Don't freak out

I found my wedding dress. Normally, I could tell my Mom about this, but because she and Dad are so funny about my boyfriend, I don't think I should mention anything. It's not that I'm getting married now, since, ummm, I'm not; it's just that I have found the dress that I want to wear when I do get married, whenever that is. My friend Kristen and I went to JC Penney's the other day, because she was looking for something, and eventually we wound up in the Prom Dress section. I didn't really see anything that caught my attention, and then suddenly, I saw it. I looked at it, felt it, and made a move to look at some more, but turned back right away and had to go try it on. It was perfect; strapless ivory brocade (because, seriously, who looks good in white!?), laced up the bodice with 3/4" wide ivory ribbon; just above the waist, the brocade opened up and showed the cream-coloured satin underskirt, and both fabrics brushed the ground. Contrary to what it sounds, it was very simple; it was beautiful, reminding me of a dress that would be in "Ever After." I tried it on, and it fit perfectly, and it felt wonderful. That dress and cream-coloured long-stemmed roses...that's what I want.

I tried finding it online, even a picture, but the maker doesn't have a website, it's not on the jcpenney website, and I typing in the design number doesn't come up with it, either. I can't stop thinking about it! I want to go back and try it on again, but get a picture this time, so that I have it for future reference; if that dress isn't available anywhere when I get married, I want to be able to show a dressmaker just what it looked like.

Update: The Roommate and I, in a 45-minute time slot we had open, drove over to the mall today, to jcpenney's. I COULDN'T FIND THE DRESS. We looked all over the store...and then I realized that I'd been in Younkers yesterday, not JC Penney! Silly. Went to Younkers, and it was still there! And in my size! And it was still just as lovely as it had been before. I'd sneaked my camera in my purse, and tried the dress on, then took a few pictures of it, and then just of the dress, so that I won't forget what it looks like, in case I don't get married for years and years and years. I felt slightly illegal, and kept coughing to cover up the sound of the camera, but my roommate was laughing, because she could see the flash from where she was sitting, outside the whole dressing room complex. heh.

Nerves, Part Two

And it's you and me and all of the people
And I don't know why I can't keep my eyes off of you
'You and Me,' Lifehouse

I got to his place at 10:30, fifteen minutes before church starts, and after I let myself into the house, the first thing I heard was him calling down the stairs to me, "Do you know how to tie a tie?" I got upstairs, and he was in the bathroom in front of the mirror, trying to remember how to tie it; with both of us working on it, we got it to look, well, not quite the way it's supposed to, but pretty darn close.

I don't really feel as though I can write well about the rest of the day yet, as I am still mulling it over in my head in little, disjointed thought fragments.


He wore a suit
(And was nervous)
And was lovely and a gentleman
('as is his wont')
And nearly fell asleep during prayer
(I knew, because his hands twitched)
----
After church
(which ran long)
We went for coffee
(since he hadn't slept)
And discussed my parents
(so he would know what to expect)
----
When we got two miles from home
(just before the church on the curve)
He said, "We must be getting close"
(so I asked him how he knew)
And he knew because I was nervouser
(about my family, not about him)
----
He met my parents
(and my aunt and uncle)
And my brothers
(and my grandfather)
And was good with the dogs
(even though they were hyper)
----
We had chicken stirfry for lunch
(but I didn't eat the chicken)
And I gave some to the dog
(and he swatted my hand)
And he was someone to be proud of
(but I wasn't worried about that)
----
We sliced up fruit for a salad
(and everyone talked about murders)
And I felt wonderful
(and I didn't slice up my fingers)
And it was fun, cooking with him
(and I want to do it again)
----
He and I went into the living room
(the only other room he saw)
And sat together on the couch
(both almost falling asleep)
And the littlest dog got in the way
(she scooted in between us, the chaperone)
----
I ran upstairs to get some things
(because we had to leave at 3:45)
And it was wonderful
(and calming and comfortable)
To know he was downstairs
(and wasn't going to run away)
----
On the way back to his place
(a 25 minute drive w/o speeding)
He fell asleep for the last 8 miles
(hadn't really slept since thursday)
And I watched him and the road
(and committed that moment to my memory)
----
And we got to his house
(and he woke up, disoriented)
And we went inside
(one roommate was packing)
And I thanked him for today
(and he put his arms around me)


You don't know how lovely you are
'The Scientist,' Coldplay

something sneaky...

So the other day, I was nosing around online, taking my sweet time before launching myself on the 2-hour drive home, and an ad popped up for Yahoo!Personals. I'm not single, and thus not looking, but I was curious to see what the Singles in this area are like. Do they flaunt the fact that they have two snowmobiles and a 4-wheeler (and two kids and four ex-step-kids)? I typed in the zip code, waited two seconds for the results, read the first one...he was in his 40s, and wasn't very interesting. I hit 'back' to go to the main page of results, and scrolled down a bit...clicked on the third entry. I read the blurb about him, and enlarged the picture...HIM! I KNOW WHO HE IS. I see him at least twice a day. This is freaky, I feel like an FBI agent or something, knowing stuff about this guy, when he has no idea (and just in case any of you girls are looking: he wants kids, he likes the outdoors and photography, speaks 4 languages, and did I mention he wants kids?).

Yesterday, I was talking with a classmate after our psych class, talking about homosexuality, and how in all my research, I did not come across anyone who could say that they have targeted a "gay gene;" that "It isn't genetic."
"Oh, oh yeah! I didn't think it was genetic. It's just biological."
"Ummm."
"So I have a question for you -- if it's too personal, just tell me to shut up."
"Okay..."
"Are you bisexual?"
"(ha! ha ha ha!) No; no, I'm not."
"Well, have you considered it?"
"Uh, no."
"Oh. Okay."

Last night I dreamed that my brother and I were taking subs to a friend's place, only, he isn't my friend; I just see him around campus every day; anyway, we got to his apartment at night, and buzzed his apartment through the intercom, but he told us to wait a minute, we couldn't come up yet. Eventually we were allowed in, and who was there with him? Marilyn Monroe, of course, and they'd been doing something sneaky.

Hallelujahonlyfivemoreweeks!! Five, and then I'll be back in the home area and working a summer job and having a steady source of income!

Off to take a shower...

I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I really should have taken my makeup off last night. One side of my hair was plastered to my head, the other sticking out in a series of peaks and horns. It is as if the hairs on my head have a life of their own, behaving perfectly sensibly all day, then waiting till I drop off to sleep and starting to run and jump about childishly, saying, "Now what shall we do?"

Bridget Jones's Diary by Helen Fielding, pg 57

bow to me! / Paha Sapa

So this morning, after typing a 337-word paper in 20 minutes, all of which was about how Native Americans have been repressed by big bad White Men and Their Corporations and Governments ever since the White Men stepped foot on Native American Territory, I was rethinking my life; maybe I should be a lawyer. I gotta say, I'm getting pretty darn good at saying whatever the teacher wants to hear, even though every time I take one of her tests, write a paper for her, or share my comments with the class, I end up wanting to throw myself out the window and think I'm doomed, since liars go to hell, because it's just a load of crap; it's not what I really think. It wasn't until this class that I realized how racist some Native Americans are -- it's enough to make goosebumps scamper up my arms.

A paragraph from my 20-minute, typed before I could see straight this morning, paper:

To add horrific insult to injury, Paha Sapa is the location of the most monstrous, immense tribute to four white men: Mount Rushmore. As one Native in the film spoke, “Every cubic inch of [the Black Hills] is sacred; carving any of it would be like putting graffiti on the Tabernacle.” White men and White governments, supposedly embracing religious freedom for all, limit Native religions; it seems the government is trying to, by either limiting or cutting off Native access to religious sites, wring their religion out of them. White men seem to have forgotten why they migrated here in the first place: In 1620, seeking a place where they could worship freely, without interference from the government. Not only have they forgotten, but they are treating Natives as the Whites were treated in Europe before they moved here; but where is there for Natives to flee this religious persecution?

quotes

"How is it, Draco?" simpered Pansy Parkinson. "Does it hurt much?"
"Yeah," said Malfoy, putting on a brave sort of grimace. But Harry saw him wink at Crabbe and Goyle when Pansy had looked away.
"Settle down, settle down," said Professor Snape idly.
-Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban; JK Rowling, page 123


Why is it so difficult and uncomfortable to be naked? It's because when you have clothes on, you can always make those little adjustments that people love to do. Hitching, straightening, adjusting. You know, you feel like you're getting it together. "Yeah, pretty good. Feeling good, feeling pretty good."
But when you're naked, it's so final. You're just, "Well, this is it. There's nothing else I can do."
That's why I like to wear a belt when I'm naked. I feel it gives me something. I'd like to get pockets to hang off the belt. Wouldn't that be the ultimate thing? Picture that. To be naked and still be able to put your hands in your pockets. I think that would really help a lot.
-Jerry Seinfeld


When Carol breastfeeds Ben, and Joey and Chandler get grossed out...
Ross: "Come ON guys, this is the most natural and beautiful thing in the world!"
Joey: "I know, but there's a baby hangin' on it!"

