SNAKES ALIVE

I wrote in my real journal three times today: Once in the car before work, once on my first ten-minute break, and then again on my last ten-minute break. It was a very therapeutic experience. I kept thinking last night about these urges I have to sit down and write on a piece of paper but that I typically ignore them because I 1) only like writing in notebooks/journals and 2) am usually dead tired when I feel inspired by something. I am, however, still trying to come up with a poetic retelling of Jordan's mouse-killing story. And I literally mean a poem about how he tried to kill a mouse and how he finally succeeded at it. Sound enticing? You bet it is. Disgusting and repulsive? Even more so.

After feeling such an intense compassion for the little creature he destroyed, I felt guilty for thinking calves are cute and still keeping beef in my diet.