I know, I have been horribly lax in postings lately. I had an Organic test, I've been suffering from severe insomnia especially over break, and this week I have three exams, in Genetics, Organic lab, and Calculus. Insomnia and sleep deprivation + cramming = BAD. I got a 50% on the Organic test, yikes.
And the psychiatric nurse will see me to manage medication, but I will have to see another counselor for therapy. Still need to make that appointment, but at least I am on meds and stable for now.
More later this week, after the last of the tests. I think Genetics, which was today, was OK but I have Calc coming up and this one will pretty much decide if I have a chance in hell of passing that class...
Showing posts with label studying. Show all posts
Showing posts with label studying. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Busy busy busy
I haven't been writing because I have an Organic midterm Friday and I've been assembling my costume, which requires lots of sewing on the cape. On the plus side, I have all the pieces and it will be awesome.
Sometime soon I will write about my trip to the ocean for lab.
Sometime soon I will write about my trip to the ocean for lab.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
When you cuddle with your cephalopods, it's probably time to stop drinking.
Today is the Lemuria, a day which sadly has nothing to do with lemurs, but a great deal to do with the Lemures, the spirits of the dead. They are allowed to wander the earth for three days from the ninth to the eleventh, and rites are performed in their honor. Also, Manes are offered beans in a house ritual-- Manes were like Lemures, spirits of the dead.
-----------------------------------------
To all you people who SWORE that Spidey wasn't emo:
Now hush.
-----------------------------------------
So today was pretty much entirely devoted to studying, with occasional breaks to frequent Fark and Snopes.com, which were distracting me, and also, this evening, to go to the pancake dinner at Philbook and eat French toast sticks just to be contrary.
-----------------------------------------
On the plus side, I can now tell you EXACTLY how humans arose from protist ancestors, with every step along the way, and I am better equipped to deal with creationist attacks than I ever thought possible. Basically at this point there's no argument against animal evolution a creationist could use that I can't counter-attack. Woot!
A girl in the health care seminar on Monday was complaining about how she had disliked Biology on account of it was all about plants and bacteria and animals, and how she wanted to go into medicine and just wanted to learn about humans and pathogens and stuff. The professor said that that's a common discovery pre-med students make-- that biology isn't all about people.
I was kind of dumbfounded at that. Who goes into biology to learn about humans and pathogens? I'll learn that shit in med school. I wanted to learn about everything else. I mean, yes. I wanted to get the required courses out of the way without worrying that they weren't helping my major, too. But I also wanted to learn about evolution and genetics and all those things. I want to understand the world around me, because I think that the more I know, the closer I am to understanding the universe, and understanding the universe is very spiritually important to me.
It makes me mad that a subject I love is also the stereotype of the "don't care about undergrad" premed student, that only wants to get into a good school. It means that I'll have to work twice as hard to get noticed by admissions officers.
Time to study some more before bed...
To all you people who SWORE that Spidey wasn't emo:
Now hush.
So today was pretty much entirely devoted to studying, with occasional breaks to frequent Fark and Snopes.com, which were distracting me, and also, this evening, to go to the pancake dinner at Philbook and eat French toast sticks just to be contrary.
On the plus side, I can now tell you EXACTLY how humans arose from protist ancestors, with every step along the way, and I am better equipped to deal with creationist attacks than I ever thought possible. Basically at this point there's no argument against animal evolution a creationist could use that I can't counter-attack. Woot!
A girl in the health care seminar on Monday was complaining about how she had disliked Biology on account of it was all about plants and bacteria and animals, and how she wanted to go into medicine and just wanted to learn about humans and pathogens and stuff. The professor said that that's a common discovery pre-med students make-- that biology isn't all about people.
I was kind of dumbfounded at that. Who goes into biology to learn about humans and pathogens? I'll learn that shit in med school. I wanted to learn about everything else. I mean, yes. I wanted to get the required courses out of the way without worrying that they weren't helping my major, too. But I also wanted to learn about evolution and genetics and all those things. I want to understand the world around me, because I think that the more I know, the closer I am to understanding the universe, and understanding the universe is very spiritually important to me.It makes me mad that a subject I love is also the stereotype of the "don't care about undergrad" premed student, that only wants to get into a good school. It means that I'll have to work twice as hard to get noticed by admissions officers.
Time to study some more before bed...
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Homework
I had an assignment for English class, and as I was writing it, it occurred to me that I was writing non-fiction. Creative nonfiction. Kinda like what I do on this blog. So I might as well share it here.
The assignment was to describe a scene that happened in the last week that involved "characters you can delineate and dialogue you can remember." So I tried to think of a recent scene I remembered the dialogue for (characters aren't an issue, really, my friends have a LOT of character), and all I could come up with that was something I'd share with my teacher was something that happened like, ten minutes before. Basically, me reading my book and randomly talking with my roommate. It kinda works, because you can sort of see the relationship we have.
I was sitting on my bed, reclining really, my legs tucked up under me and my head resting on my right hand. The crumpled mess of white sheets, the neutral, beige blanket, and the wine-red comforter lift my upper body up, making me more comfortable as my left hand holds the book. Somewhere in the pile is a pillow. I should make my bed more often… but it’s so much more comfortable unmade.
I was facing away from the window, the only source of light in this room during the day. The bed runs parallel to the window, with my headboard against the wall; the bedstead is a light-colored finish that completely clashes with the darker windowsill. I’ve always wondered why the windowsill was so much darker than the rest of the wood in the room. There’s a cold chill, not quite a breeze, just cooler air that slips around the poorly insulated windowpane and penetrates the back of me long-sleeved t-shirt that’s almost, but not quite, the exact same color as the comforter. The window view is cut a little less than halfway up by the support beam for my bed frame, since the bed is designed to convert to a bunk and, without the upper bunk to complement it, the slated head and foot boards would pull apart.
My roommate sat at her desk, which is under her lofted bed. The bed and the desk and the end of my bed, which is perpendicular to hers, forms a little corner office for her. I kind of like her office, but she can only do it with the lofted bed and I’m mildly afraid of top bunks. She was facing away from the window, reading something intently. Suddenly she stood up and turned to me. “Do you mind if I turn on the radio?”
It was very quiet in the room; the only noise we could hear was our neighbors playing a violent video game and talking, or sometimes shouting and swearing. Footsteps in the hall, male and female voices communicating just softly enough to be heard but not understood… “Oh yeah,” I shrugged. “Sure.”
She flicked on the Christian-rock radio station. Her music, not really mine. Some song about the glory of God came on and I tuned it out. I was trying to focus on the reading, something about dialogue, and I finally surrendered and skimmed it. I’ll take notes later.
The music on, she took her light blue reading pillow, the sort that supports the back while you sit in bed, and placed it on the new rug I bought over the weekend. The beige and blue carpeting hides the harsh tile that boasts yet another shade of white, though the “off” of it’s description is more due to the oddly colored flecks and the general dirtiness. No amount of Pine-Sol can bring up the grime, and we used a lot of Pine-Sol. The pillow rested against the side of her orderly desk, and faced my much messier desk and chair. She went to push in the chair, then paused. “I’m just going to push this in,” she informed me, then, in a more inquiring tone, “You aren’t going to sit here, are you?”
