*Enormous sigh*
Well, it's over. I had my last exam yesterday and I am now at home, helping my mother clean the house. Supposedly it was to be a family affair but Shrewd spent the morning knitting and watching TV with Daddy while the Brother helped by cleaning up his own Legos and robot stuff, which was everywhere. Daddy started the kitchen, went and sat back down to watch TV, Mummy went out and I cleaned a good portion of the downstairs all by myself before Daddy and Shrewd wandered in and asked what they should do... bah.
So yeah, "Welcome home! Now clean the house." And it was pretty bad, too. Mummy and the Brother have been busy and Daddy won't clean unless we make him; Shrewd just recently got home as well. We're talking like mail stacked in every corner of the kitchen and all on the dining room table, robot stuff everywhere, school projects and college applications scattered about... Not to mention the piles of laundry, mostly Shrewd's and dish towels but my small basket as well. It wasn't like, pick up a few things and vacuum.
Plus when I got back my mother had not yet assembled the Christmas village. When I asked why not she said "Well, I had to paint the living room the first two weekends and then it didn't seem worth it for only a few weeks, and your dad didn't want it there because he's been talking about getting a flat screen TV..."
My dad already spends pretty much every hour of the evening parked in front of the TV doing nothing. He only reads if there's nothing on. Now he wants a flat screen despite the fact he has a perfectly good, LARGE TV he only got a few years ago? Bah.
Anyway, she agreed to put it up with my help, so after the house was cleaned we assembled the village. Then after dinner we watched The Nun's Story and then I went and wrapped presents for my dad, who claims he is incapable of doing so properly.
Tomorrow I go to Ryter's family Christmas party; I'll also hopefully get a chance to talk about the Hanukkah festivities as well...
Showing posts with label going home. Show all posts
Showing posts with label going home. Show all posts
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Not this shit again.
I managed to skip Biostats today. Not intentionally. We were dismissed from Organic and, instead of sitting there and waiting for my professor to come in, I just... left. I spaced. I honestly thought it was time for me to go. I forgot a whole hour of my day.
But oh well. I can catch up later. I'm stressed, is all.
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I'm at home right now, which will help. I talked to my mom about Thanksgiving with Ryter-- she said she's okay with it, but I haven't talked to my dad yet. That will not go as well...
Honestly? I'd rather we just did separate Thanksgivings this year. I think he said they do a deli platter. For Thanksgiving. My mom does a big-ass turkey and a whole mess of side dishes and she's a fabulous cook. She suggested we do the dinner Friday, if Shrewd could get Friday off work, but if Shrewd's at Crate and Barrel she'll need to do day-after-Thanksgiving sales. Moving it would be so unbeleivably perfect... but unlikely. So I may be skipping my mom's amazing Thanksgiving cooking for Ryter. I hope that kid knows how much I love him.
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I played my Marvel Heroes monopoly game tonight with my mom and dad. I lost, spectacularly. Mummy won, and she was talking to Shrewd on the phone for the first 20 minutes or so. It didn't help that Daddy had the TV going for background noise, which makes it impossible for me to concentrate. But it's a cute game, and a lot of fun. Park Place was Magneto, Boardwalk was Professor X, in case you're curious.
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So I was sitting here writing this at midnight, and now I'm crying. Why am I crying? Hell if I know. I'm just crying. And I can't see the screen very well.
okay, so maybe I do know. Maybe I'm crying because I'm so stressed I accidentally skipped a class. Maybe it's because I just finished my third test in less than a week this morning. Maybe it's because I spent 15 minutes of that test on one problem only to realize that duh, 1200 divided by 300 is 4, not 400. Maybe it's because I can't stick to a diet and every time I look down I am reminded of how fat I am. Maybe it's the fact that he, completely innocently, made me feel incredibly embarrassed and ashamed of the one feature of my body that I have always felt really, really self-conscious about and wanted him to approve of. Maybe it's because I have a Orgo quiz Monday and a test in two weeks. Maybe it has something to do with all my Daphnia dying and my turning in a crappy report on them. Maybe it's the fact that my boyfriend has told me that all the not-quite-sex stuff that we do together does pretty much nothing for him, and basically told me to lay off anything more than kissing until I'm ready for sex (not that he's saying that needs to be soon). Maybe it's the fact that this is the first time I've been home for longer than an hour since I went to school, and I can only spend the night, and no one's going to be home tomorrow anyway since it's Thursday and they have to work, and by the time they get home I'll have to go back to Durham so I can be around to spend tomorrow hiking with Ryter, and spend the night before him sleeping in his god-awful uncomfortable bed and not touching him, then go spend Saturday being smiley and happy for his family, and Sunday doing homework. Maybe it has something to do with not being ALONE since... god. I can't remember. I can't remember being alone. And I'm increasingly retreating into my fantasy worlds to the point where reality seems surreal, and I can't fix that problem because I have maybe five friends and they're all so busy with jobs or extracurriculars (you know, lives) that I can't spend time with them instead and have THEM pull me out of this world I've retreated into. And I feel like I can't tell Ryter because he's stressed out already and his problems are worse than mine, and besides, he's the reason for some of mine and that will make him feel worse and when he feels guilty it makes me feel bad for making him feel guilty and ultimately, even if it was his fault, I wind up suffering emotionally more than him.
I'm so sick of crying. The way I stop crying is to retreat into a fantasy, where I'm pretty and healthy and supreme dictator of earth. But when I retreat into fantasy it's worse when I have to return to the real world. So I have to decide if the temporary relief is worth it.
But oh well. I can catch up later. I'm stressed, is all.
I'm at home right now, which will help. I talked to my mom about Thanksgiving with Ryter-- she said she's okay with it, but I haven't talked to my dad yet. That will not go as well...
Honestly? I'd rather we just did separate Thanksgivings this year. I think he said they do a deli platter. For Thanksgiving. My mom does a big-ass turkey and a whole mess of side dishes and she's a fabulous cook. She suggested we do the dinner Friday, if Shrewd could get Friday off work, but if Shrewd's at Crate and Barrel she'll need to do day-after-Thanksgiving sales. Moving it would be so unbeleivably perfect... but unlikely. So I may be skipping my mom's amazing Thanksgiving cooking for Ryter. I hope that kid knows how much I love him.
