"He who hurries can not walk with dignity"

Today is sacred to the god Favonius, the gentle western wind. His Greek counterpart is Zephyrus. He was associated with plants and flowers. I have no idea why he has a holy day in the middle of February.

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So... it didn't go away. The knee pain, that is. I went to the doctor today. Got there about seven minutes early and expected to wait, but they ushered me right on in, and I got into the exam room before 11:15. This is good, I thought. I'll be able to get out of here and eat lunch before Bio lab.

But, no. Heaven forbid a Wednesday go well for me. No, I waited there for twenty-five minutes before the doctor came in. Then she looked at my knee, determined that it was swollen and tender, and then bent it-- and it released this "cr-cr-cr-crACK!" noise that sounded like a very loud version of cracking knuckles. Meanwhile the kneecap itself popped up, a few millimeters higher than it had been previously, and then settled down into the groove again. The look on her face was priceless-- she'd never felt that happen before. "Well, that's not normal," she declared.

She said that while that felt like a ligament snapping, the soreness and swelling seemed like a sprain or something. So in other words... she has no idea. Great. I'm supposed to ice it and take Motrin for the swelling, and they x-rayed it just in case, and I've got the ace bandage to stabilize the joint and crutches to keep off it in the hopes that it will heal if I don't pester it. I can handle all of that except the crutches. I take back what I said yesterday about limping around campus being miserable-- it's nothing compared to trying to cross slush-covered sidewalks on crutches. Besides, the crutches hurt my arms, and I'm usually exhausted by the time I get there... And then there's the stairs. I have grown to hate stairs in a very short amount of time.

Also... dining halls. The dining halls are not exactly handicap-friendly. Have you ever tried to carry a tray while on crutches? Yeah, not happening. I managed dinner today, using just one crutch, but I was precariously balancing things and holding the tray in one hand, petrified it would all fall. So tomorrow I need to get up at 6:30 to make sure I can go to breakfast with Loquatia, this one time-- Friday she doesn't have to get up to work, and this weekend I'm planning on getting a whole mess of Ramen/cereal/milk-type supplies so I can eat in the dorm if I can't find anyone to escort me to the dining hall. Fabulous.

And I had to call my parents, to let them know, lest I arrive home this weekend or next on crutches and offer them an unfortunate surprise... Mummy seems much more concerned about this than I am, naturally.

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Oh, and I found this. It amuses me muchly, since it's basically a mockery of religion... "WikiWrit: The Holy Book Anyone Can Edit!" Of course, this is funny because humans have been "editing" their holy books for years, which is why you really have to read them in the original language. This joke religion is just a little more obvious about it. It's fun. There are enchanted hobos.

I Am 50% Weird

Normal enough to know that I'm weird... But too damn weird to do anything about it!

How Weird Are You?

"You are a Person of Culture."

If you get a chance, go over to Mistake's blog and offer your condolences. Her grandmother passed away a few days ago (I was going to mention it yesterday, but I wanted to wait until she actually posted something about it in case there was some reason she didn't want me to).

It's always hard to loose someone you love, and we all need a little extra support when it happens.

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Have you ever wandered around a big college campus wearing an ace bandage on your knee, making it hard to bend that joint? Because I have. And it is MISERABLE. Plus the snow has turned to slippery slush, and since I have limited mobility, I'm petrified of falling and actually hurting myself, as opposed to this silly fake-hurt that I still totally expect to be gone by the time I show up at the doctor's tomorrow, though it hurt like crazy when I walked to the shower this morning.

Anyway, yes. Petrified of falling and hurting myself, so I was wearing my snow boots, for the traction, so with my knee mostly mobilized and my ankle almost completely so, that leg was pretty much useless, and I was dragging it around all day. The only thing worse would be crutches, because I'm on the third floor. And there's no elevator. Maritima suggested I take the dumbwaiter if I have issues with stairs, but then we thought about it, and besides the fact that I don't think the dumbwaiter is even turned on except at the beginning and end of the semester to move heavy stuff, I'm pretty sure that would be ridiculously scary. I mean... it's not even approved for humans.... I'm pretty sure I'd be better off risking the stairs.

My Life Is Worth...

$777,500 Hey, that's only like seven years at the lowest possible salary I'll have as a physician!

How Much Is Your Life Worth?

Please don't call me racist, but...

Today in Bio we were learning about species differentiation and what defines a species; specifically, that the definition of a species is a group of organisms that reproduce together and don't produce hybrid offspring. So technically, if a species doesn't reproduce together because of geographical or behavioral reasons, they're a different species. Canines, for example-- wolves and dogs are perfectly capable of reproducing and creating healthy cross-breeds, but they don't because they either were geographically separate, or, now that dogs are everywhere, they have too many behavioral differences-- wolves have a complex social hierarchy that is very different from that of dogs, and they just don't want to interbreed. I mean, it happens, but it's rare.

I personally see one major issue with this definition-- humans. We're one species, right? And yet thanks to geographical reasons, our phenotypes have developed to be quite different. If it hadn't been for exploration and colonization, the trend might have continued, creating multiple distinct populations that were so drastically different that they would appear to be completely different species. As it is, someone with a complex knowledge of biology but not a great knowledge of humans and the earth might think I was a different species than an Aborigine.

Of course, humans are interfertile, so we're one species. And yet, dogs and wolves are interfertile. Different populations of humans with geographical separation didn't intermarry until colonization and exploration put us together. And then there's the behavioral thing-- dogs choose not to interbreed with wolves for societal reasons. That sounds a hell of a lot like racism and culturalism to me. It's not that they couldn't if they wanted to, it's just that they don't.

Now, I'm not saying different races are different species, because honestly at this point there's enough interracial marriages that it wouldn't work anyway, and I've seen very few African-Americans who didn't look like they had a great big scoop of European genetics mixed in, thanks to American slavery. Humans differ from dogs in that we're intelligent enough that we can overcome geographical and behavioral differences that might otherwise continue to differentiate us into several species. Though I kinda wonder what would have happened if we had taken a little longer in the Dark Ages.

What I am saying is that human beings were a clear example of the failure of the "populations that don't interbreed for geographical or behavioral reasons are different species" rule, and that the biologists should reevaluate their guidelines to make sure that there is an actual, legitimate reason why two humans from different parts of the world are unquestionably the same species as the but a husky and a wolf are different. Maybe "wolf" should just be made into another breed of dog? I don't know. But it's kinda bugging me.

"You find beauty in ordinary things. Keep this trait."

Today is a day sacred to Faunus, the Roman version of Pan. He was a goat-legged nature god, of plains, fields, and forests. He was also known by an alternate name: Inuus, the god who makes cattle fertile.