“No, go ahead.” She pushed it in and went to sit on the floor, book in hand. It’s on food and society, for a class: she was reading interesting tidbits from it to me earlier. She’s a nutrition major, I’m in Biology, but our academic interests are similar. After a pause, it occurred to me to clarify my earlier statement. “I might sit there later, I’m just going to read this first.” I knew I had a paper to complete after I finished the chapter.
“Okay, just tell me when you do,” she replied, implying she’d move. I nodded, though I’d already decided, between the time I spoke and the time that she did, that I’d probably just take my laptop to my bed. She looked quite comfortable where she was, and I kind of like sitting on my bed anyway. I sit at a desk too much already. She paused, then glanced at the book I’m reading. “Is that- like, a novel?” she asks. “No, it’s for my English class,” I replied. Wait. English classes usually involve reading novels. Luckily she picked up my intent. “It’s like a book on-”
“Yeah, on writing and stuff,” I replied simply. She nodded and went back to her own work, and I return to reading. We often study at about the same time, or she studies, and I, being the less studious roommate (not to mention the one who actually has a computer to distract her), play computer games or write blog entries. But we’ve often spent hours like this, in simple silence, broken by the occasional movement or five-line conversation. Or the sound of gunfire from next door…
Any opinions?
The assignment was to describe a scene that happened in the last week that involved "characters you can delineate and dialogue you can remember." So I tried to think of a recent scene I remembered the dialogue for (characters aren't an issue, really, my friends have a LOT of character), and all I could come up with that was something I'd share with my teacher was something that happened like, ten minutes before. Basically, me reading my book and randomly talking with my roommate. It kinda works, because you can sort of see the relationship we have.
I was sitting on my bed, reclining really, my legs tucked up under me and my head resting on my right hand. The crumpled mess of white sheets, the neutral, beige blanket, and the wine-red comforter lift my upper body up, making me more comfortable as my left hand holds the book. Somewhere in the pile is a pillow. I should make my bed more often… but it’s so much more comfortable unmade.
I was facing away from the window, the only source of light in this room during the day. The bed runs parallel to the window, with my headboard against the wall; the bedstead is a light-colored finish that completely clashes with the darker windowsill. I’ve always wondered why the windowsill was so much darker than the rest of the wood in the room. There’s a cold chill, not quite a breeze, just cooler air that slips around the poorly insulated windowpane and penetrates the back of me long-sleeved t-shirt that’s almost, but not quite, the exact same color as the comforter. The window view is cut a little less than halfway up by the support beam for my bed frame, since the bed is designed to convert to a bunk and, without the upper bunk to complement it, the slated head and foot boards would pull apart.
My roommate sat at her desk, which is under her lofted bed. The bed and the desk and the end of my bed, which is perpendicular to hers, forms a little corner office for her. I kind of like her office, but she can only do it with the lofted bed and I’m mildly afraid of top bunks. She was facing away from the window, reading something intently. Suddenly she stood up and turned to me. “Do you mind if I turn on the radio?”
It was very quiet in the room; the only noise we could hear was our neighbors playing a violent video game and talking, or sometimes shouting and swearing. Footsteps in the hall, male and female voices communicating just softly enough to be heard but not understood… “Oh yeah,” I shrugged. “Sure.”
She flicked on the Christian-rock radio station. Her music, not really mine. Some song about the glory of God came on and I tuned it out. I was trying to focus on the reading, something about dialogue, and I finally surrendered and skimmed it. I’ll take notes later.
The music on, she took her light blue reading pillow, the sort that supports the back while you sit in bed, and placed it on the new rug I bought over the weekend. The beige and blue carpeting hides the harsh tile that boasts yet another shade of white, though the “off” of it’s description is more due to the oddly colored flecks and the general dirtiness. No amount of Pine-Sol can bring up the grime, and we used a lot of Pine-Sol. The pillow rested against the side of her orderly desk, and faced my much messier desk and chair. She went to push in the chair, then paused. “I’m just going to push this in,” she informed me, then, in a more inquiring tone, “You aren’t going to sit here, are you?”
“No, go ahead.” She pushed it in and went to sit on the floor, book in hand. It’s on food and society, for a class: she was reading interesting tidbits from it to me earlier. She’s a nutrition major, I’m in Biology, but our academic interests are similar. After a pause, it occurred to me to clarify my earlier statement. “I might sit there later, I’m just going to read this first.” I knew I had a paper to complete after I finished the chapter.
“Okay, just tell me when you do,” she replied, implying she’d move. I nodded, though I’d already decided, between the time I spoke and the time that she did, that I’d probably just take my laptop to my bed. She looked quite comfortable where she was, and I kind of like sitting on my bed anyway. I sit at a desk too much already. She paused, then glanced at the book I’m reading. “Is that- like, a novel?” she asks. “No, it’s for my English class,” I replied. Wait. English classes usually involve reading novels. Luckily she picked up my intent. “It’s like a book on-”
“Yeah, on writing and stuff,” I replied simply. She nodded and went back to her own work, and I return to reading. We often study at about the same time, or she studies, and I, being the less studious roommate (not to mention the one who actually has a computer to distract her), play computer games or write blog entries. But we’ve often spent hours like this, in simple silence, broken by the occasional movement or five-line conversation. Or the sound of gunfire from next door…
Any opinions?
Thursday, December 14, 2006
I'm sure in 1985, plutonium is available at every corner drugstore
It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.
That might be because they couldn't reserve a room in the Bowels of Hell on such short notice, but meh.
I think I at least will not have to retake the entire course. This is good.
------------------------
I was going to go to the review session last night, but one of the TAs, an older graduate student who used to teach high school, was running it. After the first half-hour, I realized he was still talking about "positive study skills," the major one being "start studying well in advance."
Uhm... this was the night before the exam. And the UN's been cracking down on the unauthorized use of plutonium in my DeLorian.
Anyway, I left that review, and studied on my own until the Chem fraternity's tutoring session. That was a bit more helpful, I'd say. Except the guy helping me was cute, and consequently distracting. But I was proud of myself, because I stayed mostly focused and there were only five babble-moments when I couldn't get my mouth to work right.
Anyway, I went to bed really early- 9:30- on account of having to wake up at the ungodly hour of 6 AM to shower/dress/eat/panic before the test at 8. It's weird getting up that early, because no one else does; the halls are empty and silent. The halls aren't even empty and silent at 1 AM around here. I was first into the shower; this wasn't actually a good thing, because it's not like it's been cleaned since November anyway and the water was COLD even though it was the shower that normally scalds me. I had to let it run for like five minutes.
I think I impressed Loquatia with my ability to get up that early. She was definitely expecting me to hit the snooze until at least 7. She doesn't believe me when I tell her I used to get up at 5:30 every morning for high school, and have not always been the lazy slug-a-bed she knows now.
-----------------------
I'm beginning to wonder if I'm in the wrong major. No, I haven't been listening to my mother, you'll know when that happens because you'll start hearing news reports of ham and feathers on plane windshields. No, I have decided this because I was studying Chemistry, specifically tetrahedral-shaped molecules, and all I could think of was the ancient weaponry that they used to throw down in front of war horses- the kind where a spike would always point up, and the horse would step on it and be unable to continue. Please compare:
And while this helps me remember tetrahedral shape, if you can't study Chemistry without thinking of ancient weaponry, it might indicate an underlying problem. Oh well. I don't intend on majoring in something useless, like history- that's what minors are for.
(This explanation always irritates my English-major mother and German-major father, which is why I say it so much. Mind you, they're both computer programmers, thus proving my point.)
