There was a brief time when I was scrounging and working and stretching my funds to get through college that I sunk as low as to apply my already vast knowledge in such a juvenile place as a butterfly garden. Those who know me understand my extreme lack of patience with those not familiar with entomology and so it doesn’t seem fitting that I should be bothering with the mundane questions of how a butterfly eats and, god forbid, the question of whether or not it takes shits. Now, facing this horrendous new halftime job and only managing to scrounge up a smile at the dollar above minimum wage I was getting, I did not expect anything good to come of it beyond me being able to eat for the month. But, although I hate to admit it, there is always room to learn something. It kind of sucks though because what I learned about was that in my obsession with classifications and body types and the antennae in its relation to eating habits made me lose myself in the reason in the first place that I wanted to work my fucking ass off for god knows how many years. Somewhere along the way, I forgot the beauty of a butterfly in the science of it. Or maybe I never understood the beauty and just fantasize that I did at some point. Needless to say, I’m now stuck at this little butterfly garden, watering plants and wearing a smile as I watch kids who have the brain capacity of a dog marvel the way I can’t. Stubbornness keeps me here and I’ll stay until I understand why a butterfly is beautiful.
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