Chandler: "And this from the cry-for-help department: Are you wearing makeup?"
Joey: "Yes, I am. As of today, I am officially Joey Tribbiani, actor slash model."
Chandler: "That's funny, 'cause I was thinking you look more like Joey Tribbiani, man slash woman."

Friends

Esmerelda: "He has been sent first to tempt you. But it's not too late. You must push him from you. Expel him. Trample down the perversion of nature."
Joyce: "Did you hear that? He's the perversion of nature. Wow, isn't that exciting?"
Edward Scissorhands

In memoriam:

1920-2005

there's a first time for everything...

...and today was my first time going on a date to a movie. I'd been to the movies before, a lot, of course (my best friends both work at the theatre, and so we get in free! free! did you catch that? free!), and gone there with a guy before, but not, like, on a date. Date, as in, with The Boyfriend, and he pays for everything and holds open the doors (but he's always done that). We saw The Pacifier...a rather funny choice, I thought dubiously, for what man in his right mind would take his girl to a movie where the main character is such a H-H-H-U-N-K? That'd be as stupid as me treating him to a movie in which some tall, unproportional Barbie-like curvy blonde has the lead role. I kept my comments to myself, though, something that was made easier than usual, since he (The Boyfriend; not Vin Diesel) held my hand during the entire movie. Kept me from appreciating Vin Diesel too much. ;)

The movie was much better than I'd expected; I actually cried four times. When we left the theatre amongst the gaggle of little kids who'd sat in the back row, The Boyfriend was even looking goofy about them, sporting the "Awww, they're so cute..." look. He tries to hide it, but he's a softie (a softie who works more than eighty hours a week and who hardly ever sleeps).

whittling down this girlish figure

I haven't liked mirrors for a couple of years, with the exception of a day or two here or there. Generally I try to stay away from them, because I never feel quite pretty. Or, I'll feel pretty, but won't look the way I expect myself to.

This semester, I've been on an exercise regimen; aerobics for an hour, three times a week. The studio we work out in has floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and I always stayed at the back of the class and avoided looking at myself in the mirrors, because I didn't think I looked too great. Today, there wasn't room at the back, so I had to take my mat and step so I was in the second row, just one person away from the mirrors. I was thunderstruck. I was wearing my (size small!) workout pants and a tanktop, and I felt -- and thought I looked -- BEAUTIFUL. I kept grinning at myself in the mirror like a doofus, because I couldn't get over it. I looked cute! And somehow, I feel more confident, sexier; I think it's a combination of the new hair colour, the weight I've lost, and knowing I was wearing a size small.

life as a transfer student

I've a feeling this ^ will become a regular feature on my blog.

For the past few days, I've been contemplating my existence as a Transfer Student. I knew transferring here would be difficult; it would be different, but it's just another step along the path of my college career. I never realized, really, how difficult it would be. It's been hard, transferring here, but especially, I think, when I did; I transferred in in January, right in the middle of the school year. For the first month I was here, I was horribly lonely; everyone around me already had their friends for the year, and they didn't really bother themselves with even saying hi.

You know how everyone says that during your college experience, you will meet people who will be your friends for the rest of your life? Well, people've told me that, at least. In sitcoms, in real life (hi, Ang), college students meet people they just click with, and they keep in touch.

The problem is, I've already done that. I already went to school for two and a half years; I already had friends with whom I was inseperable; we had sleepovers, did girly things, went shopping together, talked about boys together (I mean, "talked together about boys"). One of my favourite memories is of last summer, when Holly stayed overnight at my house, and then the next night, I stayed at her house; we felt like little kids again, baking cookies, dancing around the house to "Chicago," taking a walk at 2 AM. My best friends were from that school. And then, I transferred. I'm settling into life here, but friend-wise, I still feel uprooted. I hate the fact that when I need to cry to Holly, when I need to talk about someone, I have to call her. Call her, or wait until the weekend when we can get together for a little while. We aren't together all the time anymore. There are days when I want nothing more than to be back at that school, with people who love me, being able to be with my best friend without worrying that I'm taking up her weekend and her boyfriend needs to see her and I want to spend some time with mine, too.

I've always raved about two-year schools, about how they're such a great start for one's college career. And truly, they are. Mine was, at least. I began going there when I was sixteen, and over the past two and a half years, I spent more time there than I did at home; the staff, the faculty, the Dean, my friends...they became my family. I've been excited with the foodservice manager when his daughter has kids*; I've had a crush on the dashing, gorgeous science professor; I've giggled with the anthropology professor when she was helping me combat the static that was possessing my skirt before a performance; I've gone to the visitation and funeral for my theatre dad's mom; I've chased down one of my guys and put mascara on his eyelashes before a play; I've slow-danced with my favourite professor at a gala when Glenn Miller big-band songs were playing; I've played Spin the Bottle with a group that included the shy, retired art professor, and had to smooch him; I've been in the Student Government; I've gone stargazing in the middle of the night; I built sets, moved pianos, acted in plays, ushered, babysat, ran errands, played in orchestras, sang in choirs, accompanied choirs, I was in the honours choir and travelled downstate to sing in a mass choir, was paid to accompany one class last spring. I was there longer than many of the people on faculty now. I just wish I'd known how horrible it would be to leave, how I'd have to start all over again, how the first college always feels like the real college.

*and he brought back some chocolate from Switzerland for me, and always kept his little m&m dish full for me; no wonder I've lost weight since I transferred; I call this the Junior -15

annoyance:

I have to run some errands, find some props for my small group's 45-minute presentation on Friday, but I keep putting it off. Why?

Because I have the SECOND-BEST PARKING SPOT IN THE WHOLE LOT, that's why, and at the thought that after I drive off to do my errnads, another car will slide into that spot and I'll have to park at the other end of the lot when I come back, my skin hurts.

Update: Yeah, that's what happened. IN THE RAIN, TOO. But I have great, comfy workout pants (for the first time in my life, I could get size small! happiness!), and a rockin shirt (for 30% off that price, HA!).

lyrical interlude

She may be the face I can't forget
The trace of pleasure or regret
Maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay
She may be the song that summer sings
May be the chill that autumn brings
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day

She may be the beauty or the beast
May be the famine or the feast
May turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell
She may be the mirror of my dreams
A smile reflected in a stream
She may not be what she may seem
Inside her shell....

She, who always seems so happy in a crowd
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud
No one's allowed to see them when they cry
She may be the love that cannot hope to last
May come to me from shadows in the past
That I remember 'till the day I die

She may be the reason I survive
The why and wherefore I'm alive
The one I care for through the rough and ready years

Me, I'll take the laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I've got to be
The meaning of my life is
She....She
Oh, she....

Elvis Costello, "She," from the "Notting Hill" soundtrack.

I've always thought this is such a beautifully romantic song, and I love his voice. Most of my favourite songs come from movie soundtracks, because there's such a variety*:

"Dreams," the Cranberries, from "You've Got Mail"
"Killing me softly with his song," Roberta Flack, from "About a Boy"
"Sympathy," GooGooDolls, from "A Cinderella Story"
"R-E-S-P-E-C-T," Aretha Franklin, from "Two Weeks Notice"
"Anyone at All," Carol King, from "You've Got Mail"
"Immigrant Song," Led Zepplin, from "School of Rock"
"Ain't No Sunshine," Lighthouse Family, from "Notting Hill"
"Razzle Dazzle," Richard Gere, "Chicago"
"I Guess the Lord Must be in New York City," Sinead O'Connor, from "You've Got Mail"
"You Sang to Me," Marc Anthony, from "Runaway Bride"
"Remember," Harry Nilsson, from "You've Got Mail"
"Still Haven't Found what I'm looking For," U2, from "Runaway Bride"
"Say a Little Prayer for You," Diana King, from "My Best Friend's Wedding"
"Dream," Roy Orbison, from "You've Got Mail"
"I'm Coming Out," Diana Ross, from "Maid in Manhattan"
"Kathy's Song," Eva Cassidy, from "Maid in Manhattan"
"All That Jazz," Catherine Zeta-Jones, "Chicago"

* stop laughing. variety in the music, not my taste in movies. obviously!

here, kitty, kitty...