-----------------------
Okay, I have issues coping with stress, of any kind. My grandmother's the same way, as is my mom. We all developed our own way of dealing with it- my grandmother tries to be strong for everyone else and confides in her sisters, my mother bottles it up inside, and I used to hurt myself or loose myself in a fantasy world. Now, I still use the fantasy world more than I should, but I talk about problems, or write about them. I share them. And since I've learned to handle stressors, mostly through communicating and complaining, and trying to find productive ways to solve my problems, I no longer need to be medicated.
But the thing is, this approach I have makes me see the world of blogging/journaling a little differently. There's this site, Trainwreck, that chronicles the worst blogs and journals on the internet- the mommy blogs, the self-involved-my-life-sucks journals, and the people whose lives are trainwrecks- so bad you can't look away. Normally I totally agree with them 100%, these people are losers. BUT. There's this mommy-blogger who's been on it a lot for bragging about her "incredibly precocious" kid, and she was up on it again- but this time they were ragging on her for complaining about her new kitchen not being all she'd hoped for, when she posted pictures and it's a pretty sweet arrangement. One commenter complained: "[B]ut [I] have to tell you, you complain a lot for having such a BITCHIN’ KITCHEN! B-I-T-C-H-I-N. and [I] can say that, because [I]’m from the 80’s. But what most disturbs me, is that you have so much (healthy, intelligent son, nice husband, nice standard of living) [and yet] you rant so much. And the things you rant about are that you’re son is so smart,(though you’re really humble) is beyond his grade level in intelligence, and that you have this new kitchen you didn’t [initially] want that you have (Sweet Jesus! You have a Wolf range, for Christ sake! AAAAAAAAhhhhhhhh!). ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! If you weren’t so spot on on most issues, [I] would just hate myself for reading this blog! [I] kind of feel that you don’t have a grasp on world issues and what’s going on around us ([A]fghanistan, [D]arfur, etc)."
Uhm, yeah. Okay. So she's a little self-involved. So she complains. But we can't all think about the horrors of Darfur and the civil unrest in Afghanistan all the time. How many times have I talked about Afghanistan? I mean, that doesn't make me less of a person, I just a)don't want to insult anyone by sharing my most likely naive views of the world, and b) have other, more immediate concerns.
Because Darfur is horrible and I'd love to do something to help, but let's face it, it doesn't affect my everyday life. I will wake up tomorrow and I will think about packing to go home, and my mythology test, and the final paper on x-ray crystallography I need two more pages on before Sunday. I'm not going to think about genocide (Probably. Never know). That's not because I "don't have a grasp on world issues." It's just because that's not my life. And I have a pretty wonderful life, I mean, I have problems, but I'm from a well-off family and I never really lack anything I need. I've been sheltered from the world's problems due to location and my community, and I have a wonderful family and a nice standard of living. So... I can't complain? I'm supposed to take all those little things that bug me and bottle them up inside? The whole point of having a journal and a blog is to be able to share the things that are weighing on my mind without needing an actual confidante, who I'd have to like, rope and tie and hide in my closet next to that cowboy I caught my sister for Christmas (oops).
So I won't read that blog because I think she's insufferably proud of her kid, who seems pretty average, maybe a little smart. But I still think that it's unfair to criticize her for complaining, no matter how well-off she is.
-----------------------
I know it's supposed to be embarrassing to wind up as a trainwreck, but if I ever wind up there, I think I'd have to be kinda proud that they thought I sucked that much. Besides, I'd probably get a lot of readers that way. Even if they are laughing at me, not with me.
-----------------------
But there was a paper thing I was supposed to be working on... and a test tomorrow... and I guess I'm supposed to go contemplate mass genocide for a while, too...
That might be because they couldn't reserve a room in the Bowels of Hell on such short notice, but meh.
I think I at least will not have to retake the entire course. This is good.
------------------------
I was going to go to the review session last night, but one of the TAs, an older graduate student who used to teach high school, was running it. After the first half-hour, I realized he was still talking about "positive study skills," the major one being "start studying well in advance."
Uhm... this was the night before the exam. And the UN's been cracking down on the unauthorized use of plutonium in my DeLorian.
Anyway, I left that review, and studied on my own until the Chem fraternity's tutoring session. That was a bit more helpful, I'd say. Except the guy helping me was cute, and consequently distracting. But I was proud of myself, because I stayed mostly focused and there were only five babble-moments when I couldn't get my mouth to work right.
Anyway, I went to bed really early- 9:30- on account of having to wake up at the ungodly hour of 6 AM to shower/dress/eat/panic before the test at 8. It's weird getting up that early, because no one else does; the halls are empty and silent. The halls aren't even empty and silent at 1 AM around here. I was first into the shower; this wasn't actually a good thing, because it's not like it's been cleaned since November anyway and the water was COLD even though it was the shower that normally scalds me. I had to let it run for like five minutes.
I think I impressed Loquatia with my ability to get up that early. She was definitely expecting me to hit the snooze until at least 7. She doesn't believe me when I tell her I used to get up at 5:30 every morning for high school, and have not always been the lazy slug-a-bed she knows now.
-----------------------
I'm beginning to wonder if I'm in the wrong major. No, I haven't been listening to my mother, you'll know when that happens because you'll start hearing news reports of ham and feathers on plane windshields. No, I have decided this because I was studying Chemistry, specifically tetrahedral-shaped molecules, and all I could think of was the ancient weaponry that they used to throw down in front of war horses- the kind where a spike would always point up, and the horse would step on it and be unable to continue. Please compare:
And while this helps me remember tetrahedral shape, if you can't study Chemistry without thinking of ancient weaponry, it might indicate an underlying problem. Oh well. I don't intend on majoring in something useless, like history- that's what minors are for.
(This explanation always irritates my English-major mother and German-major father, which is why I say it so much. Mind you, they're both computer programmers, thus proving my point.)
-----------------------
Okay, I have issues coping with stress, of any kind. My grandmother's the same way, as is my mom. We all developed our own way of dealing with it- my grandmother tries to be strong for everyone else and confides in her sisters, my mother bottles it up inside, and I used to hurt myself or loose myself in a fantasy world. Now, I still use the fantasy world more than I should, but I talk about problems, or write about them. I share them. And since I've learned to handle stressors, mostly through communicating and complaining, and trying to find productive ways to solve my problems, I no longer need to be medicated.
But the thing is, this approach I have makes me see the world of blogging/journaling a little differently. There's this site, Trainwreck, that chronicles the worst blogs and journals on the internet- the mommy blogs, the self-involved-my-life-sucks journals, and the people whose lives are trainwrecks- so bad you can't look away. Normally I totally agree with them 100%, these people are losers. BUT. There's this mommy-blogger who's been on it a lot for bragging about her "incredibly precocious" kid, and she was up on it again- but this time they were ragging on her for complaining about her new kitchen not being all she'd hoped for, when she posted pictures and it's a pretty sweet arrangement. One commenter complained: "[B]ut [I] have to tell you, you complain a lot for having such a BITCHIN’ KITCHEN! B-I-T-C-H-I-N. and [I] can say that, because [I]’m from the 80’s. But what most disturbs me, is that you have so much (healthy, intelligent son, nice husband, nice standard of living) [and yet] you rant so much. And the things you rant about are that you’re son is so smart,(though you’re really humble) is beyond his grade level in intelligence, and that you have this new kitchen you didn’t [initially] want that you have (Sweet Jesus! You have a Wolf range, for Christ sake! AAAAAAAAhhhhhhhh!). ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! If you weren’t so spot on on most issues, [I] would just hate myself for reading this blog! [I] kind of feel that you don’t have a grasp on world issues and what’s going on around us ([A]fghanistan, [D]arfur, etc)."
