Want An Egg? Lemme Just Cook It On My Skin For You

Sometimes, I think without truly thinking my thought through. Sometimes, there are consequences. Most of the time, those consequences hurt, either physically, emotionally, or mentally.

Monday, I decided that I’d enjoy being outside for once. I’d totally sit somewhere nice, sunshiny, maybe shadowy, and just read or draw or do something creative. Well, I did. I sat outside. It was so beautiful out, I loved it. Normally, I hate being outside. I avoid being outside. Why? Because I got shafted in the genes department — the household I live in, while still a little a pale, all manage to tan. I do not tan. I am fair; so much, that I’m pretty sure that I burn faster than a red-head from Ireland.

So I sat outside, in the sun, reading J.R.R. Tolkien’s Fellowship of the Ring. I didn’t even think about it. I just wanted to sit somewhere and read. How many times do I have to say this? It was beautiful outside!

Two hours later, I went home. I “snuck” in (my mother didn’t hear me), I wandered upstairs and then an hour or so later, I wandered back downstairs. As I came downstairs, my mom looked up at me and gasped “WHEN DID YOU COME HOME, I DIDN’T HEAR YOU COME IN!” There was the obligatory reply “Mom, I’ve been home for hours. Geez.” And then, as I meandered away, she stopped me and said “Wow, you look pretty red.” “What?” “Your skin. It’s pretty red.” “Oh, I was out in the sun.” “What, really?” “Yes, really.”

I marched my butt back upstairs and stood in front of the upstairs bathroom mirror to see just how red my skin was. I stared. And I stared. And I stared some more. It didn’t look that bad, did it? It certainly didn’t hurt. It was just red.

But I knew all about these fickle things called sunburns. Sunburns may look like they don’t hurt, but they actually will in a while, especially if they’re as dark as red as mine was. So I slathered my shoulders, chest, and back of my neck with some aloe vera that I haven’t touched since I got a burn in Hawaii, almost three years ago now. As soon as that stuff hit my skin, I immediately felt relief that I didn’t even realize I needed. Not that it lasted that long.

For some reason, I have to go back multiple times to continue relieving the heat and the pain. Like, within fifteen, twenty minutes multiple. Maybe I’m applying it wrong or I’m not rubbing it in correctly, I don’t know. What I do know, is that this is probably the second worst sunburn I’ve gotten in twenty years of trying to go outside. (The first one from Hawaii in 2010; we’d gone snorkeling and even with sunscreen, I burnt the top of  my thighs so bad, that I couldn’t move for almost two days. I used half the bottle of that aloe vera then and there, trying to stop the pain.)

So I learned my lesson. I learned that I really need to bring sunscreen with me wherever I go. I need to put that crap on and I need to keep it on, otherwise, I’m going to continue to burn. And lemme tell you, once you feel the rage of the sun on your back and shoulders, and can’t lift anything above your head or get to sleep comfortably or, and this is my personal favorite, not be able to wear clothing, you’ll use sunscreen, too.

I’m currently molting now. I’m glad I’m in the itchy/peeling stage now, because that means it’s getting better. My skin still hurts a little, but it’s more like a dull throbbing that needs moisture.

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Memories and Wonderings

I’ve thought hard and long about this week’s post. I just wasn’t sure, like usual. But I kept thinking about something; I kept thinking about a person I’ve not seen in about four years. I grew up with this kid and he was one of my best friends before middle school. I wonder periodically what he’s doing with his life, how much he’s changed, if he remembers me at all. Even when we weren’t friends, we were around each other somehow, be it his girlfriends/my friends, classes, or just the fact that Molalla is small. I know I have him on Facebook, but Facebook is a scary place.

I wrote a poem about him. It’s about this one memory my mother never lets me forget. I called it Digging for Moles.

 

Digging in my new jumper,
Shoving my arm down dark holes,
Giggling with my best friend,
Looking for moles.
 
Blonde hair, brown eyes,
Mischievous smiles,
The aide finds us after thinking us lost,
As we look for moles.
 
Campfire, birthday parties, middle school,
Chickens, girlfriends, high school.
He was once my best friend,
And why we dug for moles.
 
I still remember him, my best friend,
He was important and yet we changed.
Even though we drifted apart,
I still remember digging for moles.
 

If you haven’t guess by now what was happening, in elementary school, this person and I would stick our arms down holes, looking for something. One day, the recess aide came looking for us and reported it to my mom, because she thought we had gotten lost somewhere.

Yeah… he just got his own serious poem, and I don’t think he’ll ever know.

Word(s) of the Day: Are They Truly Synonyms?

I read a book recently, called the Secret. It’s a self-help book, and for me, it’s helped. But as I was reading, my mind formulated the thought, with help from the book and probably several other things, “Are the words rich and wealth really synonymous? Do they mean the same thing?”