I played my Marvel Heroes monopoly game tonight with my mom and dad. I lost, spectacularly. Mummy won, and she was talking to Shrewd on the phone for the first 20 minutes or so. It didn't help that Daddy had the TV going for background noise, which makes it impossible for me to concentrate. But it's a cute game, and a lot of fun. Park Place was Magneto, Boardwalk was Professor X, in case you're curious.
So I was sitting here writing this at midnight, and now I'm crying. Why am I crying? Hell if I know. I'm just crying. And I can't see the screen very well.
okay, so maybe I do know. Maybe I'm crying because I'm so stressed I accidentally skipped a class. Maybe it's because I just finished my third test in less than a week this morning. Maybe it's because I spent 15 minutes of that test on one problem only to realize that duh, 1200 divided by 300 is 4, not 400. Maybe it's because I can't stick to a diet and every time I look down I am reminded of how fat I am. Maybe it's the fact that he, completely innocently, made me feel incredibly embarrassed and ashamed of the one feature of my body that I have always felt really, really self-conscious about and wanted him to approve of. Maybe it's because I have a Orgo quiz Monday and a test in two weeks. Maybe it has something to do with all my Daphnia dying and my turning in a crappy report on them. Maybe it's the fact that my boyfriend has told me that all the not-quite-sex stuff that we do together does pretty much nothing for him, and basically told me to lay off anything more than kissing until I'm ready for sex (not that he's saying that needs to be soon). Maybe it's the fact that this is the first time I've been home for longer than an hour since I went to school, and I can only spend the night, and no one's going to be home tomorrow anyway since it's Thursday and they have to work, and by the time they get home I'll have to go back to Durham so I can be around to spend tomorrow hiking with Ryter, and spend the night before him sleeping in his god-awful uncomfortable bed and not touching him, then go spend Saturday being smiley and happy for his family, and Sunday doing homework. Maybe it has something to do with not being ALONE since... god. I can't remember. I can't remember being alone. And I'm increasingly retreating into my fantasy worlds to the point where reality seems surreal, and I can't fix that problem because I have maybe five friends and they're all so busy with jobs or extracurriculars (you know, lives) that I can't spend time with them instead and have THEM pull me out of this world I've retreated into. And I feel like I can't tell Ryter because he's stressed out already and his problems are worse than mine, and besides, he's the reason for some of mine and that will make him feel worse and when he feels guilty it makes me feel bad for making him feel guilty and ultimately, even if it was his fault, I wind up suffering emotionally more than him.
I'm so sick of crying. The way I stop crying is to retreat into a fantasy, where I'm pretty and healthy and supreme dictator of earth. But when I retreat into fantasy it's worse when I have to return to the real world. So I have to decide if the temporary relief is worth it.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Vicious Cycles
It's my last night at home, and I think it's sort of fitting that my dinner is a glass of Crystal Lite lemonade and whatever I can scrounge up from the kitchen, as I clean my bedroom post-packing.
I'm gonna come right out and say it. This was a miserable summer. Pretty much the only bright points were the times I got to spend with Ryter or the even rarer times I was with Vivacia; the rest of it just seemed like a long parade of obligations and chores. I spent at least 50% of the time just frantically trying to earn money, most of which I spent on gas to see Ryter or going out to eat with him. To which my mother points out that he could come visit me, and we could eat at my house.
Except, of course, that she insists that the house be clean before anyone comes over. So that's a day and a half of cleaning, which you know I don't get paid for or even the satisfaction of the cleanliness since it's a sty again in 24 hours. And then I have to make something for dinner, thus making myself messy before he comes. And then my dad comes home and takes the TV in the family room, sending us downstairs, which I had to pick up as well, and people will wander downstairs sometimes so we're not really alone. So we'll go to the orchards, but we're still in public, there. AS much as I love going to the orchards, it's sometimes buggy or the weather's bad. Basically, if I want to spend time with Ryter I have to go to his place because my own house is annoyingly occupied.
So thus I've spent the summer in a cycle-- work my ass off to earn money either at the Discovery Store or by doing exhausting work in the hot sun at home, then go visit Ryter to relax, thus using up my money, requiring me to earn more.
Meanwhile, there were only two real reasons I wanted to come home this summer instead of doing and internship or summer school or something-- one, I wanted to spend time with my family, and two, I wanted to be able to go to the Cape.
This summer I have spent a total of five days at the Cape. Five. And it's the last summer I will be able to go. I've always had chores to do or work. And spending time with my family? Most of the time they're at work or at the Cape, and anyway, my dad's been driving me crazy and my mom's been worrying me sick.
I bet by May I forget I felt this way, but I honestly think next summer I should just go to summer school on campus. My family was all gung-ho for taking me back and seeing me off, but I don't really care about that, I just would have liked to have a real dinner that I ate at the table on my last night at home. Is that too much to ask? Instead they're at the Cape and I'm packing, cleaning, and wondering what I can reheat.
At least it's over.
I'm gonna come right out and say it. This was a miserable summer. Pretty much the only bright points were the times I got to spend with Ryter or the even rarer times I was with Vivacia; the rest of it just seemed like a long parade of obligations and chores. I spent at least 50% of the time just frantically trying to earn money, most of which I spent on gas to see Ryter or going out to eat with him. To which my mother points out that he could come visit me, and we could eat at my house.
Except, of course, that she insists that the house be clean before anyone comes over. So that's a day and a half of cleaning, which you know I don't get paid for or even the satisfaction of the cleanliness since it's a sty again in 24 hours. And then I have to make something for dinner, thus making myself messy before he comes. And then my dad comes home and takes the TV in the family room, sending us downstairs, which I had to pick up as well, and people will wander downstairs sometimes so we're not really alone. So we'll go to the orchards, but we're still in public, there. AS much as I love going to the orchards, it's sometimes buggy or the weather's bad. Basically, if I want to spend time with Ryter I have to go to his place because my own house is annoyingly occupied.
So thus I've spent the summer in a cycle-- work my ass off to earn money either at the Discovery Store or by doing exhausting work in the hot sun at home, then go visit Ryter to relax, thus using up my money, requiring me to earn more.
Meanwhile, there were only two real reasons I wanted to come home this summer instead of doing and internship or summer school or something-- one, I wanted to spend time with my family, and two, I wanted to be able to go to the Cape.