Uhm, yeah. Okay. So she's a little self-involved. So she complains. But we can't all think about the horrors of Darfur and the civil unrest in Afghanistan all the time. How many times have I talked about Afghanistan? I mean, that doesn't make me less of a person, I just a)don't want to insult anyone by sharing my most likely naive views of the world, and b) have other, more immediate concerns.
Because Darfur is horrible and I'd love to do something to help, but let's face it, it doesn't affect my everyday life. I will wake up tomorrow and I will think about packing to go home, and my mythology test, and the final paper on x-ray crystallography I need two more pages on before Sunday. I'm not going to think about genocide (Probably. Never know). That's not because I "don't have a grasp on world issues." It's just because that's not my life. And I have a pretty wonderful life, I mean, I have problems, but I'm from a well-off family and I never really lack anything I need. I've been sheltered from the world's problems due to location and my community, and I have a wonderful family and a nice standard of living. So... I can't complain? I'm supposed to take all those little things that bug me and bottle them up inside? The whole point of having a journal and a blog is to be able to share the things that are weighing on my mind without needing an actual confidante, who I'd have to like, rope and tie and hide in my closet next to that cowboy I caught my sister for Christmas (oops).
So I won't read that blog because I think she's insufferably proud of her kid, who seems pretty average, maybe a little smart. But I still think that it's unfair to criticize her for complaining, no matter how well-off she is.
-----------------------
I know it's supposed to be embarrassing to wind up as a trainwreck, but if I ever wind up there, I think I'd have to be kinda proud that they thought I sucked that much. Besides, I'd probably get a lot of readers that way. Even if they are laughing at me, not with me.
-----------------------
But there was a paper thing I was supposed to be working on... and a test tomorrow... and I guess I'm supposed to go contemplate mass genocide for a while, too...
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Potassium on Toast
Today is the Lectisternium of Ceres. A Lectisternium is when you have a sacrifice by inviting the god to the feast. The Romans picked up the god's temple statue and laid in on a dining couch with a pillow, and then served the "god" food by setting it down 
before them, then cleaning it up when they were "done" (They could tell the god was done because the poor schmuck sent to clean up didn't get struck by lightning or anything).
It's also the Sementivae, another festival to Ceres/Demeter (and Tellus/Gaea), this time of sowing.
-------------------------
Tacita officially moved out today, leaving behind an oddly empty corner and plastic pallet. It's not horribly tragic for me- she and I were never close, and it turns out that she's just moving upstairs, so I'll probably see her almost as much. More depressing than her leaving is what she left behind- space, which I don't think I've seen in this room since move-in day.
Plus really dirty floors. She pulled up the rugs last night and the floors were absolutely filthy. We need new rugs; otherwise, you might actually be able to see how filthy our floors are.
-------------------------
I'm currently defrosting the fridge, and Loquatia's packing. She was using the third desk, the one they're removing, and the lofted bed, which will also vanish. She'll be in Tacita's old bed and desk. Which will be moved, since Tacita complained every day about the terrible arrangement of the room that meant her chair could only pull two inches away from her desk. The whole room will probably get rearranged next semester. It will be very weird to actually be able to put a chair in here and not make Libentra sit on the floor when she comes to study.
Except... Libentra won't be in all my classes next semester. Wow. That's sad. I think the only one she's in is maybe Latin.
-------------------------
Libentra and I are going to the Chem review tonight, held by the Chemistry-themed fraternity, which is not to say a fraternity that brews their own beer (though they might), but rather one that focuses on Chemistry and the physical sciences. That should help, as I can't for the life of me remember what "MO" stands for or what potassium and sodium have in common besides exploding in water and being butter-like in consistency (potassium is the squishy, accidentally-left-on-the-counter-in-summer butter, sodium is the cold, hard sort).
I have a final tomorrow and all I can remember is potassium is squishy. I'm toast.
------------------------
I have my stress ball. I have a Latin exam that I should survive, since it's just translation. Then I have a review session, then I need to sleep tonight, like, go to bed at 10, since the Chemistry is so early tomorrow. And it's in a classroom I haven't been in before, so I will most likely get lost. I only need to answer 40 questions correctly to pass, and 50 to have a C (in the class, not on the test).
Deep breaths....
before them, then cleaning it up when they were "done" (They could tell the god was done because the poor schmuck sent to clean up didn't get struck by lightning or anything).It's also the Sementivae, another festival to Ceres/Demeter (and Tellus/Gaea), this time of sowing.
-------------------------
Tacita officially moved out today, leaving behind an oddly empty corner and plastic pallet. It's not horribly tragic for me- she and I were never close, and it turns out that she's just moving upstairs, so I'll probably see her almost as much. More depressing than her leaving is what she left behind- space, which I don't think I've seen in this room since move-in day.
Plus really dirty floors. She pulled up the rugs last night and the floors were absolutely filthy. We need new rugs; otherwise, you might actually be able to see how filthy our floors are.
-------------------------
I'm currently defrosting the fridge, and Loquatia's packing. She was using the third desk, the one they're removing, and the lofted bed, which will also vanish. She'll be in Tacita's old bed and desk. Which will be moved, since Tacita complained every day about the terrible arrangement of the room that meant her chair could only pull two inches away from her desk. The whole room will probably get rearranged next semester. It will be very weird to actually be able to put a chair in here and not make Libentra sit on the floor when she comes to study.
Except... Libentra won't be in all my classes next semester. Wow. That's sad. I think the only one she's in is maybe Latin.
-------------------------
Libentra and I are going to the Chem review tonight, held by the Chemistry-themed fraternity, which is not to say a fraternity that brews their own beer (though they might), but rather one that focuses on Chemistry and the physical sciences. That should help, as I can't for the life of me remember what "MO" stands for or what potassium and sodium have in common besides exploding in water and being butter-like in consistency (potassium is the squishy, accidentally-left-on-the-counter-in-summer butter, sodium is the cold, hard sort).
I have a final tomorrow and all I can remember is potassium is squishy. I'm toast.------------------------
I have my stress ball. I have a Latin exam that I should survive, since it's just translation. Then I have a review session, then I need to sleep tonight, like, go to bed at 10, since the Chemistry is so early tomorrow. And it's in a classroom I haven't been in before, so I will most likely get lost. I only need to answer 40 questions correctly to pass, and 50 to have a C (in the class, not on the test).
Deep breaths....
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
I had really good ravioli for lunch today
It's the Agonalia Indigeti, today, which was celebrated four times a year (January, March, May, and December). The thing about the Agonalia is all the Romans knew was they were to publicly sacrifice a ram. They didn't know why, or to whom. Just that they were supposed to do it. Which makes it one of the more ridiculous holidays.
It's also the Septimontium, a festival celebrating the wall that was built around all seven hills of Rome.
