I will never forget the 100 guppy fish that lay beneath the soil of my childhood home. 100 guppy fish who came to their demise due to the innocent act of changing the temperature of the water in the tank. 100 guppy fish that lost their lives to the woman with blond hair and blue eyes, 5'3”, and a heart that holds the weight of the world. But do not fear, the perpetrator responsible for this crime organized separate funerals for all 100 of these tiny silverfish, all the while helping my sister and I find a special place to bury them all. Not only did she lead the burial service, she also made hot chocolate after the burial to help any feelings of grief fade away with each sip. Indeed I am the daughter of the said perpetrator. Growing up, my family and friends would echo the words, “Your mom is perfect, you must have learned everything you know from her.” I smile when they tell me this, usually responding with the words, “I know” or “You're right”. Admittedly, my mind wanders back to the guppy incident that happened so many years ago. This is not to say that I do not acknowledge my mother's many magnificent qualities. Like the way, she lights up a room with her smile, or her daring sense of adventure, always trying to find a way to make anything happen. I could talk about how her charming personality attracts strangers in grocery stores to come over just to say hello, or confide in her with their personal life experiences as she loads her cart with frozen vegetables. I could talk about how she embarked on a cross-country journey with a stranger. Driving from Boston Massachusetts to Arizona to pursue her passion for art. I could talk about how she is a published children's book author-illustrator who has an undying love for anthropomorphic animals. And though these things are true, I refuse to forget the moment innocent fish perished years ago, and the funeral we had for them. The 100 guppy fish we obtained when I was only 6 years old. Because if I were to forget about the guppies, I would forget about the way I watched her set up a nursery for all the newborn fish because she knew how excited her daughters would be to see the newborns. I would forget the way she held me when I got out of school after she broke the bad news, that she had accidentally changed the temperature of the water in the tank a few degrees to warm. I would forget about the trip to pet smart that occurred soon after the burial, telling my dad not to worry we are just going to “look” at the hamsters, and I would forget about the hamsters that were purchased later that day. I can't forget about the guppy fish because I can't forget any memories I have with my mom. As I am sure, anyone who meets her would hate to forget the woman who only eats the sugary tops of baked muffins. The woman is from the east coast but is bundled in a jacket and gloves anytime the weather hits below 70 degrees. The woman who knows what it is like to grow up with nothing but so willingly gives everything. The woman who doesn't let me forget about the guppies because, truly, there is light in every moment in life. So in turn, I am proud to be the daughter of the perpetrator of the mass murder of guppy fish. I am proud that I do not do well with the cold and enjoy eating the sugary tops of baked muffins. I am proud that she has come to success in writing and illustrating children's books. But I am even more proud that she creates a space where anyone can come to feel at peace. A place where friends, family, and strangers come to feel at home. A place where friends come up to me and ask to come over because my house is a place of acceptance. I have found “perfect” is perhaps not the right word, and also, I have come to realize that I wouldn't want it to be. I mean perfect doesn't come with mud pies, massive pillow forts, or star gazing on the hood of the car in the driveway. Perfect doesn't come with unexplainable tears that you just can't seem to stop, and perfect certainly doesn't come with the burial of 100 guppy fish. But I couldn't be prouder of the perfectly imperfect world she has created for me. So, I would like to thank the perpetrator for giving me a home with walls I can draw on and carpeted floors so that when I trip over my feet, it's soft when I land. Most importantly, I would like to thank her for teaching me how to make gravestones. A simple rock with a smooth face inscribed with one word serves as a reminder to remember. I would like to thank her for, after every imperfection, she would remind me that it is just another rock I can write on. Taking the hurt to the grave but never losing sight of what it taught me. These gravestones act as pillars showing me how much I have grown. They resemble the strength she has embedded in me from a young age to overcome life's imperfections. Because of my mom, I am able to stand with about a thousand gravestones. Because of my mom, I chose not to forget but instead cherish the imperfect.

