I guess I've done a fair bit of travelling by myself. Some people might say that going to a foreign country alone and living in the big city for the first time was brave of me. Some people do not realize that I've already voyaged to Earth solo from a distant galaxy, and was continually evading space pirate capture on the way. My first days on Earth were spent in confusion, eating rocks, wrestling various beasts (and one time spooning a panda). However I cannot claim merrit for these feats. My decisions then were guided by a naive love for adventure, the gung-ho attitude of a fresh recruit. Overcoming obstacles and was merely a matter of letting survival instincts take over. But At Last! Today is the day I can call myself a woman, for I have conquered a childhood fear!
My ordeal began yesterday at the Vancouver Maritime Museum. As I toured the ship St.Roch I was drawn by curiosity, or perhaps the hands of fate, to the communal cabin where I encountered an unlikely foe: a wooden foot locker. To begin with I stubbed my toe on this locker. Then when I went to open it the lid lifted unexpectedly all the way out. I dropped it and it wedged itself diagonally inside the locker. I readjusted it and considered that the end of my worries with this unpleasant piece of wood. But it t'was not so, for during its descent the lid had roughly grazed my hand and in my index finger was lodged a short, fat splinter, such a one as I have never had before. A vague memory flashed through my mind of my mother removing a splinter from my finger while little girl me realized that she would one day have to carry out such self-inflicted pain herself. 24 hours later that day had arrived. After much fumbling with the tweezers I managed to push the sliver out of my skin so I could grab a hold of it. Tugging it out I felt the unfamiliar and sickening pain of extracting an object foreign to the body. Yet I was more aware of a fascination of what I was capable of, and a surge of pride. It was my finest hour.
That being said, if the removal of the splinter was a culmination of all my life's struggles, I am now faced with the haunt of my former glory. Since it's happened my fingers can't help but dwell on the scar, pushing at the skin, pretending there might be yet more to challenge me. I know there are none though. Now that I have conquered this symbolic rite of passage I live quite possibly in a void where even a thousand more slivers will be of no significance.
Wow. I didn't mean for this to get this real. I'm just really tired. I need to find a job.
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