Continuity.

"As the moon kindles the night
As the wind kindles the fire
As the rain fills every ocean
And the sun the earth
With your heart, kindle my heart."

Watch this movie. It's one of my all-time favorites; I bawl uncontrollably every single time. One word: heartwarming. The soundtrack is exquisite; I bought it last night and haven't stopped listening.

So, um, eloquence. Remember that? I think college has vacuumed out what little I had. I've undergone an emotional D&C, a procedural term that in medicine doesn't have the austere, sacred feeling it does in religion. I think in alternating streams and fragments,
leading
and
lagging
strands.

dilation
and
curettage.

Hand me that green spatula.

Patients, when I can't see your cervix, but your doctor can, I ask, "Green or white?" The doctor pretends to think for a bit, making his choice seem entirely spontaneous: "Let's go with green today." Really, though, I'm asking, "Large or small?" and he's replying, "Give me the biggest one we've got."

methylated cap and poly-A tail
introns out
exons in
form
follows
function.

I got 99% on my most recent chem test and 105% in calculus with the curve.

complacent
much?

I'm beginning to think that dreams are continuous. Think back to a time you were so exhausted that it seemed every single molecule in your body was focused on staying awake. Forget about being functional; at this point, keeping your eyes from rolling back in your head is like climbing a mountain without oxygen, and you strain every single fiber in your possession to tighten those extraocular muscles. It doesn't work for long, though; your eyes snap back crazily every few seconds into the dreamscape of your subconscious, and for a second, you're dropped in media res into a complicated plot you know and understand--something with no semblance of logic or order, yet it's somehow...perfect. Snapping back just as quickly catapults you into the real world with half a second elapsed, and in fear and awe you wonder at the fragments that glitter just below the surface: nonsensical scenes from a mad art movie or the mind of a painter savant, smudged around the edges with sweet LSD. My subconscious doesn't rest. It's complicated there, in the regions I can't access unless I'm devoid of conscious control, and every so often I see the things I'm constantly creating and destroying. Maybe one day I'll fall there entirely.