  • Rich: having wealth or great possessions; abundantly supplied with resources, means, or funds; wealthy; abounding in natural resources; having wealth or valuable resources
  • Wealth: having great wealth; rich; affluent: a wealthy person; a wealthy nation; characterized by, pertaining to, or suggestive of wealth

Honestly, with a textbook definition like that, they are. They are clearly synonyms. Yet I can’t help but feel that the only thing these two words have in common is the “abundance” factor. Maybe I’m being weird here, but I think wealth isn’t just about money. I think it encompasses love, knowledge, money, and all that jazz. It’s about life. You don’t have to have just money to feel wealthy. Rich on the other hand .. while people say “rich in this or that”, I believe rich is just a term for having a ton of money.

I could be the only one who has this train of thought, but I wanted to share that today.

I Love All Fairly

Just a quick shout out to all the new people who liked Black Mamba of the Sea enough to want to follow me! Thanks, guys, I learned a valuable lesson and that’s to put baby animals in my posts!

Now onto the real topic of discussion I’ve chosen today.

If you picked up on a tiny Jesus vibe with that title, that’s what I was going with. And surprisingly, this isn’t about people. I’ve made a lot of attempts to make a good post about appreciating and loving every body out there, whether they’re straight, gay, transsexual, from any number of countries around the world, their religious views, and their political views. But, I can’t help it and feel like I’m sticking my nose in something I shouldn’t or that I’m going to get a lot of flak for it. I’ve been raised to keep my opinions to myself, and I think that really harms my potential.

No, this isn’t about people. It’s about animals. Specifically, the issues that people seem to have with pets, and whether or not they’re purebred or they’re rescue animals. I understand why someone would want to adopt a dog or cat, or maybe a horse, from a rescue center: because those animals need a home. They need love. They need someone to care about them in a way no one else has before.

What I don’t understand is why some people think it’s okay to knock others for wanting to buy a “purebred” or saying that they’ll only adopt a rescue animal. That isn’t fair! Why should rescue animals be placed high and mighty above a purebred? Okay, don’t answer that; it generally has to do with neglect and abuse.

But really, people! Just because this dog is a purebred doesn’t mean that it’s evil or something. For all you know, that dog is going to a home that’s horrible. For all you know, that dog came from a horrible environment (hence why you should always go to the breeder’s home, so you know). Purebreds deserve a chance, too. Yeah, they’re typically expensive, but when you find the right one for you, you’re going to have a very happy life together!

And what about when you go into an adoption center? What if you find the perfect dog, that was rescued from an abusive home? And what if later on that dog, who mistakenly thought you were trying to harm it, did something horrible? Like bite you? Can you really say that you aren’t worried about that when you walk into a humane society?

I’m not saying don’t adopt or to go buy a $500+ dog. I’m saying, each one has its pros and cons. I’d love to adopt/rescue a dog. I’d love to help rehabilitate a dog, specifically a pit bull. I’d definitely adopt a cat. I’d consider buying a purebred cat, but it’d gonna have to be a pretty smart cat breed. I’m going to buy purebred dogs in the future; I don’t know about you, but I’ve yet to see any Irish Wolfhounds in need of adoption. In fact, my dog, Sadie, a Pembroke Welsh Corgi, is a purebred AKC registered dog. Our cat, Holly, was adopted from the Oregon Humane Society. They’re wonderful animals and we all love them very much.

At the end of the day, though, does it really matter if one’s adopted or one’s a purebred, bought from a breeder? As long as we love them and cherish them when they’re with us, a pet is a good thing to have in one’s life. Give an animal a chance, anyway you obtain it (as long as it’s legal) and make sure to spay/neuter your pets, as well as to make sure they’re properly licensed. Our pets deserve to be happy and healthy, whether they’re adopted or not.

Black Mamba of the Sea

In the southern hemisphere, there is a continent. This continent is cold, snowy, windy, and mostly populated by flightless birds and sea life. But there’s something else lurking in the Southern Ocean. Something… evil. Something… scary. A thing so despicable, we should all know about it and use it as a tool to keep our children in check. I’m going to post a photo of this creature, just so you’re warned! You cannot and may not hold me responsible for any following nightmares that occur after you look at this.

Ohaidere!

“But wait!” you may say, “It’s so cute! I could just hug it!”

No. No. Do you understand me? No. This thing not only has some vicious teeth, as you’ll see below, but it doesn’t even look like a seal. It looks like a hairy, short-snout version of a Kronosaurus. They are loners (unusual for seals) and like to eat penguins. No, penguins are not my only issue with this beastie.

Sup grrl

I just want to bring to your attention that there is a seal out there that will go out of its way to attack you. And that Orcas are the only animals that will eat them. Oh, and since they’re seals, they descended from the superfamily, Pinnipedia, which evolved from bear-like creatures. BEARS. When you see a seal or related animal, you are literally looking at a sea bear.

These things actually really do make me uncomfortable but I like talking about them. I mean, c’mon, why wouldn’t you go around saying “THERE IS A HIGHLY AGGRESSIVE SEAL LIVING IN ANTARCTICA.”? The more random facts I can spread around in this world about things, the better I feel.

Now here’s random pictures of baby seals.

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