A little something to spice up your morning... Knock yourself out!


Edit: The link now actually does have something to do with cats, instead of iranian personals, etc. heh.

how appropriate

Today I was seemingly driving in circles, in a town neither of us know very well at all, trying to find the huge Goodwill store I'd seen before. We scampered through a ghetto and emerged at the other side, unscathed. Between pillars supporting the freeway up above, down, around, through...and suddenly there was a church, in the middle of the receiving docks and huge factories. It was a red brick community church with a dome on the top, and I looked twice at the sign out front, Divine Message Changed Weekly:

"Lost? Need Directions? Stop inside and talk to us!"

I ignored the Divine Message (TM), stopped at a gas station instead, and threw a shoe in front of the cop car parked outside. Smooth, very smooth.

Gimme a b! u! d!

I just went to the fridge to fish a pickle out of the pickle jar, and noticed the twelve pack of Bud Light that's hogging all the space on the bottom shelf. If I actually liked beer, or if they were strawberry daquiris instead of this junk, I might take one. But, nah. It's funny seeing them there, though -- and even more funny knowing that in UNDER SIX MONTHS NOW (as of yesterday) I can buy my own. And then if I want some wussy drink, I can GET SOME.

Today was promising. Is promising. Not as promising as Spring Break was, but promising nonetheless. I woke up early, putzed around online for awhile, then filled out an e-mail thing for my communications class, and forwarded it to a few people...then realized that it was 8:44, I had a 9 o'clock class, and I was still in my pajamas. Way to go! I still haven't showered, but I'm heading out the door in a few minutes to go downtown with a friend, so I HAVE NO TIME.

Spring Break was amazing. It was my third Spring Break ever, and by far the best. I slept in almost every morning, did a lot of baking and cooking, and spent the afternoons/evenings/early morning "I can't believe you were out that late!" with my friends. My parents were in Arkansas from that Tuesday through Saturday, and my brothers are old enough to take care of themselves now, so I didn't have to be there all the time. It was so relaxing, and I really didn't want to come back up here, to face the brutal reality of strangers, colder windier weather (with the exception of today, which was a whopping 45 degrees!!! t-shirt weather!), and three tests and a presentation this week.

( )

I've been so on edge the past few days; any annoyance, anything, takes me ever closer to snapping. I feel so brittle. Maybe it's because spring break is around the corner...I don't know. I just know that I hate feeling this way. I don't like feeling so jittery, so fragile, playing the part of someone who's interested in what she's doing, when all I want to do is curl up in a ball (wait, I'm not flexible enough for that, ha ha kidding no, really) and hide. Maybe part of it had to do with reading The Bell Jar, by Sylvia Plath. It shook me, how someone so normal as the person in the book could be shuttled along on such a quick downward spiral.

I used to be pretty okay with change, but lately, I've become horribly inflexible. Tonight, Dad called me, and told me that I can't come home tomorrow (the beginning of my spring break; I always leave here around 2:30 in the afternoon, and I had already made plans for tomorrow night). There's going to be another blizzard, and he doesn't want me out driving in the twelve possible inches of accumulation. This means I can't go to the play tomorrow night. I can't go to the cast party. I can't see my people. I was looking forward to it so much -- I know a couple people here, but not like the ones I have back home...

I've been crying off and on ever since he told me I can't come home then.

I can't stand my roommate anymore.

One hour to go until "Whose Line is it Anyway?" comes on, two back-to-back episodes.

loud food and news

The other day, Tony from my small group in communications mentioned how he hates it when people munch on chips in the computer lab -- "Don't eat LOUD FOOD there!" and mentioned how foods such as marshmallows and jello...something like that...were much more suitable for computer labs.

I'm eating baby carrots. The loud kind. And I'm not feeling as guilty about the crunchings and munchings as I normally would, because I'm too tired and disgusted.

Good news: it turns out that my roommate did loan my guitar to our next-door neighbour. So I know where it is; I just still don't have it back.

Bad news: I'm relapsing. Or something. My tonsils got huge when I got mono, and they still haven't reduced in size, but for the past four days, my throat has been really sore and icky the way it was when I was getting mono. I told mom today (while I was eating breakfast) that I have to swallow down the middle of my throat, so nothing touches the sides. I've been drinking a ton of orange juice and eating really healthily (healthfully? healthy?). I usually get 6.5-8 hours of sleep a night...but lately, it's been hard to stay up late, and I've fallen asleep at 8:30 and slept 11 hours. I've noticed that my balance is off-kilter again, and I can't smell things very well. I couldn't do the whole aerobics lesson last time; I was fine with the toning and stuff, but we got to the cardio -- I usually love it -- and I had to sit out for the rest of the class, because I was dizzy and my side hurt so bad.

I thought this part was over. I've felt fine for the past month. I've been exercising religiously and eating health[suffix] for the past month and a half.

I'm going to bed.

"I am SO pissed off."

I am so mad. Today, when I was gathering my stuff together to take home this weekend, the corner under my loft seemed empty. I backed up, looked again, and MY GUITAR is missing. The guitar given to me by one of my friends -- his first guitar. Someone TOOK it. How they managed this, I have no idea -- my door is always locked when I'm not in my room, unless I'm stepping next door (literally, next door) for a second -- I'd notice if someone came down the hallway. I don't know if my roommate loaned it to someone without my permission, or what. The girl who'd be most likely to borrow it is gone for the weekend.

I'm feeling a little violent, people!

gimme your muzack

What music do you listen to? Recently I've organised playlists, and the one I'm currently listening to is as follows:

• On and On - Good Charlotte
• One Time - Good Charlotte
• I Never Said - Good Charlotted
• Ways of Forever - Good Charlotte
• One Week - Barenaked Ladies
• Millionaire - Die Prinzen
• Underneath it All - No Doubt
• Disease - Matchbox 20
• The Remedy - Jason Mraz
• Here and Now - Good Charlotte
• Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen
• Wake me up Inside - Evanescence
• My Immortal - Evanescence
• Something About the Way You Look Tonight - Elton John
• Dreams - Cranberries
• Zombie - Cranberries

Oh, and the Good Charlotte ones: I'm not so sure of the titles. The titles are on my old computer, and so I just picked out the phrase in the song that would make me remember which one it is. ;)

The Michelangelo Project

I'm taking part in The Michelangelo Project this year; a day of creativity in honour of Michelangelo's birthday. Tomorrow, March 6th, I will be watching a foreign film (Amelie), writing at least one poem, and performing in a concert. Yet another brilliant idea from Elena Nazarro - a.k.a. french toast girl.

and to think I laughed at him.

One of my professors in college was forgetful -- oh, so very forgetful. One time, he lost his laser pointer after a presentation, and we spent a good five minutes searching the classroom top to bottom. I spotted it first -- it was clipped to the v-neck of his sweater. heh. Another time, he forgot to bring something to class, and quipped, "Yeah, I forget anything unless I tie it to my body before I walk out the door." And I laughed.

I'm not laughing anymore -- at him, that is. Right now, I have a cellphone and fingernail clippers stuffed down my shirt (hey, I've gotta use that space for something), because I don't have any pockets, and if I don't keep these appliances on my body, they'll get left down here in the dark, damp computer lab, just like my coat and shoes (separate times), and the alarm on my cellphone won't wake me up in five hours and I'll sleep late and miss my speech.


On second thought, maybe I should leave the phone down here.

A tale of two hands...

A couple of weeks ago in health class, I noticed that the female guest lecturer had big hands. No, not just big. HUGE. She was small and thin, but her hands were so long, they looked nearly as long as her forearm. I caught Kristen's eye and mouthed, "Look. Her Hands. " She looked back at me; "Have you seen that Seinfeld...?" And we both nearly suffocated on the laughs we were trying to keep inside.