This summer I have spent a total of five days at the Cape. Five. And it's the last summer I will be able to go. I've always had chores to do or work. And spending time with my family? Most of the time they're at work or at the Cape, and anyway, my dad's been driving me crazy and my mom's been worrying me sick.
I bet by May I forget I felt this way, but I honestly think next summer I should just go to summer school on campus. My family was all gung-ho for taking me back and seeing me off, but I don't really care about that, I just would have liked to have a real dinner that I ate at the table on my last night at home. Is that too much to ask? Instead they're at the Cape and I'm packing, cleaning, and wondering what I can reheat.
At least it's over.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Bouncing Graviton Particle Beams Since 1966
My internet connection at home is always choppier than on campus, so since I got here last night and soon lost access to Blogger (but not livejournal, oddly enough) I wasn't able to post. This is the first time in like forever I haven't posted so momentous occasion. However, I did write a post, so I'm putting it up now. I wrote it Friday night, for time frame.
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So I'm at home now, and Spring Break has officially started. Thus far I have been here for four hours and have spent 50% of that time talking with Writer Guy on AIM and the other 50% dancing. For some reason, I come home, and I find myself dancing in the kitchen to the song mentioned in my previous post with my goofy older sister doing the same as she cooks dinner, which is about 500 times better than college fare. Then I find myself chilling in my brother's room as Shrewd prints out something ridiculously long because she's too nice to her friends and I'm dancing again.
Dancing is my natural reaction to being happy. I can't actually dance, mind you, besides like the rumba and foxtrot, but I just naturally move around and I move around more when I'm happy, and I move in patterns and it's sort of a vague facsimile of dancing. You can tell I'm happy if I walk like I'm about to break out into an impromptu musical number and if I can't stop smiling, which is another reaction I have. I don't have a nervous laugh or a nervous smile; when I laugh and smile it is because I'm in a fabulous mood.
I hate that I can't really dance at school, because I can only actually dance when I know full well that everyone around me dances just as badly and randomly as I do. Or when I'm all alone.
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In other news, that cold that I was over last night? As in, I was totally and completely over it, but just feeling ill for other reasons?
It's baaaaaaaaa-aaaack.
I'm pretty sure at some point I felt my lung break apart in my chest and rise up through my trachea. I sound like Vader's lovechild. I feel perfectly fine, though, until I start to cough.
This means, too, that I totally was acting as a biological weapon yesterday when I was wandering around and breathing near people. Great.
Meh. At least it's not pneu-- oh, wait, best not finish that sentence, or it will be, and then I will blame Mistake, and then I will have to cause her great pain and suffering for the pain and suffering she would have inflicted on me in her small act of bioterrorism.
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Anyway... I have to clean the whole house by next Wednesday, because that is when Writer Guy is coming over. To my house. Where my parents live. And yet, must find a way to do this without actually having him meet them... Mummy has promised she will continue her rampant workaholicism, and not wander downstairs, but the issue arises as to what happens if Daddy comes home early. I really, really don't want to make Writer Guy get grilled by my folks. The ride home with the bajillion questions ("What's his major? What's he going to do with that? Where's he from? Who's his favorite Trek villain..." okay it was my mom so the questions were a little weird) was bad enough. He said he didn't care but meeting the parents at only the third date is so very high school, and honestly, when you're dating a guy three years older than you you try to deemphasize the age difference...
I'm going to cook for him. His response to this idea, while not being bad in and of itself, was... unexpected. Though at least "Oh, that's hot" is better than "Erm... will I survive this encounter?" which would have surprised me less but irritated me more...
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So I'm at home now, and Spring Break has officially started. Thus far I have been here for four hours and have spent 50% of that time talking with Writer Guy on AIM and the other 50% dancing. For some reason, I come home, and I find myself dancing in the kitchen to the song mentioned in my previous post with my goofy older sister doing the same as she cooks dinner, which is about 500 times better than college fare. Then I find myself chilling in my brother's room as Shrewd prints out something ridiculously long because she's too nice to her friends and I'm dancing again.
Dancing is my natural reaction to being happy. I can't actually dance, mind you, besides like the rumba and foxtrot, but I just naturally move around and I move around more when I'm happy, and I move in patterns and it's sort of a vague facsimile of dancing. You can tell I'm happy if I walk like I'm about to break out into an impromptu musical number and if I can't stop smiling, which is another reaction I have. I don't have a nervous laugh or a nervous smile; when I laugh and smile it is because I'm in a fabulous mood.
I hate that I can't really dance at school, because I can only actually dance when I know full well that everyone around me dances just as badly and randomly as I do. Or when I'm all alone.
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In other news, that cold that I was over last night? As in, I was totally and completely over it, but just feeling ill for other reasons?
It's baaaaaaaaa-aaaack.
I'm pretty sure at some point I felt my lung break apart in my chest and rise up through my trachea. I sound like Vader's lovechild. I feel perfectly fine, though, until I start to cough.
This means, too, that I totally was acting as a biological weapon yesterday when I was wandering around and breathing near people. Great.
Meh. At least it's not pneu-- oh, wait, best not finish that sentence, or it will be, and then I will blame Mistake, and then I will have to cause her great pain and suffering for the pain and suffering she would have inflicted on me in her small act of bioterrorism.
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Anyway... I have to clean the whole house by next Wednesday, because that is when Writer Guy is coming over. To my house. Where my parents live. And yet, must find a way to do this without actually having him meet them... Mummy has promised she will continue her rampant workaholicism, and not wander downstairs, but the issue arises as to what happens if Daddy comes home early. I really, really don't want to make Writer Guy get grilled by my folks. The ride home with the bajillion questions ("What's his major? What's he going to do with that? Where's he from? Who's his favorite Trek villain..." okay it was my mom so the questions were a little weird) was bad enough. He said he didn't care but meeting the parents at only the third date is so very high school, and honestly, when you're dating a guy three years older than you you try to deemphasize the age difference...
I'm going to cook for him. His response to this idea, while not being bad in and of itself, was... unexpected. Though at least "Oh, that's hot" is better than "Erm... will I survive this encounter?" which would have surprised me less but irritated me more...
| I Communicate With My Ears |
 I love conversations, both as a listener and a talker. What people say is important to me, and I'm often most affected by words, not actions. I love to hear compliments from others. Music is very important to me. It's difficult to find me without my iPod or laptop playing music aloud... |
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.