-----------------------
Two nights ago I blogged about people criticizing overweight people and telling them to just "diet and exercise" like it was the easiest thing in the world. I guess now I'm going to tell the other extreme. Have you ever read a pro-ana website? It's ridiculous. You think, god, these girls can't be for real; even if they think about it, surely they won't admit it. You tell me you're 5'9" and 100 lbs, and all you ate today was a half an apple and a bite of turkey, and you're so mad that you had to gain ten pounds because your boyfriend told you he'd break up with you if you didn't start taking better care of yourself? Honestly.
The trouble with either eating disorder- overeating or undereating- is that in this modern day and age, you can find someone who celebrates your unhealthy body. There are support groups for overweight people, telling them to celebrate themselves as Big Beautiful Women, ignoring the fact that they are at a greater risk of many illnesses. "Society is being spiteful," they say, "and refuses to accept us because we don't fit their standard of beauty, and won't diet away our lovely extra pounds."
My father always said the most basic, universal standard of beauty was health. That's why most guys like girls who are thin, but not thin enough that their bones show in weird places. That's why big boobs and some junk in the trunk is sexy. And that's why the number one standard of beauty is good skin. You will never find a website support group saying "Society is being spiteful, and refuses to accept us because we don't fit their standard of beauty, and won't wash our skin once a day to chase away our lovely acne."
Health and weight, though, poses a problem. What's healthy? Used to be weight was a sign that you ate well enough, so weight was beautiful. Now, most people in this country can get a decent amount to eat, but we've discovered the health problems associated with being fat, so thin is in. None of this changes the fact that absolutely no fat is as unhealthy as a lot of it is. Beauty is being at your ideal weight. Not too thin or too heavy. And your ideal weight is not what you think would be a good weight to be, but rather what your doctor tells you it should be. My doctor tells me to lose a few pounds. Thus, I'm overweight. If your doctor tells you you could stand to put some meat on your bones, you could.
Look, there is nothing sexy about a preteen body with bones jutting out at weird angles. These girls set ridiculous goals and then proudly boast their accomplishments before deciding that that was easy enough, they can go further, further... And when someone tries to intervene, they say, "Society is being spiteful," they say, "and refuses to accept us because we don't fit their standard of beauty, and won't force-feed ourselves until we swell up like a balloon." Or my favorite, "They're just jealous of my body."
It seems that whatever your body type, they're jealous of it. They want to be big and beautiful, and be able to eat whatever they want without caring that they're heavy. They want to be supermodel thin, and look like the girls in the fashion magazines. Well, kids, I hate to break it to you. I don't want to look like that. I want to have muscles; a toned stomach, nice arms, great legs. I also want to hide my ribcage and keep my breasts. I want to look- and feel- healthy. I know what that means for me. Do you?
Weight is not about self-image, honestly. If you listen to your doctor, and stick within what he recommends, you're fine. I'm sick of people criticizing society for not letting them stay at an unhealthy weight. Yes, it's your body, and your choice. But if your eating habits are incredibly, obviously unhealthy- or if you're in a chat room telling everyone that you're anorexic or that you're a compulsive eater, then people have the right to point it out, if they're nice about it. Especially your doctor- he doesn't just have the right, he has the responsibility.
-----------------------
That said: Being thin does not mean you're anorexic. Plenty of people are a little underweight because of their metabolism, but anorexia is when they're not trying to stay at a doctor-recommended weight. And while I've never been on this side, as far as I can tell, the only thing that compares to the challenge of loosing weight it gaining it if you have a fast metabolism. There are people who eat until they feel like they're going to explode and they can't stay at a healthy weight. There is a physical limit to how much people can eat, and these people have to push themselves past it every day. I feel bad for them. I swear that's not even a joke, can you imagine having to eat, eat, eat once your stomach already felt hard and dense as a rock? Besides, when you gain weight, you feel gross and sluggish even if your body needs it, because it's just not used to the change.
I admit, I make anorexia jokes about girls who are very thin. I'd never do that if I really thought they were ill, but that doesn't make it any more fair that I joke about anorexia but get mad if people joke about weight. The trouble is, we live in a world where a joke about someone being bone-skinny is not seen as being nearly as mean as making a joke about them being overweight. But I'm getting better. I don't make those jokes nearly as much. It's been nearly two months, I think, since I made one, besides the occasional benign "you're so skinny" comment or getting mad at a girl if she claims she's fat when her diameter is half of mine, which is really more of a "remember who you're talking to" comment than anything else.
I'm not perfect. I know what I should do, and I try, but I make a LOT of mistakes. Which is why I have so few friends.
-----------------------
Meanwhile, one of those few friends- actually, a guy that I barely consider my friend anymore, since I haven't seen him since graduation and wasn't really planning to make an effort to see him again,informed me today that he wants to meet so he can give me my Christmas present. Uhm... what? We barely spoke all senior year, we haven't really been what I'd classify "friends" since the beginning of junior year... why is he giving me a gift? Honestly, does he even know me well enough to get me something I'd like? Meanwhile this means (it was expressly implied) that I have to get
him a gift, too. And I haven't a CLUE what to get him (See gift idea #1 at right). I don't usually buy my friends Christmas gifts except for Mistake, because I've known her for so long she might as well be family. But I mean, if asked, I would have described Mack as my best friend last Christmas, and I didn't get him a gift, at least not one specifically tailored to him. And this year, it's a small gift for Mistake as always, and nothing for the rest of them unless it's something they can eat. I might bake cookies or something. The point is to make a gift they won't feel bad about accepting if they didn't get me anything, and I don't expect them to get me anything.
So it's actually more of a problem than a benefit for me. Because he doesn't know me well enough to get me something I need, so I'm guessing it's either something that's obviously related to something I'm interested in, or it's just a really bad gift.
And what do I get for him? I haven't a clue what he's interested in, and I'm not about to spend more money on him that I spend on a girl I've been friends with since kindergarten, so that leaves me with a pretty small budget. Grr...
I might check the stocking-stuffer bin at the Discovery Store to see if they have anything really inexpensive that's still cool. Dammit, though, this complicates life!
-----------------------
Exam #1 is over. Bio is out of the way. Loquatia and I studied together, and we explained to each other what we didn't understand, so it was really helpful. I think I did okay. My guess is 90%, maybe 85% if we were studying something wrong or if he's really picky.
And I got an 81% in Bio lab, and an 80% in Chem lab, both a lot better than I feared, so that's good.
Tomorrow: Latin. Not too much of a concern. Then Chem on Thursday, which is a concern- a HUGE concern.
And I still need to pack up for the break. Hmm.
Well, study-break's over. Back to work for this grade slave.
It's also the Septimontium, a festival celebrating the wall that was built around all seven hills of Rome.
-----------------------
Two nights ago I blogged about people criticizing overweight people and telling them to just "diet and exercise" like it was the easiest thing in the world. I guess now I'm going to tell the other extreme. Have you ever read a pro-ana website? It's ridiculous. You think, god, these girls can't be for real; even if they think about it, surely they won't admit it. You tell me you're 5'9" and 100 lbs, and all you ate today was a half an apple and a bite of turkey, and you're so mad that you had to gain ten pounds because your boyfriend told you he'd break up with you if you didn't start taking better care of yourself? Honestly.
The trouble with either eating disorder- overeating or undereating- is that in this modern day and age, you can find someone who celebrates your unhealthy body. There are support groups for overweight people, telling them to celebrate themselves as Big Beautiful Women, ignoring the fact that they are at a greater risk of many illnesses. "Society is being spiteful," they say, "and refuses to accept us because we don't fit their standard of beauty, and won't diet away our lovely extra pounds."