Jerry: She had man hands.
Elaine: Man hands?
Jerry: The hands of a man. It's like a creature out of Greek Mythology. I mean, she was like part woman, part horrible beast.
Elaine: Would you prefer it if she had no hands at all?
Jerry: ...Would she have hooks?

you. yes. you. listen up, pianna man.

If we've talked for, oh, a good 45 minutes while taking turns playing the piano, and I find out that you're originally from Russia, and then I notice a bit of an accent, and that you have a Russian jawline and teeth, and nose, and eyes and hair, and, deep down inside, I know, I just know that your name is "Viktor" or "Pietr," do not introduce yourself as "Sam."

Thanks for bursting my bubble.

(shocking)(realisation)

I just realised that I use parentheses way too often (seriously). I just wrote an e-mail (well, I'm in the middle of writing it), and there were three short paragraphs, in which I used parentheses FIVE (5) times.

I didn't use up just my share of parentheses; I used all my neighbours (within a five-mile radius) parentheses, too. I'm half expecting them to come knocking on my door (with torches and pitchforks).


I meant parentheses. Not ellipses. I used to be an ellipsoholic, but I've been sober for 21 days now.

Recipe for a strawberry smoothie:

5 large strawberries, halved
3 ice cubes
1/4 cup orange juice
drop of vanilla
splash (1/2 shot?) of coconut rum

blend well until there are no ice chunks. pour into frosted mug and serve. be warned that if you drink this over a period of a few hours, the seeds will sink to the bottom. so don't drink that last gulp.

Optional ingredients: viewing of "Van Helsing" (long live Hugh Jackman!), Conan O'Brien, infomercials, and part of "Red Green" (obviously, plan this portion of the night late enough that this show is actually funny).

and, ah, don't try the rum straight. my throat is still warm.

"the tuning-fork that had been struck upon a star"

Over winter break, I read a biography of Zelda Sayre Fitzgerald, F. Scott Fitzgerald's wife. In the book there were many quotes from F. Scott Fitzgerald's books, and every single one I read thrilled me. I adored the way he wrote, and lapped up all these short groupings of sentences, these little snippets of his larger works. One of them in particular gave me goosebumps -- it was so perfect, and it was immediately transferred to my quote book.

From The Great Gatsby:

His heart beat faster and faster as Daisy's white face came up to his own. He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning-fork that had been struck upon a star. Then he kissed her. At his lips' touch she blossomed for him like a flower and the incarnation was complete.

I borrowed The Great Gatsby from the library a few days ago, along with a couple Madeleine L'Engle books. Those were like candy; I'd read them before, and I gobbled them down quickly, waited a day, and then turned to my first F. Scott Fitzgerald work. I had known from the quotes that this was a book I would love; this was a book I would have to savour, read slowly, drinking in every last word. I just finished it tonight, loathe to have it be over. It was so beautiful, so perfect; F. Scott Fitzgerald is, to me, the John Singer Sargent of the literary world.

On the last afternoon before he went abroad, he sat with Daisy in his arms for a long, silent time. It was a cold fall day, with fire in the room and her cheeks flushed. Now and then she moved and he changed his arm a little, and once he kissed her dark shining hair. The afternoon had made them tranquil for a while, as if to give them a deep memory for the long parting the next day promised. They had never been closer in their month of love, nor communicated more profoundly one with another, than when she brushed silent lips against his coat's shoulder or when he touched the end of her fingers, gently, as though she were asleep.

-

"Anchorman" is being shown tonight and tomorrow night on campus. I'm thinking of shelling out the $2 fee (WHY!? as if we haven't paid this place enough. geez) and going, because I need the laugh. Plus, the last time I saw it was on the plane. :D

"You are so wise. You're like a miniature Buddha. Covered in hair."

Speech #1: Special Occasion

So, I know I shouldn't've put off this "writing a speech outline" thing as long as I have; we received the assignment on Thursday. Friday night, I decided I was going to go home this weekend. I've been extremely lonely over the past few days, and I just wanted to go home, make my cat purr (she hadn't purred since I left), sleep, and be where there are people I can joke around with, people who KNOW ME, people I'm comfortable around, and can give hugs to. I didn't get much homework done (I arrived home about 12 on saturday, and left at 3 today); I slept a lot, made supper, watched British comedies, and spent time with my family. And now, 226 miles later, I'm back in my dorm with my Paris poster, my London poster, stamping materials, a loaf of really great homemade wheat/flax bread, and lots of homework.

The most important in the Homework Lineup is: THIS SPEECH. GRR. I hardly ever have writer's block, but I do with this speech. The outline is due tomorrow. It's supposed to be on anything we want it to be, and I'm allowed to use my imagination, but I can't think of ANYTHING (let's blame it on Mono! ;) ). It's as though my imagination is asleep, and I can't wake it up. Poke. Poke.

My friend Kristen and I are going to get highlights or something tomorrow (or sometime this week); the tech school next door has really great prices ($7, anyone?), and we both are itching to do something to our hair.

So here comes a speech about accepting an award for Worst Hair of the Year. How THRILLING.

[edit]blogger won't let me change the font or the font size. noooo![/edit]

75% loner

Loner 75% Drama nerd 63% Geek 56% Stoner 25% Prep/Jock/Cheerleader 19% Goth 19% Punk/Rebel 13% Ghetto gangsta 0% What's Your High School Stereotype? created with QuizFarm.com

Thinking...

...there's nothing funnier than hearing a Mexican talk about "...there are leetle fishees, and what? [indistinct mumbling in background] oh, and you should leeve your phone on, yes."
...nothing more disturbing than finding out that a priest you talked to -- NO, I CAN'T FINISH THIS. It is TOO DISTURBING. It would forever wreak HAVOC on your delicate senses ("omg I KNOW WHO THAT IS! I TALKED TO HIM. UGH, UGH UGH.").

...I need to finish this paper. (But I don't want to!) I have to. (But I'm hungry!) NO, I'M NOT. I just had my first aerobics class today (burn, baby, burrrrn). So shut up. (But I'm tired!) My fault for not doing it before -- for typing/saving in Word some poems from a few years ago that I hadn't saved to disk before INSTEAD of typing up the paper for history. (But the teacher. She's a moron.) I know. I know she is. But I need to do my paper. NOW. Even though she's a moron.

My hands smell like microwave popcorn.

people!

I'm begging (that was accidental, but how appropriate) beginning to know some people here. Last week, I had supper with my roommate twice, lunch with Joe (and Juan for a bit) one day, and lunch with Paul another; and Joe and I had breakfast together Friday morning.

Thursday evening, I went to the InterVarsity meeting in the student center, and met a few really nice people (there were many, but I only met a few) -- one of them I'd seen before, and he always struck me as someone I'd want to know; the first time I'd seen him, he was at the buffet where the hot food is, and as he was the only one there, and coming from the other direction, I scooted over there for a second to get my little bowl of veggies (to accompany my salad. usually the only thing I can eat there. of course.). It took just a second, but he caught me: "*loud, loud, loud gasp* You. BUDGED!" "Oh, I am so sorry! Please forgive me!?" "Okay, okay. Just DON'T LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN." We both laughed, and after that, whenever we saw each other on campus, we smiled -- and I met him! At the meeting! So now there's a name to go with the face! And I just saw him again! Someone I know!

And tonight, I spent 3 hours talking and giggling with a new friend -- a girl from Sri Lanka. A friend! Yay!!

The computer lab smells like cat poop.

it was a spiritual experience...

I saw Jesus in health class.

so the other day, I was...um, I dunno...

One of the worst side-effects of mono (ding-ding!) is the forgetfulness. NOBODY WARNED ME ABOUT THE FORGETFULNESS. I knew I'd be tired, duh. I knew I'd be going around kissing everyone to infect THEM, TOO. duh. But the forgetfulness? I didn't see it coming (at least, if I did, I can't remember).

