Wednesday, February 28, 2007

"You find beauty in ordinary things. Keep this trait."

I've been in an unshakable good mood all day today, and not even the dreaded Wednesday could bring me down. I set out from my dorm this morning thinking, "Wow. I'm in a really great mood. I think I'll be determined to keep it up, come what may."

But I actually didn't need to be determined; the good mood kind of stuck to me all day, and to it I attribute both my amazing staying-awake-in-Chem capacities and the fact that I totally didn't care that I was smiling all day, which normally would bug me as smiling non-stop makes people wonder what the joke is, or if they look especially goofy or something.

And I finally just came to the conclusion that I really don't like taking ballroom dance classes here, what I liked about dance classes at Arthur Murray was the non-threatening environment and having my dad (or my brother, even) as a dance partner. And while it's not like I need to fear for my life at Swing (unless I'm with someone else who's also new, in which case, hazards are sort of a given), it's a lot of emotional stress, for me, and I honestly don't want to have to do it. So unless Loquatia specifically asks me to go (unlikely, she has lots of friends there), I think I'll stick to yoga and walking around a lot.

There's very little to talk about today besides that; I could tell you about my awesome afternoon of nuking pine cones and playing with a scalpel but no one understands how awesome biology is for me so I won't even bother. Instead, I'm going to talk about something that's been bugging me for months but that I never got around to mentioning.

There's a guy on my floor who has a very pretty little girlfriend who he treats like crap. Every time I hear them walk by, I hear him call her "ho" or "bitch" or "slut," and then he'll make crude comments to her right in front of all his friends. When he has to so much as meet her for dinner he throws off lines like "Bitch better give me a blowjob" even when she's not around to defend herself. Now, I thought it was pretty demeaning and rude of him, but I figured she didn't mind horribly, since she was always laughing it off. I mean, she's probably one of the only girls in the world with lower self esteem than myself, but as long as he's not hitting her (though he grabs her rear a lot) and she doesn't seem to care, it's no big deal, right?

Then about a week or two ago I heard the following conversation outside my door (paraphrased):

"Come on, bitch, let's go."

"Aww, why do you always have to be mean like that? Why do you always call me names?" I pricked up my ears (shameless eavesdropper, I know). Could it be that the girl was finally going to stand up for herself?

"Well, what do you want me to call you?"

"I just wish that you'd call me beautiful. Like I'd come over and you'd give me a kiss and tell me I'm your princess or something."

There was a pause, during which time I can only presume he was staring at her in horror. Then he replied, "Like hell you do! You just keep on wishing! Not gonna happen!"

She didn't fight him, as far as I could tell; they wandered out of earshot. I was left with a really sad feeling inside. I mean, I don't know her name, and she'd probably be really offended if I said anything to her, because it was a private conversation that just happened to occur quite loudly right outside my door. But I sort of wanted to give her a hug after that. I mean, maybe this kid is incredible in bed or something, but it seems a lot more likely that he's found a girl who's so desperate to be loved that she'll put up with any amount of verbal abuse just to have a boyfriend.

Even at my lowest, I wouldn't put up with a guy calling me every derogatory, demeaning name in the book and demanding sexual favors. Not in a million years. This guy isn't drunk or "talking dirty," he's just taking advantage of a girl's insecurities to act like a jerk.

I really never thought there were guys out there like this... No, wait. I kind of assumed there were, somewhere. I just never thought there were girls who would tolerate it. I hope she breaks up with him. God, do I hope she breaks up with him.

I always try to see the good in people. I refuse to believe anyone is truly, completely, utterly bad; even Hitler was kind to animals. Sometimes you have to search very, very deeply, and the bad obviously outweighs the good, but there's that spark somewhere. Why must people make seeing it so hard?

(By the way: This post has in no way diminished my good mood. Sorry. I tried.)

In a Past Life...

I Was: A Brave Astrologer.

Where I Lived: Italy.

How I Died: Hung for treason.

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

"The shortest distance between two people is a smile."

Today is the Equirria, a festival of Mars/Ares involving army purification and horse races and driving a random scapegoat out of Rome. But yeah, don't care today.


Yesterday's post was me being confused. Today's is me being no longer confused, just HAPPY... and nervous. Very nervous.

Let me start at the beginning. Today I met Writer Guy for lunch. I was incredibly nervous, to the point where I wasn't even sure I'd be able to eat at all, and then I wound up in the wrong spot waiting for him, because I don't really know my way around the MUB. Finally I got to the right spot, and one of the first things he said to me was, "Wow. Your pictures do not do you justice," which is a pretty sweet way to greet a person.

(And comforting, because I was unable to shake the irrational fear that it would be something along the lines of "Holy shit you're tall." That's not a problem, though, he's taller than me.)

We wound up going to DHOP since the MUB Food Court was crowded. On the way there, I managed to convey that I'm terribly ineloquent in person, at least compared to online. This was good, as I think he got the impression I was upset or something due to my being so quiet. And stammering.

My nervousness grew throughout the meal, as he kept staring at me. Like... we'd pause in the conversation, and he'd still be watching me, so I'd feel like I was supposed to say something, but I couldn't think of anything... But it wasn't nearly as awkward as it could have been, all things considered (like the fact that we met on Facebook. I mean... weird).

We hung out and talked and wandered around until I had to go get ready for class, and then he asked me to go out to dinner with him this weekend.

Okay, first thing: Why do guys always ask me out by saying "So I was wondering about asking you out..." or something similar? I mean, can't they just ask? It's essentially asking either way (Though admittedly better than "I've been told I have to ask you out," which was the last guy's strategy).

That said: Yay!

And now I know for sure that he's interested in me, so I don't have to convince myself that he's not any more! So I don't have to be upset when people make fun of me! Wait... I probably shouldn't be giving people permission to tease me...

Anyway, if this whole thing wasn't making me happy enough, the last thing he said to me tonight before I logged off AIM was that I was beautiful. To which the only thing I could say was "Aww, thank you." About which I'm still smiling.

Of course, he also mentioned that he didn't think I believed it in myself, which makes me wonder just how obvious I am about the whole thing.

My Hidden Talent

My natural talent is interpersonal relations and dealing with people.
I communicate well (dunno about that) and are able to bring disparate groups together.
My calming presence helps everything go more smoothly.
People crave my praise and compliments (dunno about that either).

Monday, February 26, 2007

"You have a strong and sensitive personal nature."*

You ever get into that mood where you don't really want to think of anything? Like, everything you can think of to think about is something you'd rather not ponder, so you try to think of something else, but there's nothing that's neutral enough that you can think about it without getting worked up and distracted and accidentally like, running into a brick wall or something...

I've decided to just give up and list all the stuff that I'm Trying Not To Think About, since that's all I can think about.

1. Meeting him tomorrow (You'd best know who I'm talking about. If not, you clearly haven't been paying attention. Or you're new, in which case, Welcome! And read the previous posts).

2. The hole in Ajax's lip. Because today I saw my Betta go to eat a piece of food, and it escaped from his mouth... through a hole in his lip. Which I hadn't seen before. So either he's been out getting lip piercings without my knowledge or he's missing parts of his face, and I don't think that will grow back. I wish I could tell if he was in pain, or if it was just an annoyance and he was eating sometimes (He must be, or he'd be dead. Right?).

3. My height, which was unusually apparent today because of my boots with 3-inch heels that I was wearing because it's too cold for my dress flats and it was laundry day, so I had to wear a skirt. My height always depresses me.

4. If Metaphor Guy (he speaks in metaphors because he has trouble conveying what he sees in his head, which means he sounds pretty freakin' cool when he talks) is saying hi to me when he sees me because he pities me after I broke down and cried in Group, or because he actually genuinely wants to acknowledge that he knows me.

5. The fact that it took me so damn long to attempt to start a conversation on AIM with a kid with whom I've been having 5-hour-long conversations all weekend. As in, I was freaking out about sending him an IM with a simple greeting.

6. My lipstick. Because it makes my lips look enormous and I can't decide if that's good or not.

7. Just a general sense of having no freakin' idea where my life is headed right now...

My Dominant Intelligence is Linguistic Intelligence

I am excellent with words and language. I explain yourself well.
An elegant speaker *snort*, I can converse well with anyone on the fly.
I am also good at remembering information and convincing someone of my point of view.
A master of creative phrasing and unique words, I enjoy expanding my vocabulary.