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Not much of interest today; I finally went to Health Services about my weird knee pain (as opposed to my customary knee pain) and now I have to wear an ace bandage until I see the doctor on Wednesday. I'm actually almost positive that the pain will be completely gone by then, since that's my luck. I don't go to the doctor to fix a problem, I go to the doctor so the problem will already be fixed.

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I've also been practicing my photo retouching skills. See, I'm not looks-obsessed (or stupid) enough to actually just post a picture that isn't me on Stalkerbook, but I am certainly vain enough to not want there to be a single photo I put up that doesn't look as immaculate as it can get.

I'm actually getting surprisingly good at it. I can get rid of blemishes, fix messy hair, fill out eyebrows and solve most lightning and camera related issues. I have issues with eyes and noses, though-- eyes are easy to screw up and obviosu when you do, and noses have too many different angles. I wonder if I could turn this into a marketable skill.

Though there is something truly odd about magnifying a nose until I can see the individual pixels and then proceeding to stare at it for a good ten minutes as I carefully retouch it.

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This Healthcare Professions seminar I'm taking is really depressing. To get into med school, I'll need to maintain a 3.7 GPA, get a 30 or higher on the MCAT entrance exam, get glowing recommendations from faculty, ace the interview, have a record of job-shadowing medical professionals and of community service and involvement in activities where I get to prove I'm a leader, expose myself to diversity, overcome my stammer and my overuse of sentence fillers like "like" and "uhm," have absolutely no criminal record, and avoid credit-card debt.

Yes, that all matters. Anyone who thinks doctors are overpaid should DIE. If I have to do all that just to get IN, I damn well want to be pulling down $300,000+ a year.

I also have to maintain my public image. This means that I can't drink or use drugs (not that I was planning on that) and I have to make sure my Facebook profile reads more like a public persona biography than a, well, Facebook profile. Luckily for me, this blog never mentions my name or identifying markers, so they can't use this against me, and the LJ only mentions my nickname, not my legal name, and not my last name.

Your Career Personality: Idealistic, Service-Oriented, and Future-Oriented

Your Ideal Careers: Alternative health practitioner Architect Environmental lawyer Librarian Magazine editor Museum curator Novelist Nutritionist Photo journalist Playwright

The Quick and Dirty Career Test

Dream Catcher

Last night's dream was really fragmentary, so it doesn't make a good story, particularly. It did have a few flashes of scenes that were interesting...

Like shopping in a Wal-mart and having the floor start to crumble beneath me and open up into the bowels of hell below.

And holding a baby duck but being completely unable to recognize the beak, thus causing me to run around holding it up to various birds and asking them if this was their baby... the turkey chased me off

And running out of a building that was about to explode and jumping into the nearest car to escape, except it turned out to belong to the people who had planted the bomb, so there was a mild altercation and then they threw me out on the highway. I bounced.

"Opportunity will soon knock. When it does, answer the door!"

It's the Fornacalia today, or at least, that's what we think; sources differ as to the exact date. It's sometime in early February, at least. The Fornacalia is a holy day honoring Fornax, goddess of baked goods. No, seriously. Ovid, in the Fasti, said: "They made the oven into a goddess of that name [Fornax]; delighted with her, the farmers prayed that she would temper the heat to the corn committed to her charge. At the present day the Prime Warden (Curio Maximus)60 proclaims in a set form of words the time for holding the Feast of Ovens [Fornacalia], and he celebrates the rites at no fixed date..."

Fornax made things rise and bake properly. Thus, she is goddess of baked goods. Her festival was honored by roasting grain in ovens in the Forum in the ancient fashion.

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I have to show my English teacher my journal, so I'm transferring it to Word... everything since the 16th. Guess how long it is in Word. Forty pages. And that's after I took out five different little side-note entries that I didn't think were neccessary, like that one on my fanfiction, and I took out all the images and stuff. Man.

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Hmm... nothing happened today.

My theory is that if my dreams are long and interesting, my day will be mundane, so my readers don't have to slog through two long entries in a day.

I have a quote, though (muchly paraphrased, I don't remember exactly what she said): "We should all pitch in and send [KTMack] a cake for Valentine's Day, and have it delivered. It should say: "HA HA, YOU'RE SINGLE! THAT SUCKS!"

...meanest thing ever. Only thing meaner would be if I (his former girlfriend) was the one to send it...

What My Dreams Mean...

My dreams seem to show that I'm a bit disturbed... but nothing serious. I may have a problem I'm trying to work out in my sleep. Overall, I'm very content in my life. Comparatively, at least. My dreams indicate that I have very conflicted feelings. I have a very vivid imagination and a rich creative mind.

What Do Your Dreams Mean?

I dream in recycled movie plots, apparently

Last night's dream was an epic. There was a family who lived in a ramshackle two-story house on the edge of a chasm high in the mountains, with no yard but just rocks up to the sheer drop down hundreds of feet to certain doom. They were a close, loving family, and the father had chosen at some point to turn himself into a ghost, as he had a magical sword that could return him to the living at any time, and the abilities he gained as a spirit were useful. They had one servant, a girl from a high-class family who had fallen on hard times and was forced to work for people she considered lowly and worthless.

They got on Hera's (the queen of the Greek gods') bad side. That was their first mistake. I'm not sure what they did but she sent her army of minions to kill the entire family, led by a warrior woman under her command. The minions wiped out the whole family, even the father-- they managed to destroy his spirit and send that to the underworld so he could never return to his body. Only one son escaped, because he had surprised the warrior woman in charge by jumping out from behind a curtain and stabbing her with a knife, and accidentally hitting an artery. She died, but miraculously, the blood vanished form the carpet as she lay.

The son ran down a narrow tunnel through the mountain to the village, where the servant girl was talking with his best friend, a boy who worked in one of the shops. He told them what happened and they all agreed that he needed to run, as did the servant, because she was so closely tied to the family. His best friend also agreed to go with them, because he might be linked to their disappearance.

They went into flight, and were chased all across the earth by Hera's replacement for the original warrior woman (another woman), and several thug types. The woman in command has several magical abilities in her power, including the ability to call up rainbows for transportation, like the Greek goddess Iris-- except Iris' rainbows weren't made of candied fruit and Skittles in different colors. There were several close calls, including one time when they took refuge in a young woman's house, and then she chose to go with them because a) they left rather abruptly in the middle of the night, under attack, and she was afraid she'd be captured and tortured by the hunters, and b) she fell in love with the family's last son.

Meanwhile the best friend and the servant girl fall in love and are having a side-story relationship, but at some point, they have to leave her behind or she vanishes, and they assume she's dead. The best friend is heartbroken.