My father always said the most basic, universal standard of beauty was health. That's why most guys like girls who are thin, but not thin enough that their bones show in weird places. That's why big boobs and some junk in the trunk is sexy. And that's why the number one standard of beauty is good skin. You will never find a website support group saying "Society is being spiteful, and refuses to accept us because we don't fit their standard of beauty, and won't wash our skin once a day to chase away our lovely acne."Health and weight, though, poses a problem. What's healthy? Used to be weight was a sign that you ate well enough, so weight was beautiful. Now, most people in this country can get a decent amount to eat, but we've discovered the health problems associated with being fat, so thin is in. None of this changes the fact that absolutely no fat is as unhealthy as a lot of it is. Beauty is being at your ideal weight. Not too thin or too heavy. And your ideal weight is not what you think would be a good weight to be, but rather what your doctor tells you it should be. My doctor tells me to lose a few pounds. Thus, I'm overweight. If your doctor tells you you could stand to put some meat on your bones, you could.
Look, there is nothing sexy about a preteen body with bones jutting out at weird angles. These girls set ridiculous goals and then proudly boast their accomplishments before deciding that that was easy enough, they can go further, further... And when someone tries to intervene, they say, "Society is being spiteful," they say, "and refuses to accept us because we don't fit their standard of beauty, and won't force-feed ourselves until we swell up like a balloon." Or my favorite, "They're just jealous of my body."
It seems that whatever your body type, they're jealous of it. They want to be big and beautiful, and be able to eat whatever they want without caring that they're heavy. They want to be supermodel thin, and look like the girls in the fashion magazines. Well, kids, I hate to break it to you. I don't want to look like that. I want to have muscles; a toned stomach, nice arms, great legs. I also want to hide my ribcage and keep my breasts. I want to look- and feel- healthy. I know what that means for me. Do you?Weight is not about self-image, honestly. If you listen to your doctor, and stick within what he recommends, you're fine. I'm sick of people criticizing society for not letting them stay at an unhealthy weight. Yes, it's your body, and your choice. But if your eating habits are incredibly, obviously unhealthy- or if you're in a chat room telling everyone that you're anorexic or that you're a compulsive eater, then people have the right to point it out, if they're nice about it. Especially your doctor- he doesn't just have the right, he has the responsibility.
-----------------------
That said: Being thin does not mean you're anorexic. Plenty of people are a little underweight because of their metabolism, but anorexia is when they're not trying to stay at a doctor-recommended weight. And while I've never been on this side, as far as I can tell, the only thing that compares to the challenge of loosing weight it gaining it if you have a fast metabolism. There are people who eat until they feel like they're going to explode and they can't stay at a healthy weight. There is a physical limit to how much people can eat, and these people have to push themselves past it every day. I feel bad for them. I swear that's not even a joke, can you imagine having to eat, eat, eat once your stomach already felt hard and dense as a rock? Besides, when you gain weight, you feel gross and sluggish even if your body needs it, because it's just not used to the change.
I admit, I make anorexia jokes about girls who are very thin. I'd never do that if I really thought they were ill, but that doesn't make it any more fair that I joke about anorexia but get mad if people joke about weight. The trouble is, we live in a world where a joke about someone being bone-skinny is not seen as being nearly as mean as making a joke about them being overweight. But I'm getting better. I don't make those jokes nearly as much. It's been nearly two months, I think, since I made one, besides the occasional benign "you're so skinny" comment or getting mad at a girl if she claims she's fat when her diameter is half of mine, which is really more of a "remember who you're talking to" comment than anything else.
I'm not perfect. I know what I should do, and I try, but I make a LOT of mistakes. Which is why I have so few friends.
-----------------------
Meanwhile, one of those few friends- actually, a guy that I barely consider my friend anymore, since I haven't seen him since graduation and wasn't really planning to make an effort to see him again,informed me today that he wants to meet so he can give me my Christmas present. Uhm... what? We barely spoke all senior year, we haven't really been what I'd classify "friends" since the beginning of junior year... why is he giving me a gift? Honestly, does he even know me well enough to get me something I'd like? Meanwhile this means (it was expressly implied) that I have to get
him a gift, too. And I haven't a CLUE what to get him (See gift idea #1 at right). I don't usually buy my friends Christmas gifts except for Mistake, because I've known her for so long she might as well be family. But I mean, if asked, I would have described Mack as my best friend last Christmas, and I didn't get him a gift, at least not one specifically tailored to him. And this year, it's a small gift for Mistake as always, and nothing for the rest of them unless it's something they can eat. I might bake cookies or something. The point is to make a gift they won't feel bad about accepting if they didn't get me anything, and I don't expect them to get me anything.So it's actually more of a problem than a benefit for me. Because he doesn't know me well enough to get me something I need, so I'm guessing it's either something that's obviously related to something I'm interested in, or it's just a really bad gift.
And what do I get for him? I haven't a clue what he's interested in, and I'm not about to spend more money on him that I spend on a girl I've been friends with since kindergarten, so that leaves me with a pretty small budget. Grr...
I might check the stocking-stuffer bin at the Discovery Store to see if they have anything really inexpensive that's still cool. Dammit, though, this complicates life!
-----------------------
Exam #1 is over. Bio is out of the way. Loquatia and I studied together, and we explained to each other what we didn't understand, so it was really helpful. I think I did okay. My guess is 90%, maybe 85% if we were studying something wrong or if he's really picky.
And I got an 81% in Bio lab, and an 80% in Chem lab, both a lot better than I feared, so that's good.
Tomorrow: Latin. Not too much of a concern. Then Chem on Thursday, which is a concern- a HUGE concern.
And I still need to pack up for the break. Hmm.
Well, study-break's over. Back to work for this grade slave.
Thursday, December 7, 2006
Life is much less interesting without fortune-cookie titles
I have this final paper to do for Bio, on... anything Biology related. Gotta love vague topics. So anyway, the trouble is that it's 7-10 pages. So I was going to do it on a disease like everyone else, figuring that would be easy to research, but fatal flaw- there's only so much you can SAY about a disease. Like, sure, the important ones can have whole books written about them, but your average non-epidemic disease is kinda limited. Besides, I kinda wanted to do something that someone who doesn't actually have a certain illness would care about.
So I figured I'd do it on x-ray crystallography. Here's my approach: If my mom can read it and say, "Oh, that's fascinating! But I don't really understand the science of it," then it's a good paper. For those of you who haven't a clue what I'm talking about, crystallography is how they know what molecules look like. Molecules are too small for even microscopes, but yet scientists know how they are put together. They do this though crystallizing the substance and shooting x-rays through it, and measuring how the rays are diffracted. It's pretty cool and I only marginally understand it. So I'm going to try to understand it and then I'm going to write a paper on it.
And my doing a paper on x-ray crystallography has NOTHING WHATSOEVER to do with the fact that my professor loves the subject and wants to try it before he dies. Not a bit. Nope.
---------------------------
I discovered a new life form today! It was very exciting. I named him Moe and then Moe and I had a tearful goodbye before I washed him and his three-month-old jello-y home down the sink. Moral of this story: Basiorana ought to clean that fridge out more often.