Last week, I was scurrying around the room in the morning, getting ready for class. I put on my socks, went to the closet for my shoes, and they weren't there. I looked under the desk -- not there, either. Now, this is a small room. There aren't many places a pair of shoes could hide. And besides, I wear them ALL THE TIME. I tried to remember what I'd done the night before (roomie: Did you leave them in the bathroom?): checked my e-mail in the computer lab; taken a shower. I didn't check in the bathroom, because I wear my flip-flops in the shower. I went down the four flights of stairs to the computer lab, and there were my shoes, snuggled up together under the big table. I'm so glad they were there -- but I just couldn't understand how I'd worn them to the computer lab, and then left them there, dodging puddles of water on the tile steps and getting my socks wet, still, as I went back to my room that night.

A day later, I went to take my shower, and had to go back to the room 3 times for things I'd forgotten -- each time, taking only one thing. First it was the flip-flops, then it was my towel, then it was clothes...

I woke up today, climbed down out of bed, and my roommate was playing with her laptop, then looked up at me. "Hey, Dänika, did you leave your pants in the bathroom last night?"
"[imparting my frustration at the realization that I must have. OF COURSE. Who else on my floor would walk off without her pants!?!*] YES."
"They're still there."
"Still on the floor?"
"No, someone picked them up and put them on the table."

A few minutes later, I went to take my shower, sure I had everything (I'd even remembered my deodorant and lotion!). Washcloth, soap, shampoo, handtowel, razor, facewash, clothes...I stepped out of the shower to find that I HAD NO TOWEL. Have you ever dried off with a small handtowel and toilet paper? It takes FOREVER.

* note: I wasn't naked; I'd changed into my pajama pants in the bathroom. Just so you know.

oh, the irony...

"GLENDALE, Calif. - The suicidal man who authorities say caused the chain-reaction train derailment that killed 11 people has been charged with multiple counts of murder and could face the death penalty, the district attorney said Thursday."

Thinking...

...Who says,"destroying with reckless abandon" and "without the fear of great repercussion" in history class, in a spur of the moment 5-sentence oral answer about the first half of the chapter? Me. of course. "reckless abandon"? "great repercussion"? No wonder I have no social life; I'm a nerd. NERD!

Trafalgar Square

Photobucket

This is a test post from Photobucket.com

"Recently." "Yes! Recently."

I'm attempting to study, but she is talking to me, chatting about her two harleys ("I've spent about $30,000 at the shop in the past two years I figure; I paid $20,000 for this custom one..."), about the aluminum wheels she wants to buy, about the lamp for the front of the motorcycle, the $150 lamp the dog chewed up. I can't grasp spending that kind of money in the first place, but especially not on a expensive toy that you can only really use a few months out of the year up here. She stretches out on her bed, her Japanese history book falling closed, and barks, "You know, some people spend money on clothes..." she pauses, and I get the feeling she's gearing up for a quote she's used before. "...I spend money on chrome."

****

I'm not used to this tiredness, this all-consuming exhaustion that renders my mind useless, my body slow. I'm used to being able to spike my blood sugar with food, used to having protein if I'm tired and then, as it is digested, losing the tiredness. Now, I can eat right, eat protein, and my body still drags. I can manage an hour at a time, and then my thoughts feel like they're slogging through mud; they're slow in coming, disjointed, and forgotten by the time I actually think them. It's frustrating; when I take notes from the textbooks, I can only write a word or two at a time before having to look back at the book; in classes, I usually can't remember what the professor says long enough to write it down. I wonder how long this will last; it's getting old already.

****

Last night I said hi-in-passing to a guy in the cafeteria. A while later, when I was sitting in my room doing my communications homework -- with the door open, because I'm trying to meet people -- I saw him walk past with a couple of girls. He came back past my room again, and the third time, he stopped in and said hi. Introduced himself, asked me what my major is, and we talked for awhile. My roommate was making hot tea, and asked him if he wanted any, so we three sat around, talked, and had hot tea. I'm laughing right now at the situation...it's just so weird. Anyway. His sister is on this floor, which is why he was here. He's from Nigeria, a business major, and he seems really nice. Another person I can recognize and say hi to!

Yesterday I was walking down the hall in one of the centers on campus, checking out where a certain classroom is, and a few people walked past me in the opposite direction. I stopped, because I recognized the girl's voice. I turned around, and she had stopped and turned, too. "Danika?" "Jessica!" "HI!!!!" It was so nice to run into her! I know her from home; we used to work together, and this summer, she was the lead character (and did a super job) in a musical I played piano for. :) So now I have a few people around campus I know. It's much better than feeling like the campus was full of strangers.

poppies, poppies.

Sleep, sleep.

I am so tired. I have so much I have to do, and I can barely keep my eyes open.

look quick! historic moment!!

My lamp casts a muted light through the room, and my stereo (my parents brought it up here on Sunday, when they came to visit; aaah. my stereo. how I missed you!) is playing my new! Phantom of the Opera CD. (I really need to put this package of Oreos away.) Yes. This is a historic moment indeed. Not because it was my first day of classes (which it was); not because my student ID wouldn't work in the cafeteria because the meal plan hadn't been activated (which is also true), BUT!! I am writing this from the privacy of my room. Room! Laptop! Amazing! Writing in bed! What a feat!

Procuring the laptop itself was quite an adventure. My roommate showed up a day early (I was taking a nap, and heard a stratch-tapping at the door -- went over, and she was standing outside, unable to work the lock), and after a little chat -- I wasn't in a chatty mood, but she always is -- I escaped and scooted over to the student center to mail some letters. I didn't want to go back to the room right away, so I went over to the tech center on the off-chance there might be a laptop available. The work-study student there gave me the same look he had when I'd asked about checking out a laptop last week (that, "Yeah, right" look), but the smirk disappeared when he checked the database and found there WAS one! hahah! Take that, suckah!

It's mine until Wednesday afternoon at 3, and I am loving it.

Speaking of loving it -- the Phantom CD I bought (my first new CD in, oh, 2 years?) has been playing nearly non-stop since yesterday afternoon. "All I Ask of You" is by far my favourite song; when I was falling asleep to Phantom last night, though, it changed to "Masquerade," and in my semi-conscious state, I wondered why the chorus was singing "Masturbate." That new Health book is something else, lemme tell you.

Speaking of which (PHANTOM), Kristen and I are going to go see it sometime this week. I've heard mixed reviews; the biggest problem people had with it was that the Phantom is too good-looking (GORGEOUS); someone on the Joshua Bell message board said something the lines of, "the Phantom is supposed to intrigue yet repulse. It's rather different when you're sitting there thinking that Christine and the Phantom would make a cute couple!"

imposter!

Tonight I walked down to the computer lab, past numerous "This area restricted to [my all-female dorm here] residents only!" and into the lab, where I made a beeline for my [now] favourite computer. I always glance around at my comrades, and this time, I did a double-take, for the one in the corner was sporting a buzz-cut and chin stubble. What's THAT RESIDENT'S room number?

tidbits

• I hike down 45 stairs and 10 landings whenever I want to use the computer lab
• We were blanketed with just about a foot of snow over the past 24 hours
• My Dutch name: Marieke
• My Terribly British Name: Amelia Wilson
• My Amish Name: Madam Prudence Weston, the blacksmith's wife (I think someone has Amish and the Pilgrims mixed up)
• My 70's Undercover Narc Agent Name: Dirk "The Dragon" Cappielo
• My Hippie Name: Ocean Blossom
• My Harry Potter Name: Angelina
• The skin on the back of my left hand is still discoloured from the IV when I was in hospital with MONO!

name generator located at rumandmonkey.com

Adventures in the life of a transfer student (!)

I was in the kitchen at home when the phone rang. I picked it up, the cordless beauty, and looked at the screen to check the caller id (a recent development in our household) -- "Johnny Depp." As I was staring at it, the phone rang once more, then stopped abruptly, as though he had just realized he had dialed a wrong number, and so hung up quickly. Now, come on. Johnny Depp, calling my house? That wasn't a mistake. So, I scrolled through the list on the phone and called him right back -- because I AM NOT A MISTAKE! The second he answered, my vision was suddenly split-screen, the way it is in the movies when two people are on the phone, and I could see him -- in all his cream-coloured linen suited glory -- lounging in a chair, so glad to hear from me. SEE? I KNEW I wasn't a mistake. While we were conversing, I realized that I was talking with an accent, and that I sounded remarkably like Sarah Ferguson ("Fergie") (oh, Johnny, Dahling!). After awhile, Johnny Depp (reluctantly) had to go. He conveyed to me his deep anguish at having to end our conversation, and left me with an "Love you, honey," to which my well-bred sounding voice responded, "Love you too, sweetie!"

