Slices of my life

A new day

2010-03-22T10:05:00.003-04:00

I've never understood health insurance, and I'm going to warn you that I don't fully understand the bill that passed last night. My personal jury is still out on whether or not this is a 'good thing,' because I tend to have a very skeptical relationship with most things that come from any institution, regardless of if it's government or private. That is what my college education and deep held love of reading every damn thing I find interesting (on the internet) has given me.

I know that I've never viewed health insurance as a part of my life the way some people might - we had it, in some form or another, for most of my life. We were the 'lucky' ones, the ones who could go to the hospital for an ear ache or sinus infection.

But my yearly physicals were more bi-annual, when they happened at all. I think our co-pay hovered in the $15-20 range per visit, per kid, which might sound like nothing to you but was a LOT to us. We were pretty healthy kids. I usually got hit with a sinus infection or bronchitis every 12-18 months, ending with a trip to the not-quite-emergency room (people in Athens know the name, but I can't remember it right this minute). My mother put off going to the doctor for some (still not fully resolved) issues because of the cost and the knowledge that they wouldn't be able to diagnose quickly and prescribe an easy fix, and I feel like there was also an acknowledgment that whatever it was could be a 'pre-existing condition.' If it wasn't one today, it could be later, when my dad switched jobs again.

So she went to the doctor, they did some stuff, it didn't fix much, and as they were still trying to figure it out, my dad was fired. (Not lost his job, as that implies that the job disappeared to some distant town or country. No, he was fired and it still disgusts me and made me skeptical and resentful of the concept of 'at will' employment.)

We didn't go to the doctor growing up because of the cost. When I was 9, my pediatrician noticed that my collarbones were uneven. My parents didn't shield us from much, or so I thought, but now that I'm older, I realize they did that year. It was the year my youngest brother was born, which is a whole 'nother story, but now I've realized that they kept me from fully understanding the costs of my pediatrician noticing that. I had an x-ray that day, then an MRI (which I fell asleep in) and a CAT scan (which I did not fall asleep in, and was actually quite terrified of). I have no idea how much of that was covered by our insurance. I know that we had some sort of supplemental insurance via the government.

I'm realizing how much I don't understand insurance or health care.

When I started at OU, I signed up for their insurance, which covers all prescriptions (though I'm fuzzy on things like vaccines). Because of the past two years and all the various things I've had to go to the doctor, I've been afraid of getting hit with the 'pre-existing condition.' I've been relieved to spend so little on my doctors visits - $40 paid to the university for the well-being plan has saved me several thousand dollars, as has the nearly $400 I pay per quarter for the insurance. But I've looked toward graduation with a wary eye, afraid that I will get a job and be punished for things beyond my control.

So, there is a sense of relief at the rules for 2014. But also a fear, for my family.

Things are improving for us, economically, but how are they supposed to afford insurance they are now required to buy? (Yes, they've been covered by the state, but it's a fluctuating thing that, again, I don't fully understand.) How does THAT work?

I'm for health care/insurance for all. I don't think kids should have to grow up without getting to see the doctor or the dentist or the optometrist. I don't think adults should have to stay in crappy jobs just because they have insurance they don't get to use, but they need it because they get the flu once a year, or their kids tend to get ear infections.

But I'm skeptical. I have a history of disappointments and insurance not equalling health care.

Are you kidding?

2010-03-06T15:00:00.003-05:00

Today, I got an e-mail from OU's dean of students, Ryan Lombardi. We have had something like SEVEN cases of meningitis on campus in the past two years, which is a LOT when you think about it. Because of collaboration with the CDC, it's been determined that all of the students who have contracted the illness had the same DNA profile, which makes these cases an outbreak.

Because of this, the university has decided that it will be requiring that all students get the meningitis vaccine starting in fall 2010. All current students will be required to have it and all freshman will be required to have gotten it, if I am understanding the e-mail correctly. This isn't that surprising, though requiring vaccinations always seems to result in a bit of a controversy and I can't wait to see the 'but it's my body and why should I get a shot?!' letters in The Post.

My complaint lies in what this e-mail COMPLETELY LACKED, which was information of where you could get the vaccine in Athens. So, I googled, googled a bit more, and finally tried the university health center's website. I knew that they provided vaccines, but assumed that they didn't provide the meningitis vaccine, since they didn't include a link in the e-mail.

So, I went to: http://www.ohio.edu/hudson/index.cfm, which I am providing for context. On the left hand side is a menu. I clicked 'health promotion,' which did NOT, in fact, include any information about vaccines that I could find. So I went back to the main page and clicked 'student health services,' scrolled down the un-alphabetized list on the left and chose 'services provided.' A page with a list pops up, un-alphabetized again, and I clicked immunizations (which, okay, guys, pick a word. Are the immunizations or vaccines?). Finally, a list of what vaccines Hudson provides and when you could get them.

That link should have been included in the e-mail, or should be accessible on the front page of Hudson's site. Also, the page should include prices and information on whether or not the university's insurance will pay for any of what they offer. I suspect that is not common knowledge, so it isn't that much of a stretch to feel that our Dean should have provided this information instead of just informing us of what he and the university have determined about these cases.

Songs about pressure

2010-02-04T11:35:00.002-05:00

Queen and David Bowie, "Under Pressure."

Tegan and Sara, "Floorplan."

Other songs about pressure?

Winter

2010-01-20T22:45:00.003-05:00

I surround myself with stuff. Books, pens, bottles and cups, sticky notes and scissors when I am studying. Layers of scarves, earmuffs, shirts, leggings, socks and more when I am walking around town. I like the feeling of being surrounded by things, of having a purpose, of being warm and safe.

I don't know why I do this. I do it during the spring as well, at least the surrounding myself with stuff thing. But during the winter, it's more like I'm putting up a barrier between myself and the cold. Enough books, enough pens, and the winter's cold won't touch me. In the spring, it's an enjoyment of the sun, a soaking in of the color of the sun on the pages and the tables and the pure life that seems to fill every area around me. Winter is a time of hibernation.

Winter is quiet.

I used to surround myself with solitude during the winter, embrace my hermit like inclinations and hunker down behind the books. Hours spent with my class assignments and iPod and DVDs watched by myself.

Winter is busy.

This winter I've gone dancing. Watched movies with friends and played board games in coffee shops. Explained why I wear my claddagh ring on my left ring finger when I go dancing. Learned how to set someone on fire without actually burning them. My inner hermit has been gently pushed onto an island and asked to enjoy the quiet in that back corner of my room.

Winter is.

Turning 20

2009-11-30T19:55:00.002-05:00

Tomorrow is my 20th birthday. There's a lot going on in my life, so much so that I don't know where to start and some of it is unbloggable.

So, a playlist of songs that mean something to me from this year.

