ice cubes in a warm coke, splintered hips, little boy and girl hearts, red lines, a nice slab of pound cake, and a river that reminds a boy of sunny delight and pink lemonade at sunset and who still wishes to drink up those colors in his straw.
_{Ordinary.
Expected.
Unshakable.
Breakable.
Followable.
Delicious.
Whimsical.}

This is very difficult for me to write, but the sooner I get this over with -- well, you know. It's difficult because I am so excited for my decision, and I am sad, too, because what I've decided means starting over -- saying goodbye. Here it goes.

I am going to be going to medical school and become a physician's assistant. I have decided on this because I need to do something to help the world as best I can, with every effort I can exhaust. I told one of my best friends months ago that I felt a terrible desire to be a doctor, and she advised me to take time to think about it and make sure it's the right thing to do. And this is the right path for me.
I still am in love with art. It will always be my first and great love, but I see too much suffering and there's so much more I can do with healing skills than a pencil.
Secondly, I am going for physician's assistant because that will take only five years, which is what I was looking at with my advertising/illustration degrees.

I'm really underestimated quite a lot, and this bothers me. But I am going to be the best I can be, and I am going to give all I can. A goal of mine is to one day have a clinic open for people without health insurance. Like me.
I also want to specialize in oncology and cancer research. I understand the disease -- and if the cancer cell isn't crucial to any function, which is currently unknown, I want to find a way to decimate it without harming the rest of the body. It's unclean if the cancer cell had a function at some point during evolution, or if it just a simple mutation. Curious.


So, Jess, Jillian, I hope neither of you are too angry with me.





In other news!

I've had a week. A really, really bad week since Tuesday.
Sunday was great, though. Ray took me to see My Sister's Keeper, and it was one of the saddest movies I've ever seen. I cried. We went for coffee and for a ride, and then we went home and slept, so we could be all nice and fresh for the amusement park the next morning. Good, good day. I spent it with Ray, his brother, his dad, and his dad's girlfriend.
Then Tuesday came. My mom went to work with my car, and on the way home, some bimbo rammed into her on I-81, almost forcing my mom into an embankment. Mom's hurt. And my car is pretty bad off, too. Can't open the passenger side door. The kicker is that the bimbo and her boyfriend have no insurance. UGH. I am furious.

I hate Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays.


And Tuesdays.