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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.
It was HILARIOUS.
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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.
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.
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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.
It was HILARIOUS.
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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. |
Saturday, January 27, 2007
"You have a strong and sensitive personal nature."
It's the last day of the Feast of Bacchus/Dionysus, god of wine. Well, wine, viticulture, imbibing, hallucination and ecstasy, fruit, reincarnation, choral songs, plays, homosexuals and the effeminate. I love the Greeks.
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So I didn't mention it yesterday, but I discovered plastic shrink-wrap in my lasagna at lunch, which was gross. I stopped eating, but I was in a rush and didn't mention it to anyone who worked there.
Then last night at the Olive Garden? There was totally a piece of porcelain-- like, a chip from a plate-- in my bread stick. Like, baked in. I banged my tooth on it! I complained, and the waitress apologized and mentioned it to the cook. I was annoyed-- two meals in a row!-- but was ready to chalk it up as coincidence. But this morning, I was eating at TJ's, the restaurant place in town, and there was hair in my omelette. Like... eww. I mean, at least I knew that the porcelain and the plastic wrap didn't come from someone's body (hopefully). But that's three times in a row!
Someone's picking on me...
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Every time I go home I come back with more stuff. Last weekend it was the rug and this weekend, it was a microwave. I didn't even ask for it, because I honestly was just planning on using it for popcorn and I don't even eat that much of that. I have a hotpot thing for hot water, so I can have soups and tea already. But Daddy mentioned that I should look for the old turntable for the microwave, so I looked and found nothing, and then he decided when I asked to get something to block the draft that comes through the window that we might as well get me a new microwave.
I'd complain about it but hey, I get popcorn, and that's one more appliance I won't have to buy myself when I get my own apartment.
The weatherstripping worked better than I thought it would. It doesn't solve the problem, but it blocks a lot of the draft coming in though the window. I should offer the leftovers to Mistake. She was having issues with drafty windows-- she's got towels blocking the edges right now.
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I got to hold a ball python today! We stopped by the pet store and were looking at the animals, and Daddy asked the man to take out the python to let me hold him and pet him. They curl around your arms and hands, for the warmth, and they feel so cool. I kinda want to have one as a pet when I get my own place, but parrotlets hate snakes, and between the two, I'd rather get the parrotlet, because parrotlets don't need to eat mice.
Personally, I think mice are too closely related to me for me to eat them, and while the snake doesn't have that problem, I have issues feeding a whole mammal-- which I won't eat-- to a reptile-- which I'd have some issues eating, but more in the "weird" sense than the "immoral" one. Of course, I'd feed an animal meat products, but a whole mouse is a little disturbing, dead or not.
But they're really, really cool!
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A friend of Loquatia's came up to visit her, and brought a whole bunch of her friends. They were admiring the room and the fish and trying to name all the X-men on my poster. All together only missed Stryker and Lady Deathstrike. They were nice, though I, naturally, felt awkward. That's become a bit of a constant for me. But one of the girls was talking about going to the midnight showing of Star Wars: Episode III and how there were all these people dressed up as characters. So I smiled and said, "Hey, I dressed up for the midnight showing of the second Pirates movie."
She laughed. "Well, I was going to say what dorks they were and who would actually do that, but now I feel bad!"
Heh. Oops.
They also liked my spinny-wheelie thing on the door that says where we are. That thing is a great conversation-starter. If I became an RA I'd probably have to make them for my residents, albeit cheaper, photocopiable versions.
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Speaking of which, I need to complete my application...
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So I didn't mention it yesterday, but I discovered plastic shrink-wrap in my lasagna at lunch, which was gross. I stopped eating, but I was in a rush and didn't mention it to anyone who worked there.
Then last night at the Olive Garden? There was totally a piece of porcelain-- like, a chip from a plate-- in my bread stick. Like, baked in. I banged my tooth on it! I complained, and the waitress apologized and mentioned it to the cook. I was annoyed-- two meals in a row!-- but was ready to chalk it up as coincidence. But this morning, I was eating at TJ's, the restaurant place in town, and there was hair in my omelette. Like... eww. I mean, at least I knew that the porcelain and the plastic wrap didn't come from someone's body (hopefully). But that's three times in a row!
Someone's picking on me...
-----------------
Every time I go home I come back with more stuff. Last weekend it was the rug and this weekend, it was a microwave. I didn't even ask for it, because I honestly was just planning on using it for popcorn and I don't even eat that much of that. I have a hotpot thing for hot water, so I can have soups and tea already. But Daddy mentioned that I should look for the old turntable for the microwave, so I looked and found nothing, and then he decided when I asked to get something to block the draft that comes through the window that we might as well get me a new microwave.I'd complain about it but hey, I get popcorn, and that's one more appliance I won't have to buy myself when I get my own apartment.
The weatherstripping worked better than I thought it would. It doesn't solve the problem, but it blocks a lot of the draft coming in though the window. I should offer the leftovers to Mistake. She was having issues with drafty windows-- she's got towels blocking the edges right now.
-----------------
I got to hold a ball python today! We stopped by the pet store and were looking at the animals, and Daddy asked the man to take out the python to let me hold him and pet him. They curl around your arms and hands, for the warmth, and they feel so cool. I kinda want to have one as a pet when I get my own place, but parrotlets hate snakes, and between the two, I'd rather get the parrotlet, because parrotlets don't need to eat mice. 
Personally, I think mice are too closely related to me for me to eat them, and while the snake doesn't have that problem, I have issues feeding a whole mammal-- which I won't eat-- to a reptile-- which I'd have some issues eating, but more in the "weird" sense than the "immoral" one. Of course, I'd feed an animal meat products, but a whole mouse is a little disturbing, dead or not. But they're really, really cool!
-----------------
A friend of Loquatia's came up to visit her, and brought a whole bunch of her friends. They were admiring the room and the fish and trying to name all the X-men on my poster. All together only missed Stryker and Lady Deathstrike. They were nice, though I, naturally, felt awkward. That's become a bit of a constant for me. But one of the girls was talking about going to the midnight showing of Star Wars: Episode III and how there were all these people dressed up as characters. So I smiled and said, "Hey, I dressed up for the midnight showing of the second Pirates movie."
She laughed. "Well, I was going to say what dorks they were and who would actually do that, but now I feel bad!"
Heh. Oops.