1. The Fear - Lily Allen

2. Cemetery Drive - My Chemical Romance (more significant overall than from this year. It's just a song I love for no logical reason)

3. Her Morning Elegance - Oren Lavie

4. The Night Starts Here - Stars

5. Hearts on Fire - Cut Copy

6. Weightless - All Time Low (lyric "And I'm over getting older.")

7. Wish -Paper Route

8. I'm Ready - Jack's Mannequin

9. It's Alright, Baby - Komeda (see if you can listen to this without feeling at least a smidge better)

10. Nineteen - Tegan & Sara

11. Breakable - Ingrid Michaelson

12. This Modern Love - Bloc Party

13. Don't Stop the Music - Rihanna

14. Oh My God - Ida Maria

15. Just a Girl - No Doubt

16. I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance with You - Black Kids

17. Under Pressure - Queen

18. So Long, Astoria - The Ataris

19. Grow Old With Me - The Postal Service (a cover of John Lennon. Melancholy and beautiful.)

20. Dancing in the Dark - Tegan & Sara

Turning 20 is bittersweet. Wonderful and odd. New. Old.

Four hours from now, I'm 20.

To fall off the face of the earth (and get vaguely graphic upon return)

2009-10-21T20:07:00.003-04:00

This quarter has been the quarter I've been sick. This quarter has been the quarter where I have struggled, where I have been that girl. The one who skips class, who doesn't turn in assignments, who sleeps through classes because getting out of bed is just too much effort. The girl with a million excuses.

I have been sick, though. I started the quarter with an inner ear viral infection. I was dizzy, so dizzy I had to cling to the walls to walk and stick my arms out like planks to stay balanced.

I never really recovered from that. I've been exhausted all quarter. I went back to the student health center last week and was diagnosed with... another virus.

That one was a real charmer. I couldn't stand to have my clothes on, or at least, I couldn't stand having them touch me. I was nauseous and I had a very nice, rich cough. Just in time for homecoming and a dear friend and Jon to come into town.

I rested when I could, and then went out and acted like I wasn't ill the rest of the time. Then my tonsils, which have given me issues for YEARS, swelled up. Those of you who aren't intimately familiar with your tonsils, you are very, very lucky. I know when mine are angry. I know when mine are filled with gross crap. I know when mine are doing all right, simply because they aren't causing me any problems for once.

So my left tonsil swells up. And up. And up. It hurts to talk, and it hurts to swallow, and it just plain hurts. I tried to just recover on Monday, because I didn't have time to go to the doctor's. I'd caved to the concept of going to the doctor when I finally noticed the hole/blister on my left tonsil. My angry red swollen tonsil. With a blistery hole on it.

Yeah, just envision that for a moment.

Sorry.

So, I go back to the doctor. This is my third visit of the quarter, my third trip with prescription drugs, my first go-round on antibiotics this quarter. The CNP informed me that I either have strep, tonsillitis, or an upper respiratory infection. She prescribed a broad spectrum antibiotic (closely related to penicillin) and sent me on my merry way.

The antibiotic and the yogurt I ate disagreed. If you ever need to throw up in a public bathroom, attempt to have the presence of mind to cover up the motion sensor, or you'll get to experience what I experienced, which was a toilet flushing in my face while I puked into it. Even in the moment, I found it ridiculously funny. Partially because I never throw up.

Sorry, again.

It's the seventh week of the quarter and I'm just hoping that I finally start feeling healthy. Hoping that everything I've let fall by the side this quarter is something I can pick back up. Hoping that life gets a little bit better, because lately it has sucked (there is much more than just being ill going on in my life, which I'll write about eventually. Maybe. If life ever settles down enough for me to feel comfortable sharing.).

Music Monday: Songs to Get Stuck in Your Head

2009-08-31T14:20:00.004-04:00

Today's Music Monday is a mish mash of stuff as I'm in a rush to go North for the Iglu & Hartly concert. So, songs to get stuck in your head (or, a taste of possible music mondays to come).

First up, Aesop Rock's "None Shall Pass." Jon got me hooked on this guy. Check him out.

Next up? Tegan and Sara's "Back in Your Head." I heard "Walking with a Ghost" in 2006, picked up So Jealous and The Con quickly afterward, and am now looking forward to their new album, Sainthood, which is due to drop at the end of October. With "Back in Your Head," I've always felt like this summarizes a relationship when you're starting to fight and wondering if it's all worth it. Having been through enough of this in the past... well, yeah.

With EIGHT MILLION views on YouTube, does Mika really need my little rec here? Well, maybe. Mostly I want you to dig out your Queen's Greatest Hits album and think about a 'man' named Crowely. (Wikipedia Good Omens if you've no idea what I'm talking about).

Finally, one last recommendation. My sister came across Owl City at some point or another and forwarded me the video for their song "Fireflies." But I like this video, and you might as well have something FUN to do with your spare time, right? Right. (Apologies for the size differentials here. Dunno why it is, but I did my best to make sure all the videos were similar in size.)

Music Monday: Amanda Palmer

2009-08-24T11:54:00.003-04:00

I first heard Amanda Palmer as one half of the duo Dresden Dolls, not long after my eighteenth birthday. I'd heard of the Dresden Dolls long before that, and all I really knew is that they did 'Punk Cabaret,' which made no sense to me at all when I stumbled across them in AP magazine. But I loved the way the band looked in the photos I saw of them. I wanted to be the woman in the photos. Except... with my eyebrows, since hers looked drawn on. I liked my eyebrows.

The first song I heard from the Dresden Dolls was "Sex Changes." I loved this song. Loved the way it sounded, loved the way the lyrics worked, loved the pure energy that went into it.

(The option to embed the video I linked to is disabled, so here is a live version for those of you that hate clicking through to another page.)

But my interest dead ended there, at least for a time. A lot of it had to do with my limited access to high-speed internet and the pressure of school; I was constantly busy with classes and while I got a laptop last year, my folks didn't get high-speed until late last year. I still talk about it with a note of frustration in my voice, while many of my friends say, "Wow. I forgot about dial-up."

AHEM.

So my potential love of the Dresden Dolls got lost in the slush and snow of winter, and while I listened to the two songs I had on my iPod, I never went looking for anymore.

Then Neil Gaiman started posting on Twitter about a book he was working on called "Who Killed Amanda Palmer." This past spring he mentioned on his blog that he was dating Amanda Palmer. She was also on twitter. I followed her quickly afterward and loved her quirky style (they went on a road trip and she wore a horrible lime green paisley lonnnnng dress. My new love is things that are possibly ugly, thanks in part to her). I don't know when it came up, but it came to my attention that she was the lead singer of the Dresden Dolls.

Well, that stopped me in my tracks a little bit.

