My head weighs five hundred pounds and is stuffed with cotton pain, my nasal cavity is dealing with an overpopulation of mucus and my left nostril has decided to grant amnesty, and my throat aches so much I've been popping cough drops until my teeth feel furry.
Bah.
Showing posts with label sick. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sick. Show all posts
Monday, October 29, 2007
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Not my evening
Still the Ludi Romani.
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Ryter was really sick tonight, like, constant agony sick; he's got a tic problem that's popped up (well, he claims it's been there forever, but I haven't noticed it) and it affected his trachea, causing him to have trouble with food and drink. He also is dealing with some medication shifting while he's waiting to see a neurologist, and that may have had something to do with all of this. Luckily his meds kicked in in the evening so it was okay, but we were thinking he might have to go to the ER for a little bit there. If he has that problem tomorrow, he will.
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Then on top of that, my mother called. See, when I was buying school stuff the clerks would offer me various promotions. The conversation would go thusly:
"Would you like to sign up for our Rewards Card?"
"What does it do?"
"Well, you get a discount on all future purchases."
"Does it cost anything?"
"No, it's free."
"And it's just a discount?"
"Yep! Takes no time to sign up..."
And I would sign up, because what's the loss?
So now my mom's called with the news that contrary to what I was told, these are actually credit cards. And what's more, all those pesky "receipts" I signed, and all those times the clerks swiped my card? Yeah, they weren't real. They were just practice, I suppose. Because now they're charging me for it again, on their little credit card that was supposed to be a Rewards Card, like the little key thing you get at Shaw's that gives you discounts on baked beans once in a while.
So their clerks blatantly misrepresented these cards to me, and now I discover I have to pay them off and cancel them and this HUGE hassle. I intend to actually go into the stores that I got the cards from and ask to speak to the manager there, and say, "Your employees GROSSLY misrepresented this deal. They portrayed the card as a simple discount membership, failing to mention that it was in fact a CREDIT CARD and that I would still owe money. I like your merchandise and this won't stop me from shopping here, but I damn well expect the next time I or anyone comes in and you offer this service that you have those clerks mention "credit card" somewhere in their little chat-up."
We;re ignoring the me not reading the small print part. If the clerks had been honest, I would have. As it was, I wasn't expecting that I was entering any kind of contract that could negatively affect me in any way; as it is my mom has to pay these things off for me lest I wind up with a bad credit score, then I have to cancel them.... bah...
Ryter was really sick tonight, like, constant agony sick; he's got a tic problem that's popped up (well, he claims it's been there forever, but I haven't noticed it) and it affected his trachea, causing him to have trouble with food and drink. He also is dealing with some medication shifting while he's waiting to see a neurologist, and that may have had something to do with all of this. Luckily his meds kicked in in the evening so it was okay, but we were thinking he might have to go to the ER for a little bit there. If he has that problem tomorrow, he will.
Then on top of that, my mother called. See, when I was buying school stuff the clerks would offer me various promotions. The conversation would go thusly:
"Would you like to sign up for our Rewards Card?"
"What does it do?"
"Well, you get a discount on all future purchases."
"Does it cost anything?"
"No, it's free."
"And it's just a discount?"
"Yep! Takes no time to sign up..."
And I would sign up, because what's the loss?
So now my mom's called with the news that contrary to what I was told, these are actually credit cards. And what's more, all those pesky "receipts" I signed, and all those times the clerks swiped my card? Yeah, they weren't real. They were just practice, I suppose. Because now they're charging me for it again, on their little credit card that was supposed to be a Rewards Card, like the little key thing you get at Shaw's that gives you discounts on baked beans once in a while.
