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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because it was punk rock Sophocles.

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

But oh my GOD the clothes.

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

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

But no.

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

Priceless.

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

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

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

I Have a Phlegmatic Temperament

Mild mannered and laid back, I take life at a slow pace.Maybe. Sometimes. I am very consistent - both in emotions and actions. I guess that's kinda true. I tend to absorb set backs easily. I am cool and collected. Aaaaand all accuracy is lost... It is difficult to offend me. Yes. I can remain composed and unemotional. Er-- no. I am a great friend and lover. I don't demand much of others. Sounds reasonable enough. While I am quiet, I have a subtle wit that my friends know well. What is this "subtlety" of which you speak? At my worst, I am lazy and unwilling to work at anything. True. I often get stuck in a rut, without aspirations or dreams. Not so true. I can get too dependent on others, setting myself up for abandonment.I don't really know. I think so.

What Temperment Are You?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I Am 92% Pure

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

How Pure Are You?

"At 20 the will reigns, at 30 the wit, at 40 the judgement"*

Today is the Women's Festival of Juno. That's when married women or those who'd like to be married celebrate Juno, or Hera as she is known in some circles. Queen of gods, goddess of matrimony- you get the idea.

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So two days ago I realized that I had totally screwed up my schedule, and Tuesdays are not free, as I though, but rather occupied by Englishy, Biology-y activities. So I missed my first two classes. Oops. Way to go, Sherlock.

But it's resolved, and I've talked to my teachers and apologized profusely. Anyway, dealing with that is basically why I didn't post a real entry until today, and why there was the random not-related-to-reality post right before this one, the one about Mary Sues that you didn't have to read because it has very little to do with my life.

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Besides the Bio/English screw up, I have discovered more scheduling changes. Like I can go to the Communication Skills group after all, which is exciting and means that I will possibly actually learn to talk to boys without being all "durrrrr...." That starts in like three weeks.

Also, I can take my Latin class and get credit and all. This is good. I like credit. Especially considering that my father was FLIPPING OUT about the possibility that this would not be the case.

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Libentra's in some of my classes! This is a YAY thing because we thought we wouldn't have any classes together this semester, and consequently would go into withdrawal from each other after our blatant mutual overexposure last semester. She's taking Chem with me (she's Honors and I'm not, but hey, we get to sit together in lecture) and Latin again.

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Loquatia and I are most likely going to be going to swing dance classes, or maybe salsa, together. She wanted something fun to try when she can't play tennis. That should be cool. Except I have to play the guy 50% of the time, apparently. I can't do the guy's part, it requires actual thought.

I went to yoga yesterday, and I plan to go tomorrow. This out to be interesting. I left yoga feeling relaxed, and yet, sore, sort of like how I'd expect to feel if I'd been beaten all over by several thugs and then dosed with sedatives. How's that for imagery, professor?

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That reminds me- I have to keep a daily journal for English. This is not really a problem for me. I'm not going to write yet another journal, though, I'm gonna print out my blog, minus the really long entries with little or no relevance to real life. Like... the previous one.

I thought about recording the one beautiful thing I make a point of noticing every day, but you know, thinking about one lovely thing is nice, but if you start listing them or recording them for posterity you start to sound poetic and I think I'd be ripping off thiel's ideas of living your poetry.

Besides, mustn't reveal my depthitude. I'm pretentious and self-involved enough as it is.


*I'm kinda tempted to make a comment about 70 and the bladder but I figure that would be mean coming from someone who's still in the "will" section of life.**

**This is not a comment like saying "No comment" is not a comment. Insert me smiling here.

Good news!

I met with the school psychiatrist today. And I told him that I very rarely remember to take my meds, which is a lie. I haven't taken them AT ALL in almost two months. But the point is, I'm fine, and stable, thanks to a combination of a) therapy, b) group therapy that focuses on the most distressing problem I have, c) my dad constantly telling me, every time I go home, how much thinner I look, d) realizing I actually look kinda pretty when I wear makeup and big hoop earrings and do something semi-decent with my hair, and e) not thinking about every guy I meet as a potential date opportunity, thus not getting disappointed when he invariably winds up having a girlfriend.