Then life went and swept me up again. Finals and helping friends move and then working 40 hour weeks because EVERYONE goes and decides to take vacation at the same time and... I still don't own a single Amanda Palmer or Dresden Dolls album.

But my youtube explorations have me reconsidering my failures. (This video is not for the faint hearted. Not many songs can gloss over rape, but this one kind of does.)

See what I mean about the eyebrows? Or the style for that matter?

One of the things I love about Amanda is she is an entertainer, and not in the straight-up crass manner that you so often see in female performers of late. It helps that she's not 16 and having to wait for her eighteenth birthday to be allowed to cut her hair. (For those readers who don't get bored and read Miley Cyrus's twitter, she is the particular pop starlet that I'm referring to.)

It looks as though the majority of the songs from Who Killed Amanda Palmer? are available in a series of videos through her youtube page. There is also a companion book, with pictures of her in various forms of being dead with words/stories by Neil Gaiman. (That link also goes to the WKAP website, for those of you that prefer to avoid youtube links.)

So, why am I recommending someone whose albums I don't own? Because in the few months that I have been following Amanda on twitter, she has been an amazing, entertaining person to follow. She started Losers Of Friday Night On Their Computers (LOFNOTC) on Twitter and will often respond to the @ replies she gets. She is someone who has become known and loved by her fans NOT for drinking or being naked, but for being a talented, hard-working musician/performer, who is willing to connect with fans. What's not to like?

I believe I read on her blog that she is planning on touring the east coast this fall (which I hope includes Ohio, as it is more East than West), so keep an eye on her twitter or website for an eventual tour announcement. I have a feeling she will be completely worth the cash to see.

Quiet, furious rage

2009-08-18T07:00:00.002-04:00

Is that title perhaps a bit redundant? I DON'T CARE.

It had been a long week for me, last week was, one that I was hoping would be brightened by a fun filled concert on Thursday. I had tickets to see Blink-182, with Fall Out Boy and Panic! at the Disco. I was excited. It was an excuse to dance (the area I was going to be in was large enough that I wasn't too concerned about moshers this time 'round) and an excuse to visit my sister and an excuse to have FUN.

Overall, I had fun. But there was this one part, this itty-bitty part which has eaten at me like the worst heartburn a person can ever experience.

There were 20,000 people at the concert, and a majority of the people there had lawn tickets. I was one of the people who snapped up a lawn ticket (wrongly) assuming that the view would be reasonable enough to go without a decent seat. I was there by myself, unlike most of the people there. I ended up befriending a girl and two guys (who didn't know each other until we started talking before Blink took the stage).

I ended up in front of this girl's friend, a guy. I was dancing, having FUN, rocking out, generally rocking out more than I usually do at a concert. It was VERY packed, so we were shoulder-to-shoulder, front-to-back across the entire lawn. Every fifth person was smoking, and I was about six inches shorter than all of the people around me. I was very hot and, periodically, I would get dizzy from the smoke and the heat. Breathing problems for the win, yes?

So, I'm dancing to this one song. I could tell you which one if I heard it, but I imagine I'm already blocking this out, because the whole thing just PISSED ME OFF. Because, out of the blue, I feel a hand GRAB MY ASS like it is hoping to take a chunk off.

MY. ASS.

I stopped dead in the middle of my dancing, rigid as a board, my brain scrambling at what sort of reaction I needed to scrape up. I was on auto-pilot, so my initial reaction was to wave it off as an 'accident' like all of the bumps and slaps and slams I'd been getting up until that point. He leaned in, said "SORRY!" loud enough for me to hear. I couldn't think. What was I supposed to think? Do? Say? It wasn't a mace-level offense, but it was enough to... be worthy of a response.

When the song ended, he leaned in, again. "Sorry! I just like to grab things!"

I JUST LIKE TO GRAB THINGS?! I thought. Really! REALLY! THAT WAS HIS EXCUSE!

I am angry and disgusted. My reaction ended up being slowly inching my way through the crowd, away from this man, quashing any major reaction at that moment because what could I do? There was no space to turn around, and the opportunity to hit him like he deserved for the unwanted action had passed. It was too loud to yell at him, dress him down. Part of me wanted to go the pure rejection route, make up some line better than "I HAVE A BOYFRIEND!" because so many people act like that is simply a paper barrier, no more strong than the gowns you wear when you visit the doctor for the yearly physical.

"Wow. My girlfriend is going to love having me fork over the twenty she bet me about tonight," I purred in my head, my voice both sweet and so cutting.

I stayed silent. The anger built as I found myself worrying over my dancing, where I stood, how much I knocked into the people around me. Focusing on things that had been background motion and noise to me seconds before, making me less confident, less able to stick a jump.

I was shot back to earth, furious and betrayed and, worst of all, worst than anything? I felt like a BAD PERSON. As if I had done something wrong, simply by enjoying myself.

Maybe he wouldn't have done that if I hadn't kept dancing into him, my treacherous brain whispered, as if we were in the 1950's and men were still allowed to pass off the blame of any wrong to a woman. Maybe if I hadn't been moving around so much... Even though it wasn't on purpose that I knocked into him, even though I had done nothing wrong, the thoughts built, mounting, orienting themselves inward instead of outward. Anger at myself for enjoying the concert instead of at him for thinking that he could fix things with that stupid apology.

The fury eventually edged that out. It is now hanging out with regret, the horrid regret of not doing anything. My brain shut down and I didn't fight my way back out, didn't get to express how angry I was. He knew he did something wrong, sure, but he almost made it seem like it was my fault. My ass, the way he put it, was simply too tempting to not grab. This is the second time in a week (third, in some ways) that I have been objectified, reduced, made less than, by a person's actions/comments. These incidences have left me dumbfounded, wondering where feminism is, what happened to it, that men are comfortable, again, with reducing women to a pair of tits in a dress or an ass in a pair of shorts.

Music Monday: Ingrid Michaelson

2009-08-17T10:00:00.001-04:00

Apparently, everyone and their brother knows who this is, if the internet is to be believed. Ingrid Michaelson had a song in an Old Navy commercial a while back, "The Way I Am," and it ended up being fairly popular, so if you recognize this song, it's from that.

The reason I ended up finally stumbling across her music was pre-college. MemAud had a playlist for the evening, when I worked, that had this song in it. After two weeks of sitting there, wondering who is this and hoping I'd remember to google it when I got home, I finally asked the stage tech, who tracked down her name for me. The more I look into her music, the more I find out that everyone has probably known this artist for quite a while now, whether or not we knew it - if you watch Grey's Anatomy, you might recognize her music, because they've used her many, many times.

She has toured and recorded with artists whose names you might recognize, like Sara Bareilles (link is to a song they recorded together) and Jason Mraz. Basically, this woman has been making amazing music and been the background noise in some of the most popular shows on TV for a few years now. Shouldn't we embrace HER, now, too?