****

I'm sitting in a computer lab in Old Main, looking through the beautiful windows at the snowflakes playing against the brick of the building outside. It is so beautiful here; beautiful and freezing cold. I knew it was stupid, moving another 100+ miles north in the middle of January.

I moved into the dorm yesterday, yesterday afternoon. It's amazing how quickly I tire, afflicted as I am with this stupid mono thing -- also, I'm not supposed to lift anything, run, or play any contact sports -- so after two trips up the three flights of stairs with some stuff, mom and dad had me stay in the room while they trudged back down to get more of my belongings. They stayed long enough to rearrange some of the furniture and make the bed (it included lifting the mattress, heh), then took me out for a quick lunch at Burger King (about twice a year, I get a craving for a Whopper Jr., no onions, easy on the mayo), then dropped me off back at my car and left at 2:20. I had a student orientation from 3-8, so I had enough time before that to go get my student id made (that was an experience and a half, which included several trips from the student center back to my dorm room and back) -- it turned out okay (just slightly cross-eyed; ever since I've gotten mono, my eyes twitch randomly, and one of the twitches was just as she took the photo).

At two-fifty, I trudged along the snowy/icy, whoa! icy! sidewalk (for a city that is used to getting a lot of snow, they are horrible at clearing it away, plowing it off the roads and sidewalks -- and there is no trace of salt on the icy campus sidewalks either) to the building the orientation was in. After fifteen minutes of searching in vainthrough the quiet, too-quiet, building for Room 2440, I slumped (despondently) into a chair in the fine arts center basement. I pulled the New Student Orientation! envelope out of my pocket and double-checked the letter -- oh. Health center. Not fine arts center (another thing about mono -- my short-term memory has gotten really patchy. When I was in WalMart the other day, I had to keep my list in front of my eyes the entire time, or I would wander aimlessly through the aisles, having no clue what I was looking for. And the list was only seven items long). I'd even looked at the letter, stared at the "HEALTH AND WELLNESS CENTER, ROOM 2440" heading as I was on my way to the fine arts center. By that point, I was exhausted, and six minutes late for the Orientation. I hate being late, and there were so many other things stressing me out (tuition! books! validate student id!), that I decided not to go to the orientation. I sat there for a minute more, and suddenly could almost hear Mom's voice again; over lunch, she'd leaned over and said, "You know, at that orientation, you're going to meet someone who will be your friend for the rest of the semester." I'd shrugged it off -- same as when Dad says his trademark, "You have lots of friends up there. You just haven't met them yet!" (I know, I know, it's true. It just sounds [I explained this to them, explained why I laugh whenever he says it] way too...Chicken Soup For the _______ Soul-ey). But I couldn't get it out of my head. I gathered up my stuff, shoved my earmuffs and gloves back on, and walked over to the health center. I followed the signs to the orientation, and a woman who I'd met with once last spring, ushered me into the room, pointing out an empty seat about four rows from the front. I folded up my jacket, sneaked over to the chair, and sat down, trying to look like I'd been there for hours and wasn't fifteen minutes late. I felt someone tug on my left sleeve, and turned to see...

...

...

Kristen! A girl from my old college! A person I knew! A person who could be my friend for the rest of the semester! We'd taken a few classes together, and had talked whenever we'd seen each other, but I hadn't seen her much over the past semester, and didn't know she was transferring to this college! Here! Where I am! We talked a lot during dinner/tour/computer lab time, and we're going to be workout buddies. We were checking out schedules in the computer lab, and discovered that we're taking the same health class this semester! The one that meets for an hour every day! We are both so excited -- it was such a relief to see a person I know.

I met my roommate yesterday. I had gone down the hall to the bathroom, and mom and dad were in my room; when I came out of the bathroom, I heard a really LOUD voice, and knew (With Sinking Heart) that it would be my roommate. Yeah. It was. She's LOUD -- really really LOUD, and really quite strange, with the potential to be extremely annoying. But, as I told mom this morning on the phone, my roommate is only going to be on campus tuesday through friday afternoons, which is really really nice; plus, if she is really loud when I'm trying to study, I can just study somewhere else -- I only really have to be in the room when I'm sleeping. But anyway, she left yesterday afternoon, and she won't be back until tuesday.

It's been a lot of fun, arranging my things in my room. I have a loft -- it's a tubular metal frame that's basically like a set of bunkbeds...but without anything on the lower level. My bed is up high, and under that, I have a comfy chair, my squat little table of dark wood that used to belong to my grandparents, and a lamp from my room back home. I sticky-tak-ed a poster of London to the wall, as well as a Renoir, a VanGogh, and my star chart -- and glow in the dark stars up by my bed.

I went grocery shopping today -- I went to the student center for breakfast at 10:30, and found out that they aren't serving anything, anywhere on campus, until Monday -- and picked up some fresh fruit, a loaf of bread, pb, honey, oreos, oatmeal, a Healthy Choice dinner, and then went across to a dollar store and picked up some plastic silverware and microwaveable bowls. After I got back, I arranged it all on a shelf above my desk, and for a minute, had a flashback to what I loved to do when I was little -- play house. I used to love playing house, and I realized, that's what it feels like I've been doing for the past day, as I putz around my room and tweak the quilt so it hangs evenly, adjust the poster a few centimeters to the left so it's exactly in the middle, shift my groceries around on the shelf until they're where I think they should be (except for my Healthy Choice Chicken and Mashed Potatoes, which is [are? they're packaged together, so it's collective, right?] snuggled in between the (closed) window and screen.

I took a nap this afternoon, John Mayer's first album crooning in my ears. He didn't keep me awake, but "like a cowboy clichÉ" floated around in my dreams (which weren't as exciting as the one last night, wherein Johnny Depp and I were INVOLVED. In a PHONE CONVERSATION. now THAT was a classy dream).

****

Phantom of the Opera comes out today!

****

(how many times can I refer to my MONO in this post?)

gimme an m-o-n-o-u-c-l-e-i-o-s-i-s!

I haven't posted for awhile because I've been sick for the last week. The last real meal I ate was last Tuesday, a week ago today, and I've been really flu-ish and pukey since Friday. Went to the clinic yesterday late morning, the Dr. swabbed my throat, and the rapid strep test came back negative. Sent to lab, they drew blood (and I almost fainted afterwards as the lab lady was helping me walk over to a bed where I could lie down, heh -- and then I got JUICE!! because I almost passed out!! I love hospitals!! it's almost as good as going to the dentist when you're a kid and getting the NO CAVITIES sticker), and checked the white blood cell count, and it was 11,200 (this one piece of knowledge makes me sound all medicinally up on things, andI feel like a person with a nursing degree from one of those phony universities) and normal is around 11,000, so he didn't think they were elevated enough to be indicative of mono.

Whew.

No mono!

Strep. This is good, because strep can be treated with antibiotics, and I'm moving into a dorm the end of next week. He said he was 90% sure that I had strep, though they'd do a more thorough test and let us know the results, um, today.

I hate talking about puking, because puking is gross, but, serious, since Friday, I've thrown up about, oh, 30 times? Yeah. Disgusting. And by my third time puking this morning, my throat got to the point where I couldn't swallow anymore. My throat would go into spasms and not let me swallow anything. I got so thirsty, and cryey, because I haven't gotten any sleep at all, really, over the past few nights, and I haven't really eaten anything for a WEEK, and my new old navy jeans (shush, Jenni "Oh, those are always so big!" ;P ) are hardly staying up.

We went back to the hospital this afternoon, and I'd lost another three pounds from the appointment yesterday. The Doctor -- who is incredibly handsome, yikes! made me laugh, because he had me lying on my side on that table/bed thing, and had his hand under my shirts, feeling my stomach..."Relax your stomach. Make it soft."
It tickled.
And besides, bozo, I've spent a lifetime tensing whatever stomach muscles I might have whenever someone touches my stomach. It's a REFLEX. And I was trying not to think of how WEIRD it was that this really handsome Dr. about whom mom and I have joked for years (Oh, wouldn't it be embarrassing to be his patient!? he's just way to good looking!) was FEELING ME UP.