I would make a fantastic poet, journalist, writer, teacher, lawyer, politician, or translator.

*Sorry Closer, I couldn't remember your quote.

This amused me...

The following is an (edited, transcribed) conversation between me and my sister.

Basiorana: I've heard that bicurious is the thing to be this season.
Basiorana: Though I'm not entirely sure how sexuality can be fashionable.
Shrewd: Oh, it totally is.
Shrewd: Bicurious is the new straight.
Basiorana: Well, asexuality is a bit like pocket protectors these days...
Basiorana: So what was straight the new?
Shrewd: Always has been.
Basiorana: Maybe pederastic?
Basiorana: That was cool in Ancient Greece.
Shrewd: Straight was the new Romanesque whateverness. Yeah.
Shrewd: It lasted for years and years.
Shrewd: Now there's a classic style.
Shrewd: Lasted for years and years...
Shrewd: and years and years and years.
Basiorana: Straight is classic?
Shrewd: Yeah. It's always a good look to pull off.
Shrewd: You can always be straight and cool.
Basiorana: Does this make pederasty retro? I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that.
Shrewd: Hmmmmm...
Shrewd: Well, lesbian is alternative...
Shrewd: I guess pederasty is retro.
Basiorana: Ew.
Shrewd: But we're not really to the point where it's a cool retro.
Basiorana: So like vinyl pantsuits?
Shrewd: Yeah. Kinda.
Shrewd: Not like colored mixing bowls, over sized shades, and marijuana.
Basiorana: I don't think pot went out of style either...
Shrewd: lol
Shrewd: Pot, also classic.
Basiorana: Kettles aren't really in vogue now though.
Shrewd: Nope.
Shrewd: They went out in what, the 1920s?

So it's decided: pederasty is the vinyl pantsuits of the sexual fashion world. That's right. Pederasty: it's weird, sticky, uncomfortable and never a good idea in the first place.

Sunday, February 25, 2007


A week ago, I forgot to turn in my CPR assignment, which is just writing an essay for Chemistry on Chemistry-related topics. But I figured, okay, that part's lost, but there's a second part, where you analyze other people's submissions to mirror the peer-review . I can do that, and get some credit.

But no.

Turns out you can't move on past the text entry portion unless you enter text. But you can't enter text past the initial "text entry" stage. So basically I missed one deadline and I get no credit.

Oh well. It's only 5% of my grade, I think, and there will be three more this semester, so I lost 1.7% of my grade. Gasp. Oh no. How terrible.


I currently have some of the weirdest music in the universe in my iTunes Library. Wait, that's not true. It's not like, Vogon or something. But it is music from a concept album about the Biblical Flood, done in restructured folk songs set to heavy metal tunes. It is done in Latin, Arabic, Hebrew and English. There is a guy who growls. He may or may not be making words as he does.

I actually like some of it, with the minimal growling, which surprised me as I didn't think I'd like heavy metal Hebrew. I mean, not that I ever sat down and thought, "Hmm, I don't think like Hebrew folk songs growled out to heavy-metal rock music," but still, not the sort of thing that you think you'll enjoy when you listen to Jason Mraz and Trace Adkins.

In case you're wondering, Writer Guy sent it to me. I didn't seek it out. I'm not that weird. Apparently, though, he is. Which is kinda cool.

My Personality Is Like Acid

A bit wacky, I'm very difficult to predict.
One moment I'm in my own little happy universe...
And the next, I'm on a bad trip to my own personal hell!

*Legit. That was my fortune today. How weird is that?

"An important person will offer you support."

100th Post! WOOOOOOO! Parrrrrrr-tay!

Okay, done now.


Today is the Regifugium, an annual holiday commemorating the flight of the last king of Rome, Tarquinius.


You can tell I got distracted talking to Writer Guy again because Mistake's not even here and I'm posting wicked late on a Saturday night. Hell, I've posted wicked late most nights this week. Honestly, we start talking and we don't stop until someone has to go do something, like sleep or host a party. This is him. I don't host parties. My room is about 15 ft by 10 ft. Vastly impractical party-having space.

Besides, I have what, five friends? Six, maybe?


Mummy and Daddy came up to take me to eat seafood at Newick's again (if you go there, get the butterfly shrimp scampi. Trust me), and to go see Agamemnon. Agamemnon was interesting. I actually didn't like it as well as Electra, because Electra had music and singing and the punk theme was really fun. Agamemnon was a post-WWII theme, with Agamemnon as the returning war hero. The chorus was done as the press, and though I disliked their chanting, it worked okay when they talked alone.

There was also lots of kissing. The herald kissed two different female reporters. Or maybe it was the same one twice and I wasn't paying enough attention (She was rather startled the first time. Which leads me to think he grabbed the wrong girl and made up for it the second time. Or he just likes kissing). Then Agamemnon kissed Clytemnestra like four times. Then Cassandra once. Then Clytemnestra again. Twice. And then at the end, Aegisthus kissed Clytemnestra a couple times. There was much exchange of spit. I think if someone had mono on that cast, it would have been disastrous.

Also when the herald first came out, he was talking and praising the gods and he totally did this "Hermesss... god of heraaaaalds..." bit, a bit like saying "you da maaaaaaaaan" that was HILARIOUS. I think all prayer should start with a "you da maaaaaaan!" -esque greeting.

And when Clytemnestra hit the floor and wrapped her arms around Agamemnon's legs, he jumped back a bit, in character, but slightly out in the sense that the rush was probably more due to the dangerous proximity her head was to smacking right into his crotch.


I made the mistake of mentioning that someone was reading my writing, thus inspiring me to write more, to my folks. My mother drew out the story of Writer Guy and she was way too interested in the matter. Though she at least dropped it when I said "I doubt he's interested in me, I'm thinking friends here." Daddy? Not so much. For a dad who should be protective of his daughters, he is very pushy about the "you should be in a relationship! you should talk to guys!" bit.

Then he switched to lecturing me about writing, and different stuff I should do to improve it, most of which I either knew, or thought was vastly impractical and didn't make sense for my genres anyway.


Oh. This I thought was HILARIOUS. And appropriate to today's blog.

I'm an Expert Kisser

I'm a kissing pro, but it's all about quality and not quantity.
I've perfected my kissing technique and can knock anyone's socks off.
And I'm adaptable, giving each partner what they crave.
When it comes down to it, my kisses are truly unforgettable.
I must be a natural, then, because I sure ain't been doing much kissin' in this lifetime!

Saturday, February 24, 2007

"Anything worth doing can be done."

Today is the Terminalia, in honor of Terminus, god of boundaries and, most likely, personal bubbles. A stone or post stuck into the ground to mark a property line was considered a statue to him. On the Terminalia, the two owners of the adjacent property crowned the statue with a garland, raised a makeshift altar, and offered corn, honeycombs, wine, and either a lamb or a piglet. Then they sang a song to the god.


I knew a 3 AM this morning that it was going to be a bad day; I'd gotten to bed late last night and I woke up a few hours later to rush to the bathroom in pain. I didn't really get much sleep after that; all too soon I was waking up and stumbling over to Philbrook with Loquatia in a bit of a pained daze.

After breakfast was nearly revisited I decided to skip my first class and sleep. I wanted to skip Latin, too, but I couldn't get in touch with Libentra and I felt bad just not showing up without having anyone tell the professor why. It's a small enough class that a missing student is very noticeable.

Luckily I was feeling better enough that I wasn't running to the bathroom. In fact, I was feeling well enough that I was thinking I might go to the Trojan Women play after all. The last time Trojan Women was playing in an area near me I wasn't allowed to go see it because I was twelve and there was nudity. Now I'm not twelve and there's no nudity. So I was all set to go.

Then I got back here and started talking to Writer Guy and suddenly it was 7:30 and the play was already underway (and I was glad I hadn't bought tickets ahead of time).

I think he needs to stop being so interesting so I can get out of this room.

I did go to the social, tonight, which was cool because it was jewelry-making so I got to make jewelry (this is logical). And it doesn't sound like I missed much with the play, though; it wasn't another punk-rock extravaganza.


And here. I don't know how accurate this is, but yeah.