Not yet convinced that she's worth checking out? Then the only thing I can really say here is this music? This music is for romantics.

Ingrid is going on tour at the end of August to support her latest album, which is due out August 25. Check her out before you find yourself having to ask, "Hey, who is this?" while in your friends car.

Oh My God

2009-08-13T14:06:00.004-04:00

Tuesday, I went up to Columbus with my fam, but this was different from the usual trips north, because I was in MY car. I had tickets to see Ida Maria, who is a musician from Sweden... I think. I don't know what I was expecting. I found her through some blog or another a few months back and instantly fell in love with her most well known single, "I Like You So Much Better When You're Naked."

If you haven't heard of her, no worries. Most people haven't. My sister directed me to her before I 'found' her on my own, but, for whatever reason, I didn't actually LISTEN to her music until later. But it was catchy and loud and very, very punk-rock. At least, it was to my less than savvy ears.

So, when I found out she was playing the Basement up in Columbus, I instantly bought tickets to the show. INSTANTLY. There was no thought process, no dilly dallying or wondering. I knew I had the day off, and I knew that I wanted to see her live.

The opening act was Ezra Furman & the Harpoons, an interesting band that I wouldn't mind hearing more of. I was in the ten-by-ten foot concrete square directly in front of the stage, and I stood there, marveling at the fact that no one was dancing, at all, and that the guy in front of me kept moving to exactly where I was standing, ruining my view. I went from being able to see the whole band to seeing the top third of the lead singer, and that was it.

That little concrete square stayed relatively empty during EF&TH, so I (wrongly) I assumed it would stay empty for Ida. But the MINUTE they walked off the stage and the crew started setting up for Ida, it began to get very, very crowded. So crowded that the only reason I had any room to move is no-one was standing behind the tall guy, who was still somewhat in front of me.

Ida took the stage and everyone cheered. I was shocked by how loud and well-done the music was. It's rare to hear a live musician sound so GOOD live. As the crowd started to move, enjoying the music, I felt someone knock into me. It wasn't the first time someone had knocked into me, but it was a repeated hitting. I don't mind dancing at concerts - honestly, I LOVE dancing at live shows - but I don't like dancing when it is moshing and it is knocking into me. I scoped out my spot during the opening the act SPECIFICALLY so I wouldn't have to deal with asshole moshers. But this girl...

She did not stop. Ida played for maybe 45 minutes, and during that time, several of her friends took turns 'watching' her, which seemed to consist of helping this girl throw herself into the crowd in a stupid, reckless attempt at crowd surfing. EVERY SINGLE TIME she did this, she got dropped very quickly and smacked her head on the concrete floor. The second time it happened, Ida asked, several times, "Are you okay? Honey, you okay?" After that, I think she (and the majority of the crowd) accepted that this girl adhered to the idea of 'I get knocked down, but I get up again.'

I hated this girl, and her friends/family. Mainly her friends and family. She was so far gone - Jon and I nearly had an argument over this, but I still hold to the fact that she HAD to have been blitzed or high. She had this wild look in her eyes, a look of absence. She was not there. To me, when you go with people to a concert, especially if you are going to be drinking, you are there to take care of your friends. She should have been taken home, especially given how she was acting before the Ida took the stage.

The concert was all right - I would've liked a little bit more banter and interaction between Ida and the crowd. She was truly good - she sounded GOOD, and was very passionate.

At the end of the concert, I raced out of the crowd, knowing, instinctively, that I did not want to be in the central area for the encore. I was right - the girl lived up to Ida's penultimate song, two songs too late, and stripped off her top and bra, to the wild cheers of everyone not in the actual pit with her.

In the light of day, outside of that crowd and away from that girl, I can say that the concert was fun. Would I go see her again? I honestly don't know. I wouldn't stand in the front again - I kept getting pushed closer and closer to the stage, which meant I was closer to the girl, which caused me no end of anxiety. I got kneed in the face one of the times the girl tried to crowd surf, and that was enough injury and moshing for me. I screamed along to "Oh My God," the only way I could calm down. It was exhilarating and terrifying and awful and fun.

Tonight I get to see Blink-182, Fall Out Boy and Panic! At the Disco. Maybe that concert will treat me better.

The fruits I used to hate? Check

2009-08-11T09:01:00.000-04:00

Coming in at number 12 on my list is 'try the fruits I thought were gross when I was younger.' One of those fruits was the mango.

I can't say WHY it offended me so much that I decided it was not for me, years ago. It might have been something as simple as it was a weird fruit, exotic, and not in a way that I was willing to embrace.

While at Kroger's a while back, I stopped in the fruit section and admired a beautiful red-and-orange mango. Part of me whispered, prodded, poked, reminding me that I wanted to try again, see if this fruit was worthy of my hatred, or if it was the usual childish 'ew, YUCK' without actually TRYING IT reaction that had prompted this lifelong ban.

I brought the mango home and left it on the counter for a day or two. I wasn't sure how to cut a mango. I knew the skin wasn't edible; my grandfather is a fan of mangos, so he'd explained that much to me at some point during my childhood. So, I googled 'how to cut a mango,' committed the instructions to memory, and eventually went about the process of getting the mango to an edible point.

The mango was painfully ripe. It was almost impossible to get a firm grip on it.

This is the mess that I ended up with. The mango smelled sweet, almost perfume-y, and I wondered if it would taste right. It hadn't looked rotten or anything, so I assumed it was good.

Here I am, preparing for the first bite:

Oh, dear skeptical face from the past, how'd I love to cuddle you and reassure you that everything will be all right.

And here I am, on my second or third bite. Trust me, this is the face I made with every single bite:

I was fairly certain I was going to die. It was citrus and sweet at the same time, like eating an orange after it has been dipped in mango scented perfume. I can't stand citrus, except on the rare occasions when I crave orange juice. I've tried to make nice with oranges and grapefruits several times, and it always fails miserably. There are some oranges I like (the little ones? I don't know their name), but the mango did NOT remind me of any GOOD oranges.

I could see myself trying it again, one day. Maybe one that isn't quite so ripe, though Dad and my brother insisted that it tasted exactly like it should. Maybe I just need to put mangos on the list of things that only taste good when pulverized and mixed with other things.

Can't wait until I try kiwi.

Music Monday

2009-08-10T07:00:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago, I was going through my iTunes, and found a SXSW sampler that I got from Amazon back in March. I have this habit of downloading many of the free songs Amazon offers every week, because I've found some of my favorite musicians through samplers. For whatever reason, I ended up playing the sampler all the way through. It features Anberlin, honeyhoney, Paper Route, Rocco Deluca and The Burden, Tyrone Wells, and, finally, Iglu & Hartly. If none of these bands sound familiar to you, don't worry, most of them were completely unfamiliar to me, too. (I saw Anberlin at a music festival in 2007, which may have been why I ended up listening to the sampler.) I threw the sampler on as background noise as I cleaned or something, and then "In This City" by Iglu & Hartly started playing.

