I did get to see Loquatia again, at dinner, so today wasn't all that bad.

I've been trying to regulate my caloric intake (the dining halls post nutrition facts this year). While good for teaching me to add large numbers in my head quickly, it is posing many challenges. Yesterday the challenge was my Latin teacher bringing in homemade baklava. Today it was the fact that it was a festival day and the special foods don't list nutrition facts. And then there was the caramel apple pie.

I suck at this. But I did at least manage only about 2400 calories yesterday, which considering that I estimate I burn 2800 (lots of walking around) is kind of good. My goal is 2000 a day.

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So yesterday I had recitation for Biostats. Determined not to be as confused as last time, I took copious detailed notes on my laptop, step-by-step instructions and a guide in Excel itself. At the end of the class, she handed back quizzes (I got a 59 on mine. Yikes) and I rushed to pack up and get mine before the crush of half the class (of 125) got theirs. I then went to Hoco and to Ryter's for the evening, watched the first season of Heroes and speculated wildly as to the nature of the next season (but it looks like there will be superhero-teen lovin', so it's gotta be fun).

Then I got home, opened my computer, received a "YOU HAVE FLAWS ON YOUR DISK" message, clicked "fix" and came back in five minutes...

It rebooted my computer. Completely. What's more, in my rush I neglected to actually save my notes, figuring they would be there when I next opened the laptop. I lost everything.

So I grabbed some stuff off the website and frantically IMed Maritima, who is also in Biostats, and asked her for help. She's basically walked me through half this stuff. My lack of notes made this assignment take me a total of five hours, four of which were spent on one problem which I couldn't figure out at all.

But thanks to Maritima and my willingness to accept defeat on one problem, it was finished in the end. Thank god.

The thing is, I like statistics in itself; I don't like the fact that my TA has a new baby so she doesn't give a shit about teaching us, or grading us. My last assignment? She didn't grade the graph because I put it on a separate page. I mean, come on. Take off a point if it bugs you. But don't just not grade it. She claimed that she couldn't find things so if she had to hunt for it she gave it a 0, but honestly, how hard is it to get to that question where the graph should be and read "See page 3," and turn to page 3, where the graph is?

And that's not all she did that on-- I got a sixty, seventy with scaling, and I bet if she had spent more than a minute on each paper I could have gotten at least ten points higher. And she didn't bother to tell me what I did wrong, either. I guess I have to guess.

She says repeatedly that she hates statistics, hates grading, won't come in except for her very limited office hours, and is only doing this for the money because of the baby and because she's a graduate student. Okay. I get that she needs money, but really. This is all my stats professor could find???

Bah...

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Meanwhile I am debating how to ask my dad for a small allowance so I can do fun things on the weekends sometimes, or go out to eat once in a while. I mean, he knows I can't work with school stuff, and I do like to do things for fun besides surf Fark, read blogs and pester Ryter. I think I'll ask for $15 a week but hope for $10 and settle for $5 if I must. $5 would mean I get to eat out once a month and go on an (inexpensive) trip once a month. $10 would mean the same but eating out twice a month, or saving it; $15 would mean I could actually save up some money for the holidays.

My biggest concern is that the geniuses at UNH decided this year that finals end the week before Christmas. My last one is the 21st. Sure, vacation lasts until the 21st of January but guess what? Stores don't need help in January. They need help in December. If I go to a store and say I can start work on the 26th they'll say, "Sorry, no can do." Last year TJ Maxx really didn't need me after the ninth.

So that means I won't make any money at all over the winter break, and I don't really know what to do. I need a source of income, but I don't have the time to work during the year... The only thing I can think of is baby-sitting, but I hate, hate, hate advertising myself as a baby-sitter, and I don't really know any families in the area. Financially, I am screwed unless Daddy gives me an allowance.

He probably will understand. So what is my concern? I bet he ties it to my grades, as in, "Get a B or higher or the money goes away." And seeing as I am in Organic and Biostats, that means that it may very well go away and I'm screwed again.

Maybe if I suggest that I may need to take a year off and work otherwise... The only thing worse for Daddy than failing grades would be skipping a year. Something about "never going back."

Dreams

I dreamed last night that I had decided to become a fashion designer, and my designs were pretty well-liked and I'd been signed up to work with a major label, so I was bound to be successful. Then I went to tell my dad. He had a golden retriever with him, which I knew was "his dog" although he doesn't have a dog. The dog had a scarf around her neck and was quite cute, running around our feet. Then I told Daddy about my new job, and he flipped out, telling me to go back to my original plan and I was an idiot for giving up my life like this and I should go back to studying biology. The dog ran off, scared.

I cried, explained to him that this was a good thing, etc but he just stayed mad, so I stormed off in a huff and drove away. I had just left his line of sight when I heard a thump and I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw a flash of golden hair and the red scarf around it's neck, crumpled in the street.

I tried to brake but couldn't, the car lost control, and I was crying and scared and then I drove off the shoulder...

And woke up, and spent several minutes repeating "It was just a dream," over and over again in my head until I calmed down.

Then I fell back asleep and my next dream involved Clark Kent from Smallville. No it was not dirty, thankyouverymuch.

Fairy Dreams

Last night I dreamed that the woods behind my house were about seven billion times bigger than they actually are, and that I discovered an elaborate and widespread fairy civilization in them. The trouble was, only certain people could see the fairy things, and to everyone else it would just look like I was talking to the air. So I set out to convince people that the fairies existed, because once they believed, I wouldn't look so crazy.

