This was an unpublished blog posting that I found from 2009. I stopped this on a second paragraph with an unfinished sentence but I realize I got the message out but felt like I needed to add more, three years later I realized it was complete.
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I find myself on the verge of tears wiping xylene off glass slide of brain sections. A drop of this mounting media, let it set and spread over the purple and blue sections; the despair is so overwhelming heavy, its crushing weight making the task at hand seem like thats all I have to life . . . to become a section, on a slide, in a fume hood, in the hands of an apathy being passed on over months time to a pathologist who will make notes of the amount of a color within an area and keep track of that in a chart, so they can . . . it just goes on and on. Its hard to handle the implication of what I do on a daily basis. I don't understand what I'm doing anymore, I can see the forest and the trees, but I don't know what is actually significant about either.
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