Teenage Pregnancy

The six-week old has a right indirect inguinal hernia.  But my global interest was arrested not by this baby boy but her mother.  A fifteen year-old who was previously enrolled as sophomore high school student and stopped school to deliver her baby boy into this war-stricken and polluted world last October. Statistics say that getting pregnant approaches the nearest age women experience their menarche.  Alas, going younger and younger these days.  I can still recall my sophomore days when I have this war in me to stay awake during the soporific hours.  An hour before the 3 o’ clock habit.  But take a look at this young mommy out of school nursing her son while her husband four years her senior is still in high school having hard time in high school trigonometry and physics. 

Questions started to pop out of my mind like Jack-in-the-box.   Springing out and trying to frighten the already startled consciousness.  Why is it there a growing minority of women who get pregnant early in their flower age?  A part of my “hu-mind” (human mind) tried to answer this query.  But another Jack came out of the box.  Pop! Who is it to blame in this case? And another one, pop! Is it rightful to blame? After three Jacks, Pop Goes the Weasel played.

…

To answer these socially relevant intriguing questions, I had to browse Google and typed “why early pregnancy teenager” in the Search bar.  An almost million hits revealed on my screen.  On top of the list was from where-else-but Wikipedia.  But I won’t show my fancy research here. 

I want to hear from you. 

Thinking & Unthinking

Disclaimer: As I lie on my bed, this comes out like a spam mail from the inner gyri of my 1400g brain. Like spam mails, don’t read this one.

I had a long list to do but i still choose to cram and finish (with finesse). And of course enjoying the moment that was supposed to be for high-priority (who the hell labels this) stuff but there goes Priority Reversal. That capricious moment I like myself to be stuck. It was addiction. Probably for the OB-C out there you would be arguing in polemics with my own way of enjoying life (and med life in particular). But this has been me for the longest time ever even existing before the dinosaurs were eradicated.

That’s me. In part of course. A very ancient thing. Impulse. Animistic. Like a seedling following the radiant energy of the sun. Probably this is also the reason why Dorothy and her friends followed the yellow brick road. Because sun is yellow. Uh oh!

You just can’t help it. You just follow to survive. Probably some shrinks would classify me under psych conditions related to poor impulse control. Oh how I love and hate Kaplan and Saddock at the same time like how god loves and hates his creation (humans) at the same time. That’s me, always in contradiction. But that just boils only for a fleeting moment. And then poof, i decide peacefully from mental turmoil to emotional tranquility.

Humans romanticized, satirized, exaggerized (Webster, please help me with my verbs) logic over impulse, over spirituality, over nature. But it doesn’t really have to be that way always. It doesn’t have to be the gold standard. I would say that logic is just one way of thinking. And un-logic is another style. Or would Descartes and his friends kick me out of space if I say “unthinking is one way of thinking”. Thinking process plays just like music. On a scrap music sheet, we have to play the notes and the rests. Rests mean silence to music aficionados. That’s thinking. Something plays in mind. Then silence. Then the virtual thoughts come again and then silence. Then Eureka! you have a great, or worse, stupid idea. Unthinking is thinking (believe me). A style of it. Just imagine you’re spaced out. Imagine putting cottons into your cranium instead of your soupy brain. Rest. Rest. Rest. No notes. But there’s music. Full of rests. A different kind of music. A deviant kind. And poof!!! Something great and novel popped out of your unthinking. Hahaha.

Einstein put e=mc2; I put thinking=unthinking. Probably the only differences are in the discharges recorded in EEG.

I want rest. Have a great thought. And the music plays.