So their clerks blatantly misrepresented these cards to me, and now I discover I have to pay them off and cancel them and this HUGE hassle. I intend to actually go into the stores that I got the cards from and ask to speak to the manager there, and say, "Your employees GROSSLY misrepresented this deal. They portrayed the card as a simple discount membership, failing to mention that it was in fact a CREDIT CARD and that I would still owe money. I like your merchandise and this won't stop me from shopping here, but I damn well expect the next time I or anyone comes in and you offer this service that you have those clerks mention "credit card" somewhere in their little chat-up."
We;re ignoring the me not reading the small print part. If the clerks had been honest, I would have. As it was, I wasn't expecting that I was entering any kind of contract that could negatively affect me in any way; as it is my mom has to pay these things off for me lest I wind up with a bad credit score, then I have to cancel them.... bah...
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... |
Friday, March 9, 2007
Here is a Bad Idea:
First, make sure you are very sick for several days, ensuring a complete lack of desire to get out of bed and go eat. Subsist on Ramen noodles and hot tea.
Then get better, but maintain your sore throat despite feeling perfectly fine, so you don't feel sick but you can't swallow easily. Proceed to pick out soft foods like eggs for breakfast, but make sure that you're eating in a cafeteria that can't seem to fully hard-boil the damn things so you can't finish them without triggering your gag reflex. Also make sure you have weird dietary restrictions on the eating of meat, limiting your lunchtime consumption to vegetarian chili. Subsist on hot tea, juice, and vegetarian chili.
Then decide to break your near-fast with Asian food that you've never tried before and have no idea how your stomach will respond to it. Decide you dislike the taste and be too obsessed with making a good impression to ask for something more substantiative, like solid food.
At this point you will feel perfectly healthy except for the fact you've eaten an anorexic's fare for the past week or so and don't actually have any of the proper nutrients in your system, except for iron, because of the stupid pills you're taking and probably peeing out because the body needs vitamin C to absorb iron and you haven't had anything vitamin C except for cough drops.
Your stomach will fill with gas, feel like it's about to explode, and bloat. Your first impact will be to get your knees as close to your chin as possible in an attempt to fix this problem (why does this work? I don't know. But I always cure stomach pain with contortionist practice). And if you're like me, your pain threshold is fairly high, so you're going to sit there all evening ignoring the fact that you're pretty sure your stomach has begun digesting your liver.
Oh, but you're gonna complain about it. Oh yes. Because that's what blogs are for.
That said, I totally can't complain as much as Mistake, who has pneumonia. As far as I know, it's not even the walking sort, and yet, she's been walking about for a couple of days now, because she is NUTS.
Then get better, but maintain your sore throat despite feeling perfectly fine, so you don't feel sick but you can't swallow easily. Proceed to pick out soft foods like eggs for breakfast, but make sure that you're eating in a cafeteria that can't seem to fully hard-boil the damn things so you can't finish them without triggering your gag reflex. Also make sure you have weird dietary restrictions on the eating of meat, limiting your lunchtime consumption to vegetarian chili. Subsist on hot tea, juice, and vegetarian chili.
Then decide to break your near-fast with Asian food that you've never tried before and have no idea how your stomach will respond to it. Decide you dislike the taste and be too obsessed with making a good impression to ask for something more substantiative, like solid food.
At this point you will feel perfectly healthy except for the fact you've eaten an anorexic's fare for the past week or so and don't actually have any of the proper nutrients in your system, except for iron, because of the stupid pills you're taking and probably peeing out because the body needs vitamin C to absorb iron and you haven't had anything vitamin C except for cough drops.
Your stomach will fill with gas, feel like it's about to explode, and bloat. Your first impact will be to get your knees as close to your chin as possible in an attempt to fix this problem (why does this work? I don't know. But I always cure stomach pain with contortionist practice). And if you're like me, your pain threshold is fairly high, so you're going to sit there all evening ignoring the fact that you're pretty sure your stomach has begun digesting your liver.
Oh, but you're gonna complain about it. Oh yes. Because that's what blogs are for.