Today has been a good day. Today I was able to practice some instruments and gain new insights on the piano and guitar. These have been new details that have helped my brain really enjoy picking up a musical instrument. I cant even believe some of the sounds that are coming out of the instruments I play! and I'm not even that good! haha its been fun and yea, I have a smile on my face. Hopefully I will be-able to upload a few videos soon.

PROLOGUE: Earth represents the only planet known to support life. Such a manifestation, preposition and supposition (challenged as sophisticated telescopes peer into the farther reaches of the cosmos), nonetheless amazes this bipedal hominid. Additionally, that conjecture (undergoing securitization re: painstakingly now major leapfrogs kicked jarring impetus hundredfold greater futuristic established dogma) consider that said oblate spheroid constituent essential matter near in composition sans other planets in our solar system, and coalesced at approximately when sister and brother entities manifested through the same ethereal processes as every other planet, and also received energy (in a greater or lesser proportion) extant per those most distant or closest cosmic bodies from the sun. To a universal traveler, Earth may seem to be a harmless little planet in the far reaches of one of billions of spiral galaxies in the universe. Gaia describes an elliptical trajectory across an average size star of middling brightness and joined by seven other planets, which support no known recognizable life forms constituting the solar system. While this may be fitting for a passage from numerous prequels and sequel Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy (among other entertaining out of this world page turners for estranged mortals feeling like outliers in this alien nation), by the late Douglas Adams, in the grand scheme of the universe, it would be a fairly accurate description. However, Earth is a planet teeming with vitality and is home billions of plants and animals that share a common evolutionary track. Eve ver since time immemorial innumerable questions furrowed the brow of man/woman kind such as the following. evidence may have been lost. Scientists have made significant progress in understanding what chemical processes that may have led to the origins of life. There are many theories, but most have the same general perspective of how things came to be the way random quirky phenomena overtook numbers (millions) linkedin kinetic jinxed illustrious happenings. An account of life's beginnings based on some of the leading research and theories related to the subject, and of course, fossil records dating back as far as 3.5 billion years ago designating the scientifically acceptable denouement viz Earth's Beginnings would be an infinite tome. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Never in my cow well LIX anniversaries of birth did I ever experience such an unseasonably warm February, March, April...September 018 (i.e. the date this anonymous mortal jotted down the musings peppering his inquisitive mind). Now my bio hazmat poise zen gruff feed dee doth Buzz with an apropos diversion, whence a short written interjection will proffer broad leafed brushstrokes qua lee fie ying yours truly to draw inquisitive onlookers. Matthew Scott Harris (the second offspring and only son of Boyce and the late Harriet Harris) made his unheralded debut on a brutally cold January thirteenth when Earth completed one thousand nine hundred and fifty ninth orbitz round the sun. Once awareness blossomed within thee Iris of each eye, Mother Nature with his proclivity to become most grounded when basking in the seasonal pastel of sounds and smells.This predilection a rose and stemmed from self-propelled exposure to fauna and flora. All creatures great and small found him bedazzled, delighted, fixated, harmonized, kindled, moored, ogled, quelled, seduced, tantalized, vaunted from biodiversity. His father - employed as a mechanical engineer with general electric - heard the powerful lungs of this gangly newborn prior to being permitted to cradle said infant nada so terrible. Though born (agh gin in Cincinnati, Ohio), this sole son spent the majority of his existence at two rural areas fifty plus four years ago. Audubon and Collegeville the geographic names of said locales. He attended first at half of second grade at an elementary school in the former place name. His ability to adjust from one than another grade school evinced early signs of difficulty. Extreme shyness in tandem with a congenital speech defect (submucous cleft palate) seemed to alienate him from other classmates. As an outside neutral observer, I (thine older - boot not necessarily wiser self - watched with gut wrenching agony how he seemed socially detached and rarely invited to join in any reindeer games.Yes, a gross degree of taunting left him without friends. Lack of confidence and ultra reticence offered manna to bullies. Matter of fact, this vulnerability and susceptibility per being on the receiving end of verbal slings continued all thru public education. He graduated without any vocational idea (despite an ignoble attempt to fail, yet got promoted nonetheless), and then endured parental wrath equal parts ultimatums and evil scathing expletive filled lectures.