BrainDrain

So I got a betta fish, aka, a Siamese Fighting Fish. I swear, I have some kind of issue with naming things. It took me two days and one night to name my blog and now the poor betta fish is, alas, still without a name. These were some of the names that popped into my head:

1. Mo’ Better (pronounced betta) Betta

2. Bettha (Hindi for "son") Betta

3. Alpha Betta Soup

4. Baba Gahnoush (*shrug* It sounds like a cool name though)

5. Meenu (Malayalam for "fish-y")

6 Fish Bait-ah (hee hee)

Yea, so I could go on and on. Right now I call talk to him in Malayalam and call him Chakaray which means "brown sugar." Yea, that’s a sensible fish name.

Anyway, so that’s the current dilemma. I’ve had him for one day and I think I traumatized him already by moving him into a betta’ bowl instead of that totally garish tupperware bowl Walmart had him in. He glared at me and blew bubbles the rest of the day. This morning I saw that he was still alive and came to realization that glaring and blowing bubbles is just the fish thing to do. To my joy, he had eaten the food I had put in the bowl.

I’ve never had a pet so this was a big step for me. It was an even a bigger step to sleep as usual and not hold an all-night vigil to make sure my new pet would still be alive by dawn. The two "almost-pets" I had at UFA, Ufara Liberty and Anonymous Betta, both received all-night vigils the first night they were with me. I was so scared that something was going to happen to them that I kept checking on them.

Anonymous Betta was relatively quiet. He was a prize in a drawing that ISO had during Student Life Fair. Since I lived near the school, I was chosen to care for AB until his rightful owner came to claim him the next day. His current whereabouts are unknown.

UFARA Liberty (currently known as Scampy to her new owners) was a whole ‘nother story. She was named so because she was found in a trash can in UFA on July 4th, 2003. I gave her milk, water, tuna….nothing. She would not eat. I gave her a blanket and put her a cardboard box but she kept meowing like it was going out  of style. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep the three nights I had her. She is alive and kickin in the boondocks.

Anyway, so now, I have this one and he is still alive. I didn’t spend a sleepless night either. It gives me hope that I can care for another creature without worrying too much. Hmm…Hope…that’s a nice name for a fish.

I like to think that having a job is like owning a cow: sure, you may be surrounded by manure and a bunch of slow-moving creatures, some of whom may be mad, and you may also have to milk it for all that it is worth, but "hay", at least you have a cow!

In a related note, when Bart Simpson says "Don’t have a cow" is he actually, in covert language, propogating the subversion of the current market economy? Hmmm…something to ponder.

Cultural Evening (or any such major event), I like to think, is like a kite: you start it up (organization, manpower), you let out the string (energy, hard work), you can’t really control it (unavoidable circumstances) but if there’s wind (okay, that sounds gross but its a metaphor for enthusiasm; not anything bodily) you let it go and it’s bound to fly.