That said, I totally can't complain as much as Mistake, who has pneumonia. As far as I know, it's not even the walking sort, and yet, she's been walking about for a couple of days now, because she is NUTS.
| I Should Be a Science Fiction Writer |
 My ideas are very strange, and people often wonder what planet I'm from. And while I may have some problems being "normal," I'll have no problems writing sci-fi. Whether it's epic films, important novels, or vivid comics... My own little universe could leave an important mark on the world! |
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
"Fine, the zucchini can have his damn rocket boots."*
I hate being sick. Especially since I'm desperately trying to get well before tomorrow night. I felt better today, though, or at least differently ill; I can breathe, and my fever is down, but my throat hurts like hell. This is possibly related to the fact that last night I was breathing through my mouth and I dried out my throat, but meh.
Anyway, skipped Chemistry today, because yeah, not sitting through that class and I needed sleep; I had to go to Bio lab, though, because I can't easily make it up. The trouble was that this week's lab was in the greenhouses, which are out past A-lot at the edge of oblivi- er, campus. It wasn't as crazy-cold today as yesterday but it wasn't exactly toasty either, so despite the hot peppermint tea I was drinking to help my throat and the fact that I was spilling at least as much on my hands as entered my mouth I was practically frozen by the time I entered the greenhouses.
That said... Despite being sick, I must say, if you ever go to UNH for some reason during the greenhouse's open house (which, by the way, is 9 to 4 on Friday, March 31st and Saturday, April 1), check it out; it's awesome. The room we were in had enormous cacti and flowering cacti and every kind of carnivorous plant imaginable, and orange trees and lemon trees and a banana tree that wasn't fruiting but still looked very cool; there was a full-grown palm tree and a little pond with goldfish in it and a Birds of Paradise plant, which I haven't seen since we saw that tropical garden on Capri in Italy. The diversity in that small space is awesome; plus, I have always liked carnivorous plants.
Anyway, yeah, very cool lab despite my feeling like I just wanted to collapse the whole time...
I'm going to bed.
*Not a fortune, I didn't get one today-- but I thougt it was pretty funny...
Anyway, skipped Chemistry today, because yeah, not sitting through that class and I needed sleep; I had to go to Bio lab, though, because I can't easily make it up. The trouble was that this week's lab was in the greenhouses, which are out past A-lot at the edge of oblivi- er, campus. It wasn't as crazy-cold today as yesterday but it wasn't exactly toasty either, so despite the hot peppermint tea I was drinking to help my throat and the fact that I was spilling at least as much on my hands as entered my mouth I was practically frozen by the time I entered the greenhouses.
That said... Despite being sick, I must say, if you ever go to UNH for some reason during the greenhouse's open house (which, by the way, is 9 to 4 on Friday, March 31st and Saturday, April 1), check it out; it's awesome. The room we were in had enormous cacti and flowering cacti and every kind of carnivorous plant imaginable, and orange trees and lemon trees and a banana tree that wasn't fruiting but still looked very cool; there was a full-grown palm tree and a little pond with goldfish in it and a Birds of Paradise plant, which I haven't seen since we saw that tropical garden on Capri in Italy. The diversity in that small space is awesome; plus, I have always liked carnivorous plants.
Anyway, yeah, very cool lab despite my feeling like I just wanted to collapse the whole time...
I'm going to bed.
| I am a Self-Discoverer |
 I'm not religious, but I've created my own kind of spirituality. Introspective and thoughtful, I tend to look inward for the divine. I am distrusting of all forms of organized religion. I especially dislike religious gurus and leaders, who I feel are charlatans. |
*Not a fortune, I didn't get one today-- but I thougt it was pretty funny...
Monday, March 5, 2007
"Bring something up from the back burner."
My sister is to be a bridesmaid at a friend's wedding. This is most likely going to involve a dress. Specifically, Shrewd in a dress. Maybe even heels. And a bridesmaid's dress, at that, which are notoriously bad...
Bwahahahaha! Schadenfreude!