Slow and Steady

My friends see me as painstaking and fussy.

They see me as very cautious, extremely careful, a slow and steady plodder.

It'd really surprise them if I ever did something impulsively or on the spur of the moment.

They expect me to examine everything carefully from every angle and then usually decide against it.

Thursday, February 22, 2007

"Explore your own world by working together with your friends."

Today is the Caristia, or the Caro Cognito. It's actually a kinda cool holiday, all about reunion with your families. Even the most workaholic fathers spent time with their kids. It was sort of a relaxing, non-religious holiday, a break from all the other holidays.


So... oh my god. I saw Sophocles' Electra tonight, performed by the Drama department. First thing I have to say: They did a really good job. No one tripped over lines except once, and I forgive Orestes on account of him practically spewing in his rage against the establishment.

Because it was punk rock Sophocles.

I have to say, the girl playing Electra was impressive. She definitely pulled it off. She even managed to scream in time to music without it sounding like she was just being a punk rocker. Or screamo. Clytemnestra wasn't as good at that, because she didn't have as much as a range in her screams. Chorus was also impressive, although there was one girl whose operatic soprano made me cringe. Opera, punk rock, and Greek tragedy all together is stretching it a bit.

But oh my GOD the clothes.

At first there was Orestes' shirtless friend, with funny straps across his chest; that wasn't too bad. Then there was the poofy halter top worn by a chorus member, and the odd hair colors-- but I could tolerate that. Then Chrysothemis, Electra's sister, came out in thigh-high black boots with three-inch-platforms and a swath of pink gauze attached to a black pleather bra that she was perilously close to falling out of.

That was pretty bad, but it was nothing compared to what was to come... In the last scene, the usurper king, Aegisthus, returns home and Orestes murders him. So I figured we'd be treated to another mesh shirt or pants that are quite clearly going to interfere with future reproductive capabilities.

But no.

Aegisthus was wearing a bright neon-green and black striped jumpsuit. And a belt for a tie. No, not a tie for a belt-- he had a studded belt strapped around his neck, so the long end formed a tie. It was so ridiculous that I quite nearly burst into raucous laughter right in the midst of the performance.



Other than that, my day has been a mixed bag... on the one hand, I cried in front of Group, which was bad and stupid and I hate doing stuff like that, I hate crying in front of people.

On the other, Writer Guy (Mistake called him Facebook Guy but I think Writer Guy works better) and I are getting together to go get lunch next week.

First person to make fun of me DIES. Or... doesn't get a cookie. At least.

I Have a Phlegmatic Temperament

Mild mannered and laid back, I take life at a slow pace.Maybe. Sometimes.
I am very consistent - both in emotions and actions. I guess that's kinda true.
I tend to absorb set backs easily. I am cool and collected. Aaaaand all accuracy is lost...

It is difficult to offend me. Yes. I can remain composed and unemotional. Er-- no.
I am a great friend and lover. I don't demand much of others. Sounds reasonable enough.
While I am quiet, I have a subtle wit that my friends know well. What is this "subtlety" of which you speak?

At my worst, I am lazy and unwilling to work at anything. True.
I often get stuck in a rut, without aspirations or dreams. Not so true.
I can get too dependent on others, setting myself up for abandonment.I don't really know. I think so.

"Why are there Greenpeace signs pointed at your face?"*

It's the Feralia again, the a feast to honor Jupiter Feretrius-- Jupiter/Zeus in his role as guaranteer of oaths.

It's also Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent. I know this because a girl in our hall came to say hi and I was about to say, "Do you know you have a bit of smudge right there, on your forehead" and then I saw her Jesus fish necklace and remembered.

Plus in Bio lab Incredibly Hot Guy learned it was Lent and said, much too loudly, "It's Ash Wednesday? F***! What am I going to give up?"

Now, he doesn't curse that much, as far as I can tell, but at the same time, after he said that, oh, how I wanted to suggest swearing.


Today was the day that we found out who will be an RA next year. Closer will be; Mistake's an alternate, which means that she'd make a perfectly good RA but they don't have enough spaces, so she'll be an RA if someone decides that they don't want to.

Loquatia also got an acceptance letter. This is kinda surprising for her, because she wasn't expecting it. She keeps telling me that she's not sure if she wants to do it, but I'm gonna assume that she will. I think it's a good opportunity and she'll like it.

My letter was smaller than theirs, in true college-acceptance style. Yeah, no luck. I'm not RA material. I guess I shouldn't care so much about yet another job rejection, I get them all the time. At least it's not like they're rejecting my personali-- oh, wait. That's right. The whole point of the RA interviews was that they accept you based on your personality. So my personality was totally rejected.

Or, at least, the fact that the hall director was a communications major, and while I can be quite eloquent on paper/computer screen and in speech, when I don't stammer or lisp, my body language is saying something entirely different from my mouth.



I went to yoga today, since my knee's feeling better. It was fine (though I am very out of shape). I'll try dance next week.


So I actually had an intellectual conversation over AIM today, and it wasn't either for a class or as a joke (the latter happens more than you'd think). See, this guy I "met" (quotations on account of never meeting him face-to-face) on Facebook asked me if I'd like to swap novels with him, so they can be critically analyzed prior to publication (which is a lot more likely for his than mine, but yeah). He sent me one of his novels, The Ballad of Red Layla, and I sent him some short stories on account of not having checked over my first novel well enough and not wanting to send it if it contained elements that I know I don't want to keep.

First thing I noticed, just from looking over his work: He's a really good writer. It reads like the sort of thing one picks up at Barnes and Nobles. Second thing I noticed: Were I to pick this work up at Barnes and Nobles, I'd probably buy it, on account of it being a cool story in a genre I like (sci-fi). This makes reading it critically a lot more interesting.

Anyway, so the conversation. At first we were just talking about our writing styles and the pieces we're working on, and a little bit about publication (He's attempting to get his first work published). We kinda switched over to complaining about anime versus the merits of superpowered chicks in skimpy costumes... The interesting part was after a break to call Mistake and lament over the unfairness of Closer getting the RA job and us not because they need more guys but mostly girls apply (though she can't really complain, they didn't actually reject her).

We talked about literary analysis, and literary value versus value to the reader. We talked about books that we have. We even talked about religion for a while. It was kind of neat to have a serious, interesting conversation with someone whose opinions I don't already know. As fascinating as conversations with Mistake can get, I can usually guess what she'll say, because I know her so well. It's kinda cool to talk with someone I don't know and whose answers I can't predict.

Especially if they actually use full sentences on AIM.

But it's really rare, and kind of cool, to talk with an almost complete stranger about religion and have them not get all high-horse and huffy, and have them genuinely be curious as to what I believe.

I mentioned this to Loquatia, and how cool it was that I actually got to have an intellectual conversation with someone I've never met in person (even if it did mean I didn't get that English assignment done). She asked me what he looked like (...yeah, I didn't get it either). I told her honestly that I didn't know. And I must say, I'm oddly pleased that I really don't care.

I Am Jean Grey

Although my fate is often unknown, I always seem to survive (even after death).
Except that at this point in both the comics and the movies, Jean's definitely dead. And her boyfriend in the comics is sleeping with a really hot, rich blond.
My mind is my greatest weapon, literally!
Second greatest weapon would be my abnormally colored hair, or my smokin' hot modeling body despite grueling workouts that should make me look like She-Hulk.

Powers: telepathy and telekinesis, the ability to project thoughts into the mind of others, communication with animals

*...don't ask.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

"The greatest danger could be your stupidity."

Some cool new links! Cute Jewess is a blog all about dating and life in general; more single-girl antics over at This Fish Needs A Bicycle. For weird stories, gadgets, and random stuff, check out Odd Planet; and for a mildly disturbing and yet often hilarious view of what college would be like if I went to LMU and if I wasn't... well... me, there's You Are Sketch. Check 'em out!


Most of today was devoted to my Chemistry paper, which was miserable, on account of it being a four person project that I basically did alone. I didn't do all the research, but I was doing all the writing... Maritima sent her section, and was helping me, but one of the other girls sent me one sentence and the other waited until an hour before the class started to send her part. Grr. I did have time to do some last-minute English homework, though, which was good because it was already a day late.