He wanted more bloodwork done, and I was pretty irritable there at the end, because it seemed like he wasn't getting how much pain I was in, and how NO I CAN'T SWALLOW AT ALL, OF COURSE I'VE BEEN TRYING, DO YOU THINK I LIKE THIS?! so I was shuffled along to the lab for a mono spot test.

It came back positive.

Um, what?

That was at 3. I was hospitalized until 8:45 tonight, with a huge IV of fluids and another of steroids dripping into my veins as I watched "The 70's Show," two episodes of "Everybody loves Raymond," "Friends," and the finale of "The Biggest Loser." That hospital bed felt so comfy, and it was such a wonderful feeling, knowing that the fluids my body so desperately needed were coursing through my veins right then.

And I SWALLOWED! Tonight! After I got home! A popsicle and a half!

But, really, MONO?! I have no idea whom I could've gotten it from.

But I do know that when the first nurse started jabbing the IV needle into the back of my hand, missed the target, and started shifting the whole needle sideways in my skin, it burned so much that I almost fainted (I don't like needles. Uuuugh), and I lost all hearing -- except for her shouting to a coworker: "Someone get maria! [my] pulse just went over 147!"

Oh. heh. writing about that reminded me of something I said to the Doctor, because I was so irritated that he just kept talking and talking when I was dehydrated and trying to not throw up and wanting to swallow and he was just talking about SWALLOWING PILLS, which isn't something I can do ANYWAY, if I can't SWALLOW! and he was talking about how I should practice with canned peas and corn at home. "Yeah. And I should get used to needles by shooting up on HEROIN." Audible gasp from mother, shocked look from father. doctors should be treated with respect. R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

But later, he came into my hospital room, just wandering around, carrying his coffee cup (I love that!), and it was right after I had almost passed out, and there was a funny halo around him...and I think he saw by my woozy smile that I was apologizing for the irritable comments I'd made earlier.

But yeah. Mono. And I move into the dorms in a week and a few days, and there is so much stuff I have to do, but Doctor told me that I need to focus on sleeping.

Argh.

room assignment

It's actually happening! The fact that I'm moving away to a different college has been reconfirmed several times over the past few days, first by my purchase of a plastic basket to hold my shampoo, conditioner, bodywash, and other shower stuff...and then again tonight, when I checked my e-mail and had a note from the campus life office. I have a room assignment! And a roommate!

goals for 2005

What are your New Year's Resolutions?

I don't like making New Year's Resolutions. To me, they don't really mean much, since they apparently don't mean that much to the majority of people. It's a worldwide 2-week phase, before one forgets what he/she had resolved to do and slips back into the comfortable earlier version of himself/herself. I think -- speaking from experience, since I've tried the whole New Year's Resolution Experience myself -- that the problem is, most people (myself included, unfortunately), make incredible resolutions ("I am going to drop 4 dress sizes") and lose hope and motivation when they mess up or don't see results immediately. Goals, on the other hand, aren't supposed to be reached immediately. Goals can take a heck of a long time to reach, but we expect that. So, this list isn't a list of my New Year's resolutions; instead, they're my goals for 2005.

• I'm moving to a university, and I am going to continue to recycle. I don't here at home, because the nearest recycling drop-off place is 11 miles away. I always recycle at school, though, and I'm going to when I live in the dorms, too. Deal with it, roomie.
• I am going to keep my water bottle with me, because I know I need to, and I know I feel better when I'm fully hydrated.
• I will take advantage of the brand new Health and Wellness Center just down the block, because it's spiffy and free. Free is good, and so is their rock-climing wall. I'll take advantage of it, and see what happens (note to all I haven't fooled: yes. this is a sneaky way of writing "I will drop 4 dress sizes").
• Let's keep the notebook with us this year too, ä. Don't waste those thoughts. Write them down; take those ideas and fly with them. Sure it'd be easier with a laptop, but the smooth paper and a ballpoint pen are magic.
• I won't forget what I learned in astronomy. There actually are brilliant, kind, h-ha-handsome single men out there. I don't need to settle for a jerk, or someone who isn't what I really wanted.

Oh, and the stars are pretty cool, too.

• Be inspired.
• I will set things in motion for studying abroad in Scotland. I want to, I can, and I should take advantage of this amazing opportunity. Great Britain. Learning. History. Three of my favorite things, and I can have them all at the same time.
• I will work on being a better communicator, a better friend. Sending a letter to someone only costs $0.37.
• Save to disk all the stories I have partly done. Take them to school, and add to them whenever I have ideas.
• Write a story for children.

Who has inspired you this year?

• Élena, FrenchToastGirl, has added light to my world with her amazing paintings and her beautiful spirit. She is a mother of three children under the age of three, and her creativity, kindness, and faith are wonderful. She sees the beauty in the world around her, and adds even more to it.
• Heather B. Armstrong, dooce.com, makes me cry a lot -- either at her great talent for taking normal events and making them rib-crackingly hilarious, or for touching my heart with her love for her daughter, husband, and dog (note: I'll give this blog an R-rating for Language and Thematic Elements. It doesn't bother me, but if it bothers you, you might want to just skip this site -- except for the daughter, husband, and dog links. those are great).
• My professors. Some of them were greater than others, and one was the greatest of all, but all of them inspired me by their knowledge.
• One of my friends on campus. He challenged me to think outside the box, to research, to make my own decisions, and I love him for that (and for his beard).

Note:
New look for 2005. Actually, it was a coincidence that I changed the template on 1/1/05; I'd been wanting to monkey with it for awhile, and I just happened to do it tonight.

In addition to the stuff about me, I also added another item to the sidebar; just under the Archives is a link to my flickr photostream. They're all photos of London from my Thanksgiving trip. I tried to center the picture/link, and I can't. I'm trying to forget about it, because if I don't, the fact that the link doesn't line up with the other text in the sidebar will drive me crazy (see text under: Obsessive-compulsive).

list (i.e., "cheap filler" and/or "crap that could possibly pose as an update")

last library book checked out: a compilation of the greatest science essays of all time, with an introduction by Stephen Hawking. All the diagrams - I'm in heaven!
last movie seen: "Shallow Hal" (Jack Black, I love you)
last book read: Zelda - the story of Zelda (Sayre) Fitzgerald
last cuss word uttered: ($@#
last beverage drank: orange juice
last food consumed: tortilla chips
last crush: shaun, shaughan, jack black, keanu reeves, conan o'brien
last phone call: kelly!
last tv show watched: "An American in Canada"
last time showered: last night
last shoes worn: black leather danskos
last cd played: "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone"
last item bought: single serving of pringles
last kiss: sometime last month
last good cry: way too long ago
last downloaded: no clue
last annoyance: dial-up
last disappointment: we didn't have french toast this morning like we were supposed to.
last soda drank: diet coke
last thing written: my initials
last key used: buick
last sleep: today at 9:45 AM
last im: yesterday, Josh
last sexual fantasy: who, me? heh.
last weird encounter: go back to Tennessee, you moron!
last ice cream eaten: vanilla. ick.
last time amused: just a few minutes ago
last time wanting to die: not recently
last time in love: today
last time hugged: tonight
last person you winked at: Dan
last time scolded: a few days ago
last time resentful: yesterday
last chair sat in: piano bench
last lipstick used: red cover girl
last shirt worn: Old Navy sweater
last time dancing: tonight
last webpage visited: flickr.com

+flickr

the 100 spleens of Keanu Reeves

Keanunet.com:
FAQ
How did Keanu get his big scar?
He has several. The most
prominent scar runs from chest to navel and is a result of the time he crashed
his motorcycle into a mountain in 1987(?). This resulted in the loss of his
spleen. Since then, he has acquired several more.

spleens?

. . .

I found out this morning that the mother of my theatre prof(he treats me as though I'm a daughter, and his daughters and I have been really good friends for the past few semesters) died sometime over the weekend. We'd been expecting this for quite awhile; she was on dialysis, had a quadruple bypass in October, and had been hospitalized since then. She was on a ventilator after the surgery until she made the doctors take it out a few weeks ago; she couldn't swallow anything; her son, my prof, conviced her to have a feeding tube put in, and it was a week after the scheduled date, that the doctors finally did it. She was in a hospital over two hours from here, until my prof finally talked the doctors into moving her closer to home...last week. It's just been one mess after another, and I have hurt for that family so much over the past couple of months. I'm glad it's over. We all thought she was going to die back in October, and she's alternated between hovering-near-death and not-doing-that-poorly for the past two months...the emotional trauma of going through that so many times was horrible (she's dying! oh. no. she's doing better! no. she's dying!). I'm glad it's over and they can heal.