But only because it's Shrewd, and she has a tendency to say my Facebook profile pictures look deformed. Or my face looks deformed. She didn't specify her meaning. After her complaints about my most recent change I was considering just giving up and sketching myself, but I've since had two boys tell me the most recent "deformed" image was perfectly fine, so I stick out my tongue in her general direction and I'll put the new one back up tomorrow.
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Chemistry is killing me, but meh. I'm used to it. I'm also dying slowly as a result of my brain slowly liquefying and escaping though my nose. It's also possible that I have a cold, but I find it hard to believe I have this much fluid in my head without some of it being part of my gray matter, dissolving due to the close proximity to Spring Break.
The violent sneezing is no doubt helping the liquefication process, through repeated banging of the brain against the inside of my skull. I normally sneeze an average of 5 times in a row, but if I have a cold it's upped to like ten, and each sneeze brings tears to my eyes and nearly knocks me out of the chair.
I'm sure I look real attractive right now, bleary-eyed and drippy with a big ol' red nose...
And I'm really tired, too, because I haven't been getting enough sleep and I'm sick. I slept through the first half of a lecture today, which wouldn't be so abnormal if it wasn't at 6 pm...
Speaking of that lecture, here's today's Bad Typing Error Of The Day: "Have Faith! If I can do you, anyone can!"
Bwahahahaha! Schadenfreude!
But only because it's Shrewd, and she has a tendency to say my Facebook profile pictures look deformed. Or my face looks deformed. She didn't specify her meaning. After her complaints about my most recent change I was considering just giving up and sketching myself, but I've since had two boys tell me the most recent "deformed" image was perfectly fine, so I stick out my tongue in her general direction and I'll put the new one back up tomorrow.
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Chemistry is killing me, but meh. I'm used to it. I'm also dying slowly as a result of my brain slowly liquefying and escaping though my nose. It's also possible that I have a cold, but I find it hard to believe I have this much fluid in my head without some of it being part of my gray matter, dissolving due to the close proximity to Spring Break.
The violent sneezing is no doubt helping the liquefication process, through repeated banging of the brain against the inside of my skull. I normally sneeze an average of 5 times in a row, but if I have a cold it's upped to like ten, and each sneeze brings tears to my eyes and nearly knocks me out of the chair.
I'm sure I look real attractive right now, bleary-eyed and drippy with a big ol' red nose...
And I'm really tired, too, because I haven't been getting enough sleep and I'm sick. I slept through the first half of a lecture today, which wouldn't be so abnormal if it wasn't at 6 pm...
Speaking of that lecture, here's today's Bad Typing Error Of The Day: "Have Faith! If I can do you, anyone can!"
| I Am A Romantic Realist |
 I tend to be grounded when it comes to romance. Sure, I can fall hard... but only for someone I've gotten to know. And once I'm in love, I can be a total romantic goofball... But I'd never admit it to my friends! |
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.
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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.
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And here. I don't know how accurate this is, but yeah.
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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.
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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. |
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
"Your Deeds Today Will Be Your Memories Tomorrow"
Today is the Fili Saturni, a festival to honor the sons of Saturn/Cronus- Jupiter/Zeus, Neptune/Poseidon, and Pluto/Hades.
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I am sick. My throat kills and I generally feel like I'm falling apart. This also means that while I am STARVING, I can't actually eat, because my throat's too sore. This is NOT COOL. I need chicken noodle Ramen...
I was trying to choke down lunch today (luckily there was scampi, which was soft and oily so easy to handle) with Libentra, and we were approached (in the cafeteria, mind you) by an overly bubbly salesgirl who was offering a promotional deal to the first 100 girls who signed up. The deal was for a spa in Portsmouth, and it was for a hair analysis, style consultation, design cut, shampoo, and style, deep conditioning treatment, scalp massage, eyebrow shaping, manicure, pedicure, hand paraffin treatment, face-framing highlights, color gloss (no idea what this is, sounds like they spray-paint you, or maybe your car), light therapy treatment, skin analysis, and ultra sound corrective facial.