They reached a run-down old Colosseum-style arena, long since out of use, and planned to spend the night there. As the love interest and the best friend set up to sleep under the stone bleachers, the son wandered, and he entered the gladiatorial arena. Suddenly the once-empty bleachers started to fill with Greek gods, including their king Zeus, who sat in the old emperor's box. He declared, "I've taken pity on you, boy, and I'm ending this silly chase. You and my wife will compete in one-on-one combat, with her in a human form. If you defeat the human form, I will make her stop chasing you, and you and your friends can return home and bury your family and live in peace." The son wasn't given a chance to say anything, but was instantly attacked by the warrior woman who's been chasing him-- who, he realized, is Hera in human form.

Hera quickly gained the upper hand, as she still had godly strength even in human form. Just as the son was about to loose, she whispered a taunt in his ear, reminding him of his family and his failure at this chance for revenge so he'll suffer more. The exact opposite happened-- the remark spurred him, so he gained a burst of adrenaline-driven superhuman strength and strangled her human form.

Hera, naturally, reappeared sulkily next to her husband, but the son was declared the winner, and all the gods vanished. Triumphant, the son told his companions what had transpired, and they all happily headed back to the mountain village. The best friend was already plotting a quest of his own, taking the father's magical sword and finding the body of his love, the servant girl, and returning her to life.

Before returning to the family's house, they visited the villagers, telling of their adventures and why they were gone so long. The best friend is all prepared to offer up excuses to his boss, but the boss silenced him, saying he doesn't need to explain, and while he's been replaced, the boss will personally make sure he gets another job in the village. "Who is my replacement?" the best friend asked, and out walked the old servant girl who he loved and who had been released from Hera's control months ago. He immediately ran to her, joyous and ready to kiss her, but she stopped him with her hand, and pulled out from the back room another man, a former co-worker of the best friend. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I thought you were dead, and it's been a long time." She leaned her head on the new beau's chest and he wrapped his arm around her.

The best friend was sad, but he understood, as he'd mostly gotten over thinking she was dead anyway, and knowing that she was alive and happy was enough for him. The love interest, best friend, and the son headed happily back to the family's house, ready to start the rather unpleasant cleaning and burial process, considering that it had been years since the family had died and no one had wanted to risk offending Hera by burying them before then.

Then I woke up. Yes, that all happened in last night's dream. It was like a whole movie going on there. Kinda cool though.

"Oh, look, family bathrooms. We can all go in together!"*

So today Mistake and I were all set to go to the mall, and then she went to go onto the 5A bus, so I, naturally, followed her as I only know that 3A goes to see my therapist in Dover. Turns out that we wanted 4A, so we rode around for an hour and got a fun and exciting tour of Newmarket. Poor Mistake felt really dumb, which kinda made me feel bad, because it wasn't really her fault. We've to the mall like, four or five times, max, and the buses are kinda confusing. They all come at the same time, so it's easy to get on the wrong one. Besides, we just rode it back, took a later bus to the mall and hung out in my dorm in the meantime. This did mean that Closer came with us to the mall, though, since we figured that the fact that neither of us picked up on the fact that we were on the wrong bus until we'd already gone too far to get off meant that chances are we'd screw something up again.

It's okay, all he was planning on doing was, y'know, homework. Like that matters. Pfft.

But yes, mall. I got lightweight sneakers that will be easier to dance in but won't look so formal and Mistake got a Panic! At the Disco poster for her dorm room, and then we grabbed a bite to eat before coming back to campus, partaking in Ice Cream Night at Hoco, and going back to Mistake's room to hang out and talk about politics until Closer fell asleep.

Okay, so that's not totally fair, he was actually tired, but he probably wouldn't have fallen asleep if he'd been contributing the conversation, so it was at least partially our fault.

...This is how I spend Saturday night when there's a huge hockey game against UMaine going on. Maybe this has something to do with the fact I have so few friends.

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Valentine's Day is Coming, according to every store in the mall... and Mistake and Closer, who were discussing the holiday. Closer is planning something absolutely, sickeningly adorable, I'm sure. He said he wasn't going to do something huge, but it will be sweet, whatever it is, because he knows that this is one of the first Valentine's Days when she actually has a boyfriend who won't forget what day it is.

At least, it better.

I might give out carnations, since I definitely can't afford roses this year. They're pretty cheap and I really like giving flowers to my friends on that day, so I can pretend that I don't care that I'm single.

And because I don't have that many friends, it will be even cheaper. It works out to... four. Wow, that's pretty embarrassing. Maybe I'll give Deandron one too, because I think at this point he's the only one of his roommates who's single, and while I doubt he cares... Ah, who am I kidding. I want to see how uncomfortable I can make him. Because honestly, if I have to be single on Valentine's Day, the least I should be able to do is make some poor guy uncomfortable. I think I shall scotch tape it to his door, because nothing says "classy" like scotch tape.

Oh, man. I just realized-- Valentine's Day is on a Wednesday. As in, my weekly Bad Day. Ha ha, God, I see what you did there. Cute. Hmmph.

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And I've discovered a new hair-styling technique that I love, because it's easy. All I do is shower, comb it, let it air-dry most of the way, then take a massive handful of gel, flip my hair over my head, and mess it up. Then I blow-dry it and presto, hairstyle #1, curly and messy and bed-head chic. But it's crunchy, so once it completely dries, I gently comb through it first with my fingers and then with a comb (playing with it throughout the day, basically) so it gradually drops and relaxes and smooths out throughout the day. It only gets clumpy if I stop playing with it. This is not usually an issue, since I always play with my hair when it's down anyway.

Why is it that I always start wearing my hair down regularly around this time of the year?

Oh. That's right... because it looks better, when I do it right. And because I'm lonely.

*Courtesy of Mistake-- she wanted me to put it up as the title. We didn't. In case you were curious.

"Sweet Memories are the Paradise of the Mind"

Today is a dies ater, which means it's bad luck to start anything new. It's also the festival of Juno Februa, who is really the same Juno as yesterday except yesterday she was the Queen of Heaven and Savior Mother, and today she's the mother of Mars/Ares. Just a different aspect of her. Anyway, today was celebrated by putting roasted spelt and salt on the door sill.

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Today Latin was canceled, which was exciting, and then at three I met up with Mistake and Closer to hang out all afternoon. Mistake showed me where to drop off my RA application and we went to Brooks, and then went back to her dorm and hung out and listened to the soundtrack of our childhood-- Who else remembers "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls, "C'est La Vie" by B*witched and "I Saw the Sign" by Ace of Base?

