut up the rest of the fish, and got it. She picked up the scalpel and whoosh. She loves dissection, does Megan. She goes in forceps blazing and spurts blood all over the place. Today was no exception. Um, eww. I had a go and ended up practically savaging the fish to the point where there were scales and blood everywhere.
We weren't the only people with problems. Some other people had found nematode worms inside their fish - and they were still alive. Might I add, these fish were originally sold to be eaten? And those same people ascertained their fish was male by the simple method of finding its testicles. They were two thirds of the length of the fish. It was all surreal but a lot of fun, and Steph made things funnier. Every time I open my mouth, she laughs. She seems to think I'm absolutely hilarious. I asked her why, and she just giggled and wheezed and pointed at me. We were standing at the sink at the time. "You won't stop laughing at me," I complained, leaning in for the Fairy liquid, "and giggling at me, and aaaargh! Stabbing me!"
There was a pointed needle stuck in my thumb. I yelled, she shrieked with laughter and Mrs Rice Oxley inquired, "Are we behaving like adults at the back there?"
She said, "She made me laugh!" and I said, "She stabbed me!" and then:
"She started it!"
When I wrapped up my fish for disposal, Sarah remarked that it looked like it had been shot. "It's subconscious," I said. "I don't want to be a doctor so I savage everything."
Following all of that, the debate was almost an anti-climax. It was "This house believes that people over the age of eighteen should not be allowed to drink" and it was weird. Manpreet was there, so I lent him Sleeping With Ghosts. I didn't really contribute much to the debate, merely deciding that the boys' speaker was pretty, and making one comment that runs as follows: "If alcohol makes you infertile, and without it you can't get laid, how has the human race survived so long?"
I walked home through Crosby after dark. I can't go through the park much longer, methinks; I'll have to go the long way, as it's safer. I didn't get home until about half five, but it was to see that my mp3 player is back! And it's fixed! My grandmother signed for it; there's a postman somewhere with a Hindi signature to decipher.
And now I need a shower. I smell of fish.
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no subject
on 2003-11-04 01:45 pm (UTC)I think it's a good idea for you to go to that seminar. You're young and you need to explore your options. It's a way, as you said, of finding out whether or not something is your calling or totally unsuited to you.
My folks wanted me to be a journalist, but you need to be good looking in the US for that to happen, even if you're a writer. I ended up an English teacher with a music minor. I still dream of teaching in inner city schools.
Find your dream and hold onto it no matter what.
no subject
on 2003-11-04 03:57 pm (UTC)My dad is a lecturer in animal physiology, and his research animal is fish. Fish are also his favourite food. A couple of years ago, he took me to a Loch Fyne Fish Restaurant as a special treat (for him, although I like fish too.)
When his fish came, he dissected it as he ate it, sexed it, and removed the "ear stones" from its head, which are calcium deposits which are laid down yearly with which you can age the fish. When the waitress came over at the end of our meal and asked how our meal had been, my dad answered "It was a female, four years of age, and judging by the stage in the reproduction cycle it had reached, was caught around three weeks ago."
I just smiled weakly and said, "it was fine, thanks."
That poor waitress!
no subject
on 2003-11-04 05:11 pm (UTC)I never got to dissect anything ::sniffs:: Except one time when the bioteacher brought a rabbit and a cow's eye. The rabbit was already cut up because the teacher was going to eat it(yuck) so no dissecting. But the poor fishies. lol
no subject
on 2003-11-05 08:55 am (UTC)I'm more or less decided about the conference, too. I wrote my application letter last night; I hope they'll accept me.
Thanks for your advice, I really do appreciate it. I'm trying to find my dream, just as you say... and once I've found it, I will hold onto it.
no subject
on 2003-11-05 08:57 am (UTC)no subject
on 2003-11-05 09:15 am (UTC)no subject
on 2003-11-05 01:41 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2003-11-05 02:00 pm (UTC)