It was catchy. It was different. It instantly drove me to google them. I found their site insanely annoying, and assumed they were British, given the color choices (it reminds me of Lily Allen's first album cover: busy and colorful).

But that song. It stuck in my head. I turned it up to dangerously loud levels as I drove, blasted it in the background as I raced through the Twilight books, and it very quickly took over all of my other music.

I ended up going to the neighborhood record store, because I refuse to give iTunes my money, and amazon didn't have the album available as a download. I had to order & Then Boom, and wait four days before finally getting the album into my hands. I knew I would like it, because I checked out the songs that were available on blip.fm first, something I've been doing whenever I find an artist I really dig. The entirety of & Then Boom is available on there for blipping to your heart's content, and it let me listen to the entire album through their 'preview' option.

I got the CD on Friday and have been playing it non-stop since then. I don't just like this album, I love it. I'm going to see Ida Maria in Columbus on Tuesday, but I can't stop listening to & Then Boom. Day Glo has replaced In This City as my favorite song by them, and I'm wondering when my love of them will fade. I'm hoping that it'll be a while, because I'm loving this band, SO MUCH, and I'd rather it be a long lasting love, and not just a summer fling.

I really feel like Iglu & Hartly isn't going to be an 'unknown' band for too long (I say unknown because one of my friends, the ultimate person when it comes to knowing about every band ever before they are even relatively popular, hadn't heard of them until I asked him about them); their music is much too catchy and addictive, and it's impossible to resist sharing their music. Hope you guys like 'em as much as I do. If things work out, I'll be letting you know how they are live at the beginning of next month; they'll be playing the Grog Shop in Cleveland August 31st.

Packed to the gills

2009-08-01T17:12:00.003-04:00

This heat has heat me like a swift right hook to the face, knocking me out and leaving me woozy and nauseated. It has been, in short, unpleasant. Yesterday found me in the kitchen, hands braced on my knees, focusing VERY HARD on keeping my breakfast in my stomach while everything spun and my entire body decided sweating excessively was helpful.

Tomorrow I'm going to the Ohio state fair with a friend for her birthday. Then I'm going back on Tuesday with my family. I like the fair and have the day off. Don't judge me. They have a place that is devoted to SLUSHIES. Which I love dearly. Hopefully my body acclimates to this weather and I stop getting dizzy and wanting to puke all the time before tomorrow.

As of right now, August looks as though it will filled with a lot of Mighty Summering. I've started taking care of the 'eat fruits I used to think were gross' thing, and, trust me, the pictures tell the story. I'm gonna try and hit Pittsburgh the middle of this month, so if anyone has any recommended places to hit up, I would appreciate the suggestions. I'm spending a day or two in Cinci (for the Blink-182 concert), and my time in Cleveland is in limbo as Jon's stuff is also in limbo, for various reasons.

After my multiple concerts between April and June (three major ones), it looks like I'm about to stuff in three in August alone. That should be interesting...

This post doesn't have much of a point, other than for me to admit that the next few weeks should be crazy and a good smack of fun before school starts. I'm officially signed up for 20 hours again, lets hope I kick butt without getting it kicked this time.

Unsolicited advice

2009-07-29T11:55:00.004-04:00

Jon and I have been in a long distance relationship of the dating variety since December of 2007, and ever since we declared ourselves to be 'dating,' I've often found myself the receiver of a laundry list of advice. I've been told that my relationship is doomed for so many reasons, from the fact that we started out long distance (people magically ignore that we were friends for TWO YEARS before that) to the fact that he is my first boyfriend. I've been told that my relationship is doomed because of my behavior or because we struggle to agree to disagree.

I'm fed up. YES, I do tend to talk about my problems with Jon, but what relationship doesn't have flaws? You know WHY I talk about our issues, even when we are doing really well, having hit a groove I think most couples don't? Because of the damn naysayers. All the people who say we are doomed constantly push me to look at my relationship, to hold up all of the bad parts and go 'is this worth it?' and then I get told the same thing I was told before, forcing me to go back and go 'oh, hey, THIS is a problem, too.' This causes no end of stress for Jon and me, as I can suddenly lash out at him over something that was insignificant until, suddenly, it wasn't.

I'm getting better at letting these things roll off my back, at ignoring them or telling the person that is trying to impart their 'wisdom' on me that I'd rather not hear it, that I've heard this before, this is old news compadre. Some people are better at hearing this than others. I'm tempted to print up business cards, only something snarky, a reverse business card, to give to people when they do this:

"Hi! I don't need to put my name here, because, you know what, I'M JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE! I feel an irrepressible urge to share my opinion with you, even if I don't know you that well! Don't want to hear it? TOO BAD! I have to tell you that you can't ever behave in selfish or immature manner, that YOU are a bad person for ever being mean to your significant other, that S/HE would not act a certain way if you didn't prompt the behavior. PS you are not a saint, and the only way to have a successful long term relationship is to date as many people as possible before settling down."

Too wordy?

The funny thing is that most people are supportive. People who weren't when they first got to know me are, because, if nothing else, they've seen how I get around Jon, how I relax. But I'm really tired of the unsolicited advice, especially the insistence that my relationship is 'doomed' because it is my first, because I'm having to learn some of this stuff as I go. It is so frustrating to have people tell me that I am going to fail, because 'so many' before me have failed. Not everyone fails, but I imagine that those that do aren't helped by their 'helpful' friends and their advice.

So, excited?

2009-07-27T21:46:00.004-04:00

Freshman orientation started today at OU, which meant that I got to go sit in MemAud and happily sell a few dozen copies of the 'required' freshman English class reader, Cion. It actually went disturbingly well, especially compared to last year. Sure, it was the first day, but a girl can hope that THAT is the way things are supposed to go, right? With a wonderful lack of complaining about having to buy a book (AS IF COLLEGE IS ABOUT NOT BUYING BOOKS) or countless people INSISTING that their child tested out of Freshman English, which is a class almost no-one tests out of. Administrators can count on ONE HAND the amount of students who pass the test every year.

I wish I was joking.

The problem with orientation is that it serves as an ugly reminder that classes start soon. Of course, soon appears to be seven weeks away from tomorrow, if I am counting right. That seems really far away, but I know it will past like a dream. The little voice in my head is already starting the nagging, the quiet muttering about all the things I need to do, like review Chinese and buy notebooks and get that pink slip that I've been putting off getting and... the list goes on. The list gets particularly nasty when it gets late. My brain refuses to shut down and I lay there, curling into a ball, wishing I could look forward to next quarter without all the worrying I am living through. The 'what-if's have left me alternating between crashing hard and staying up until the wee hours, a cruel insomnia that has left me in love with streaming video on the internet. I watched the first season of Dexter a few weeks ago. At two am. Oddly, my dreams revolved around arguments, babies and cars, none of which has to do with Dexter.