Mistake's ex boyfriend and current best friend (she collects them. Best friends, not ex boyfriends, though the latter is also possible) came up to visit, as he has a college interview at a nearby school tomorrow morning. He's staying the night in her dorm room, thanks to her lack of roommate. Closer may or may not spend the night in there with them, sleeping in the chair. He arrived just as it was starting to snow, and we went to eat dinner and then afterwards went to my dorm to get my mug for cocoa and some salsa I wanted to get rid of. AS we headed back to Stoke, the snow was starting to pick up and we threw snowballs and Mistake made a snow angel.

Mistake went and retrieved her camera, and we wandered around campus, avoiding the poor, confused skunk that was wandering about in the drifts because of the weird weather. We took pictures and played in the snow, and then we made a snowman on T-Hall lawn-- well, it started out as a snowman, but then I broke the head apart by packing too hard and rather than replace it, we gave it cat ears and a face and called it a Wildcat; then we took pictures with it and once we returned, wet and cold, to Mistake's dorm, she sent a picture in to the local news station and they showed it on the 11:00 news later that night.

Before the news, we watched Psych and ate popcorn; then we sat around and talked for a while after. I naturally had to call my mom and let her know what channel to watch, lest she miss the proof that college kids are quite talented snowman builders.

On the way back home at 12:30 AM there were kids riding dining hall trays down the hill by the library and having snowball fights in front of Hubbard Hall.

I love the snow.

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Actually, right now I'm kinda more loving the fact that at dinner tonight, I was totally checked out by not one, but two guys. First there was this guy who kept staring at me all through the meal-- well, either me or Closer, and if he was staring at Closer that's mildly creepy, whereas if he was staring at me it's still creepy but it makes me feel better so it's okay creepiness. The first time I caught him staring at me out of the corner of my eye I turned a little, like I was glancing around the room, and he blinked his eyes back to the people he was talking to, and it was about ten minutes before I noticed him again... so I decided I wasn't going to turn, and see how long he stared.

It was a pretty long time. I was kind of wondering when I was going to be able to look around the room again. He went back to talking with his dinner partners eventually, but I swear, like, five minutes later I noticed him looking at me again...

Then we were walking out to bring our trays to the dish room, and a totally different guy glanced at me walking by, glanced away, looked back, and then slid his eyes down the full length of my body. It was, as my sister decided when I told her of it later, "like... hardcore checked out." Again, definitely kinda creepy, but at the same time, in a twisted, odd, my-self-esteem-sucks kind of way, it really cheered me up.

If there was another possible reason for them looking at me, I really don't want to hear it, I'm basking here.

The only problem was I totally wanted to mention it to Mistake, because I actually find it pretty funny, too-- another advantage of being young/naive is that when people blatantly check you out, it's still funny and not just annoying-- but I couldn't think of a way to say it that didn't sound like I was completely full of myself, and Mistake's friend doesn't know me well enough to understand that I have "obnoxiously low" self esteem and this is kinda exciting for me.

Oh well. We're going to the mall tomorrow, I'll mention it then.

Nostalgia

Everyone over the age of, oh, 30 has this total nostalgia for their youth. Not the prepubescent days of playing in the yard, but more between the ages of 12 and 25. The older you get, the farther back your nostalgia stretches, so someone who is sixty feels nostalgia for their high school days but the more recent memories of the forty-year-old remind them that senior year in high school and the wonders of college were the real "best years of their life."

As someone who is currently in one of those "best years" and seems to be botching it up quite nicely, I have a theory on this. I have problems that make me miserable at times; these years don't really seem like "the best" to me. And yet, I know that in ten years I'll look back on this time in my life and even with the assistance of this detailed record of my life, I'll think the same thing everyone else does. This isn't some depressing reflection on what I expect my future to be like. It's a positive reflection on what it's like to be young.

Let's ignore the obvious. Yes, I'm healthier than I probably will ever be (which is scary, as I need to go to the doctor again soon); yes, my parents are footing the bills; yes, I have lots of freedom without that much responsibility besides maintaining my grades. But there are deeper advantages to being young that people don't tend to notice.

I am at the stage in my life where I literally experience something new every day. When you're older, you can take classes or read books and learn new things all the time, but I don't really have to put any effort into experiencing new things-- because everything's new. Buying a rug was a new experience for me. Sealing up the window. Using a coed bathroom (more on that later...) and seeing a guy wandering around in a towel with a nipple ring.

When you're young, life is all about firsts. First relationship. First kiss. First time alone on public transportation. Whatever it is, it's your first time, and thus it's exciting and new and unusual, if only for a few brief seconds before you realize there is absolutely nothing exciting about public transportation. But you're still constantly exposed to new things, strange things, fascinating things that make life anything but dull.

Sometimes kids my age get jaded and bitter, and talk about how boring life is and long for excitement. I don't need excitement. I can see the excitement in every day as I see or do or learn something new. Those people will look back on life and think about how they wish they could go back and relive their glory days, knowing what they'll know then, and experience it to the fullest. I won't need to, because I've figured out how to revel in the strange and fascinating world of the ordinary right now.

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Oh, before I forget-- I had to use a coed bathroom (not the one-person-at-a-time sort, the kind with stalls) the other day. I loitered outside for a few minutes first, making sure no one went in or out. Then I opened the door and quickly glanced around, making sure there was no one there and keeping my eyes at eye level for fear of urinals; I then proceeded to go to the bathroom very, very quickly and tore out of there as soon as I sanitarily could.

The entire incident was utterly ridiculous and I've decided next time I'll just walk up a couple floors to find a ladies' room. I don't know what I was thinking, I still internally freak out when a guy walks by in a towel on my coed floor (nipple piercing or otherwise). I honestly think if a guy had come into the bathroom I would have had a heart attack and died right there on the gross tile floor.

...yay new experiences?

"You Cannot Manage Men In Battle. You Manage Things, You Lead People"

Today is the Kalends Februarius, the first of the month of February. The entire month is sacred to Juno/Hera, and today was specifically the feast of Junoni Sospitae Matri Reginae, the first part of which means "Juno the Savior" and the second part refers to mothers and queens, but I don't feel like actually figuring out the exact wording of a translation. Suffice it to say it's a day honoring Juno.

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Now, kids, it's time for...

THE ADVENTURES OF MARCUS
our grammatical friend

It was shaping up to be a bad week for Marcus, the hero of my weekly grammar exercises, as we're studying the Imperative. He was thus hopelessly bossed about. First he had to stay, not go; then there was the issue with not listening, and he had to be reprimanded; finally he was told a secret, but he couldn't tell the consul. Frustrating!

Then I figured out that I'd been translating the wrong set of sentances, and Marcus wasn't even in the set of incomplete phrases that I had to finish. I was rather frustrated-- I'd finished the whole thing! but Marcus gets the week off, at least.

Tune in next Thursday for more ADVENTURES OF MARCUS!

