The aquarium by meredith mcdonough

the discipline needed to cultivate my own thirty gallon sea exasperates even the most patient of my girlfriends.

this morning i adjust the wave pump to a gentle speed,
appropriate for a cold morning, and turn on the backlight.

some of the fish sleep, ghostfully suspended in the water.
i track the shimmering paths of the snails across the glass.

some have covered large swaths of territory
while one has hardly moved, not a good sign.

dipping my hand into the water,
i worry about introducing bacteria and about upsetting

the perfect ph of the water
and retrieve the errant snail i've named harpo.

i smell him, sensitizing my nose
to the subtle bouquet of sickness,

some combination yeast, decay, and salt.
how is it that the real oceans can withstand almost any abuse

while this coddled miniature struggles to live?
the coral never holds quite the pink i hope for

and fish continue to catch strange sicknesses
like the angel fish, greta, who has a parasite.

her body has begun to malfunction,
her own fins disobeying her wish to go forward.

electricity holds this fragile world together.
once, the power failed and within days

every organism died, rose to the surface
and began rotting at a terrible pace, smelling like a crime scene.

"how is it that the real oceans can withstand almost any abuse while this coddled miniature struggles to live? "

what does the word coddled mean?

protected
contained
broken
mistreated

Industrialization in europe changed the way people lived. the urban working class came into being, and with it came the drudgery of work. which two parts of this excerpt from franz kafka's the metamorphosis most closely reflect this impact of industrialization on people's lives? "what's happened to me? " he thought. it wasn't a dream. his room, a proper human room although a little too small, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls. a collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table—samsa was a travelling salesman—and above it there hung a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame. it showed a lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright, raising a heavy fur muff that covered the whole of her lower arm towards the viewer. gregor then turned to look out the window at the dull weather. drops of rain could be heard hitting the pane, which made him feel quite sad. "how about if i sleep a little bit longer and forget all this nonsense," he thought, but that was something he was unable to do because he was used to sleeping on his right, and in his present state couldn't get into that position. however hard he threw himself onto his right, he always rolled back to where he was. he must have tried it a hundred times, shut his eyes so that he wouldn't have to look at the floundering legs, and only stopped when he began to feel a mild, dull pain there that he had never felt before. "oh, no", he thought, "what a strenuous career it is that i've chosen! travelling day in and day out. doing business like this takes much more effort than doing your own business at home, and on top of that there's the curse of travelling, worries about making train connections, bad and irregular food, contact with different people all the time so that you can never get to know anyone or become friendly with them. they can all go away! " he felt a slight itch up on his belly; pushed himself slowly up on his back towards the headboard so that he could lift his head better; found where the itch was, and saw that it was covered with lots of little white spots which he didn't know what to make of; and when he tried to feel the place with one of his legs he drew it quickly back because as soon as he touched it he was overcome by a cold shudder. he slid back into his former position. "getting up early all the time", he thought, "it makes you stupid. you've got to get enough sleep. other travelling salesmen live a life of luxury. for instance, whenever i go back to the guest house during the morning to copy out the contract, these gentlemen are always still sitting there eating their breakfasts. i ought to just try that with my boss; i'd get kicked out on the spot. but who knows, maybe that would be the best thing for me. if i didn't have my parents to think about i'd have given in my notice a long time ago, i'd have gone up to the boss and told him just what i think, tell him everything i would, let him know just what i feel."