Minutia in English y en Español

It’s summer, and living is easy. On the way to the commons, people have unfurled from the cold. They are friendly and hellos are forthcoming. Not that they stop to speak to a stranger—a quick greeting suffices.

Water laps the shore from the cove and sound relaxes. The air smells of green. There’s blue and bright colors and solace.

Turmoil is wiped away.There is a minutia to it all.

I have always dwelt in the land of minutia. It swamps me—overtakes me.

As an emerging adult, I dwelt in the land of diatoms, paramecium and cell structures. I dreamt of finding a way to target deficiencies in cell structures with cancer-specific antigens in order to alert the immune system to the very presence of cancer cells, thus destroying them

—a process I swear by to this day.  They have now taken to altering T cells to fight cancer.

In my early travels through college, I challenged an English professor; saying that I didn’t need his damned rules to write a technical paper and wrote down my views on the mitosis of cancer cells. They split relentlessly, creating a culture en

masse of cells that lack communication; thereby, overtaking the communal structure of functioning cells. Shel Silverstein's, “The Missing Piece and the Big O,” comes to mind--a gift from my interaction with my children.

I got a B+ on the paper.

Paul Walters presented his piece: https://www.bebee.com/producer/@https-twitter-com-paulvwalters/coming-up-for-air-revisiting-cape-town-south-africa as I was writing this.  I envy his connection to places.  My connections to my childhood are "things."

I challenged my Zoology Professor on the difference between carapace and cuticula, winning that battle. The internet was not readily available then; so I forged my way through referencing experts in their fields to make my point. I simply called them on the phone, wrote their names down, and presented them to my Professor.

Educators were always my heroes, and when a position in a medical college far away in the Midwest was offered, I declined, citing my child’s needs over my own.  But I never gave up my connections to Educators who were readily available; they were like surrogate parents—pushing me on.  Finishing my BA was like being thrown out of my home.  Now that I have a chance to pursue my MFA, I can go back and reconnect.

I swore off the minutia of cells to embark on the journey of psychology. My child’s mood swung wildly, and I could not shoehorn him into relevant courses of action. Children are like that. I eventually learned to roll with the punches and enjoy the minutia of childhood.

Childhood has an illogical logic all of its own. I infused my life with it; all while striving to keep my connections with educators.

I dabbled in engineering and chemistry. (Those educators told us to prepare to be the loneliest people in the world.  They were right.)  A highlight in my life was not a place, but witnessing the use of a Scanning Electron Microscope (SEM) in action and viewing atoms.  My learning disabilities were crippling in learning those ’languages’ to the greatest extent, so I finally settled on psychology and writing, leaving mitosis and electrons far behind. I traded calculus for words.

My children's needs guided every step of my way. I distinctly remember consciously giving up travels through the DOS of my PC—knowing that if I delved into it, I would never come up for air. My children needed me.

When you live in the land of minutia, nothing is ever simple—or maybe it is. Everything is like an equation—a derivative. Green is not just a color; it’s a derivative of something. The wave licking the shore is abundant with organisms. People are the flavor of the experience—enhancing it like a meat tenderizer. People force a connection to an emotional world where green is naturally green. People are so necessary.  Questions dissolve into connections. It’s a hungry feeling. I want more.

Lisa 🐝 Gallagher presented her piece: https://www.bebee.com/producer/@lisa-gallagher/dear-anxiety-i-hate-you.  She goes through the pitfalls of connections.  Perhaps that is why I prefer connections to diatoms, paramecium, and cells.  But I think we all hunger for Connection.

Lisa 🐝 Gallagher's buzz provides me with Joy in this buzz: https://www.bebee.com/producer/@ali-anani/joy-dancing-for-me

There is Joy in many things.  I remember Joy.  I felt joy at the birth of my child.  My second child clung to life at birth.  Joy is greatly muted when life melds with the possibility of death.  It comes much later.

en español

Hago lo mejor que puedo con el traductor. Los enlaces están en inglés.

Minutia

Es verano, y vivir es fácil. En el camino a los comunes, la gente se ha desplegado del frío. Son amables y hellos son próximos. No es que se detengan a hablar con un extraño, un saludo rápido basta.

El agua cubre la orilla de la ensenada y el sonido se relaja. El aire huele a verde. Hay colores azules y brillantes y consuelo.

La agitación es borrada. Hay una minucia a todo.

Siempre he vivido en la tierra de la minucia. Me mata, me alcanza.

Como un adulto emergente, vivía en la tierra de diatomeas, paramécios y

estructuras celulares. Soñé con encontrar una manera de dirigir las deficiencias en estructuras celulares con los antígenos específicos del cáncer para alertar al sistema inmune a la misma presencia de las células cancerosas, destruyéndolas así

-un proceso que juro por hoy. Han tomado ahora para alterar las

células T para combatir el cáncer.

En mis primeros viajes a la universidad, desafié a un profesor de inglés; Diciendo que no necesitaba sus malditas reglas para escribir un artículo técnico y anotar mis puntos de vista sobre la mitosis de las células cancerosas. Se dividieron implacablemente, creando una cultura en masa de células que carecen de comunicación; Superando así la estructura comunal de las células funcionales. Shel Silverstein, "The Missing Piece y The Big O", viene a la mente - un regalo de mi interacción con mis hijos.

https://www.bebee.com/producer/@ali-anani/joy-dancing-for-me

Hay alegría en muchas cosas. Recuerdo Joy.  Sentí alegría por el nacimiento de mi hijo. Mi segundo hijo se aferró a la vida al nacer. La alegría está muy silenciada cuando la vida se funde con la posibilidad de la muerte. Viene mucho más tarde.

About the Author:  Joyce Bowen is a freelance writer and public speaker.  Inquiries can be made at crwriter@comcast.net

Sobre el autor: Joyce Bowen es un escritor independiente y orador público. Las consultas pueden hacerse en crwriter@comcast.net

Copyright 2017 Joyce Bowen

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