All these factors have improved my overall mood, and none of them are so hard to maintain (unless Daddy decides I'm not loosing weight after all or something) that I can't continue to pass as a normal, stable human being. And as long as that's the case, according to the doctor, I don't have to take mind-altering medication.

BASIORANA's DRUG FREE! WOOT!

Well, not quite, I mean, I still have pills to take, but everything I am currently putting into my body is a dietary supplement, all-natural food, or whatever that stuff in the cafeteria is. The all-natural stuff is rare... But still. I swore I was going to be off my meds by senior year of college- how awesome would it be if that goal was accomplished freshman year?

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Mistake has invited me to go with her and some of her friends to a frat party. Don't worry, none of the group intends to drink- I mean, it's got Mistake and Closer, and they're good people. They'll probably try to find a party that's a little less alcohol oriented. Also, the very fact that Closer will be there means it's gonna be fairly safe, since the really bad parties don't let guys in if they aren't in the frat.

I will mostly likely go and spend much of the time in the corner being nervously non-social and still feel a sense of accomplishment for getting out of the room at all. Then I will be able to say I went to a frat party during my college career, and thus one-up both my mother and my sister. Mind you, my sister's lack of frat parties in her social resume is probably more because Brandeis doesn't HAVE frats. Besides the Jewish one, which is intercollegiate. But a lack of frat houses tends to indicate a lack of frat parties.

Mummy just doesn't like parties. She's like, more shy than I am, only she doesn't particularly care enough to make an effort to change, especially not NOW.

Oh, speaking of parties, if anyone reading this knows my sister Shrewd, TELL HER TO GO TO HER SENIOR SEMI FORMAL. Because Shrewd didn't go to Prom, and this is her last chance to go to a big dance with all her friends until the weddings start. The issue is she doesn't want to go alone, and she has a friend she could go with, but she's too shy/awkward/embarrassed to ask him, despite the fact that it's not a DATE date, and it would be awkward for about FIVE SECONDS after the asking. Unless she has a friend like Mistake around who would make the entire circumstance much more awkward than it has to be, and thus provide her with emotional blackmail for the next five or six years of their friendship. (If you don't know this story, it's probably for your own good. That time period was the closest my life ever got to a soap opera, contrary to what Closer believes.)

But I digress. Tell Shrewd to get over herself and ask her buddy to escort her, because she needs a dance-like experience on her social resume and I want to have a picture more recent than senior year where she actually looks pretty, and not like a deranged chipmunk in junky old clothes like she does in EVERY FAMILY PHOTO, because she's usually laughing her head off.

Which says a lot about her personality, in that she's a cheerful sort, but also something about her chuckling, in that it needs work because laughter should not make one look like a deranged chipmunk. Not that I should talk, my laughter sounds like either a donkey, a woodpecker, or a pothead monkey. But I LOOK fine.

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Last weekend, I managed to come back from my visit home without leaving anything important. This is good. Not so good is that instead of forgetting stuff, I brought stuff with me. Specifically the key to the Contour, the car I was using to get to interviews. I discovered the key in my coat pocket. So I called and informed Mummy, and then she asked me where the spare key was. I said, "This is the spare key." "Then where's MY key, that I gave you on Saturday?"

Oops. That would be the bottom of my purse.

Thank God, there was ONE key I left behind, which ironically was the one that was actually mine, and on my key chain. So if it snows before I can get home, they can at least move the car...

Is it just me, or do I seem to be the sort who, if she ever got plastered (like that would happen), would wake up with a traffic sign she'd never seen before, and no pants?

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In other news... Basiorana needs to stop procrastinating. Like, NOW. Time for homework.

They Were Out Of Fortune Cookies. It Was Sad.

It's just another Mercatus day on the Roman-holiday front. Don't worry, there's some good holidays later this week. Of course, those of you using the holidays to get out of class/work/whatever will ask, "Gee, what good is that? Thanksgiving is this week, anyway!" But oh well. Sorry 'bout that.

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My Chemistry professor, a fairly young man for whom this is his first semester both teaching, and out of graduate school, came to class with a baseball cap this morning; this was not particularly out of the ordinary, despite it's dorky backwards status, as he tends to dress on the "youthful" side. Nevertheless, the reason for the hat quickly became apparent to those of us in the front row, as bits of black hair were peeping out from under it.