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I ate dinner with Mistake and another girl on her floor, who has the prettiest long, red hair you could imagine. Loquatia was going to eat with us, but she didn't realize that I was planning on walking over like... twenty minutes early... so she missed us. Oh well. Loquatia has actual social skills (they aren't fabulous, but they're there), so she's known for wandering around and asking people from Christian Impact, tennis, or her classes to go eat with her.

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Oh, and I finally got the counselor who leads the communication group to agree to be my reference, so the RA application's done and will be submitted tomorrow, as soon as Mistake shows me where the heck I'm supposed to bring it. Hopefully I get the job.

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Part of my Chemistry grade this semester involves "PLTL," "Peer-Led Team Learning." This is basically an excuse to make us think about chemistry when he's not around. We meet once a week for an hour and a half (like I have room in my schedule at this point-- it was so clear, then I added yoga, group therapy, regular therapy, three to four hours of dance and that health care seminar group...) and review the classwork with a student who did well in the class last year.

I know more than the leader.

And I sleep through the class.

Well, technically the problem is that I think faster than the other girls in the group, and come to the conclusion and want to move on in the review, and don't want to have to wait for them to catch up and come to the conclusion for themselves. I'm not allowed to just tell them the answer, which is what I always want to do, because I want to move on.

I am what they call "not a team player." Of course, it didn't help that I was completely unable to sit still for the session, so I probably looked like I was about ready to spaz out and kill them all. Makes it hard to concentrate, fearing for your life.

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Speaking of spazzing out and killing them all, that's what I believe I will do to the guys next door if I hear them say "lol" one more time, or "brb," "lmao," or "ttyl." I honestly prefer the swearing to the internet jargon. It sounds so stupid!

Though I admit, I'd like to be able to study without hearing, "F--- that, b----, no way that h- wouldn't get blasted by that f------ grenade, it f------ went off right in front of her!"

Heck, I'd like them to say one sentence I don't have to bleep out...

Myrmecophily

There exists an incredibly cool insect whose habits I must share. It's called the green ant (or green tree ant). They make these cool complicated nests in trees out of branches and leaves, and they eat pretty much any caterpillar or other bug that happens across their path. But that's not the cool part.

There is also a kind of butterfly called a Lycaenid which, when it is a larva, produces a kind of honeydew from a gland on it's butt. This sweet fluid is rich in nutrients and the vicious green ants love it. The caterpillar also has two little glands that produce a soothing pheromone that chills out the ants and reminds them that this is a food-producer, not food. So the ants don't eat the caterpillar, they drink the honeydew-- and they protect the caterpillar from predators. They make him a little nest on the edge of their colony in the tree, and they make sure he gets enough to eat, and then when he's ready to turn into a butterfly, they continue to guard the pupa and they let the butterfly crawl out of the nest and fly off without hurting it.

Basically? The ants have dairy cattlepillars. How awesome is that?

"You are a Person of Culture, Cultivate It"

It's the festival of Hecate At the Crossroads, today. You may have heard of Hecate, but if you have, it's probably as the witch-goddess because that's how disaffected Hellenistic Neopagan teenagers like to see her, so they can call her their patron goddess and dress all in black and pretend to communicate with the dead. Or maybe you've just read Shakespeare's Macbeth. But in reality, while she was goddess of witchcraft and necromancy, that wasn't the most important aspect of her.

As goddess of crossroads, Hecate was depicted as having three faces- a young woman's, a middle-aged woman's, and an old woman's. Three masks would be placed on a pole at the crossroad (a Y-intersection) so each faced a different direction. This festival honored that aspect of the goddess-- as a deity of the wilderness and untamed areas. Travelers left her food as offerings to ensure safe passage through dangerous areas-- especially women who were traveling alone.

If you go onto Hellenismos discussion boards talking about who people feel is their patron god or goddess, a lot of people claim Hecate. This amuses me because half of them haven't a clue what she's about except that the witchcraft connection will annoy their parents.

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Last night at lab I switched partners, but I swear it wasn't because the girls kicked me out. My new lab partner just joined the class and she knew me from Classical Mythology last semester. I'll mention her enough to name her, I guess... Her name will be Maritima ("Of the sea," because she's studying marine biology). Anyway, the lab thing worked out anyway, for last week-- turns out the group section of the lab wasn't that big a deal.

In other lab news, turns out I don't have to worry about lab reports for Biology. You have no idea how happy I was when I learned this. I was dancing. On the inside, because I was in Chem lab.

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Today's Bio lab took forever. I was so proud that I left yoga early enough to get there on time, with enough time to make sure I looked reasonably presentable and didn't smell (which meant five minutes early). But then I was looking at bacteria and protists for hours and I had to squeeze the wood-digesting bacteria out of a termite's butt, and the first time I didn't do it right and the second time I squeezed too hard, killed it, and still didn't do it right, so the professor had to do it for me on account of my lab partner being adverse to the squeezing of termites. The professor didn't even try to be humane, like I had been- he just disemboweled the little bug and tossed him aside, without even crushing his head so he'd die fast. And the professor didn't even do it quickly enough! Termite butt bacteria-- which, in case you're curious, are the things that make it possible for termites to digest wood-- can't survive long exposed to oxygen, and he waited too long before he put the cover slip on so the bacteria was dead anyway. I mean, we saw them, but not for very long.

Plus Maritima, who is also in Bio, was asking for a partner for this project we're doing on phyla, and I thought to myself, "I'd love to, as long as we aren't expected to work with our regular lab partners" but it came out as "Well, uhm, okay, but I have to, uhm, ch-check with my lab partner, but if she doesn't, like-- if she doesn't want to work with me, then I-- I mean, I guess..."

At that, she said, "Oh, okay, it's cool," and then another guy came up behind us and said, "Maritima, I don't have a partner for the project" (except he used her real name). So she partnered with him, on account of his actually being able to talk correctly, and then I learned that my lab partner already had a project partner and I would up having to wait around until everyone else partnered off. Luckily the girl who wound up without a partner was my lab partner last semester, so it's not a total stranger. Or a guy.

I really do talk like that, by the way. And Maritima's a girl, so it's not just guys that make me stammer. If I don't know someone, or I only know them a little, or I feel uncomfortable around them for any reason, it comes out peppered with "uhms" and half-finished sentences trailing off into new phrases. I basically have to have my words prepared ahead of time, in my head at least.

I wasn't exactly expecting Maritima to ask me to work with her right after she asked Incredibly Hot Guy (who's best friend, Flirts With TAs, is in the class so he had a partner already). I mean, like, hell of a comedown. Thus, I was hopelessly unprepared.