So it's pretty pricey, right? I mean, that's a lot of stuff. I know a manicure is like $15 and a facial can be like $60... No. It was $38. For the whole thing (well, excluding tips). I mean, like, damn. Good deal. So I'm thinking I know quite a few ladies who wouldn't mind some of this stuff, like my mom, my sister, and some of my friends (Candida would mind horribly, but besides her), and since it's Christmastime and all, I figured, eh, why not, and I bought it.
Now, naturally, I'm sitting here debating the choice... because I never make a impetuous decision without debating it six ways from Sunday after the fact. But I have decided not to regret this choice. I refuse. At least not until I call the spa to make an appointment and discover that I've been scammed or something. But they have a website, which validates the offer somewhat...
Meh. Worst happens, the salesgirl uses the credit card number and robs me, and then discovers that it's got a $500 limit on purchases so it was a waste of time.
That's NOT my Christmas present, though. That's just a nice thing I want to do for people. I still have Christmas shopping to do. I can't really do it yet, though, because I want to make sure I have a job and figure out how much I'll be earning before I start spending money. And yes, I know that I'm broke and I shouldn't have bought the spa thing, but honestly, it's probably worth it and more.
Oh, and by the way, if anyone knows someone who highlights their hair (with something besides henna), someone who might want to get face-framing highlights for free, let me know. Or, you know, if you feel you particularly deserve something on the above list (and are female). I haven't a clue what some of them are, anyway, you're welcome to those.
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A new word, which I am trying to get into common usage: mythologic, n. 1. The alternative form of logic, involving much leaping, that is used in mythology. 2. An oxymoron.
This is due to two conversations I was in today, in myth class and then in latin, both unrelated but along the same vein. The first discussed the logic of Leda having sex with a man and a swan in the same night, but all four of her children- two from each father- being born from eggs. Even the mortal ones. That was in myth class.
In Latin, we're translating Ovid's "Midas" from the Metamorphoses, and in the discussion of the god Dionysus and his role, the professor mentioned the story about Semele, Dionysus' mother, dying, and how Zeus sewed the unborn Dionysus into his thigh. One of the brighter (sarcasm here) students, a young man named for a city, asked, "Wait- is that logical? Like, could that happen biologically?"
Yes, honey. It's really possible for a man to deliver a child by sewing him into his thigh. Riiiiiight. Can we get some sex ed in here, stat!?
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I was saddened somewhat by the news that Blue Eyes won't be continuing in Latin next semester. Not that I'm definitely going into the class he would have taken anyway. Blue Eyes, by the way, is the young man who sits next to me in class. His eyes are very, very blue (hence the moniker). You will find that while I name friends and girls I talk about a lot by Latin names, like "Tacita" or "Libentra," I give Native-American-esque names to the guys that I'm not friends with but talk about semi-frequently. Hence names like "Blue Eyes." Or "Incredibly Hot Guy," who's in most of my classes and lives on my floor.
By the way, Blue Eyes is a nice guy, who has actually occasionally tried to talk to me, which is why I'm kinda saddened that he doesn't like Latin enough to continue. It's not just for the eyes. I'm not shallow... all the time.
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Well, that's about it for today, I guess. I have a lab report to finish and then the pre-lab, and I have to work on that miserable poem. I'm about halfway done at this point, I think. I still need Libentra to check it over, though, and scan it to let me know if it sounds iambic enough. That poem shall be the death of me.
16 Days until Break!
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I am sick. My throat kills and I generally feel like I'm falling apart. This also means that while I am STARVING, I can't actually eat, because my throat's too sore. This is NOT COOL. I need chicken noodle Ramen...