I went to the "Secrets" show put up by Christian Impact with Loquatia. Basically everyone's been writing secrets on little cards and putting a picture with them, and the end result gets put up in this gallery f secrets. It's all anonymous, of course. I'd say the most common secrets were:

-like to sleep naked (uhm, yeah, why is that a secret? who cares?)
-wish that someone thought they were beautiful
-doubt the existence of God/doubt their faith

But there were some that were less common, like liking it when a relative touched them inappropriately or told someone they were Christian to get into their pants. I'd guess the most common was the wanting to feel beautiful, though. I can understand that sentiment, I was going to do it myself except it's not really a secret that I want to feel beautiful. I don't have many secrets, and the ones I do have are scary enough that I refuse to admit them even to myself.

After we saw the gallery, Loquatia introduced me to her CI friends. Everyone was really nice, though I was still uncomfortable because they were people, after all (Some were boys, too, compounding the problem). It's mildly depressing to hang out with CI kids though because it kinda just reminds me that there is a definite social circle that you can get though being part of a religion-- any religion, just not Christianity-- and those are the people that are nice, clean-cut, and friendly. Well, usually. It kind of makes me sad that I won't really ever have that kind of social network that Christian, Jewish, and, in certain areas, Muslim people have just for being involved in their faith.

Oh well. It's kinda hard to join a group called "Christian Impact" if you aren't Christian and half the time you don't even like their impact.


Ugh. I promised my RA that I'd write about a "defining moment" in my life for the next issue of our bathroom newspaper, the Hub'Bub. Alas, it appears that my life is ill-defined, as I can't come up with a single moment that doesn't involve talking about my depression. It appears I am not defined by happy moments. I don't know if he wants me to do something upbeat or if talking about depression is okay, but even then, chances are this is going to be the first time most of these people even hear (er, read) my name. Do I really want anyone to associate me with depression?

I think I might want to do when I overcame my fear of death. Does that sound defining?

How I Am In Love

I take a while to fall in love with someone. Trust takes time.

I give completely and unconditionally in relationships.

I tend to get very attached when I'm with someone. I want to see my love all the time.

I love my partner unconditionally and don't try to make them change.

I stay in love for a long time, even if I'm not loved back. When I fall, I fall hard.

Monday, February 19, 2007

"Don't pursue happiness-- create it."

Happy Day of Presidents. I didn't get the day off. Bummer.

Having completed my laundry today, I decided I would try out my new iron steamer thing on this white blouse I have which refuses to stay not-wrinkled. I've wanted to play with it for a while , since I got it at Christmas, but it needs table salt to work (yeah, it's weird) so I had to go get that; today, I finally had the salt and the blouse and I was all set, then I looked at the plug.

It's a European plug.

Am I the only one in the world who sees the utter impracticality of having different shaped plugs for different parts of the world? And different currencies for those plugs, too? I mean, really. We have adapter technology, can't one region start to make the transition? I don't even care if it's the US who has to change, as long as they make the adapters inexpensive and start selling them as a component of every electronic gadget.

Okay, mild rant over. The plug was supposed to come with an adapter but it was missing that part, and I had no idea where one buys a plug adapter, and every time I type "adapter" I want to type "raptor" instead, because raptors would a) make this infinitely more interesting and b) sound kinda funny after "plug." Anyway, luckily for me, Daddy and Shrewd had randomly decided to go walking on the beach in -20 degrees Celsius weather, and were driving by UNH on their way from Portsmouth, so I decided to ask Daddy's advice on the matter.

(Incidentally, Shrewd called me to ask if I had President's Day off, to go with them, while I was in Chem class. It was a good thing it was in that class, because a) the professor couldn't hear my cell phone because I was late and not in the front row, so he couldn't make fun of the fact that it still plays the "Hokey Pokey" since I keep forgetting to change it, and b) it woke me up.)

Daddy studied the device, looked at the image of the component that's missing, and dated himself by declaring, "In my day..." they didn't make them that small, so he was rather confused, but he promised to send me an adapter (raptor) in the mail. Also, he promised to send my extra contact lenses, which I left at home.

They made me sound like we might actually go do something together after my class, but since my class ended at three, by the time they got there and I went to meet them they kinda had to head back. Daddy offered to take me shopping somewhere but I already have soda, popcorn, Ramen, and hot cocoa, so if we get New York-esque snow and I can't leave the dorm I think I'm set, for four days at least. With nothing to hold their interests, they headed home.


Today was the first time in a while that I wasn't depressed after leaving the Healthcare Seminar. There was an actual current med student talking to us, and from what he said, I would be amazed if I couldn't handle med school. Getting in might be hard, but it doesn't sound like I'll have any issue once I get there.

The other speaker was talking about working in rural areas, which I want to do, except I don't know if I can. There's currently three psychiatrists for all of Coos, Grafton, and Carroll counties in the north of the state, which means I could have to drive several hours to have an appointment with a person who might not be able to meet with me more than a couple times a year. While I hopefully won't need regular care then, I wouldn't want to try, say, postpartum without a shrink available.

That's the trouble with working in rural areas-- you may be going where your services are needed, but there's no help for you if you need services, too.

Plus there are like maybe two dentists for that entire northern part of the state. Geez.

Oh, and here. I'm putting this quiz up today because it makes me laugh with it's inaccuracies.

I Am a Natural Flirt

Whether I believe it or not, I'm a really effective flirt.
And I'm so good, I hardly notice that I'm flirting.
My attitude and confidence make me a natural flirt.
And the fact that I don't know it is just that more attractive!

Sunday, February 18, 2007

"The smart thing to do is to start trusting your intuition."

I didn't do anything today, really, except I found my purse. I wanted to go outside all day, but I couldn't think of anything to do out there, and every time I heard people outside my door my heart started to race and I couldn't leave the room. This was despite having to go to the bathroom-- I didn't want to have to walk past people, or see people.

I'm beginning to worry about my sociophobic tendencies. I mean, I thought I was supposed to be getting better with therapy... I was doing much better at the end of last semester, and I thought that was a sign that things were looking up for me. Now I sit alone in my room with the door closed for the whole goddamn day, because I don't have any friends to hang out with, because I have six people I consider my friends, of whom only two ever actively seek to spend time with me. One of those two is my roommate, and the other one knew me since kindergarten. I've managed to become a recluse when I'm living in a dorm. It's actually somewhat impressive.

I can't do the things I used to do to improve my spirits, like drawing or writing fiction, because I get too nervous when I hear people walk by and I can't focus on the subject matter. I can't get lost in my fantasy worlds like I've always needed to, in order to calm down and not have to think about real people and the constant judgment I perceive from them (yes, I know that it's just perceived and not real judgment, but I still have the emotional response to it despite my mental awareness of the truth). So instead I read online comics and browse Wikipedia entries. If I was living at home, I would at least be able to watch TV and totally block out reality for a while, but I don't even have that option here. I claim to be bored, but the truth is, there's lots of things I could be doing. Unfortunately, not one of them will alleviate the anxiety and resultant depression I feel. Most of them would make it markably worse.

I can't decide if I should give up and go back on medication or not. I know that if I report any of this to the counseling center they'll send me to talk with the psychiatrist and I'll be back on psychiatric medication. That fact depresses me as much as anything else in my life right now. I know I should take it if I need it but I don't want to need it, I've needed it for the entire time I was a teenager and I want it to be something I leave behind as I get older, something I outgrow like body glitter and waking up at 4 AM to catch a 7:30 bus.

But don't worry-- if I start to think about hurting myself in any way, I'll be at Schofield in an instant. Right now I have absolutely no desire to inflict harm on my body, so it's just a question of if my unhappiness is affecting my life enough that I need medication to function properly. I just want to be DONE with this crap.

I Am 44% Abnormal

I am at medium risk for being a psychopath. It is somewhat likely that I have no soul.

I am at medium risk for having a borderline personality. It is somewhat likely that I am a chaotic mess.

I am at medium risk for having a narcissistic personality. It is somewhat likely that I am in love with my own reflection.

I am at high risk for having a social phobia. It is reasonably likely that I feel most comfortable in my mom's basement.