It's almost amusing to see all of these people in Athens, after so many weeks of quiet. They all seem to be filled with this nervous buzz, this mixture of excitement and nerves. It's hard for me to not grab them by the shoulders, shake them and say, repeatedly, 'DO NOT TAKE 20 HOURS YOUR FIRST QUARTER!!!'

The voice of experience is always trust worthy when coming from a young blonde who is screaming in your face, right?

My nerves aren't helped by the state's current financial situation. We finally passed our budget, but they got rid of the tuition freeze (I'm expecting to hand over an additional $100 a quarter as soon as Winter Quarter), razed the Ohio College Opportunity Grant ($2496 turned into $1080 or something along those lines, and limited what institutions received that money), and... reinstated the Ohio Academic Scholarship, a scholarship I received when I graduated high school. It lost some money, but not a lot(all info I used here was taken from the Board of Regents site). But OU isn't listing the OAS until they get a formal letter from the state telling it that the OAS is being given out to students again. I had a VERY FUN TIME at the fin aid office finding this out today.

Like pretty much every other office on campus, OU's fin aid office has some student employees that they have working the front desks. This drives me INSANE, because these students are often stumped by my questions, and I'm not quite blunt enough to insist that I'd rather wait for a non-student to answer my questions. Today, I had to explain what I was asking about multiple times, explaining no less than THREE times that the OAS was a scholarship, not a grant, and NO, I was NOT talking about the OCOG. The girl had no idea what I was talking about, at all, and after about five minutes, a higher up came over and explained why the OAS wasn't on my fin aid letter. Basically, I just get to sit and wait and hope that Ohio gets those letters out before mid-August, when fall's first payment is due. If it had taken any longer for someone who actually knew what I was talking about to walk over and explain this, I probably would have ended up storming through the office, harassing people until I found someone who could answer my damn questions.

All of this has me wondering, how can anyone be excited about classes starting back up? My only saving grace right now is that I am very, very likely to be switching my degree program (or adding a third major - what's a little more insanity?) into an area that I find myself increasingly passionate about, which you'll hear all about once I've gotten everything worked out.

Snippets

2009-07-23T14:26:00.002-04:00

1. I have eaten almost half a cream cheese pound cake in the past two days. It was a little eggy fresh out of the oven, but once it had time to cool? Delicious. The recipe is here, and I am in love with it because it is, A, six ingredients, B, disgustingly easy, and, C, really pretty. It is rich and golden on the outside, and dense and creamy on the inside.

2. Gloves. I have had some yarn since my birthday that I planned to use to make a pair of elbow-length gloves. I am in love with this pattern and really looking forward to unleashing my knitting skills on it.

3. I bought my tickets for the Ohio state fair yesterday. I'm taking a friend who has never been, as her birthday present. Hope she likes livestock as much as me! Also, my mom is in the Fine Arts exhibit, so I'm looking forward to that. She can be a bit of a creative genius.

4. I also picked up an Orchid. No idea how to take care of it, but I have one now. It's pretty.

5. It's rainy and dreary and once again not looking like it is a summer month. Also, it is about six weeks until school starts again. Hold me.

A wedding, a zombie after party, and an argument over the word 'bewildered'

2009-07-21T21:32:00.006-04:00

One of my dearest friends, who now goes by Dr. Wife, got married last Friday. Dr. Wife got me through Chinese, and kindly reminded me that it is nearly impossible to fail that class after a near-epic failure of a final oral presentation. She's also amazingly funny, charming, and the type of person that you want around because she just manages to make things more fun.

Did I mention she and her husband decided that a post-wedding zombie party was the perfect way to celebrate?

The wedding was a little over a half-hour away from Jon's apartment, so we left with about 45 minutes until it was supposed to start. We had directions, we our zombie gear, we had everything we needed. What we didn't have, charmingly enough, was the knowledge that I-80 just off of I-76 is currently being repaired. Neither did any of the other drivers on the road, including the 12 billion semis in front of us. The best part was that, over a mile away from the construction, traffic stopped. Dead. Completely. Oh, it inched forward, creeping along at a snail's pace, but I only had eyes for my dashboard clock. Eventually, the brake lights disappeared and traffic crept through the construction, resuming 'legal' speed with Jon and I assuming our hawk-eye positions the second the bright orange 'END CONSTRUCTION' sign came into view.

We got there literally seconds before the bridesmaids were supposed to start entering the chapel.

The service was beautiful. The bride was spectacular - when Jon and I rushed in, I stopped, dumb-founded to find my friend so gussied up and, honestly, drop-dead gorgeous. I'd never been to a wedding before, so I found myself wondering if I was supposed to say 'amen' or something else every time the moment came to say something. Fish out of water, my half-Jew self was.

We were supposed to party immediately following the nuptials, but ended up getting rained out. You can't have a proper zombie bash indoors, you know. At least, it is very expensive to have a zombie party indoors. All the smashed glass and blood really does a number on your homeowners insurance. So we made plans for the next day and eventually parted ways. For most of us, it was the first time we'd spent time together in a month or longer, so there was no rush to return back to our hotels and apartments.

The next day was significantly more successful, at least, the zombie party was. Once we got there. Jon maintains that we got 'slightly bewildered for a while' while I maintain that we got 'lost.' There was a detour with no follow up signs and it took us a little while to realize that the exit we needed was probably on the other side of the highway, and if we got back on it, we might manage to make it to the zombie party before the big next day reception. We did, albeit with a certain amount of... tension in the car. But we got there!

I ended up being a zombie farm girl, while Jon went with Billy Mays. Taste? What is this taste of which you speak? One of Dr. Wife's bridesmaids was Paula Abdul's career, and Dr. Wife's husband was Heath Ledger. Taste is for other people.

The rest of the day went beyond well. There was food and booze and games, the kind that you actually want to play (a card game called Fluxx was played a few times). I did not want the weekend to end, and am looking forward to the next big celebration that draws my friends together. There's something magical about weddings, something I'd have to be a much better writer to capture. So, I leave you with a video:

Do the loopy dance for me

2009-07-16T16:27:00.004-04:00

I'm packing up for a wedding, which has so far consisted of gathering things into piles and leaving them there, waiting for me to haphazardly stuff them into my bag. This isn't much different from my usual packing method, except I'm fitting in some make-up and shoes and wondering what I'm forgetting.

This will be the first wedding I have attended since I was a toddler, so I'm not sure what to expect. All I know is that it is going to be short and there is going to be a post-reception party that I will detail when I have the gory pictures to accompany the story.