I was trying to choke down lunch today (luckily there was scampi, which was soft and oily so easy to handle) with Libentra, and we were approached (in the cafeteria, mind you) by an overly bubbly salesgirl who was offering a promotional deal to the first 100 girls who signed up. The deal was for a spa in Portsmouth, and it was for a hair analysis, style consultation, design cut, shampoo, and style, deep conditioning treatment, scalp massage, eyebrow shaping, manicure, pedicure, hand paraffin treatment, face-framing highlights, color gloss (no idea what this is, sounds like they spray-paint you, or maybe your car), light therapy treatment, skin analysis, and ultra sound corrective facial.
So it's pretty pricey, right? I mean, that's a lot of stuff. I know a manicure is like $15 and a facial can be like $60... No. It was $38. For the whole thing (well, excluding tips). I mean, like, damn. Good deal. So I'm thinking I know quite a few ladies who wouldn't mind some of this stuff, like my mom, my sister, and some of my friends (Candida would mind horribly, but besides her), and since it's Christmastime and all, I figured, eh, why not, and I bought it.
Now, naturally, I'm sitting here debating the choice... because I never make a impetuous decision without debating it six ways from Sunday after the fact. But I have decided not to regret this choice. I refuse. At least not until I call the spa to make an appointment and discover that I've been scammed or something. But they have a website, which validates the offer somewhat...
Meh. Worst happens, the salesgirl uses the credit card number and robs me, and then discovers that it's got a $500 limit on purchases so it was a waste of time.
That's NOT my Christmas present, though. That's just a nice thing I want to do for people. I still have Christmas shopping to do. I can't really do it yet, though, because I want to make sure I have a job and figure out how much I'll be earning before I start spending money. And yes, I know that I'm broke and I shouldn't have bought the spa thing, but honestly, it's probably worth it and more.
Oh, and by the way, if anyone knows someone who highlights their hair (with something besides henna), someone who might want to get face-framing highlights for free, let me know. Or, you know, if you feel you particularly deserve something on the above list (and are female). I haven't a clue what some of them are, anyway, you're welcome to those.
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A new word, which I am trying to get into common usage: mythologic, n. 1. The alternative form of logic, involving much leaping, that is used in mythology. 2. An oxymoron.
This is due to two conversations I was in today, in myth class and then in latin, both unrelated but along the same vein. The first discussed the logic of Leda having sex with a man and a swan in the same night, but all four of her children- two from each father- being born from eggs. Even the mortal ones. That was in myth class.
In Latin, we're translating Ovid's "Midas" from the Metamorphoses, and in the discussion of the god Dionysus and his role, the professor mentioned the story about Semele, Dionysus' mother, dying, and how Zeus sewed the unborn Dionysus into his thigh. One of the brighter (sarcasm here) students, a young man named for a city, asked, "Wait- is that logical? Like, could that happen biologically?"
Yes, honey. It's really possible for a man to deliver a child by sewing him into his thigh. Riiiiiight. Can we get some sex ed in here, stat!?
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I was saddened somewhat by the news that Blue Eyes won't be continuing in Latin next semester. Not that I'm definitely going into the class he would have taken anyway. Blue Eyes, by the way, is the young man who sits next to me in class. His eyes are very, very blue (hence the moniker). You will find that while I name friends and girls I talk about a lot by Latin names, like "Tacita" or "Libentra," I give Native-American-esque names to the guys that I'm not friends with but talk about semi-frequently. Hence names like "Blue Eyes." Or "Incredibly Hot Guy," who's in most of my classes and lives on my floor.
By the way, Blue Eyes is a nice guy, who has actually occasionally tried to talk to me, which is why I'm kinda saddened that he doesn't like Latin enough to continue. It's not just for the eyes. I'm not shallow... all the time.
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Well, that's about it for today, I guess. I have a lab report to finish and then the pre-lab, and I have to work on that miserable poem. I'm about halfway done at this point, I think. I still need Libentra to check it over, though, and scan it to let me know if it sounds iambic enough. That poem shall be the death of me.
16 Days until Break!
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