I think I annoyed Vivacia with my crazy school reform ideas.

Holy shit! My last entry was # 300 and I forgot! Oh well. Congrats to me, that was my 300th blog post! Wooo!

------------------------------------------------

Sorry I forgot to write a blog entry last night, Ryter and I hung out after my reall not-fun Chem lab (four hours and I only got 1% yield for one sample) and watched the movie Se7en, all because Ryter is doing a short preliminary-to-a-novel story on a telekinetic serial killer and I said, "You know, I always thought it would be cool to do a story about a killer whose MO is based on the seven deadly sins."

He then said, "You know what? Get in the car. We're going to Blockbuster."

So my idea's been done. I liked the movie, actually, though it was very creepy. Hang on a second....

SPOILERS, IF YOU CARE

Not that you should, it was released over ten years ago. Still, only fair to warn people.

I have to say, my favorite murder by far was the Sloth one. Chaining a guy to a bed and keeping him alive as his body is covered in excruciating sores until he looks like an long-dead corpse and his mind slowly turns to mush, so he can't identify you when he is found? Cutting off his hand to place his fingerprints at the scene of another crime, thus leading the cops to him at the perfect time? And even paying his rent so that his landlord never complained or noticed? That's impressive.

The writers were pretty creative with the murders. Gluttony= force feeding was kind of obvious, but a pound of flesh from the greedy man then bleeding him dry, that was clever. Although the "lust" one, making a john strap on a penis sheath with a blade on the end and stab a prostitute through the uterus, creeped me out because there are actually people who might make that sort of shit for someone. Gah. The model for Pride was interesting because I actually have trouble believing even a model would choose suicide over disfigured survival. I mean, really, you'd think she'd know something about plastic surgery. Someone could build her a new nose to replace the one he cut off.

The only part that really bugged me, though, was the final scene, specifically mailing the young detective's wife's head to him. Creepy and effective, yes. But I have two problems with it. One, Doe SPECIFICALLY said in the car that his victims were not "innocent people." As in, he killed them because they were sinners. He didn't think he was a monster for it, because they were not innocent. And yet... he kills a pregnant woman and her fetus with her, just to get at the guy he wants to peg as Wrath? Maybe he could justify the woman as obviously a sinner because all people are guilty of some sin, but Catholic dogma, which he was following, states that a child can't be accountable for their sins until they are seven years old, and that a newborn has only the original sin. By his own rules he should have been forced to leave her alone as soon as she said she was pregnant.

Also, I thought the detective should have died. All the other representations of sin died. Why not Wrath? I figured he should have killed himself and it should have ended right then.

But anyway.

------------------------------------------------

Today Vivacia and I had girl time. We talked and I helped her bake a cake for her mom's birthday, which they are celebrating tomorrow. It was fun.

And yet, while I like spending time with her, this is the first weekend since I got back to school that I haven't spent the night at Ryter's. It's actually been a couple months since I went a week without spending the night at Ryter's.

AHHH! Boyfriend withdrawal... No. Must. Kick. Habit...

I'm lonely.

Gah, I need to consider normal bedtimes again...

I'm at home, and the summer has OFFICIALLY begun. Well, almost. I start doing summer stuff on Monday, when I begin.... job hunting. Oh, fun. Until then I'm booked almost solid; Sunday and Saturday are devoted to graduations, I'm going to a honors Colloquium thingy for Ryter on Friday and tomorrow, I bake PIE.

(For the graduation party. I'm not just randomly baking pie. I do that, sometimes, particularly when I'm stressed-- I use baking as stress relief-- but this time, I have a real reason.)

So yes, summer begins. And yes, I am soooo glad that month from hell is over. Tests done, projects over, everything taken care of. I doubt that the Chem test gave me much of an advantage; it might give me like two points higher of a grade but I doubt it will make a big difference. That was a lot of information to process in only a week or so. We'll see.

--------------------------------------------

Today, after my exam, I ran around like a nut loading up my car with a year's worth of shit minus the three boxes and the assorted appliances and clothes that already went home. Meanwhile it was raining. Luckily I employed the method of stuff-moving that my dad always suggests: recruit a strong young gentleman to assist. Luckily I had one on hand, though I did have to bring him back before I was done packing as he was preparing for his last meeting with Inconcinnus, his awkward friend, who is moving back to Georgia. However, Inconcinnus may be getting married, in which case I will bet money that Ryter goes to Georgia, and hopefully gets roped into wearing a suit or some fascsimile thereof. In which case, I WILL obtain pictures, even if it requires stalker-like movements.