They also liked my spinny-wheelie thing on the door that says where we are. That thing is a great conversation-starter. If I became an RA I'd probably have to make them for my residents, albeit cheaper, photocopiable versions.-----------------
Speaking of which, I need to complete my application...
"Good day to make as much goulash as possible." ~Humorscope
It's the third and last day of the Paganalia, and today we're to offer spelt cakes and milk to Tellus/Gaia and Ceres/Demeter. On a much more interesting note, it's the second day of the Feast of Bacchus. Have some wine, celebrate! Tomorrow's your last day!
You know if you look up most of the more obscure Roman holidays, like the Agonalia Indigeti, this blog shows up as like the third resource on the list? Good thing I do actually look this shit up before I spout it.
-------------------
You know it's cold when:
-You can't breathe through your nose because the snot froze and it sticks the nostrils together.
-You pop in a piece of gum and have to hold it in your mouth until it thaws enough to chew... and it was just sitting on your windowsill all night.
-You don't want to open your mouth to breathe because it makes your gum start to get cold and hard.
-Crossing College Road to get to class calls to mind images of the Yukon.
-------------------
So I'm at home right now. We all got together to take the Brother to dinner and give him stuff, since it was his birthday last week and last weekend, when my sister and I were home anyway, he was post-tooth-removal and not in the mood for celebration. I saw the teeth. They look cool. You can see the line on one that marks where it had burst through the gum line... well, come on, this stuff is interesting to me!
I'm coming back to school tomorrow. The Brother liked the gloves and ear warmer I got him.
-------------------
Amishav, the writer of Chai Expectations, did a neat little list of what he needs from the woman he'll marry. It's pretty reasonable-- things like being Jewish (which is VERY reasonable if you're Jewish) and having the time for a relationship. I actually thought it might be a good idea for me to do one myself-- or rather, two; one for what I want, and one for what I expect. Since I'm very cynical. I wrote the easy one first-- what I expect. The other comes later, when I decide if I want to share it or not.
What I expect:
1. He will be male, have been male since birth, and always have identified himself as male. I'm pretty adamant on this one. I have nothing against transsexual people but I really REALLY don't want to be surprised by one.
2. He'll be attracted to me, in some way, even if it's just "oh, female, maybe I can get laid."
3. He won't use illegal drugs. If he drinks heavily, he won't do it around me and if he smokes, he also won't do it around me and he'll pop tic-tacs like candy.
4. He will be interested in something I like, even if it's just comic books or mocking bad movies.
5. He'll be able to understand me when I talk as long as I don't start discussing like, mythology or biological processes. As in, he'll have a decent enough vocabulary to understand me.
6. He won't hit me, unless I hit him first, and then he'll never hit me harder than I hit him. Relative to size, that is. If I'm dating a football player (yeah right) and I sock him hard in the stomach, he can't sock me back since chances are that'd leave a massive bruise. Even if he uses the same amount of force that I did.
7. He'll respect me enough to know when no needs to mean no.
8. I can't catch anything from him more serious than mono.
9. My one shallow requirement- he has to be at least 5'8". Any shorter than that and my self esteem starts to tank- not because of the guy, but because of the Amazonian feelings that I get.
10. He will not be suicidal and or into self-mutilation. A little depression or anger management issues I can deal with, but I refuse to handle a suicidal significant other.
Basically, I'm only barring people who are female or of indeterminable gender, potheads, sports fanatics, kids who play World of Warcraft all day, abusive types, rapists, the STD infected, the suicidal, cutters and short people. Hmm. I've only ever had three guys, my entire life, express the slightest interest in me... Maybe I should shorten the list.*
*That was a joke, kids. There's truth in it, but it's still a joke.
You know if you look up most of the more obscure Roman holidays, like the Agonalia Indigeti, this blog shows up as like the third resource on the list? Good thing I do actually look this shit up before I spout it.
-------------------
You know it's cold when:
-You can't breathe through your nose because the snot froze and it sticks the nostrils together.
-You pop in a piece of gum and have to hold it in your mouth until it thaws enough to chew... and it was just sitting on your windowsill all night.
-You don't want to open your mouth to breathe because it makes your gum start to get cold and hard.
-Crossing College Road to get to class calls to mind images of the Yukon.
-------------------
So I'm at home right now. We all got together to take the Brother to dinner and give him stuff, since it was his birthday last week and last weekend, when my sister and I were home anyway, he was post-tooth-removal and not in the mood for celebration. I saw the teeth. They look cool. You can see the line on one that marks where it had burst through the gum line... well, come on, this stuff is interesting to me!
I'm coming back to school tomorrow. The Brother liked the gloves and ear warmer I got him.
-------------------
Amishav, the writer of Chai Expectations, did a neat little list of what he needs from the woman he'll marry. It's pretty reasonable-- things like being Jewish (which is VERY reasonable if you're Jewish) and having the time for a relationship. I actually thought it might be a good idea for me to do one myself-- or rather, two; one for what I want, and one for what I expect. Since I'm very cynical. I wrote the easy one first-- what I expect. The other comes later, when I decide if I want to share it or not.
What I expect:
1. He will be male, have been male since birth, and always have identified himself as male. I'm pretty adamant on this one. I have nothing against transsexual people but I really REALLY don't want to be surprised by one.
2. He'll be attracted to me, in some way, even if it's just "oh, female, maybe I can get laid."
3. He won't use illegal drugs. If he drinks heavily, he won't do it around me and if he smokes, he also won't do it around me and he'll pop tic-tacs like candy.
4. He will be interested in something I like, even if it's just comic books or mocking bad movies.
5. He'll be able to understand me when I talk as long as I don't start discussing like, mythology or biological processes. As in, he'll have a decent enough vocabulary to understand me.
6. He won't hit me, unless I hit him first, and then he'll never hit me harder than I hit him. Relative to size, that is. If I'm dating a football player (yeah right) and I sock him hard in the stomach, he can't sock me back since chances are that'd leave a massive bruise. Even if he uses the same amount of force that I did.
7. He'll respect me enough to know when no needs to mean no.
8. I can't catch anything from him more serious than mono.
9. My one shallow requirement- he has to be at least 5'8". Any shorter than that and my self esteem starts to tank- not because of the guy, but because of the Amazonian feelings that I get.
