Tag Archives: sophomore in high school

Cave

Cave: (n) a large underground chamber in a hillside or cliff.

Cave men.

We just accept that these individuals existed. Basically, they’re described as a step up from a gorilla, and a few steps down from a sophomore in high school.

Here’s the problem–at least, the situation for me. The fact that the human race lived in caves seems intelligent. The enclosure would be
completely safe from the outside elements and would not require to be rebuilt every time a storm came along to blow it down.

And also, inside these caves are drawings. Therefore these cave men, which are supposedly not much more intelligent than apes, found pieces of charcoal and were able, from their brains, to replicate things they had seen and sketch them on a rock wall.

I feel very confident that I am more intelligent than a monkey–but if you put me in a cave, I don’t know if I could find the charcoal to draw with, or come up with a picture that anyone would recognize.

So what were cave men?

Were they people without the resources to build huts, produce weapons and tools, who just chose to climb into caves to protect themselves?

Or was this just a phase in a mental evolution the human race went through, to get to where we are now?

For after all, how much progress have we made away from the man cave?

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Bunsen Burner

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Bunsen burner: (n) a small adjustable gas burner used in laboratories.

I certainly hope we’re not going to be evaluated, judged or memorialized on our hidden fears. They’re hidden, right? Just where they should be.

It happened to me this morning when I read the words “Bunsen burner.” I found myself suddenly terrified, with a little tingling in my bowels.

I did not realize I had this memory of a Bunsen burner which is–pardon the expression–seared into my consciousness.

I was a sophomore in high school and arrived late to chemistry class on a day when Bunsen burners were going to be used for some experiment. I think we were going to take a beaker of fluid and warm it under the Bunsen burner to see what happened to the consistency–yet the exact purpose is beyond my recollection.

But because I arrived late, I ended up with the Bunsen burner due for retirement. The teacher warned, “Be careful. That one’s a bit tricky.”

Since I had never used a Bunsen burner before, I didn’t know what would make one temperamental. So I got it all hooked up, released the nozzle or whatever you do to get it to light–and it didn’t. I turned it off and tried again. No luck.

I looked to my teacher for help, but he purposely averted his eyes as if he did not want to deal with this particular apparatus.

I was about to try a third time, reaching over, and suddenly the Bunsen burner decided to come alive.

I burned my hand.

I was pretty sure it was third degree, but was later told by my doctor that it was just a scorch. But it hurt like hell, though I’m not sure why hell would hurt–or maybe I am.

After all, it’s a place of fire.

Like a Bunsen burner.

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