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Anyway, lab had plenty of awkwardness, for me, and it let out at 4:45, giving me fifteen minutes to run back to my dorm, get my personal statement for the Healthcare seminar thing, and run back to Dimond Library for the 5:00 meeting. Then I read my stupid personal statement on "Why I want to be a doctor--" you know, I had the worst trouble writing that, because I honestly haven't a clue why I want to be a doctor. But that's an issue for another day. I spouted off something about fascination with human physiology that made me sound cold and a great deal like Dr. House, and then ran back here at 5:30 to quickly change my shirt and go to dinner with Loquatia before swing class.

I was tired and under dressed-- I was still wearing workout pants and I'd just thrown on a T-shirt in my rush, and everyone else looked like they were going to class-- when I got to Swing, and emotionally, I was completely frazzled. Add in the fact that this week, the numbers of attractive guys without pre-determined dance partners (I don't know if they were single-- but they didn't have dance partners) was double last week's number and that we were learning new steps very quickly, and you have me stammering and stumbling around for an hour, watching the clock and wishing my hands weren't sweating so much.

Great.

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What is it about Wednesdays? They sucked last semester, too.

My Social Anxiety Level: 68%

"You have high social anxiety. You have a pretty serious social phobia, and it effects your life more than you may realize. It's possible that you've made yourself comfortable by avoiding situations you dread. But don't be fooled - you still probably need professional help." Yeah, well, tell me something I don't know...

Are You Socially Anxious?

"Those who bring sunshine to the lives of others cannot keep it from themselves."

In the year 9 BC, on this day, the shrine commissioned by the Roman emperor Augustus was dedicated to Pax, the goddess of peace. It was erected in Rome's Campus Martius (heh, irony) and consisted of a marble altar in a walled enclosure, with many beautiful sculptures representing scenes from Roman legends and the dedication ceremonies. It's still there, apparently, at least in part, and is considered to be among the finest examples of Roman art.

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So I've been reading up on Scientology, just out of morbid curiosity, and I have something to say:

XENU??? ALIENS??? HYDROGEN BOMBS IN VOLCANOES??? What the HELL? I mean, I know that the whole Xenu thing is a less important part of the church's doctrine and that Hubbard was drinking and popping painkillers when he wrote the whole Xenu story, but come ON. This is why sci-fi authors shouldn't be allowed to start religions!!!

I mean, honestly, who converts to Scientology knowing that these beliefs are part of the doctrine? Plus anyone with a modicum of science education can see big ol' holes all through their "scientific basis" for the faith. I mean, at least I can see where the Christians were coming from, even if I don't believe- their religion was founded when there was need for explanations. We didn't really need to refute the Big Bang theory in the 1960's by saying that Dark Lord Xenu killed a bunch of people by exploding a volcano with an atomic bomb and then stealing their souls to brainwash them.

The scientologists combine all the crazy dogma of a cult with the annoying proselytizing of the worst evangelical Christians. If, for example, the auditors didn't often use the counseling as a mere excuse to push teachings, there would be good in this faith, but too often everything just becomes a chance for the church to get more power.

And that business about silent births? Personally, I'd rather I had an imprint in my "reactive mind" of joy and celebration at my birth, noises of laughter and happy and relieved tears, than of silence and forced calm. I'm just saying.

All right, I'm shutting up now. At least about Scientology.

I took an online quiz- a reputable one, too- on religion that said I was closest in my beliefs to Reform Judaism (actually, it said I was 100% Reform Jew, but that's because it didn't ask the kind of questions that would have shown the difference). It's said this before, pretty much every time. Unfortunately, the same thing differs me from Reform Judaism as differs me from every other religion- I believe that every faith comes from the same divinity, and the variations in faith come from either God backtracking and trying to correct the failings of free will, or from human interpretation gone terribly wrong. I guarantee you won't find many a faith that says "Every religion comes from God, the same God, but anything you hear in any religion is tainted by mankind's interpretation- including this one."

Basically, I believe that we're all going to be a little wrong no matter what and learning the truth is a question of learning as much about religion as possible, and finding the things in common- because if something is a common truth in all religions, chances are it didn't come from man, but from God's original message. Like "thou shalt not kill-" you'd be hard pressed to find faiths that condone murder of human beings. Thus, we can pretty much assume that that's not been mucked around with too much in the translation.

I'm sorry I keep leaking my faith out into this blog. I just got to thinking about religion today because we were talking about the concept of special creation in biology class. The professor's talking about opposition to Darwinian theory and he kind of had to address it. He seems to relish debunking Creationism and ID, though.

Don't get me wrong, I believe in evolution. Completely. I think that's how God created us. Not my point. See, the professor has this way of speaking about it that doesn't just say "Creationism and ID are religious viewpoints that are completely contrary to evolutionary evidence and can't be scientifically proven," but rather, "Creationism and ID are idiotic, antiquated viewpoints that deserve to be thrown out completely in favor of scientific theories, and anyone who believes them is an uneducated fundie redneck." Oh, and he refers to the special creator (in most religions, God) in a tone that so obviously says that he's an atheist, and he's going to think less of someone who chooses the divine explanation.

I'm an evolutionist and I think that creationism shouldn't be taught in schools. At least not public ones. But honestly? I was kind of offended. He's being completely intolerant! Some people are in that class because it's required for their major, and they might really be a creationist or in favor of ID. Most of that class probably at least believes in a higher power of some sort. I know he needs to explain that Creationism is not a valid counter-theory to evolution, but he could do it a little more tactfully. I never thought I'd be offended by pro-evolution comments.

My high school biology teacher had a good way of dealing with it. She said, "In this class I'll be teaching evolution. If you believe in creationism, that's your choice. I'm not asking you to believe in evolution, I'm asking you to understand the concept and it's importance to what we believe we now know about biology. If you feel concerned about something, bring it up with your religious leader and they should set you straight in regards to your faith-- I'm teaching what scientists believe."

I don't know. Maybe I'm being too sensitive about the whole thing-- I mean, you really can't understand modern biology if you don't believe in at least some parts of evolutionary theory. But he's got a bunch of freshmen, a good chunk of whom probably came from small towns that feared lawsuits and taught really crappy science, and he's asking them to completely flip everything they know on it's head, stop believing in what they've been told all their life, and do what he says, and he doesn't even have the decency to refer to their religious doctrine without scorn in his voice.

The least he could do is quit talking like God is a concept we should have given up with the Abominable Snowman and the Tooth Fairy.

Oh, and if you're curious, here's Penn&Teller's Bullshit on creationism in our schools: parts one, two, and three. Be warned, though, while they're interesting, they mock creation science at times. Then again, they're a show aimed at people who believe in evolution. If you want creationism or ID to be taught in public high schools, it's officially required reading.

Showing off

Woot! Check it out: I got third place in the Comeback Challenge over at the Dating Profile of the Day. Which means that contrary to what my sister claims, I can be funny on purpose. Sometimes.