Last Friday, he was a blond.

So the truth was gradually teased out of him (oo, double entendre!); there had been a bit of an accident involving hair dye, you see. He wasn't very specific. But judging by his Facebook pictures, and what I can derive as the usual weekend proceedings for this man, I have this to say:

Learn from this story, kids. Never drink and dye.

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In other news, I managed to finagle my schedule so as to have no classes on Wednesday, and I'm going home tomorrow. This means that technically I could go home with Make A Mistake and her dad at 8:30 pm tonight, if we could work it out; however, that's like five hours after my last class and Closer's going too, so the car might be a bit cramped. Instead, my daddy's picking me up somewhere between 3:00 and 5:00, depending on when his car tuneup is over.

The Shrewd One, my sister, shall be retrieved on Wednesday. My grandfather is arriving on Wednesday or Thursday. Then there shall be turkey. Much turkey.

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I'm going to be having clothing issues tomorrow, I know it. We're still conserving water here, as a part of a competition to see which dorm can be the most energy-efficient, and I figured I should wait until I get home before I clean the laundry. This is especially true because I think my dorm's winning, and we get a pizza party.

Never say no to free food, unless it's in the hands of a creepy leering guy or it's cafeteria food.

Anyway, the issue arises in that I have no socks and no clean pants. So I guess I'll smell tomorrow.

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Speaking of which, a girl I know was sitting by me in class today and OH MY GOD HER BREATH SMELLED SO BAD. It was like she hadn't brushed in FOREVER. But I couldn't figure out how to discreetly like, offer her mint gum or something, because I had just put mine in as she sat down, so it would invovle throwing out perfectly good gum on the pretense of it being too "stale" and then getting a new piece and offering one to her. And then I would have had to press the issue if she'd refused... So I tried not to breath in when she talked. But honestly, what do you DO in that situation?

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My friend Libentra (I guess I can call her that; we have almost all the same classes and consequently eat together and do homework together a lot, and I think she's introduced me as her friend once or twice) and I grabbed lunch together, which really meant that she got a glass of lemonade and waited for me to finish eating so we could go work on our Latin translation together. She eats earlier on Mondays. Anyway, Libentra and I were sitting together and then Rachel's friends started coming over... first a guy who I've met before, he eats with us a lot... then two girls I didn't know... then ANOTHER girl I didn't know... By the time I finished my cheese enchilada lasagna (cafeteria food is WEIRD), the table was full.

This is why I need to hang out with Libentra more. She attracts friends like a lamp attracts moths, minus the zappy doom at the end. Most of the time, anyway.

Alas, a side effect of a table full of people that all know each other but not me is that they try to talk to me, because I'm the new thing; I consequently have to actually talk to them, and the shyness kicks in and I start saying the one-word answers or worse, sound stupid because I'm nervous. BUT. I did talk! I had an actual conversation about RAs (two of the girls were RAs) and how they have to go into people's rooms and check to make sure everything's unplugged during the break (and the stupidity of people leaving alcohol bottles lying around). I actually contributed, not a lot but some, to the conversation and I didn't get really nervous or anything.

I'm quite proud of myself. I'll have to remember this and mention it at Group.

It's a little weird at Group, because I'm so much worse off than the rest of the kids there. They're all talking about how they can't say no or they talk too much or they don't know how to talk about the important things. I can talk about the important things, it's the small talk that gets me. And because I'm trying so hard, I almost always have something positive to report... but it's like, "I talked to my lab partners in Bio about something not related to the lab" or "I talked to a guy I know from class... outside of class!" So I'm sure the other kids in Group are sitting there scratching their heads thinking, Damn, how bad off IS this girl? But I'm giving myself positive reinforcement. I have to take life one step at a time, and if that step is the difference between a one-word answer and a five-word answer, I'm gonna celebrate it.

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But. I have to study. I have a Chem test at noon tomorrow and a Latin test immediately after it. Latin I'm not worried about, I'm better off than most of my classmates- but Chem is evilness. Next time I write, I'll be at HOME!