---------------------------
I actually look presentable right now, but believe me, it was not an easy ride. My skirt, for example, is safety-pinned so it doesn't slip down too low, not for modesty's sake, but because it's supposed to rest at my WAIST, as in, that part that dips in, not the belly-button or the hips. I'd complain a lot more if this didn't mean I was loosing weight.
Meanwhile, the only marginally clean blouse I could find stretches so tight across my chest that I'm kinda concerned that it will rip open any moment now and I will be forced to live out some kind of weird version of a trashy supermarket novel. Actually, that's a pretty bad description, since it doesn't sound NEARLY as problematic as my shirt bursting open would be. Suffice it to say, though, that just because a fabric stretches, does not mean it fits. I really need new shirts, and then, I need to THROW THESE ONES OUT.
And then, there's the hair. My hair is SO GROSS right now. It's also ridiculously long. Actually, some of it is. It's really all different lengths, so the last inch is composed of about 1/3 of the hair that is actually on my head. I started the day in a braid, but it quickly frizzed and worked it's way free to escape in messy glory. So I poured a gallon of hair gel into it and pulled it up into a bun on the top of my head. So there.
I have won this battle, Oh Wretched Hair. But don't think I rest easy, for I know that tomorrow will be a struggle of equally Biblical proportions.
---------------------------
Okay, so last night was my last Chem lab ever, and after the INCREDIBLY SCARY moment when she was assigning groups and I swear I thought that the group doing methane with me consisted of Incredibly Hot Guy, shorter-but-still-hot Flirts With TAs, and this guy that hangs out with them who's also surprisingly attractive. Thank GOD I heard wrong, that would have ended oh-so-badly. I only wound up with Surprisingly Attractive Guy. You won't understand why I call him that unless you see him, and you won't see him unless I tell you his real name, and I won't tell you his real name unless I get a head injury...
Anyway, we were looking at methane because it's a greenhouse gas, and then we had to find ways to reduce methane in the atmosphere, and honestly, the best we could come up with is stop raising cows for meat, because that's where 14% of the atmosphere's methane comes from- domestic livestock. Don't think about it. So next time someone asks me why I don't eat beef, I'm totally gonna say, "COWS CAUSE GLOBAL WARMING!" and whip out the statistics chart I happen to have in my back pocket.
We made posters and then graded each other's posters, based on content and "wow factor," how impressed we were by it. The most "wow" one had to be the one with the farting cow on it, and in the cloud was methane facts. Only it wasn't a "Wow, great poster" so much as a "Wow. You put a FARTING COW on your poster." But I said wow, so they got the points.
---------------------------
The last Group session was today, with 3/8ths of us present- man. I'm the only one who hasn't missed a meeting since I started, which was after the first meeting. Anyway, not much accomplished, but I learned that the guy in Group that I refuse to admit is attractive because he's in Group and at least as messed up as me (that was going to be his name, or GIGTIRTAIABHIGAALAMUAM [pronounced Gig-teer-tay-ab-hee-gah-al-ah-moo-am] for short, but I thought that that was just unfair, especially considering the acronym is longer than most names I use) is going to do the Art Therapy group next semester, so if that works out for me, we might be in Group together again. Not entirely sure if that's an incentive, you know, familiar face, or not. Meh. Not that I'd make my choices based on one kid anyway. Hmm...
---------------------------
I've been reading blogs, as in, blogs other than those of people I know, and there's this neat feature on the modestly named Bestest Blog Of All Time which picks out a random blog for you and notes the good ones. Some of them I found kinda boring, but there are these ones: Nate is a Blog, which is funny random, and Dating Profile of the Day, which amuses me in the "oh god there are people like that out there" sense.
One blog I found only mildly interesting, save this quote: "Nonetheless, it matters to me that Canada is fair and just, even if it doesn't jive with my jehovah." (Shanthology). Jive with my jehovah? I want excuses to use that phrase in everyday life.
Some other note-worthy blogs I've found include Kissing Frogs, a collection of bad dates, and Go Fug Yourself, which is like a Worst Dressed column in a news magazine only funnier. I'll put these all in my blog list later.
But if you're really bored, check out Bestest Blog of All Time and cycle through the random blogs. Seriously. There are a lot of bad writers in the blogsphere, but there's lots of good ones, too.
---------------------------
Hmm. There seems to be something I should do right now... something... related to the fact I'm in college... and have my last day of class tomorrow... hang on, it's coming to me... OH YEAH homework. Damn.
So I figured I'd do it on x-ray crystallography. Here's my approach: If my mom can read it and say, "Oh, that's fascinating! But I don't really understand the science of it," then it's a good paper. For those of you who haven't a clue what I'm talking about, crystallography is how they know what molecules look like. Molecules are too small for even microscopes, but yet scientists know how they are put together. They do this though crystallizing the substance and shooting x-rays through it, and measuring how the rays are diffracted. It's pretty cool and I only marginally understand it. So I'm going to try to understand it and then I'm going to write a paper on it.
And my doing a paper on x-ray crystallography has NOTHING WHATSOEVER to do with the fact that my professor loves the subject and wants to try it before he dies. Not a bit. Nope.
---------------------------
I discovered a new life form today! It was very exciting. I named him Moe and then Moe and I had a tearful goodbye before I washed him and his three-month-old jello-y home down the sink. Moral of this story: Basiorana ought to clean that fridge out more often.
---------------------------
I actually look presentable right now, but believe me, it was not an easy ride. My skirt, for example, is safety-pinned so it doesn't slip down too low, not for modesty's sake, but because it's supposed to rest at my WAIST, as in, that part that dips in, not the belly-button or the hips. I'd complain a lot more if this didn't mean I was loosing weight.
Meanwhile, the only marginally clean blouse I could find stretches so tight across my chest that I'm kinda concerned that it will rip open any moment now and I will be forced to live out some kind of weird version of a trashy supermarket novel. Actually, that's a pretty bad description, since it doesn't sound NEARLY as problematic as my shirt bursting open would be. Suffice it to say, though, that just because a fabric stretches, does not mean it fits. I really need new shirts, and then, I need to THROW THESE ONES OUT.
And then, there's the hair. My hair is SO GROSS right now. It's also ridiculously long. Actually, some of it is. It's really all different lengths, so the last inch is composed of about 1/3 of the hair that is actually on my head. I started the day in a braid, but it quickly frizzed and worked it's way free to escape in messy glory. So I poured a gallon of hair gel into it and pulled it up into a bun on the top of my head. So there.
I have won this battle, Oh Wretched Hair. But don't think I rest easy, for I know that tomorrow will be a struggle of equally Biblical proportions.
---------------------------
Okay, so last night was my last Chem lab ever, and after the INCREDIBLY SCARY moment when she was assigning groups and I swear I thought that the group doing methane with me consisted of Incredibly Hot Guy, shorter-but-still-hot Flirts With TAs, and this guy that hangs out with them who's also surprisingly attractive. Thank GOD I heard wrong, that would have ended oh-so-badly. I only wound up with Surprisingly Attractive Guy. You won't understand why I call him that unless you see him, and you won't see him unless I tell you his real name, and I won't tell you his real name unless I get a head injury...
Anyway, we were looking at methane because it's a greenhouse gas, and then we had to find ways to reduce methane in the atmosphere, and honestly, the best we could come up with is stop raising cows for meat, because that's where 14% of the atmosphere's methane comes from- domestic livestock. Don't think about it. So next time someone asks me why I don't eat beef, I'm totally gonna say, "COWS CAUSE GLOBAL WARMING!" and whip out the statistics chart I happen to have in my back pocket.