I'm going to the visitation and funeral tonight.

December 25, 2004

Merry Christmas.

Christmas shopping

Old Navy, how do I love thee?
Let me count the ways...

Because of...
2 silky camisoles,
2 comfy pairs of jeans,
1 green Ski Bunny shirt,
1 snuggly Aspen retro ski long-sleeve tee,
1 orange polo,
1 soft beige cardigan, and
1 ribbon belt (which so snazzily matches exactly the beige cardigan and the lace on a camisole)

...and by far, thy most expensive item was a 16.50 polo shirt; this, truly, is why I love thee so deeply.

bamboo slivers under my fingernails

The Tension. Yes. This is why I'm glad I'm moving away. I'm going to miss this university, miss my people, but this constant tension at home is what makes my moving even more sensible.

I just realised, the constant presence of the rapper/deciding my major might not be the only things affecting my phobia/lack thereof. The worried, anxious part of my personality started receding at the same time I started spending all day, every day (except for saturdays) at school, instead of at home. And now it's surfacing again. Finals just got over yesterday, this is the first day of my being at home, and my nerves are already feeling shaky.

I don't want this anymore.

the weapon I'm talkin bout is mistletoe

Some freshman just detonated a fart bomb in the upper level computer lab in the library.

I totally understand the feeling behind it -- "today was my last final! woo! enough with the books and the writing of papers and the staying in this place until after it closes! enough with getting 105% on tests! enough with only getting to watch 'Seinfeld' two days a week! enough with having no social life! enough with being the teacher's pet! enough with the fluorescent lights! enough with the grimy unergonomically-correct keyboards! enough!"

but I totally don't understand the stinkiness. ICKY STINKINESS.

no. way.

This is ridiculous. Every college teaches French, right, since it is so popular, so why should I bother to double-check the university that I'm transferring to? Oh, maybe because THEY DON'T OFFER ANY COURSES IN FRENCH. I could learn Ojibwe, Chinese, Spanish, Japanese, German, or English, though. OJIBWE. I don't WANT Ojibwe. I want FRENCH.


I did a search of the site and found a "new faculty member" who has taught english and french for 22 years, but other than that blurb (posted I-don't-know-when), there is absolutely no mention of her on the site. No course listings, no e-mail address, nothing.

finals "week" aka THE "WEEK" FROM HELL

II down, II to go.

At my school, we no longer have finals "week." No, instead of a separate week of tests at the end of the semester, the administration has decided to have finals start on a Friday and run through a Wednesday. Why? I don't know. It doesn't make sense to me, either. I'm just grouchy about the fact that yesterday was the last day of class, and my first final was today -- apparently my astronomy class voted to have it a day early. I was at the library on campus until after 10 pm yesterday, and studied mostly all day today (with a break for a Subway run, where the white rapper turned on the charm by acting mentally retarded (he was my younger brother, Mickey, and we don't take him out much) and smushing chips in my hair) for my 5 o'clock test. I'm confident I got a high A on the astronomy final -- on my previous test in that class, I didn't get an A (my first non-A in that class), and when I opened the cover of the blue book, there was a letter in it from my professor, saying how this was "not representative of your usual work," and do I "want to talk?" and was I "just having a bad day?" Last night I talked with him, and found out that my grade thus far, even factoring in that not so great test, was an extremely high B. I told him I was planning on getting an A on the final; "I'm not arguing with that plan! I want to put another fat A on your exam." Tonight, though, when he was telling another kid and me about his plans for next semester and found out that I'm not going to be here, he threatened to not even look at my test, just give me a zero so that I can't leave. ;) He's the second professor who's threatened that. I'm going to miss it here so much. It's so cozy, so friendly...I know nearly all the professors, and they all call me by name; that campus has seemed like a home for the past two and a half years.

Today, the anthropology/sociology prof caught me sneaking into the teacher's lounge and emerging with some goodies from their Christmas feast. I tried to explain myself to her: "See, the way I look at it is, I've been here longer than a lot of the faculty..."

Tomorrow I have finals in French, and Vocal Techniques...

edit: I pestered my astronomy prof this morning about grading my test, and ran into him in the hall before lunch, when I was going to go see if he had graded it yet -- or if he'd been slacking off again. ;)
"Yes, your test is graded."
"Oh! May I see it?"
"No, you may not. Because if I let you see it, there will be no living with you anymore, because your head will be this big."
Then, he didn't even tell ME what my grade was, but instead talked with another professor who was standing there, about my grade.
"Yeah, so SHE just got 105 on my final. Not 105 points. 105 percent. Sheesh."

organs

Poverty often leaves people with no choice other than to donate kidneys.

trendsettee

1. Movie Star (favorite snack food + maternal grandfather's first name): Cookie Lloyd

2. Fashion Designer (first word to your left + favorite restaurant): Windows Garden

3. Socialite (silliest childhood nickname + town where you first partied): DJ Dallas

4. "Fly Girl," e.g. "J. Lo" (first initial + first two or three letters of surname): D. Mas

5. Detective (favorite baby animal + where you went to high school): Kid Valley

6. Soap Opera (middle name + street name where you first lived): Joy Seventeenth

7. Rock Star (favorite candy + last name of favorite musician): Nutty bar Martin

^ Heidi's was cooler.

feeear me

A bit ago, I mentioned the fact that I hadn't been able to wash my face with my eyes closed for a very long time, out of fear someone would come up behind me and push my head into the sink and drown me in warm water laced with Oil of Olay Sensitive Skin Foaming Face Wash. For the past two months, I've gotten consistently better, and I can now wash my face with my eyes closed, like, every single night. This is amazing!! I've been wracking my brain, trying to come up with a reason, and I can only think of two things that are different than before:

1. I've decided on a major
2. The constant presence of a white boy rapping.

Whatever it is, I'm not complaining. It's amazing, this being able to live without such choking fear.

****

As of today, my parents have been married for thirty-five years. Thirty-five. Wow.

command

Make love not spam.

holiday cheer 1.0

There's something horribly disturbing in the fact that after my brother told me he had to "go drop a few logs" and headed for the bathroom, I heard him whistling Christmas carols, the wonderful acoustics of the bathroom accentuating the slightly off-pitch notes.

Seasons 1 & 2

K: "So Newman called me again last night at three in the morning saying he was going up to the roof to kill himself."
J: "So what did you tell him?"
K: "I said, 'Jump!'"

When I move away and have a pet, I will name him "Kramer." And he will be my Kramer.

I messed with my hair with scissors again. Everytime I think about it, it sounds like a good idea, until I actually do it. I just get an itching for the feeling of cutting my hair sometimes. I can't believe this. What am I, FOUR?

I watched almost all of SNL last night, and enjoyed it so much -- though it isn't as great without Jimmy Fallon, and why do people keep talking about Lindsey Lohan's boobs? Are they really that interesting? I don't think so...but maybe that's just me.

-

How adorable.

death throes

I've been frantically busy. In the past week, I've written a paper, given a presentation, performed piano and voice in two concerts, painted an entire set for a play, helped run lights, and last night I had half an hour of Seinfeld before I got to fall asleep in the nook, snuggled up on my side with two fleece blankets to keep warm and a pillow nestled against my back. I hadn't felt that relaxed for a couple of weeks, and it was wonderful.

art prof: "I'm getting old. I...I don't like getting old."
me: "That's ok Don, you can still come play Spin-the-Bottle with us anytime."

The semester is winding down; my astronomy presentation is over, as of last night; the library is open an extra hour at night until finals are finished. The set from the last play is stuffed into the shop, half dismantled; the stage has little green splotches of paint all over and needs to be repainted. The professors are getting more boisterous; the students are getting quieter -- scared out of their minds thinking about finals.

When I'm nervous, anxious, or distressed, I play piano. It's a temorary escape; it allows me to take the hurt from inside my mind and give it to the instrument, so I don't have to think about it for a while. Yesterday I sought solace from the piano in the Fine Arts Center, and this led to a new arrangement of "What Child is This," one of my favorite Christmas songs (that and "O Holy Night"). When my hands work out something that sounds nice, I have to keep playing it.

I have a babysitting job tonight, and I am SO glad.