"Never Throw Caution to the Wind"

Today is the Nativity of Pax, goddess of peace. It's a celebration of the birth of the essence of peace, and a celebration of peace in general. Not as big as her festival on the 3rd, though. But have a peaceful day.

Pax was the Roman equivalent of Eirene, one of the Horae and the goddess of peace and spring. She was the daughter of Jupiter/Zeus and Themis, a Titan.

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Daddy asked me this past weekend to look up the son of one of his colleagues, a man he worked with a while ago. He and the man were talking and the man mentioned that his son also goes to UNH, and is majoring in Biochemistry, so I might have run into him; Daddy promised that he'd ask me about it. He repeated the kid's name to me and I gave him a blank stare, because quite frankly, I've heard hundreds of names since I got here and I retained like, ten of them. I promised I'd check, but reminded him that there are 17,000 students at this school, 11,000 undergrads, and even if he as also in the COLSA program (which I think Biochemistry is), the chances of my having met him were slim. Since I don't leave this room.

Nevertheless, to humor him, I looked the kid up on Stalkbook and discovered that not only have I met him, he lives upstairs, next to Libentra, and hangs out with Libentra and some of Loquatia's friends that I met the other day. In fact, I'm pretty sure he was in a class with me last semester. Go figure.

Daddy wants me to go up to him and say, "Hi, my dad knows your dad, and I'm supposed to say hi to you because this gives us some important connection. And your dad wants you to call home more often." I'm thinking not so much. Most people at school are trying to get away from their families, it's not a great conversation starter...

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In other news, Facestalker has enabled me to learn that I AM A STEREOTYPE AFTER ALL! This is exciting, as I always figured I wasn't a stereotype because I don't really fit any of the stereotypes in high school- too artsy for a geek, too academics-minded for an artist (though I might have been the artsy kid except none of my friends were artsy), not weird enough for a loser and too friendly once people got to know me to really count as a shy loner kid. I'm sure people classified me as various things based on what aspect they saw the most or what I was compared to them but I never really found a stereotype I thought I fit into.

THE SILENT, STRAIGHT-LACED GEM

"This girl is rather shy, quite studious, probably pretty conservative, and usually somewhat attractive in a sort of clean, traditional, classic way. Sometimes, her quietness or straight face may be misinterpreted as indifference or the "get away from me" look, but once you get to know her, she is actually quite nice and makes a decent friend. She doesn't drink or smoke - not because she's a "goody two-shoes", but because she genuinely has no desire to. This girl may end up a loner if she's not careful - spending countless hours locked away in her dorm room, reading, or (if she pushes herself a little) can be found actually socializing. Gets along with most people, has a decent social circle, but holds just a few close friends. May need a little push to get involved in activities. Makes a reliable friend. Is a hard worker, but can enjoy having fun too." ~Group: "Summary of 99% of the people you will ever meet in college"

See, like, wow, that basically totally describes me except for the conservative bit, I'm not really conservative. Other than that, it's me. Damn. I wasn't aware that I fit so perfectly into a stereotypical group. It's kinda freaky, I'm not gonna lie.

Gotta love Facebook groups. I'm pretty sure it's the only place on earth where you can find over 500 groups devoted to the worship and/or hatred of cheese, dairy products, or cheese-related musical groups.

Artsy Kid

"Whether you were a drama freak or an emo poet, you definitely were expressive and unique." "You're probably a little less weird these days - but even more talented!"

Who Were You In High School?

"You Will Come To Realizations In Your Life That Change You Forever"

Do you have any idea how hard it is to contact your lab partners and apologize for flaking on them when all you have is one girl's first name-- no last name, no name at all for the other girl-- which you aren't even positive about, and the vague idea that one or the other lives in Scott Hall?

And when the girl whose name you might know is not on Facebook, which as how I solved this problem last semester (though admittedly then I knew the full name of my classmate)?

I find the fact that I was able to locate her email address and her phone number to be extremely impressive (and, quite honestly, creepy in the "how easy would it be to stalk someone?" sense). At least, I hope it's hers. I wasn't positive about the name and there are two girls by that name in that lab period, though the other girl is on Facebook and I can tell by her picture that it's not the one I'm looking for.

I am an idiot. But I am the MASTER of internet manipulation.

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Isoamyl acetate TOTALLY smells like banana!

I said it smelled like banana in Chem lab, when we were trying to tell what things smell like. But both the other girls smelled nail polish remover, so I let them have the majority. But turns out that the bottle next to the banana oil contained ethyl acetate-- the scent-producing chemical in nail polish remover-- so that's what they were smelling, and they totally thought that that one smelled like sweat when I was guessing something sharper and more acidic- like remover.

See, my nose is pretty damn strong. I also picked up on the similarities between the floral chypre scent of 2-methylundecanal and the spicy floral scent of linalool, and I didn't confuse "cigarette smoke" with "sweat and chocolate," either. Plus I could tell the difference between R-carvone, which smells like spearmint, and S-carvone, which smells like caraway. But the banana one was really bugging me, because I knew, so clearly, that I had smelled banana, and I couldn't understand why they thought it was nail polish remover.

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Daddy called me this morning to tell me, very excitedly, that he had recieved a notice from the school congratulating me on making highest honors. I reminded him that with a 3.91 GPA I'd've been stunned if I hadn't made them. Still, he was very excited, much more excited than I was about the whole affair. Getting straight As was a lot more exciting before I realized that Daddy will expect this next semester, and the semester after that-- and that if I maintain these grades though all of college, it basically means that I will continue to have no social life.

Great.

I Should Rule Saturn

Saturn is a mysterious planet that can rarely be seen with the naked eye. I'm perfect to rule Saturn because like its rings, I don't always follow the rules of nature. An abomination of nature, if you will. And like Saturn, to really be able to understand me, someone must delve beyond my appearance. Which, if you've been paying attention, is completely unnatural. I am not an easy person to befriend. Unless you actually like, tried. However, once I enter a friendship, I'll be a friend for life. Unless I get screwed over really, really badly. I think slowly but deeply. I only gain great understanding after a situation has past.

What Planet Should You Rule?

In Memoriam

I finished that paper for English. Let me know what you think! (Or, family members- if I screwed something up!)

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My six-year-old sister sat in the navy blue leather seat, grasping the arms tightly. Our two cousins, E---- and J-----, took off, pushing the seat’s back, and [Shrewd] went flying down the hall, giggling uncontrollably. I laughed and ran alongside them. “Me next!” I cried.

They stopped right before they careened into the wall, and I climbed up onto the seat as soon as it was vacated by my sister. I braced myself for the ride, excited. Just then, my mother came out into the hall.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she cried, confiscating our ride. “Your grandmother’s wheelchair is not a toy! Get back into the room before you wake everyone up!”