Speaking of gory pictures:

WHO KNEW MY CHIN WAS THAT POINTY?

Oh, and we can now cross the second item off my list, that ol' pesky learn to drive stick shift, thanks to my co-worker Bryan, who happily volunteered to teach me this summer when I first brought up the desire to learn last spring.

In this photo, I am going about 15 mph, because we were on a gravel road. I only stalled out two or three times (not counting when I tried to pull into his driveway), and got better with each try at the stopping/starting/shifting things you have to learn. According to Jon, Miata clutch's are some of the more difficult ones, so the fact that I didn't have that much trouble with it shows both, A, how much I have improved as a driver, and, B, how good of a teacher I had. It's all about the see-saw I have learned, and I don't plan to forget that any time soon.

Feast your eyes, box your ears

2009-07-10T21:07:00.003-04:00

I've not been having the best few days, so I decided some pictures were in order. I love photos of fireworks, more than I can even begin to describe. They just make my heart swell with joy and anticipation, like the build-up before your favorite band takes the stage.

This was one of the first photos to really POP OUT at me and scream 'pay attention.' It reminds me of tinsel and christmas lights, without the feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach when you remember you have to take it all down in a few weeks.

Butterflies. Does anyone else see them? Or is it just me?

This makes me think of summer and deep sea creatures at the same time; the green at the top of the photo MUST be a light up antennae meant to attract a hapless fish. The lights at the bottom MUST be a wild strip of rides on the boardwalk. Although the boardwalk rides were often more colorful, they just make me think of boardwalk rides, and the pure joy of reaching the top of a ferris wheel, only to come plunging back to earth.

A dancer is there, surrounded by lights; the start and end of a dramatic scene - her lover has left her, and she is about to sprout the wings she needs. The shape of her head just says 'surprise and hurt,' doesn't it?

An animal, rows of wicked teeth, a fierce tail with a dangerous stinger. Its body weight should not be supported by its few delicate legs, but, like the bumblebee that shouldn't be able to fly, it walks. He seems lonely, up there in the sky, all by himself.

Marshmallows made from scratch? Check!

2009-07-08T14:14:00.004-04:00

Making marshmallows from scratch was an extremely recent urge that I developed; I've wanted to make jelly and can for several years, but that just isn't as sexy, as quickly giftable as a batch of marshmallows seemed. But my mom sent me to Twig and Thistle's DIY peeps guide, which led me to Alton Brown's marshmallow recipe. It seemed both scary and perfectly easy, because I have an intense fear of boiling sugar.

I made the mallows last night, and found out that they are easy. The biggest problem I ran into was when I had to boil the sugar-corn syrup mixture, and my candy thermometer froze up at the 200˚F mark, when I needed it to last until the 240˚ mark. Turns out there's a test for that, and I'll try it next time.

The best thing about them is when they are first done and still marshmallow fluff, which is AMAZING. I dipped Oreos in the goo and wished that there was a way to keep them that way. They solidified far quicker than I expected them to, as I found out when I went to dip yet another cookie in the fluff for mom to try and it got stuck instead. They had been solidifying for about half an hour.

It was painfully easy and something I would do again. Everyone should try their hand at making these. It's easier than canning, and something fun to share with others. I'll be playing around with these more and will post a review to the recipe when I've made them a few more times. I'd like to see if I can make marshmallow rope, chocolate marshmallows, and oreo filled marshmallows.

Mighty Summer List

2009-07-06T20:40:00.006-04:00

I'm an avid blog reader, something a lot of my close friends and family know, but not many other people do. It's an awkward thing to admit, as a hobby, this blog reading thing. Do you know how many people act as if a crack addiction would be a more acceptable thing to do? They ask, "What do you do in your spare time?" And I cheerfully reply, "Oh I use Twitter and I blog and I read a few blogs."

Peoples' eyes glaze over as if I have whipped out a stack of photos showing happy shots of me and my boyfriend, or they act as if it is something DIRTY. How DARE I admit that I waste my time on something on the internet that isn't FACEBOOK?

But I do, oh, how I do. I love you, internet, and the more time I spend on it, I wonder how so many of my peers can be the INTERNET GENERATION and yet be so oblivious to the awesome that is the internet.

Which brings me to Maggie Mason and her Mighty Life List, which she started posting in March of 2008. Mighty Girl is one of my favorite sites to check regularly, and I often wish that I was living in San Francisco, which is something I generally wish for anyway. I imagine it is like Athens, only with access to SUSHI outside of the local Kroger's, and that whole California thing.

Maggie recently announced that Intel is sponsoring her life list. You can check out her site to see what she has done so far and what-not.

When I first saw Maggie's completed list, I was both jealous and intimidated. It seems impossible to dream that big, to think of things as wild and seemingly impossible as going to Puerto Rico to swim with bioluminescent plankton and then going out there and doing it. I can barely imagine the next three years following the basic 'get an education and then find employment' path. To be completely honest, the sheer cost of some of the things on her list freaked me out too. I can't even begin to imagine being at a point in my life where I can put 'Go to London to see the Broad Street water pump' on my list and knowing that I can actually DO IT when I do(it's a weird personal goal, I know, but it's mine). It is so much easier to stand still and wait for life to happen to you, for everything that you mean to do to just suddenly fall into place and be that perfect summer movie fantasy, you know?

Like a sack of bricks, the realization hit me that I needed to stop waiting and just GO AND DO. So what does it matter that I can't afford to go to London right this minute? That doesn't mean I have to sit around and do absolutely nothing. I started my Summer Mighty List that night and hope to start crossing things off this week. It's not too elaborate, because the goal is to have a good summer, to do all the things I always mean to do but end up pushing aside for something more mundane and easy, like watching a SpongeBob rerun.

So, in no particular order, I present to you, my Mighty Summer List:

1. Go to the Columbus Zoo

2. Learn to drive stick shift

3. Daytrip out of state (Pittsburgh is the goal)

4. Make a skirt/learn to sew

5. Make marshmallows from scratch

6. Go hiking

7. Go camping

8. Learn to play a song on my guitar

9. Actually go to the attractions in Cleveland

10. Make my room a happy living space

11. A grand loving gesture

12. Try the fruits I thought were gross or weird when I was younger

13. Catch fireflies with my brother

14. Sparklers with my brother(s)

15. Bubbles and sparklers at sunset with Jon

16. Visit my sister in Cincinnati and check out the city

17. Volunteer

18. Swim at the lake

19. Get in/on a boat

20. Go to the state fair

Some of these are a little more abstract, some are amazingly easy SEEMING, but I'm hoping to do all of them. If I come up with anything to add, you'll know.

What're some of your goals for the summer?