I am at low risk for obsessive compulsive disorder. It is unlikely that I am addicted to hand sanitizer.

too lazy to get a cookie

Today is the Quirinalia, a festival devoted to Quirinus, one of the few Roman gods that doesn't have a Greek counterpart. The Romans considered him to be the deified Romulus, but he was originally a Sabine god that was incorporated into the Roman pantheon. He was a god of the Roman state.

The Quirinalia was celebrated with games. I think. I normally research these things better but I'm tired.


I didn't get enough sleep last night, so I've been sleepy all day... My plans for today were dashed when it was decided that we would all watch The Sound of Music together. It was my father's birthday gift for my mother. Then I was going to go home after it, but we were looking at the extra features (it was a special-edition DVD) and I just had to see the Biography documentary on the real von Trapp family (did you know that the real Maria was the hard-nose, "tough" parent and the Captain was the sweet, loving one?), and then there was the reunion special with all the actors who had played the kids...

But I'm exhausted, so I'm shutting up now.

You Are a Centaur

In general, you are a very cautious and reserved person.
However, you are also warm hearted, and you enjoy helping others in practical ways.
You are a great teacher, and you are really good at helping people get their lives in order.
You are very intuitive, and you go with your gut. You make good decisions easily.

Saturday, February 17, 2007

"Do not be overly judgemental of your loved ones' intentions or actions."

The doctor says my knee pain is somehow related to the patello-femoral thingy where my kneecaps don't line up right. Of course, she hasn't actually seen me since then or gotten any new information about the pain, so I think she's going with the "don't know what it is and this is a problem we know the patient has, so let's go with it" explanation.

She also says that the anemia is slightly better-- very slightly, but better. But that my overall blood count is really, really down. So either I'm being systematically drained by vampires in my sleep or I might want to consider a multivitamin with iron. Great. I hate pills. This does not bode well for my future in medicine, as as far as I can tell most doctors think every little problem should be solved with one pill or another.


Today Libentra and I were walking back to Hubbard, down the stairs past Dimond Library, and the stairs (which haven't been shoveled, just sanded) were pretty slippery and hard to walk on. Libentra came up with a solution: she handed me her backpack, walked over to the steep, clear hill between the stairs and the library, flopped out on her belly and slid penguin-style down the hill.



I managed to loose my purse. I think it's in Philbrook-- which doesn't open until Sunday night. Great. Luckily I have all my important stuff, as it was all in my coat pockets. No, I don't know why I bother to have a purse if I put all my stuff in my coat pockets. I doubt I would have noticed that it was missing at all if I hadn't been looking for it to bring stuff home in.

I'm at home now, but just overnight. My sister and I returned to celebrate Mummy's birthday. I don't have a gift, since last weekend I wasn't really eager to go to the mall on crutches, but I'll get her something tomorrow, wrap it, give it to her, and then hopefully get back to UNH tomorrow in time to go to the Open Mic that the Writer's Circle is putting on.

We went out to a nice restaurant and the wait staff sang and gave her a cake with a candle in it, but I think that my mom wouldn't really care as long as we all came home and spent time together when she didn't have to work. I don't think Mummy ever really realized how much of a presence Shrewd and I really are before we were both gone... and while she appreciates less hair in the sink, she's basically got empty nest syndrome and the Brother hasn't even left yet.

If I Was Dead Meat, I'd Be Duck

Exotic and unusual, I am a bit of a rare bird - literally.
I'm known for being soft and succulent, though at times I can be a bit greasy... weirdest quiz ever.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

"Romance comes into your life this year in a very unusual sort of way."

Felix Lupercalia!

This awesome Roman holiday was what we celebrated in Latin class to have an excuse to celebrate Valentine's Day, despite the fact that it's the 15th, not the 14th, and the fact that Lupercalia is NOTHING like Valentine's Day except that it's a potential excuse to get laid.

What's Lupercalia? It was a purification rite that was older than the city of Rome itself. By purifying the land, they ushered in new crops. Now, how to celebrate:

Get a bunch of Luperci, "brothers of the wolf," who are priests of Faunus. Dress them only in goatskins. Then have them sacrifice two male goats and a dog. Get two young, upper-class Luperci and lead them to the altar. Smear the blood of the victims on the foreheads of the kids and then wipe it off with wool dipped in milk. They then smile and laugh. This is required. Then have a grand ol' sacrificial feast.

Cut strips of skin from the animal skins and make them into whips. Then send all your Luperci about running through the city, sans clothes, hitting the women-- this guaranteed the woman fertility, prevented sterility and eased childbirth (They weren't hitting hard, it was more like a tap. Well, at least in later years).

...It's a holiday devoted to naked guys running around hitting chicks with whips. It's like nudism and S&M all at once. I find this hilarious.


I had my RA interview today, with, oddly enough, Mistake's hall director. The first half was with a current RA, who seemed to think I would be an okay candidate; the second part with the hall director was about the same idea, though the questions were different. I think it went well, I just hope that they realize that just because my answers sounded a little cliché doesn't mean they're insincere. I just tried to be as honest as possible, not be nervous, and smile a lot.

Meh. Either I get it, or I don't. My only worry is that I won't get it and Loquatia will, because then I'll have to find someone to room with or enter the lottery.

I don't find out until next Friday, and I wouldn't know what hall I'd be in until after I took the RA class. I think I'd get the job if it was solely based on my personality and other qualifications, but they had a LOT of applicants this year so I wouldn't be surprised if I got rejected just because there's so many people to choose from.

I Am 20 Years Old

I am a twenty-something at heart. I feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences.

Apparently I act my age, give or take a year.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

"This is really a lovely day. Congratulations!"

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone. It was very happy for us at UNH, because a massive snowstorm resulted in curtailed operations-- so dining services are open but classes aren't. Nice.

Downside: all those forgetful guys must have had a hell of a time getting last-minute V-Day gifts.

Alas, I woke up at 6 AM, showered, and got dressed before I learned that classes were canceled, so I was unable to return to bed. Still, it was for the best, because it meant I could sneak around leaving pink carnations for Libentra and Deandron, hanging from their doors. Loquatia also got a lovely pink carnation.

The more problematic journey was to go over to Stoke and deliver carnations to Mistake and Closer, as the snow was coming down fairly hard and it was COLD. But Loquatia and I bundled up and made the trek, depositing a flower at Closer's door and handing another to Mistake herself. The last flower I didn't have a person to give to, as I had bought six flowers and I only have five friends, so it was given to Closer's roommate. Hopefully he was suitably embarrassed and/or confused.

IN exchange for the flower I received a little clay ladybug from Mistake. He's very cute. We ate breakfast together at Stillings, sat around and talked (about politics-- Closer fell asleep), ate lunch, then Loquatia and I headed home. Later in the afternoon, Deandron wandered by, and stopped. "Did you and [Mistake] conspire to put a flower on my door?" he demanded.

He looked so incredibly bewildered, all plans to let him wonder went out the window. "That was me," I replied, grinning.

"Okay, good," he replied, "because I couldn't figure it out, and I've been asking all around to try to figure out who left it for me, and then one of my roommates said 'maybe it was your Stoke friend' [Mistake] and I said, 'no, she wouldn't trek all the way over here in the snow' [probably true], and then I thought, 'but wait, [Basiorana] and [Mistake] are like the same person, so it must have been her.' But you really got me good, I was going crazy for like six hours there. I was about ready to like, commit suicide because I couldn't figure out who had sent it to me..."

Deandron is not good at problem-solving.


Loquatia got a candy-gram, from Cute Chem Major, which does not confirm but could support my theory that he liiiiiiikes her. This is both cute and depressing at the same time because I don't think she wants a relationship of any sort. SHe's a little confused by the whole thing... Still, it's sweet. They delivered it to the room and everything.

I did not get a candy-gram from anybody. But I got to see the total bewilderment on Deandron's face as he tried to figure out who was responsible for his carnation, which is just as good, for different reasons. I think that V-Day should be redesigned from a holiday of romantic mushiness to one where we attempt to confuse and embarrass members of the opposite sex. Oh, wait...


We ate dinner with the whole floor-- I wasn't going to be able to go but all my conflicting activities were canceled. Stillings had a chocolate fountain for Valentine's Day, but as Mistake says, "chocolate fountains are better in concept than in execution," so it's just as well that we went to Philbrook. I guess scheduling a hall dinner for Valentine's Day is a good way to help out the people that would otherwise be eating alone, but at the same time, it was kind of depressing to sit there and have nothing to say and nothing to talk about and be reminded that I have almost no social skills.