10. He will not be suicidal and or into self-mutilation. A little depression or anger management issues I can deal with, but I refuse to handle a suicidal significant other.
Basically, I'm only barring people who are female or of indeterminable gender, potheads, sports fanatics, kids who play World of Warcraft all day, abusive types, rapists, the STD infected, the suicidal, cutters and short people. Hmm. I've only ever had three guys, my entire life, express the slightest interest in me... Maybe I should shorten the list.*
*That was a joke, kids. There's truth in it, but it's still a joke.
Saturday, December 2, 2006
Chinese moratorium begins! No Chinese food until Dec. 24th!
I'm currently at home... again. I feel so weird coming back two weekends in a row, especially right after Thanksgiving... But I have a job! And it's at Vector... which is totally unexpected...
OKay, here's the thing. Vector isn't really door-to-door sales. What they do is they have these knives, by a company called Cutco, that are really, really cool and very high quality, but cost less than the top quality knives. But they don't advertise the knives on TV or in magazines, and they don't put them in stores. Instead, they operate completely by word of mouth. See, a customer hears about the knives from someone who's already bought them. If he expresses an interest, Vector sends out a representative- that's me- to their house at a pre-arranged appointment time. The representative has a display set, they show off the product and demonstrate how cool they are- kitchen shears that can cut through a penny, pretty sweet- and then, if the customer is interested, they buy something. If not, the representative still gets paid $16.50 just for making an effort. Either way, the representative asks the customer if he or she knows of anyone else who might be interested in the knives, and if they can think of a few, the representative asks if they wouldn't mind letting those people know about the product, and that they can expect a call from Vector. Then the representative waits a few days, to let the customer make some calls or something, and calls up the referrals, and asks if they'd like to have a representative come out for an appointment. Usually you get a few people interested enough at least for you to come out.
But unlike regular door-to-door sales, the people are expecting you- it's by appointment only. So you're not going to be interrupting them in the middle of something, and they won't sic their dogs on you. Hopefully. And some other pluses include the fact that I'l get paid even if I sell absolutely nothing. I'll also get paid if I make appointments with family members- they expect you to do that for the first couple appointments. The only rules are that you can't make an appointment to someone under 25- so like, friends and stuff don't count, which is a bummer because I think Shrewd might want to buy something- you can't make and appointment with someone who you know isn't employed, because why would they be buying knives, and you have to go one-on-one with the customer.
Plus, they offer pay incentives if I sell over certain amounts, so if I wind up being any good at this salesman gig, I can make quite a bit of extra money. However, that doesn't mean I'm supposed to pressure people into buying stuff. Actually, that's the fastest way to get fired- a customer reporting that you were pushy. We're just supposed to be friendly, personable, and knowledgable, and let the products sell themselves.
The base rate is really good, considering that the average appointment is a half hour to forty-five minutes. I figure I'll try to schedule 5 or 6 appointments a day, which would be the same as working at a minimum wage job for 13 hours a day; or a 48-hour workweek for $12 an hour.
And don't worry. They train you. For three days. Some of which is actually teaching you about the product, but most of which is teaching you how to make a good impression on people.
And honestly, I think that the training will be a much greater advantage to me than the money...
THe only major flaw is that the job starts the day AFTER Christmas. Apparently people buy knives after they cooked over the holidays and realized that theirs sucked. I kinda wish I could start earlier, but the training begins Dec. 26. I dunno. Maybe I could get a job at another store, one that doesn't need post-holiday help, until Christmas.
-----------------------------
The other interveiws went okay. Macy's was looking for help more immediately, but asked me to call on the 13th to see if they still needed assistance. I don't think they want help after the holidays, though. It might work. TJ Maxx is calling me back later this week- but they're doing lots of post-Christmas work, so that's probably a no-go.
-----------------------------
So I came home, all excited because I had the job at Vector and all. And what do Daddy and Mummy do but start telling me all these horror stories about sales experience and pyramid companies and frauding poor college students out of training fees and buying the product, and Daddy starts talking about how I need to go with someone or I'll be attacked, and that confidence wave I was riding kinda flopped. But I spent the next couple hours getting valuable experience as a salesperson by trying to sell the idea of this job to my folks. Meanwhile they're making me all nervous about having finally taken the initiative to go outside my comfort zone and do a job that will teach me a great deal and give me something very, very good to pad my resume with.
So I promised Daddy I'll carry mace in my purse and I explained to Mummy that all I pay is a security deposit of $135 on the knives that I can get back at any time if I return the knives. Or I can keep the whole $517 set for the cost of the security deposit, if I want. There's no training fees or anything. Absolute worst comes to worst, I don't make any money over break and I leave with some sales skills and something else to stick on my future job applications.
Unfortunately, Mummy and Daddy basically destroyed any self-confidence I gained from beating out like seven other applicants who were at the interview with me as the best candidate for the job. Now, I'm petrified. Gee. Thanks, guys. Way to be supportive and encouraging...
OKay, here's the thing. Vector isn't really door-to-door sales. What they do is they have these knives, by a company called Cutco, that are really, really cool and very high quality, but cost less than the top quality knives. But they don't advertise the knives on TV or in magazines, and they don't put them in stores. Instead, they operate completely by word of mouth. See, a customer hears about the knives from someone who's already bought them. If he expresses an interest, Vector sends out a representative- that's me- to their house at a pre-arranged appointment time. The representative has a display set, they show off the product and demonstrate how cool they are- kitchen shears that can cut through a penny, pretty sweet- and then, if the customer is interested, they buy something. If not, the representative still gets paid $16.50 just for making an effort. Either way, the representative asks the customer if he or she knows of anyone else who might be interested in the knives, and if they can think of a few, the representative asks if they wouldn't mind letting those people know about the product, and that they can expect a call from Vector. Then the representative waits a few days, to let the customer make some calls or something, and calls up the referrals, and asks if they'd like to have a representative come out for an appointment. Usually you get a few people interested enough at least for you to come out.
But unlike regular door-to-door sales, the people are expecting you- it's by appointment only. So you're not going to be interrupting them in the middle of something, and they won't sic their dogs on you. Hopefully. And some other pluses include the fact that I'l get paid even if I sell absolutely nothing. I'll also get paid if I make appointments with family members- they expect you to do that for the first couple appointments. The only rules are that you can't make an appointment to someone under 25- so like, friends and stuff don't count, which is a bummer because I think Shrewd might want to buy something- you can't make and appointment with someone who you know isn't employed, because why would they be buying knives, and you have to go one-on-one with the customer.
