[Part 3 of a series. You should read Part 1 and Part 2 first.] “What’s the matter?” Vince feigned, as Jer stumbled into the room clutching a little piece of white paper and a torn white envelope. “You look awful.”…
Finally, she asked me something that I didn’t understand in the slightest, and paused to let me answer. My head was swimming. I had no idea — absolutely no idea — what she had said. But it sounded like an open-ended question. She was sitting like a cocker spaniel, head slightly cocked, waiting for me to respond. My mind raced, searching for some slight recognition a word — any word — she had used. Nothing came back.
Most of us cannot live off of our home plot — our homes house us, but cannot otherwise sustain and maintain us in times of trouble. We work to sustain and maintain them instead. Sometimes — many times — it takes more than we’ve got to give.
… vengeance alone is not a justifiable reason to kill, and we should not shape laws based on our initial reactions to tragedies or on our baser emotions. We do not, after all, call for the torture of those who torture, the rape of rapists, or the act of stealing from thieves. We realize that “an eye for an eye” may not be a policy in which we wish to take part.
I didn’t take an internship that could have gotten me into my industry of choice. I didn’t take the time to look for a rewarding job. I never left my job to pursue other options, further my education, or to simply take a break and re-group. I took the first soul-sucking desk jockey position I was offered that had full benefits and clung to it for dear life, because I knew I was only one test result away from yet another surgery and I was scared.
The more that I reject the convenient option, the more that I find that, really, it doesn’t take me much time at all to do it myself and it makes me wonder whether some of this stuff is really even more convenient at all.
This is an old post from an occasional series, “Losing My Religion.” You can find the original post here. In it, I write about religion and religious issues from the point of view of someone who was on the inside,…
But for many students, hearing that their writing is incoherent or overwrought, that their ideas are inconsistent, unsupportable, or trite; that they do not have the chops to go to medical school; or, in short, that they are not the brilliant insightful person they thought (or were led to believe) they were is as devastating and enraging as the news was to Oedipus.