I've never had a Valentine, besides my mom. I've never had someone to reprimand for forgetting the day... It's hard to see people all happy lovey-dovey and remember that your life is nothing like that.

My Five Variable Love Profile

Propensity for Monogamy:

My propensity for monogamy is medium.
In general, I prefer to have only one love interest.
But it's hard for me to stay devoted for too long!
There's too much eye candy to keep me from wandering.

Experience Level:

My experience level is low. (Duh.)
I've either had only one relationship..
Or all of my relationships have been very similar.
I still have a lot to learn... and a lot to try!


My dominance is low.
This doesn't mean I'm a doormat, just balanced.
I know a relationship is not about getting your way.
And I would give my sweetie a lot of freedom.


My cynicism is medium.
I'd like to believe in true and everlasting love...
But I've definitely been burned enough to know better.
I'm still an optimist, but I am also a realist.


My independence is low.
This doesn't mean I'm dependent in relationships...
It does mean that I don't have any problem sharing my life.
In my opinion, the best part of being in love is being together.

Look, an alien! Let's EAT it!

This is a "squeaking green alien" caught in the Sea of Azov, in Russia. The fishermen who caught it filmed it and sent the video in to someone who studies UFOs. However, when scientists arrived to check it out, they were informed that it had already been eaten, and that it was "delicious."

First of all... ew, if they thought it was an alien, whether or not they were afraid of it, why the hell would they eat it? Now, I've figured out that Pravda isn't exactly Time Magazine-- it's known for printing things with a spin towards the supernatural, and not researching hoaxes before printing them-- but even just looking at the pictures, video, and quotes, I was kinda curious. I was guessing it was a really weird or maybe mutated fish of some kind, because I was being nice to the fisherman and assuming it wasn't a flat-out hoax.

But... This is a guitarfish. It is an admittedly rare kind of ray (rare enough, I suppose, that the fishermen might not have recognized it). It's usually brown, but the weird color is probably either the lighting in the room or a result of the ray being sick (in which case I predict stomach bugs for the fishermen). Not an alien. Definitely evidence that there are some FREAKY animals out there. Even as a regular fish, it's pretty cool.

Do you believe in intelligent aliens? I do. I just don't think they'd bother to come here. They're probably waiting for us to come to them, just like we're waiting for them to come to us. Or maybe they haven't figured out interstellar travel yet either. Maybe the human race will die out before we find them-- I mean, there are a LOT of planets out there. My guess is that they will walk upright, copulate facing each other, have opposable thumbs, and have a voice box similar to ours-- but other than that, I doubt they'll look like anything we can recognize.

(By the way, the facts I mentioned are attributed to why humans developed into advanced societies with complex relationships and technology. Technology comes from the thumbs and the consequent ability to use tools, walking upright enabled us to look at each other face-to-face and interact with each other using hand gestures and other such motions, the voice box enabled complex communication, and I heard the bit about how evolving to copulate facing one another encouraged monogamy and closer relationships with spouses while watching the History Channel.)

Anyway, I doubt the first contact we have with an intelligent alien species is going to be catching them with a fishing net or having them probe our poor, law-abiding rednecks. A guy I knew in high school used to say that he believes in government conspiracies hiding aliens at Roswell, but honestly, I doubt it. If the government had something as big and earth-shattering as an actual alien's body, they would have covered it up a LOT better.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

"You cannot shake hands with a clenched fist."

Today is the Faunalia, to honor Faunus. The Romans celebrated this festival with a dance done in triple measure, the same dance done by the priests of Salii, the priests of Mars/Ares. It's also the Parentalia, a festival for honoring your parents, as long as they're dead. Families offered sacrifices of grain and wine on the tombs of loved ones. And it's also the Feralia, a feast to honor Jupiter Feretrius-- Jupiter/Zeus in his role as guaranteer of oaths.

Also my mother's birthday. Excuse me while I go call her.


My therapist wants me to write down every time I want to say something but I'm not sure if it's appropriate, for the next three weeks until I see her again. I bought myself a THICK notebook.


Helpful: Talking to me until I stop crying about how I'm going to hell in a hand basket. Holding doors open for me when I'm on crutches because my leg started to hurt again and I had a long walk ahead of me. Letting me have the front seat in a class because it's too hard to get to the back.

Not Helpful: Lighting up a cigarette right next to me when I'm already about to puke from nausea and I have a headache from this stupid cold. Buses that run really, really late. Oh, and the prize for Not Helpful: telling me, right after I have a mental breakdown and am petrified that I won't be able to handle medical school or even get in and that I am a huge, worthless loser, that no one in my family ever thought I'd make it through med school anyway.

"Oh, feeling hopeless? Well, that's okay, we never believed in you anyway!"

(The prize for Helpful goes to my bra, on account of my losing my earring, searching for it for about ten minutes, despairing of ever finding it again [which would be sad as I like these earrings and they're not easily replaceable], and then feeling something jabbing me in the chest. On further inspection, I realized the earring had fallen down my shirt while sleeping in class and snagged on my bra. Talk about supportive underwear.)


Crazy day planned for tomorrow. Should be miserable. It's a Wednesday, after all. But much studying awaits me-- I have an exam at 8 AM-- so I'm off.

Monday, February 12, 2007

"Use proven methods, avoid shortcuts."

Besides being the Faunon (about which I know nothing except that it's probably related to Faunus, the goat-legged wilderness god), today is Lincoln's birthday. Not being one to celebrate the birthdays of dead presidents, I did not properly honor this occasion. I did, however, honor another birthday: that of Charles Darwin (who was a president, but of the Council of the Geographical Society, so I'm letting it slide). I honored this great day by not taking out the trash, thus allowing evolution to continue in that location.

Happy birthday, Darwin, I'm sure you don't look a day over 198.


So...I had a sort of meltdown today, after the Health care seminar ended. My RA happened to be wandering around and he came in to talk about something going on this week and he noticed I had been crying, so he talked to me about it. I'm calm, now-- not over the crisis, but not crying, either... Still, this is the blog entry I wrote mid-meltdown.

I can't do this. I can't be a doctor. I can't go to med school and I can't do the career I always expected I'd do. It was never real to me, the idea of me as a doctor-- it was this distant, intangible idea where I had more marketable skills than a little bit more intelligence than Average Joe.

I don't really want to go into medicine. If I could have any career in the world, I'd write bestselling novels or screenplays or the scripts to comic books, or someone would pay me to draw whatever I wanted. I wouldn't be in science, I wouldn't be dealing with people every day...

There are two worlds that I live in at the same time. One of them is the real world, and the other is the one in my head. In the real world I'm a painfully shy, unattractive, reasonably intelligent but completely antisocial college student with no useful skills who's too afraid of human interaction to do what it takes to gain those skills. I want to do so much, I'm interested in so many things, but every time I learn about something new I want to do I find out that it requires social skills and I seize up. There was a woman at the Health care seminar today talking about international research opportunities and I was thinking, "oh, that sounds cool" and she mentioned that part of it was finding faculty mentors and convincing them to support you, and then going abroad and working with the professors one-on-one and with the natives, and my first reaction was "well, so much for that idea, I could never have the confidence for that." In the real world I'm hopeless and relatively worthless and have very few prospects, career-related or relationship-wise.

In the world in my head, I could be a doctor. Or a physician's assistant, or a lawyer, or a politician. In that world my books would actually make money or my sketches could actually sell or I'm attractive, thin, and sociable enough to marry someone rich and powerful and spend my life organizing charity functions and raising kids. Heck, in that world I can befriend a centaur or walk on the moon or have some important role in the destiny of the earth. In that world, I've lived my life; I'm not some sheltered girl from suburbia who thinks she's capable of independence.

I can't tell my mother about this little crisis, because she'll tell me to major in creative writing or something I love, and then I'll have to point out that my writing is mediocre and I refuse to be a starving artist. I'm beginning to see the power of the lines between dreams and reality. I will never be an artist or a professional writer or a politician; I've known this for years. I'm beginning to wonder if I need to add "doctor" to the list.

