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Monday, May 30, 2011

Thoughts on Journaling, Teal Goop, & False Hopes

I shouldn't be proud to not be writing in my journal every day.  I've pledged to myself so many times in the past that I wouldn't let my personal writing lapse, even if nothing exciting happened that day, even if I don't want to record the day's events for posterity.  But I haven't given up on writing every day, be it fiction or nonfiction.  And if I'm not writing about it in my journal, I'm out doing it.  So, I'm proud.  May this be a summer of catching up on journaling when I can.


Ever had a really bad sunburn?  Then you should get well-acquainted with the slime that lives in the bottom of our linen closet.  It's gross and it freaked me out when I was a kid, but it's something of a Godsend now, now that I actually go out a lot and pretty much spend the best hours to catch some rays outside for six weeks of the summer.

I'm a swim instructor and, as of today, also a lifeguard.  And, when I can sit still long enough, I like to tan.  But it usually ends badly.  I usually don't wear sunscreen, sometimes because I honestly forget, sometimes because I forego it to get something of a base tan going (bad idea - don't follow my example, kids), and I spend hours over the summer staring at myself and comparing my skin color on my arms, to my legs, to my face, to my pale, pale stomach.  I get strange tan lines, and then they begin to fade.  I'm red for a day or two, the skin stinging and on fire.  This is where the goop comes in.

It's aloe (I think) and it's been my mom's probably since the '80s (pretty sure).  After complaining for long enough, I'll finally give in and pull out the teal slime, eyeing it warily.  My childhood fear remains - it's somewhere between a solid and a liquid, a gel of some sort that feels weird between your fingers and then vanished into sun-ravaged flesh.  It might take three applications for it to actually sit on your skin and help the healing begin; it might take more.  And you'll probably have to reapply in twenty minutes.  And it probably won't cool the burn anytime soon.

But who doesn't want to be covered in blue-green slime?  Especially if it means a killer tan.


TV has convinced me, over the past few years, that, with a minimum of training and life experience, I could be (in no particular order):

- a doctor
- a detective with the NYPD
- a demon hunter
- a professional ballroom dancer
- an FBI agent (in three separate divisions)
- a crime scene investigator (preferably Vegas)
- a private investigator
- a lawyer
- a thief
- a cab driver
- a princess

Yeah.  Thanks for that, guys.

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