I know, even if I don’t remember, that I was four years old that day. I’d picked out my pretty Easter dress that Mummy had made me, with the big flowers. [Shrewd] had a matching dress. She remembers when we got these dresses, and how excited she was about the whole affair. She wore her dress to school, despite our mother’s cautioning, and had tripped on the playground and ripped it. Luckily Mummy was good at fixing dresses as well as making them.

You can see in the pictures that my short, curly hair was in pigtails, like always; I wore pigtails almost every day because my hair was too short and sparse for anything else. I remember that I liked pigtails, but I wanted thick, long hair. We were at my grandmother’s nursing home, having my birthday party, because Grandma was too sick to come to our house in Epsom. Grandma couldn’t even leave her bed. We were all gathered in her room, Mummy and Daddy and Aunt J---- and Uncle D-----, and my little tow-headed brother who was not yet two, and Grandpa [my last name], of course. All because it was my birthday.

I remember the wheelchair was returned to it’s proper location, and I climbed up and sat in it like it was a chair, because I hadn’t been allowed to ride in it. [Shrewd] rode in it, but not me, and that wasn’t fair because I was the birthday girl. But Mummy shooed me over to the bed. “It’s time for cake, pumpkin,” she said, “I’ll put it on Grandma’s tray so she can see it, okay?”

I used the arm rest as a handle and pulled my white knee, covered in tights, up onto the hospital bed sheet, then crawled over to curl up next to Grandma. Her hair was very thin and I could see dark spots on her scalp, like scabs or something. She was very pale, because she was sick and stuck in the hospital room. There were flowers, and balloons because it was my birthday, but it still felt and smelled like a hospital. Grandma smiled at me, and I smiled back, and Mummy set the cake down on the TV tray. It was so pretty! I was born in October so the big rectangular cake had a beautiful fall tree with red, orange, yellow, and brown leaves, and all the leaves were M&M’s with just those colors, and some of the M&M leaves had fallen to the ground around the tree’s base. There were five candles on it, four because I was four and one to grow on. Everyone gathered around and sang, and then Grandma helped me blow out the candles.

I didn’t know then that she was in the nursing home because she had brain cancer and only had a short time to live. I didn’t know she was going to die, and it would be the first time my sister would see Daddy cry and ever after she’d have problems with death; I didn’t know that [The Brother] would never remember her, and I didn’t know that I would have only one memory of her, ever, and that would be of sitting next to her in my beautiful dress that my mother made and of her helping me blow out the candles on my big, beautiful birthday cake with M&M leaves.

Musical Dreams

In last night's dream, I was an infant, probably about 8 months old- standing and crawling, but not walking.I was with two women who were trying to get me to play the piano, and while I was doing pretty well for a complete lack of motor skills, they kept pushing me and pushing me, making me play more music and harder music, stuff that my infant hands wouldn't reach for another ten years. Then they gave me a new piece and said "play this," and I looked at it and it was just the lyrics, no notes. "That's not music," I said, since playing the piano that young probably means talking as well. "Yes it is, play it." "It's just words, there's no notes." "Play it," was the reply, fierce and dangerous. She grabbed my pudgy little baby's hands, and placed them on the keys, holding them there. Luckily I was saved by the alarm clock before I had to slap a child-abuse lawsuit on her...

"You have a strong and sensitive personal nature."

It's the last day of the Feast of Bacchus/Dionysus, god of wine. Well, wine, viticulture, imbibing, hallucination and ecstasy, fruit, reincarnation, choral songs, plays, homosexuals and the effeminate. I love the Greeks.

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So I didn't mention it yesterday, but I discovered plastic shrink-wrap in my lasagna at lunch, which was gross. I stopped eating, but I was in a rush and didn't mention it to anyone who worked there.

Then last night at the Olive Garden? There was totally a piece of porcelain-- like, a chip from a plate-- in my bread stick. Like, baked in. I banged my tooth on it! I complained, and the waitress apologized and mentioned it to the cook. I was annoyed-- two meals in a row!-- but was ready to chalk it up as coincidence. But this morning, I was eating at TJ's, the restaurant place in town, and there was hair in my omelette. Like... eww. I mean, at least I knew that the porcelain and the plastic wrap didn't come from someone's body (hopefully). But that's three times in a row!

Someone's picking on me...

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Every time I go home I come back with more stuff. Last weekend it was the rug and this weekend, it was a microwave. I didn't even ask for it, because I honestly was just planning on using it for popcorn and I don't even eat that much of that. I have a hotpot thing for hot water, so I can have soups and tea already. But Daddy mentioned that I should look for the old turntable for the microwave, so I looked and found nothing, and then he decided when I asked to get something to block the draft that comes through the window that we might as well get me a new microwave.

I'd complain about it but hey, I get popcorn, and that's one more appliance I won't have to buy myself when I get my own apartment.

The weatherstripping worked better than I thought it would. It doesn't solve the problem, but it blocks a lot of the draft coming in though the window. I should offer the leftovers to Mistake. She was having issues with drafty windows-- she's got towels blocking the edges right now.

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I got to hold a ball python today! We stopped by the pet store and were looking at the animals, and Daddy asked the man to take out the python to let me hold him and pet him. They curl around your arms and hands, for the warmth, and they feel so cool. I kinda want to have one as a pet when I get my own place, but parrotlets hate snakes, and between the two, I'd rather get the parrotlet, because parrotlets don't need to eat mice.

Personally, I think mice are too closely related to me for me to eat them, and while the snake doesn't have that problem, I have issues feeding a whole mammal-- which I won't eat-- to a reptile-- which I'd have some issues eating, but more in the "weird" sense than the "immoral" one. Of course, I'd feed an animal meat products, but a whole mouse is a little disturbing, dead or not.

But they're really, really cool!

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A friend of Loquatia's came up to visit her, and brought a whole bunch of her friends. They were admiring the room and the fish and trying to name all the X-men on my poster. All together only missed Stryker and Lady Deathstrike. They were nice, though I, naturally, felt awkward. That's become a bit of a constant for me. But one of the girls was talking about going to the midnight showing of Star Wars: Episode III and how there were all these people dressed up as characters. So I smiled and said, "Hey, I dressed up for the midnight showing of the second Pirates movie."

She laughed. "Well, I was going to say what dorks they were and who would actually do that, but now I feel bad!"

Heh. Oops.

They also liked my spinny-wheelie thing on the door that says where we are. That thing is a great conversation-starter. If I became an RA I'd probably have to make them for my residents, albeit cheaper, photocopiable versions.

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Speaking of which, I need to complete my application...