Anyway, with the car packed up to the brim with crap and Menelaus secure in the front seat, packed in with pillows, I set off for home in the rain, remembered that I had some Tupperware of Ryter's, left it ninja-like in his door frame, then headed home, calling my mom as I went. "Hey, Mummy, I'm headed home now."

"Oh, really? I thought you weren't coming home until Wednesday!"

"..."

"It... is Wednesday..."

Is it any wonder this woman forgot her own daughter's birthday (Shrewd's, not mine)? Actually, she says, she didn't forget the birthday-- she forgot the month. Because that is so much better.

--------------------------------------------

My grandmother is here, so I'm on the fold-out on the couch. I like how I spend a year away from home, I come back, and I'M the one on the couch, instead of just putting her into Shrewd's room, which is empty. Oh, wait, that's right, I actually cleaned my room. Damn, I hate being a dutiful daughter.

Okay, so I admit it. Most of my dutifulness lately has been an unspoken bribe for NOT having the "So... you're spending Friday night at a guy's house..." conversation. It's not that my mom would care, but she would tease me for it; my dad would look at me disapprovingly and also tease, but his would have an element of "I don't think this is really appropriate for you to be doing" to it.

But I am TAKING A STAND! I am Making My Own Choices to not have to drive to Durham reaaaally early on Saturday morning. Actually, I believe what I am doing is called "hiding and hoping that it doesn't come up." I mentioned it once, in the context of "I need the car." But... I'm going to be on the couch, so they can't complain. Except they can't KNOW I'm on the couch... Bah. Parents.

--------------------------------------------

Okay, I really feel I need to share something I find very, very odd and mildly disturbing. My dad so old-fashioned he holds firm to his belief that people should be allowed to take "defective" or unwanted newborns out to the rain barrel and hold them under until they drown.

Yeah, I assumed he was being extreme to make a point about freedoms too. I figured he was be hyperbolic. But I mentioned that right to die vs. abortion debate to him, and he reiterated that point, so I asked him. And he confirmed that if such practices were not illegal, he would have been willing to do that to his own progeny had we been obviously deformed. Has to be done within a few hours of birth, though, he said, as if that makes it better... I'm pro-choice. But that's infanticide, not abortion. I wonder if he would have been pro-exposure if he lived in Rome?

Honestly, I don't care if the kid has two heads and only half a brain between them, if you let it actually get out of the birth canal, there is NO EXCUSE, it is a human being and that's murder. What I like is that my dad's a Christian, too. Congregationalist, you know, that faith that descended from the Puritans.

Actually, wait, that means nothing. According to the Bible:

"If men strive, and hurt a woman with child, so that her fruit depart from her, and yet no mischief follow: he shall be surely punished, according as the woman's husband will lay upon him; and he shall pay as the judges determine. And if any mischief follow, then thou shalt give life for life." -- Exodus 21:22-23
and
"And if it be from a month old even unto five years old, then thy estimation shall be of the male five shekels of silver, and for the female thy estimation shall be three shekels of silver." -- Leviticus 27:6

Basically, a fetus or infant becomes a person when it's a month old, according to the Bible. Wow. Hmm.

Because it ain't cookin' 'til somethin's on fire

Floralia continues. I figured in honor of the festival, here's the day's flower:



--------------------------------------------------

Uh... I was tired all day, despite going to bed ridiculously early last night (10:30); skipped PLTL... what else.

Today was the last day of Group. This semester's group was so much nicer than last, as in, we didn't lose 75% of our members by the end. For the last session, we just went around and talked about how awesome everyone else was. It was a totally back-patting extravaganza. Still, everyone was really great and I'll miss seeing them. I don't think I'll do the Group next year; this would be a hard act to follow and anyway, I won't be seeing the psychiatrist at the school so they won't LET me go to Group. Oh well. Maybe I'll do the Anxiety group, if they let me... probably not, though.

--------------------------------------------------

Ryter sacrificed his kitchen to me today, and as I struggled to deal with his tiny counters (apartments are not conductive to baking) I made massive amounts of cookies and one massive cookie, all with more chocolate chips than cookie dough, and we made nachos with mountains of cheese and as Ryter attempted to brown his hamburger meat something in his stove caught fire and next thing we knew he was pouring water over it and I was running around opening windows and turning on fans...

It was good, though, and the smoke detector stopped screaming once I took it off the wall and left it dangling there. We were celebrating the completion of his novel and I was destressing by baking (it's the best way I know to relax), so two birds were killed with a large, floury stone. Plus he now owns various baking supplies. Not that I expect them to ever get used; I used his measuring cups on their maiden voyage. I was just glad he had them...