A Novel Approach

I have an idea for a novel and I was wondering if it would sell, were it to be written well enough and all that important stuff. I've been kicking it around in my head for a while now and while I might never do anything with it, I'm curious.

It would be aimed at young women in the 16-21 age bracket, for clarification.

Basically the idea is to take the world of blogging and Facebook and everything and make it into a teen romance novel (so, clean). Basic premise: A young woman is a blogger who whines about how guys are so insensitive and she can't find a decent guy out there on her blog. She's not a careless blogger-- no one's going to just read her blog and be able to stalk her. She lists her hometown and school, but it's a big town and it would be next to impossible to find her in it going on the blog alone, so she figures she's safe.

Meanwhile, a guy happens to stumble on her blog when hitting the "next blog" button. He becomes a lurker on her blog, finding it interesting but not actually commenting or anything. He figures out that they go to the same school and he decides to look her up, putting in as many specifics as he can glean into the Facebook search engine and lookign through the results until he finds her profile. This is still all without her knowing, and yes, he realizes it's creepy and stalker-ish, but he figures that since he's not going to actually talk to her it's okay.

Then he breaks up with his girlfriend-- a big, messy breakup in which one thing she says sticks out in his mind: "You don't understand me, and you never understand what I need." In his post-breakup depression, he remembers Blogger Girl and, when she mentions that she's going to a certain party on a certain night, "accidentally" bumps into her there.

They start a relationship, because he always knows what to do and say-- even if she hides how she feels from him, it's always on her blog. She posts reviews of their every date. It's like he's reading her mind through the powers of the internet. Meanwhile, she just thinks he's an incredible guy, never suspecting that he's reading the blog.

But, naturally, she finds out (not sure how yet) and flips out because a) he's reading her "private" thoughts and using them to manipulate her and b) he found her by stalking her on the internet, and that's just creepy. Messy breakup, long apart time, much depression and sadness, guy does big showy apology, girl forgives him, happily ever after.

Keeping in mind that I'm not exactly writing for the intellectual set here, would that make a decent story? Or is it too creepy/unrealistic/encouraging of young adults to put too much info on the web? Let me know!

Sunday, February 11, 2007

"When the mouse looks upon the cat, there must be an escape route nearby."

Not much happened today. Just homework. Though I did watch Grease: You're the One That I Want with Mistake and Closer. I don't care who wins or how attractive some of the Dannys, like Derek, were, I really don't think I'd want to watch the Broadway production that results from this show. Clearly, all real Broadway-caliber actors don't need reality TV to get jobs, because there were only a couple of them that I could see in the roles of Danny and Sandy and none of them had an amazing, knock-out voice.

Andrew Lloyd Webber was the guest judge and watched his initial pained reaction after every butchered song was one of the more humorous parts of the show.


Oh, and I've been ordered NOT to tell you about the lovely pink suit, matching pumps, and classic pearl necklace Closer intends to wear when he becomes First Lady in twenty years or so. Or about the secret-service dudes wrestling in the White House hallways.

I personally think Closer would make an excellent First Lady, except he hates kids and I would be very, very surprised if he can dance backwards in high heels and an evening gown at state functions.

Yes. We are very weird.

My Inner Blood Type is Type A

I seem cool and collected, though a bit shy.
I am highly driven and a perfectionist, but that's a side I keep to myself.
Creative and artistic, I am a very unique person who doesn't quite fit in.
People accept me more than I realize, seeing me as trustworthy and loyal.

I am most compatible with: A and AB

Famous Type A's: Britney Spears, Hilter, Alan Alda, Jet Li

I'm actually Type O. Type O's are supposed to be ambitious, athletic, robust and self-confident, or at their worst, are arrogant, vain, insensitive and ruthless. This is why I don't tend to subscribe to the Japanese Blood Type theory of personality.

Saturday, February 10, 2007

"Romance comes into your life this year in a very unusual sort of way."

I was all set to do absolutely nothing today, but you know, nothing is reeeeeeeeally boring. Luckily, I was trying to decide between actually studying (a sure sign of true boredom) and just playing another rousing game of Age of Empires when Mummy and Daddy called and asked if I would mind them visiting. Choosing between boredom and a seafood dinner at Newick's? Is there a choice here?

In addition to seafood, I got to replace my mood ring-- the one I lost at work over break. I got the original at the Newick's gift shop, so that's where I replaced it. Then, as we went to pick up some more Basiorana Fuel (that's diet caffeine-free coke for you laypeople), Mummy got me some V-Day flowers, and then when I showed her my new room-- she hadn't seen it since we moved stuff around and put the rug in-- she gave me a little stuffed Snoopy holding a box of candy, and there was a little Woodstock with candy for Loquatia.

It's always nice to know that even when you're out of the house, you can still count on your mom to be your valentine.


I saw my old Chemistry teacher from high school today. That was weird. There's some big swim meet going on here at UNH today, and she's the coach of the high school swim team, so I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. But you know that weird feeling you get when you see someone you know completely out of context? Like, "I know you-- but why are you here?"

I believe my words were "It's Miss E---!" To which she replied, "It's [Basiorana]!" That naturally only increased my surprise as I really wasn't expecting her to remember my name. I mean, I watched the class fish for the summer (she has cats) and didn't kill it, but meh, I'm always stunned when people remember my name. My mom greets me and I'm like, Whoa, she didn't forget!

I then proceeded to scan her accompanying groupies for someone I recognized, but no luck. Bummer. Not that I actually expected to know anyone on the swim team.

I Am More Yin

Feminine, Devoted, Passive, and Forgiving
This is the darker element; it is dark, downward-seeking, and corresponds to the night.

"I cannot go to school today," said little Peggy Ann McKay...

Oh, I talked to the doctor yesterday. My bones are fine. Take that, inner hypochondriac! Now shut up!

When I was little I was a total hypochondriac, terribly so. I was the kid who read up on flu symptoms to get an excuse to miss school. In my head, I'd turn some gas into stomach cancer and aches and pains into... well, I'd find some rare condition for it to be. I wanted to be sick, hurt, damaged... I wanted the attention and the privileges I associated with being sick, and I figured that the pain would be okay on account of everyone telling me how brave I was, what a good patient I was... Mind you, my mom probably would have switched to "Buck it up, kid, you'll survive" after the first 24 hours, but I was young, these ignorances must be forgiven.

Anyway, I outgrew that, along with my childhood biblio-kleptomania and my violent tendencies (mostly). But it's still there, a little, it's just in the back of my head, suppressed by my common sense and the guilt I feel every time I feel like I'm inconveniencing someone. The trouble is, I can recognize if I have actual physical symptoms, but I can't always tell how bad they are, so a couple years ago when my chest was so tender that I couldn't lay down on my stomach without crying in pain, I went and looked up possible explanations, and all I could come up with was breast cancer or an infection, both of which are fairly serious... and hardly ever affect otherwise healthy teenage girls. But I had myself totally convinced I was going to die or at least have to get chemo before I went to the doctor and she informed me that it was a perfectly normal condition where the tissue is a little lumpy and there's some inflammation. I think I was a little bummed that I wasn't going to be some abnormal example of how statistics can go wrong, though.

This probably was closely tied to my general attention-grubbing as a kid. It's kinda funny that for so long I was so determined to be noticed, any way possible, and now I can't look a person in the eyes when I have to talk about myself. I'm brief and I talk very quickly if I introduce myself-- most people know me by the first syllable of my name, as the rest of it gets lost in my effort to shift the attention away. I went from being the girl who teased her hair and died half of it white to play Cruella DeVil for a chorus performance to being the girl who can't manage to say her own name in an introduction.

Anyway, I'm still a hypochondriac, but only mentally. I'm constantly trying to explain my slightly problematic personality traits as mental disorders, when in fact they're probably not even that big a deal to anyone but me. I mean, I've pretty much figured out that I'm shy and that I get panic attacks in crowds and social situations. But I'll hear about say, narcissistic personality disorder, and I'll think, "I want attention sometimes, maybe I'm a narcissist!" (This is funnier if you remember that I have the self-esteem of a particularly disgusting old penny that's been on the sidewalk for weeks). The worst disadvantage of this is that hypochondria is a mental disorder itself (albeit a common, minor one) so I can be a hypochondriac about having hypochondria, and never know for sure if I'm actually a hypochondriac or if I'm just being hypochondriacal about my hypochondriac tendencies.