I started to talk to my father about it, and he initially thought I was kidding, then crazy, then eventually he began to understand that there was more to this than my imagination, so I took him out to where the fairies were and showed him, and with effort at first, he saw them.

He wanted to tell my mother, tell the world, but I explained that he couldn't, that people would say he was crazy, and it would take the same amount of determination to convince any adult that the fairies were real that it had taken for me to convince him, and for some people, like my practical, atheistic mother, it would be impossible.

My frustration knows no bounds.

So this morning I realized that I had left my purse in Ryter's car when he visited last night (that was fun, we made pizza and he was quite pleased when I told him "You can put anything on it" and even more so when I said, "Uh, sure, you can put crab meat on it..." Final result for me was mushrooms, black olives and smoked oysters. For Ryter, it was Mexican taco cheese, onions, goat's cheese, a little bit of cheddar, anchovies, and crab meat. And now it's his favorite kind of pizza...), and thus after the craziness that is working at a store with only ten days before it closes, my dad and mom took me up to his place, and once I procured the bag and Mummy met Jesus, Ryter's pet lizard (Hey-ZOOS, not JEE-sus), we all went to Newick's to get some dinner.

It actually went very well; Daddy seems to be warming up to Ryter and there was a lot of sci-fi talk, and then we got into talking about the 60's (Quote from my father: "We started in this one English class reading all this hippie literature, and then moved into Marxist doctrine...") and stuff like that. Then I bought Ryter some fudge at the gift shop and he bought me a stuffed lobster and we dropped him off at his apartment before heading home.

Now, a warning-- below this line is me angrily emoting for quite some time, so feel free to not read it.

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The WHOLE way home, we were talking about Ryter; this was not my doing. It only started because my mom was wondering how anyone could afford to rent anymore if a studio apartment in Durham was $900. I pointed out that a) it's a very nice apartment and close to the school, b) his landlady is very lenient, and c) he's living alone, and most people starting out have roommates.

This diverged into why he doesn't have roommates, and it all went downhill from there.

The main thing in the conversation, though, was that Daddy's biggest problem with Ryter is one of the reasons that I love him so much-- he's very easy to read. He wears his emotions on his sleeve and I can tell exactly how he's feeling almost all the time, and he'll tell me why he's feeling that way. Thus, the fact that I have issues reading people's emotions isn't a problem, and I know when he's happy and relaxed and thus I can relax as well.

Daddy's problem with this-- "It's not a normal relationship, and it's not preparing you for future relationships where you WILL have to read people."

Uhm, excuse me?

I don't want a "normal" relationship, normal relationships are hard and one half is usually unhappy with the other, as far as I can tell. One of the reasons I love spending time with Ryter is that when I'm around him, I'm not constantly on edge or wondering what he's thinking about (it's usually aliens or paleontology), and I can actually relax and enjoy myself. I can feel safe in the relationship and not like I'm constantly wondering when he's going to dump me.

Guys who have "normal" relationships are usually jerks, and if they aren't jerks they're treated like shit by the girl, and if neither of them are jerks they never actually discuss or work out problems. I am happiest in my "abnormal" relationship, but my dad thinks it's something bad.

And then there's the bit about "preparing me for future relationships..." I do not consider this a training relationship. I'm not dating Ryter to learn or work on my people skills. I am dating him because I like to be with him. Will this be the only relationship I ever have? I don't know, I don't really think about it. If I have to, probably not. But I would never treat a guy like a "training boyfriend." This relationship has no obligation to prepare me for anything, and I'm actually really insulted that Daddy would think I am the kind of girl who would do that to a guy.

I mean, I've known those girls, and especially those guys, who have a first boyfriend or girlfriend so they can figure out the whole dating thing and then trade up. They're usually really bitchy and immature, and they wind up hurting that first significant other when they decide they've learned enough. I would never do that-- I date people because I like them, not because I think I'm not experienced enough and I want to learn the ins and outs of dealing with people.

And then there's the fact that Daddy is concerned that Ryter cares so much for me, and actually half-joked today, "So when you do break up with him, make sure you do it in a public place with your own ride home and you come straight home, lock the door, barricade yourself in your room and warn the police."

Because apparently I'm dating an ax murderer?

Honestly, I was so insulted and hurt by that one I really didn't know how to reply. How do you reply when your father tells you, even in a joking tone, that he's worried that your boyfriend would attack you if you ever broke up? I have NEVER been afraid of Ryter, not since the day I met him. Afraid he would dump me, yes, though he's good at allaying those fears. But afraid of him? Never. And yet every other week I'm desperately afraid that Daddy's gonna kill me for some little thing I screwed up. Of the two of them, Ryter and Daddy, I would honestly expect Daddy to hit me before Ryter did, and if you knew my father you would know how much that means.

(To be fair, I don't think Daddy dislikes Ryter as a person, I think he just doesn't like the dynamic of our relationship. Not that that's really all that much better. Oh, and my mom was asleep for most of this conversation, and didn't really say that much when she was awake.)

My parents come from a time when the lack of internet meant you didn't talk to your significant other every day unless you lived with them, so they see that Ryter and I talk all the time and they interpret it as "clingyness," despite the fact that I do it right back. They can't comprehend the idea that we might actually just genuinely like each other and trust each other and want to spend time together, because apparently, that's not a "normal" relationship.

So tell me-- why the hell would I WANT this elusive "normal" relationship???

And the Brother talks to his girlfriend every night he's home on the phone, not even the internet while doing other things-- WHY AREN'T THEY PESTERING HIM???