Plus, they offer pay incentives if I sell over certain amounts, so if I wind up being any good at this salesman gig, I can make quite a bit of extra money. However, that doesn't mean I'm supposed to pressure people into buying stuff. Actually, that's the fastest way to get fired- a customer reporting that you were pushy. We're just supposed to be friendly, personable, and knowledgable, and let the products sell themselves.
The base rate is really good, considering that the average appointment is a half hour to forty-five minutes. I figure I'll try to schedule 5 or 6 appointments a day, which would be the same as working at a minimum wage job for 13 hours a day; or a 48-hour workweek for $12 an hour.
And don't worry. They train you. For three days. Some of which is actually teaching you about the product, but most of which is teaching you how to make a good impression on people.
And honestly, I think that the training will be a much greater advantage to me than the money...
THe only major flaw is that the job starts the day AFTER Christmas. Apparently people buy knives after they cooked over the holidays and realized that theirs sucked. I kinda wish I could start earlier, but the training begins Dec. 26. I dunno. Maybe I could get a job at another store, one that doesn't need post-holiday help, until Christmas.
-----------------------------
The other interveiws went okay. Macy's was looking for help more immediately, but asked me to call on the 13th to see if they still needed assistance. I don't think they want help after the holidays, though. It might work. TJ Maxx is calling me back later this week- but they're doing lots of post-Christmas work, so that's probably a no-go.
-----------------------------
So I came home, all excited because I had the job at Vector and all. And what do Daddy and Mummy do but start telling me all these horror stories about sales experience and pyramid companies and frauding poor college students out of training fees and buying the product, and Daddy starts talking about how I need to go with someone or I'll be attacked, and that confidence wave I was riding kinda flopped. But I spent the next couple hours getting valuable experience as a salesperson by trying to sell the idea of this job to my folks. Meanwhile they're making me all nervous about having finally taken the initiative to go outside my comfort zone and do a job that will teach me a great deal and give me something very, very good to pad my resume with.
So I promised Daddy I'll carry mace in my purse and I explained to Mummy that all I pay is a security deposit of $135 on the knives that I can get back at any time if I return the knives. Or I can keep the whole $517 set for the cost of the security deposit, if I want. There's no training fees or anything. Absolute worst comes to worst, I don't make any money over break and I leave with some sales skills and something else to stick on my future job applications.
Unfortunately, Mummy and Daddy basically destroyed any self-confidence I gained from beating out like seven other applicants who were at the interview with me as the best candidate for the job. Now, I'm petrified. Gee. Thanks, guys. Way to be supportive and encouraging...
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
My Throat Hurts.
7:00 AM: Alarm clock goes off for the first time. It plays static, as I still haven't bothered to change it to a local radio station. I hit it and it shuts up.
7:15: It goes off again. I hit it again. Loquatia rolls out of bed and starts getting ready for class.
7:30: The actual alarm goes off, with annoying buzzing. I hit it again.
7:45: Goes off again. Hit it again. Wonder briefly before slipping into unconsciousness how much Tacita, sleeping above me, must hate me right now.
8:00-9:00: Alarm goes off every fifteen minutes; at some point, Tacita gets up and leaves.
9:00: I finally roll out of bed. This two-hour wake-up is why I'm fairly certain my neighbors have no qualms about playing their annoyingly loud video games at all hours of the night.
9:30: Having read my morning comics, while bundled up in my comforter since it's FREEZING, I go to shower.
10:00: Done showering. Horrible water pressure this morning. I get dressed quickly, then check my email.
10:20: Breakfast. I can call it that because it's still morning.
10:40: Start packing up stuff to go home. We have to unplug everything, including appliances, before we can leave. Plus I'm bringing home my laundry, including my sheets and blanket. And two pillows, because last time I went home I realized that all my good pillows were at school. And my school books. And attire suitable for job-hunting. Because that's how I'm spending most these four days- except for Thursday, when everything's closed, I'm going to be looking for a job for Christmas break.
11:20: Already packed and now bored. Try to find stuff to do online.
11:21: Out of stuff to do online...
---------------------------
I didn't want to study any more- I felt there wasn't much more chemistry I could cram in, and I didn't really need to study for Latin. So I was really, really bored. I swept the floor. I wandered around the room and checked stuff. I started writing a journal entry, but it got too long and now I'm rewriting it... yesterday's post was pretty long, let's not prolong it any more.
But I think I did okay on the tests, despite my miserable grade on the last Bio test he handed back. 74. Yikes. I felt really ready for this test, though, for one simple reason: the professor gave us EVERYTHING we could POSSIBLY need to know for the exam at the review session last night. It was somewhat ridiculous, actually; he had a copy of the test in his hand and he was doing sample problems for each one. I knew not only what was going to be one the test, but in what order. Not complaining, though. Not at all.
---------------------------
Last night I got an IM from a girl in my Bio lab section, saying she'd have to move the meeting to 3:45 because of work. I was like, "what meeting," which is never a good sign... There's this group lab report in Bio, on plant cloning, that we're working on. I don't have to do anything but compile the data, which is good; I'm so horrible at Lab that I think they decided I shouldn't be allowed to write anything myself. But apparently there was a meeting today to make sure I got everything from them.
Oops.
I was kinda planning on going home, remember? Well, that changed, I had to call my mom and have her tell Daddy to pick me up at 4:30 at the earliest. Bummer. Little change in plans.
And, to make matters worse, when the girl IMed me, she informed me that she couldn't actually get in touch with anyone else in our little group, because I was the only one who had provided her with my screen name. Either that or she got it off Facebook, I'm not sure. Anyway, I happened to have one other screen name, so I sent that guy a note about the change in time, but the last member in our group was completely inaccessible. I sent him an email at the address he gave me but it bounced back, and my normal stalker-routes on Facebook yielded nothing. So I went over to the library at the time we were supposed to meet originally, 3:00, and I sat down, intending to just plain wait and tell him of the rescheduling when he arrived.
BUT someone else had told him of the rescheduling when they happened to run into him. So total waste of time. Grr.