We made posters and then graded each other's posters, based on content and "wow factor," how impressed we were by it. The most "wow" one had to be the one with the farting cow on it, and in the cloud was methane facts. Only it wasn't a "Wow, great poster" so much as a "Wow. You put a FARTING COW on your poster." But I said wow, so they got the points.
---------------------------
The last Group session was today, with 3/8ths of us present- man. I'm the only one who hasn't missed a meeting since I started, which was after the first meeting. Anyway, not much accomplished, but I learned that the guy in Group that I refuse to admit is attractive because he's in Group and at least as messed up as me (that was going to be his name, or GIGTIRTAIABHIGAALAMUAM [pronounced Gig-teer-tay-ab-hee-gah-al-ah-moo-am] for short, but I thought that that was just unfair, especially considering the acronym is longer than most names I use) is going to do the Art Therapy group next semester, so if that works out for me, we might be in Group together again. Not entirely sure if that's an incentive, you know, familiar face, or not. Meh. Not that I'd make my choices based on one kid anyway. Hmm...
---------------------------
I've been reading blogs, as in, blogs other than those of people I know, and there's this neat feature on the modestly named Bestest Blog Of All Time which picks out a random blog for you and notes the good ones. Some of them I found kinda boring, but there are these ones: Nate is a Blog, which is funny random, and Dating Profile of the Day, which amuses me in the "oh god there are people like that out there" sense.
One blog I found only mildly interesting, save this quote: "Nonetheless, it matters to me that Canada is fair and just, even if it doesn't jive with my jehovah." (Shanthology). Jive with my jehovah? I want excuses to use that phrase in everyday life.
Some other note-worthy blogs I've found include Kissing Frogs, a collection of bad dates, and Go Fug Yourself, which is like a Worst Dressed column in a news magazine only funnier. I'll put these all in my blog list later.
But if you're really bored, check out Bestest Blog of All Time and cycle through the random blogs. Seriously. There are a lot of bad writers in the blogsphere, but there's lots of good ones, too.
---------------------------
Hmm. There seems to be something I should do right now... something... related to the fact I'm in college... and have my last day of class tomorrow... hang on, it's coming to me... OH YEAH homework. Damn.
Wednesday, December 6, 2006
Quick Update and a Funny Bit Of Rambling
There was a death in my family yesterday. A very nice man, my father's brother-in-law's father, died at the age of- well, I can't remember the exact number, but over 90. He'd been sick for a while; I confess I'm not horribly shocked. Still, it's sad. I don't know if I'll be able to go to the funeral or not, considering that it's in Somerville, Mass, this weekend. I feel kinda bad- I want to pay my respects- but I don't think it will work out. It's a pretty long drive, especially when you tack on an extra hour for my parents to come get me.
-----------------------
Not much else to report; my life has been consumed by schoolwork. Tacita's definitely moving out next semester, it's finalized and everything. I've been eating lots of Ramen noodles. As in, an extreme amount. Like, that's all I eat for lunch and dinner. I feel collegiate. Or maybe just poor.
There's a holiday dinner tonight, though. Best go early.
-----------------------
Oh, but today in Myth class, the professor was talking about Achilles, the Greek hero of the Trojan War. See, Achilles' prophetic mother Thetis knew that if Achilles went to war, he'd die there. So Thetis dressed Achilles like a woman and sent him to live on the island of Scyros, hiding among the king's daughters. The Greeks discovered him when they came to Scyros, looking for him, and tested Lycomedes' wives and children by placing out two boxes as if they were merchants. The first box had combs, and jewels, and pretty clothes; the second had cool weaponry. Of course, Achilles went for the swords, while the women looked at the jewels, and the ruse was discovered, so he went to war after all.
Now, I'm sitting there smiling to myself as Clairmont says this, because I'm thinking about what it says about society at that time and the misogynism of Homer that a girl can't play with weaponry (I mean, really- clothes and jewels or a sharp blade? Which would you choose?). Then he says, "Now, one of the girls DID discover that Achilles was a young man, and she became pregnant..."
Oh yeah. THAT'S why girls don't play with swords.
Seriously, can you imagine how that went? Deidameia walks in on Achilles changing or something, and says, "Oh, I'm sorr- OH MY GOD YOU'RE NOT A GIRL! ...you're not a girl... and... WOW you wanna put that away? I mean, uhm... yeah... well... I guess I can overlook the fact that you've been cros-sdressing and hiding amongst my sisters and I for a while, and we'll just have sex right now, shall we?"
And naturally, Achilles is a hero, so he must have superior sperm. Like Heracles, who I like to think of as "Slow-Withdraw McGraw" or "Why They Invented Condoms." Honestly, not even Zeus had that many children in a 40-year-lifespan. For some reason, being a war hero with divine parentage means that you're free from impotence. Luckily for them, patrimony was a later invention.
It's probably for the best that anyone today boasting a divine parent lives in a box and wears tinfoil on their head. Besides the adversity Achilles would have to Trojans, your average hero would spend a FORTUNE in child support.
-----------------------
Not much else to report; my life has been consumed by schoolwork. Tacita's definitely moving out next semester, it's finalized and everything. I've been eating lots of Ramen noodles. As in, an extreme amount. Like, that's all I eat for lunch and dinner. I feel collegiate. Or maybe just poor.
There's a holiday dinner tonight, though. Best go early.
-----------------------
Oh, but today in Myth class, the professor was talking about Achilles, the Greek hero of the Trojan War. See, Achilles' prophetic mother Thetis knew that if Achilles went to war, he'd die there. So Thetis dressed Achilles like a woman and sent him to live on the island of Scyros, hiding among the king's daughters. The Greeks discovered him when they came to Scyros, looking for him, and tested Lycomedes' wives and children by placing out two boxes as if they were merchants. The first box had combs, and jewels, and pretty clothes; the second had cool weaponry. Of course, Achilles went for the swords, while the women looked at the jewels, and the ruse was discovered, so he went to war after all.
Now, I'm sitting there smiling to myself as Clairmont says this, because I'm thinking about what it says about society at that time and the misogynism of Homer that a girl can't play with weaponry (I mean, really- clothes and jewels or a sharp blade? Which would you choose?). Then he says, "Now, one of the girls DID discover that Achilles was a young man, and she became pregnant..."
Oh yeah. THAT'S why girls don't play with swords.
Seriously, can you imagine how that went? Deidameia walks in on Achilles changing or something, and says, "Oh, I'm sorr- OH MY GOD YOU'RE NOT A GIRL! ...you're not a girl... and... WOW you wanna put that away? I mean, uhm... yeah... well... I guess I can overlook the fact that you've been cros-sdressing and hiding amongst my sisters and I for a while, and we'll just have sex right now, shall we?"
And naturally, Achilles is a hero, so he must have superior sperm. Like Heracles, who I like to think of as "Slow-Withdraw McGraw" or "Why They Invented Condoms." Honestly, not even Zeus had that many children in a 40-year-lifespan. For some reason, being a war hero with divine parentage means that you're free from impotence. Luckily for them, patrimony was a later invention.
It's probably for the best that anyone today boasting a divine parent lives in a box and wears tinfoil on their head. Besides the adversity Achilles would have to Trojans, your average hero would spend a FORTUNE in child support.
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...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