Wow. Six versions of the word "hypochondria" in one sentence. New record?

You Are 32% Hypochondriac

You can deal well with being sick - even if your symptoms are a little scary.
You're occasionally prone to worry about your health, but only when you have pretty strange symptoms.

"Woman's intutition is like feathers on an arrow-- it may help the flight to truth."

Tonight was the Student Activities Fair for this semester. You probably don't remember my mentioning that the Student Activities Fair for last semester triggered a panic attack and sent me spiraling into a very bad depression. Thus, I consider going at all (and NOT panicking) to be a massive victory on my part.

Of course, this time Closer and Mistake were with me, as was Loquatia and Tibicina, who, you may not remember, is an old friend from high school who we hang out with sometimes. I always do better in crowds if I'm with people I know and am comfortable with. However, I had a couple things against me-- for starters, I was leaning on a crutch, causing people to stare at me a great deal as I gimped about, and more significantly, it was not just the five of us; a friend of Loquatia's came with us, and the fact that I'm gonna call him Cute Chem Major might indicate the issue (the "Cute" part, my only aversion to Chem Majors is that they actually like that stuff).

Cute Chem Major was looking for someone to go with, not wanting to wander about alone, and he asked Loquatia, but she was really uncomfortable with the idea of just going with him-- I think it was a combination of worrying about not knowing what to do if the conversation died (never an issue with the garrulous Mistake about) and her general uneasiness with anything that seems to resemble a date/guy being romantically interested in her. While I haven't a clue how much truth is in that thought-- we know I'm bad at the "detect attraction" spell-casting on account of my refusing to believe KTMack was actually interested at all in me until Mistake and Closer teamed up to prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt-- I can say that she was certainly futzing with her hair for longer than usual.

Of course, she might have been doing that because I was putting on makeup and fixing my own hair, but I wasn't doing it for that reason as I hadn't actually met the kid yet. No, really.

Anyway, yes. Regardless, I invited her along with us, and then when she felt bad about bailing on him, I suggested she just have him come along. We all ate dinner together-- a bit of a trick with the crutches, but I was down to one so it wasn't that bad. I at least was able to get my own food.

The fair itself wasn't actually that interesting-- by this point I've heard about most of the clubs, so it wasn't news. The Republican Club and Pro-Life Organization's table was at the exact opposite room from that of the Democrat Club and Pro-Choice Organization; there was Frisbee spin-art, palm reading, body art, and sign-making, though I passed on the body art (don't know how long it lasts and I'm going home next weekend-- "Happy Birthday, Mummy, have a heart attack!") and the palm reading (long line). Other than that, though, not horribly exciting. Nerf crossbow practice at the Archery Club table, and the Historical Weaponry people were fighting with padded swords and chain-mail hauberks in one corner.

Free stuff was basically limited to candy, make-your-own-Valentines (Mistake made a really mean one for Closer that Loquatia totally didn't get until it was explained), the occasional pamphlet, condoms disguised as matchbooks (or not, there was lots of selection) and pro-life balloons. Since there's not much to do at these things except go around and take all the free stuff, we didn't last too long before we (all six of us) wandered back to Mistake's dorm to sit around, talk, and watch Psych. We split by eleven, in the interest of letting Mistake sleep-- she had to wake up early tomorrow, she said. So did Tibicina, and, I'm sure, Loquatia, though that's more "want to" than "have to." I, for one, intend to sleep in until noon. Because it's Saturday, dammit.

You Are a Life Blogger!

Your blog is the story of your life - a living diary.
If it happens, you blog it. And make it as entertaining as possible.

Thursday, February 8, 2007

"Win as if you were used to it, lose as if you enjoyed it for a change"

For a cool read, check out Slightly Drunk, a blog about the misadventures of a guy whose life seems to be most unfortunate-- but very amusing to those who don't have to live it themselves. Not entirely sure he doesn't deserve some of it, but regardless, you should check him out because it's funny, unusual, and contains few grammatical errors. I love it when bloggers know how to write.


Deandron amuses me. He's seen me like four times since I got the crutches, and the first time I was headed down the hall towards my room. Deandron's in the lounge, so his door faces straight down the hallway, and his desk is right there-- so he heard the "tch-tch" noise as I headed down the hall and glanced over, went back to what he was doing, then did a total double take, stared at me, then waved. I waved back.

I've passed him a couple times since then and it's always just "hi," like usual, then today he stopped me in the dining hall as I hobbled around on one crutch to get some juice. "Hey," he said, "I'm not sure what the tactful way to say this is, but what's with the crutches?" I made my best effort not to laugh at him, since I knew this whole time that he was curious about the crutches but I figured he just wasn't able to stop and talk. It's kinda funny to know that he was looking for the "tactful" way to ask about them. Is tact really necessary when asking why a person is on crutches? I mean, how does one ask that in a non-tactful manner? "Whoa, what'd you do, fall on your ass on the sidewalk?" That might not be tactful. Or, "Man, you must be reeeeeally clumsy!" But honestly, coming from Deandron, that would just make me laugh.

Maybe, "Haha, you're on crutches, sucks to be you!"


What's really annoying about the knee is that this morning? It didn't hurt. Like, a little, but not that bad. After it was such a pain (literally) since Friday, I spend less than a day on crutches and it decides to get better? As much as I'd love to attribute it to the amazing healing powers of hobbling about, it started to hurt as soon as I started putting more weight on it and less on the crutches. Thus I have decided that that particular limb called in sick despite the fact that it is perfectly okay and just wants to have a week's vacation, so it may sit back and go fishing or something without having to do silly, mundane things like dance or do yoga or bear weight. At this point the right leg has figured out this sweet deal Left Leg's come up with, and it's starting to complain about how the extra work is SO HARD and it's gonna need to call in sick soon, too, it's feeling a little poorly.

Meanwhile my arms are just demanding to know why the heck they have to work overtime just because Left Leg's on vacation.

I missed the call from the doctor today that would have told me the results of the X-ray and the anemia test that they did while I was there, and while I'm not really worried-- I think I'd feel it more if it was a break, even if it was just a fracture, and I actually haven't taken my iron pills in months so I will be stunned if the anemia magically went away-- I find it annoying that the confidentiality business means they can't even leave me a message saying "You're fine!" Instead I have to call them back tomorrow-- not today, they have annoying hours-- and meanwhile my inner hypochondriac is saying "You broke your kneecap! You dislocated something! You have bone necrosis like in your mom's hip and will need a new knee! You have... uhm... cancer! Yeah, that's it!"

That's why I strongly dislike my inner hypochondriac and try to smack him around whenever he acts up. Pesky little bugger.


Today was my first group therapy session for the semester. The group's very different this semester-- The guy who runs it says that there's three of us who are coming from the last group, but the other two were both missing today and may or may not come next week. The group seems less likely to gradually loose members like last time, at least-- everyone seemed really into it, and willing to talk, and I'm pretty sure only one or two of us were pressured into it by psychiatrists and/or police officers (It's frustrating because I signed a confidentiality notice so I'd feel bad talking about some of the... characters I've met, even with no names or identifying features). Seriously, though, everyone seems nice, and very talkative for a group about difficulty communicating.

The problem is, once again, everyone's there because they have issues saying no, or issues talking about their feelings, or resolving conflict. I mean, I'm not the only one with issues with small talk and general sociability, but I'm one of maybe two. And while I have issues talking about serious matters so people don't get offended, seeing as I have the social sensitivity of a partially digested sock, my main problem-- just getting up the nerve to talk to people at all-- will likely not be addressed sufficiently. Plus there's the fact that once again, there are attractive guys in the group-- more than last time, even-- which means that I can't mention the fact that the only thing worse than small talk is small talk with attractive guys.

I at least brought up my inability to make eye contact or say hi with people unless they address me first, so everyone will understand why I don't greet them if they pass me on the sidewalk. I forgot to do that right away last semester and I'm pretty sure I insulted someone by not acknowledging them. This is the only place I can declare my social fallacies before they affect my social interactions and I totally intend to take full advantage of that fact...

I Am 92% Pure

I'm so innocent, it's almost like I'm not human.
Taking this test is probably the naughtiest thing I've done in a while.
Well, this is depressing.