---------------------------
Daddy picked me up right on time, and after five- yes, five- trips back and forth up 2 flights of stairs between my room and the car outside, I was ready to go. Got home and watched Stargate, Dead Like Me, and House. I've missed television. My only exposure to it is CNN or Fox News in the cafeteria, and I ignore Fox News.
---------------------------
I just want to say one thing before I shut up and go to bed: Just once, just once, I want to see a teenager on House that doesn't use drugs, has never used drugs, doesn't have sex, has never had sex, and is an all-around good-kid, but gets sick anyway. Because not only do those "good kids" exist, they're just as capable of getting weird obscure diseases as the druggie sex addicts. At least, most of the weird diseases. But honestly, as much as I love House, I have NEVER seen a teenager on this show who wasn't secretly having sex or doing drugs. Or openly having sex or doing drugs. Whatever.
There are kids out there who are not Dungeons and Dragons types or uber-religious but who don't have sex or do drugs. I know this because I'm one of them, and my best friend is another, and her boyfriend is another, and KT Mack, my friend from high school whom you can find a link to on the sidebar, is yet another. And I bet any of us could contract a horrible genetic disease that we didn't know about and wind up with like 20 different symptom diseases. But you won't see us on House, because we're not examples of how today's youth is a bunch of sex-obsessed potheads.
Uhm, God? Hi. It's me. Uh... please ignore that previous statement. I really don't want any of my friends to contract a horrible genetic disease. Especially since I'm the one with a parent who's adopted and consequently has no medical history for his biological family, so if anyone's getting a horrible genetic disease, it's gonna be me...
7:15: It goes off again. I hit it again. Loquatia rolls out of bed and starts getting ready for class.
7:30: The actual alarm goes off, with annoying buzzing. I hit it again.
7:45: Goes off again. Hit it again. Wonder briefly before slipping into unconsciousness how much Tacita, sleeping above me, must hate me right now.
8:00-9:00: Alarm goes off every fifteen minutes; at some point, Tacita gets up and leaves.
9:00: I finally roll out of bed. This two-hour wake-up is why I'm fairly certain my neighbors have no qualms about playing their annoyingly loud video games at all hours of the night.
9:30: Having read my morning comics, while bundled up in my comforter since it's FREEZING, I go to shower.
10:00: Done showering. Horrible water pressure this morning. I get dressed quickly, then check my email.
10:20: Breakfast. I can call it that because it's still morning.
10:40: Start packing up stuff to go home. We have to unplug everything, including appliances, before we can leave. Plus I'm bringing home my laundry, including my sheets and blanket. And two pillows, because last time I went home I realized that all my good pillows were at school. And my school books. And attire suitable for job-hunting. Because that's how I'm spending most these four days- except for Thursday, when everything's closed, I'm going to be looking for a job for Christmas break.
11:20: Already packed and now bored. Try to find stuff to do online.
11:21: Out of stuff to do online...
---------------------------
I didn't want to study any more- I felt there wasn't much more chemistry I could cram in, and I didn't really need to study for Latin. So I was really, really bored. I swept the floor. I wandered around the room and checked stuff. I started writing a journal entry, but it got too long and now I'm rewriting it... yesterday's post was pretty long, let's not prolong it any more.
But I think I did okay on the tests, despite my miserable grade on the last Bio test he handed back. 74. Yikes. I felt really ready for this test, though, for one simple reason: the professor gave us EVERYTHING we could POSSIBLY need to know for the exam at the review session last night. It was somewhat ridiculous, actually; he had a copy of the test in his hand and he was doing sample problems for each one. I knew not only what was going to be one the test, but in what order. Not complaining, though. Not at all.
---------------------------
Last night I got an IM from a girl in my Bio lab section, saying she'd have to move the meeting to 3:45 because of work. I was like, "what meeting," which is never a good sign... There's this group lab report in Bio, on plant cloning, that we're working on. I don't have to do anything but compile the data, which is good; I'm so horrible at Lab that I think they decided I shouldn't be allowed to write anything myself. But apparently there was a meeting today to make sure I got everything from them.
Oops.
I was kinda planning on going home, remember? Well, that changed, I had to call my mom and have her tell Daddy to pick me up at 4:30 at the earliest. Bummer. Little change in plans.
And, to make matters worse, when the girl IMed me, she informed me that she couldn't actually get in touch with anyone else in our little group, because I was the only one who had provided her with my screen name. Either that or she got it off Facebook, I'm not sure. Anyway, I happened to have one other screen name, so I sent that guy a note about the change in time, but the last member in our group was completely inaccessible. I sent him an email at the address he gave me but it bounced back, and my normal stalker-routes on Facebook yielded nothing. So I went over to the library at the time we were supposed to meet originally, 3:00, and I sat down, intending to just plain wait and tell him of the rescheduling when he arrived.
BUT someone else had told him of the rescheduling when they happened to run into him. So total waste of time. Grr.
---------------------------
Daddy picked me up right on time, and after five- yes, five- trips back and forth up 2 flights of stairs between my room and the car outside, I was ready to go. Got home and watched Stargate, Dead Like Me, and House. I've missed television. My only exposure to it is CNN or Fox News in the cafeteria, and I ignore Fox News.
---------------------------
I just want to say one thing before I shut up and go to bed: Just once, just once, I want to see a teenager on House that doesn't use drugs, has never used drugs, doesn't have sex, has never had sex, and is an all-around good-kid, but gets sick anyway. Because not only do those "good kids" exist, they're just as capable of getting weird obscure diseases as the druggie sex addicts. At least, most of the weird diseases. But honestly, as much as I love House, I have NEVER seen a teenager on this show who wasn't secretly having sex or doing drugs. Or openly having sex or doing drugs. Whatever.
There are kids out there who are not Dungeons and Dragons types or uber-religious but who don't have sex or do drugs. I know this because I'm one of them, and my best friend is another, and her boyfriend is another, and KT Mack, my friend from high school whom you can find a link to on the sidebar, is yet another. And I bet any of us could contract a horrible genetic disease that we didn't know about and wind up with like 20 different symptom diseases. But you won't see us on House, because we're not examples of how today's youth is a bunch of sex-obsessed potheads.
Uhm, God? Hi. It's me. Uh... please ignore that previous statement. I really don't want any of my friends to contract a horrible genetic disease. Especially since I'm the one with a parent who's adopted and consequently has no medical history for his biological family, so if anyone's getting a horrible genetic disease, it's gonna be me...
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