Who would have thought I would be blogging, expressing, sharing, revealing my inner thoughts on the internet?! Well let’s just say this writing style is far from perfect and sometimes incomprehensible. You can expect some switching from first to third person, lots of periods and LOTS of commas. 

There’s something about writing in a paper journal that’s just, hmph. 1. there’s always the option to rip out the page and throw it away, like the damn thing is beleaguering you (which has ultimately resulted in my dirty-tan-paged-ruggedarchaeologistlooking-journal-with-a-blackleatherexterior-bound-by-a-brownleatherrope-that-wraps-around-the-roundmetalbuttonlikepin-at-the-openingedgefaceofthejournal has thinned out quite nicely over the past 2 years). 2. you only really tend to write in it when you’re angry or sad, then don’t want anyone to see. 3. get with technology, you work in IT for Christ’s sake. 

The title of this whole blog “Picking Bones in Whispers” comes from the poem, “The Wasteland” by T.S. Elliot 1922. 

PHLEBAS the Phoenician, a fortnight dead, 
Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep seas swell 
And the profit and loss. 
A current under sea 
Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell 
He passed the stages of his age and youth 

Entering the whirlpool. 
Gentile or Jew 
O you who turn the wheel and look to windward, 
Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you. 

Alright, so let’s ignore the morbid facade… well who are we kidding, morbidity, mortality, vitality, what it means/takes to be human.. all going to be recurring themes in these posts. Not to be considered morbid in the sense the depression has hit and all hope is lost, but an acceptance of reality and extinguishing fear of death, failure, depression, blah. In Elliot’s portrayal.. as we carry on in a current that takes us up and down throughout life, we are going to age, we are going to fail, we are going to succeed, we are going to get old, we are going to die, and we are going to decompose. Now, as a happy little Catholic girl I would never attempt to destroy the heavenly image of life after death for any believers. The faith in life after death is strong and takes an avid human being to maintain. For that, I commend anyone who can take harsh reality, set it aside, sit back and relax waiting for your heaven to come. I’m too literal for that. Butttt, faith outside of religion has been brought to my attention within the last couple of years and asamatterof fact.. it’s being practiced RIGHT NOW! 

Adding on.. I’m a scientist (haha, kidding). I go to medical school (haha, kidding again). I’m an anthropologist (no, really I am). Almost a forensic anthropologist. As you can see, bones and disaster comes with the territory. This does not make us sad (eh, maybe a little desensitized) but there is motivation to discuss, recover, discover, and if we have to.. dig elbows deep in putrefaction in order to provide justice, maybe instill morals, and maybe find some qualities of humanity along the way. Being vague is one of my strong points. And I enjoy exploring the conditions that make us human (biological, cultural, sociological, you name it). 

I started this blog so I can share some of the fun things I do (starting with my recent trip to Chicago), abnormal facts I obtain, unusal places I go and sometimes very unsual things I see.. 

And more bones.


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