I'm a sister, not a saint

2009-07-02T19:44:00.003-04:00

A brief snapshot of what will (hopefully) be beefed out into a decent little post on the No Doubt concert I saw at the beginning of the week:

I took my youngest brother, Iz, with me to see the band, as he has an undying love of the band and Gwen Stefani in general; I introduced him to their music in 2003, during the long drive to Tennessee for my great-grandfather's funeral, if I'm remembering correctly. He still loves their albums, six years later.

We missed Paramore, thanks to the long line of traffic and lack of police directing said traffic until a quarter mile away from the venue. We DID arrive with plenty of time to spare before ND took the stage, and we headed towards the lawn, working our way through the clusters of people. Many 'excuse me's and 'sorry, but he's not even five feet tall's later, we had a decent spot.

He loved it. LOVED it.

The best part was when they performed 'Running,' and I wrapped my arms around him, savoring the fact that he's still young enough to let me hug him in public. He leaned back and yelled, "Thank you so much for bringing me! I love you!!!"

It made up for the amount of times I had to yell at him to calm down or leave Jon's roommate alone in the day leading up to the concert. Made up for when he wouldn't just leave Jon's damn Nerf gun alone, no matter how many ways I threatened him (there are a variety of creative threats at your disposal when you are 3 hours away from home and still in possession of the kid's ticket, including leaving him at the apartment and selling the ticket to the first person I saw).

I'm a sister, not a saint, and I do my best to be a good sister. Sometimes I fail, but he always forgives me.

At least our car repairs never end like this

2009-06-19T13:36:00.002-04:00

My dad and I replaced the spark plugs yesterday, but were thwarted by modern car design when it came time to replace the wires. This morning was an exercise in desperately wishing I owned a sledgehammer, because my car was shaking uncontrollably and I wanted to beat it. It's a good thing that my anger is the kind of fantasy, not the kind of actual doing, or I'd probably have to been to prison a few times by now.

I thought that a good video of ridiculous carness was in order, to show that some people take things to a whole new level. Enjoy.

Summer days and vague threats aimed at my car

2009-06-18T11:11:00.004-04:00

Summer break started almost a week ago, and I've been the queen of the un-motivated since then. Part of it is that I tend to have bouts of insomnia due to stress, which has left me in bed until 11 or later. I was up and at 'em by 9:30 at the latest this quarter, every single day, so I guess I'm making up for lost time?

I've been trying to figure out what I'm going to do this summer, what things I'm going to do to fill the hours that I'm not at work or doing anything else that would amount to much of anything. I'm hoping to learn to sew, to volunteer and to read all of the books that I've had to set aside and give up on this past year. But right now, I just want to cocoon myself in bed and dream all the hours away, because I'm just special that way.

By the end of this week, the biggest thing I'll have managed will be helping my dad replace my spark plugs and wires, because my car has decided that it needs me to hate it a little bit.

As you might remember, I had to replace the head gasket in March after finding out that it was slowly falling apart and would likely EXPLODE and DESTROY THE EARTH if I didn't get it replaced. Okay, my mechanic didn't use those words exactly, but the implied outcome was that I'd be all dead and corpseified, a look that I imagine wasn't THAT popular on the Spring runways.

Then, at the very end of April, I performed the Worst Parking Job Ever and destroyed my front right tire. Because life isn't fun unless the Wal-Mart employees are marveling at your exploded tire and asking your dad where the car is and whether this is something his kid manages to do regularly. Teach me to run late for work.

Oh! And in May, wonderful, glorious, I hated it so much that I contemplated moving to another country where they use a different calendar system May, I guess something in the undercarriage needed welded back into place. I'm not clear on what it was, exactly, because I wasn't home much that week for various reasons, and Dad went ahead and got it fixed because it sounded really, really bad. I know it rattled.

So, we come in on June, and I'm in the post-finals haze, wondering how, exactly, I got through the past 11 weeks, when my car refuses to climb a hill or start on the first try. Or the second. Or the third. THEN it'd start and I'd give it a firm lecture on behavior and how if it doesn't clean up its act, I'm going to... and then I'd run out of steam because nothing I could say was quite threatening enough. "I'm going to sell you to the scrap man" only works if you have the cash to buy the next car.

After a few days of The Car Acting Stupid, Act IV, it all magically cleared up. Well, except for the hills thing, it's still having some issues with those. Dad has declared that it must be a plugs/wires issue, given that it cleared up once it dried out (we had the rain of cats and dogs last week). So, I went to the auto shop yesterday and bought all the nifty things that I need to make my car run like an effing normal car. I made the error of wearing girly clothes (wedges and one of those elastic top dresses), and clearly didn't know much about my car, so the guy who worked there gently asked if my dad was going to put them in for me.

Maybe I should learn the ins-and-outs of my car this summer.

A brief update

2009-06-08T14:05:00.002-04:00

It's finals week here, and there was a ton of projects leading up to this point. Apologies for my scarceness.

My back is doing much better; physical therapy has helped more than I can even begin to describe. They elected to not ultrasound my back, because I was doing well and did so well after my first session. They seem fairly certain that I will recover 100%, which is awesome. I felt so horrible in the two weeks leading up to that first session, and I felt so much better walking out that first day. Like being on the world's best drugs only not medicated. I could touch my toes, something I'm not even sure I could do BEFORE the back injury.

Basically, PT is the best thing ever, better than sliced bread, even.

Hopefully I will have more updates for you this summer, guys!

Swimming FAIL

2009-05-22T20:30:00.004-04:00

The past several weeks have been chaotic, to say the least. My dad crashed the family car into a hill and left me without MY car for two weeks while Ed (the car) was getting a makeover - replacing the axle, the lights, rims, etc. It was rainy, he is fine, car is better now, life is back to normal, right?

Except it's not.

I'm taking Swimming I this quarter, because I needed an extra hour of classes to get all of my scholarships. Last Wednesday we tried diving out, something I think half the class was unprepared for. I am a terrible diver, absolutely atrocious. My first jump off the one meter board had my face smacking the water at a bad angle - my neck still feels iffy now and again. My second jump, though, is the thing that has messed up my past week. My legs flipped up toward my back, snapping back when they hit the water. I didn't keep my legs in any sort of correct position. I felt something... shift. Snap. Crackle. Pop. SOMETHING went wrong. The lifeguard called out, I think, to see if I was okay as I sloooooowly doggy-paddled to the side of the pool.

I thought it was just a simple twist. I've had issues in my lower back this past year; it usually strikes on the weekends, when I can't go see anyone. So I took some iBuprofen at the start of my macroecon class and figured I would be fine. I ended up lying on the floor at my job not even two hours later, the meds doing jackshit to help me feel better.

A few hours and a visit to the student health center later, I had THREE different medications to take and a bandage on each hip from the painkillers the doctor had determined I needed immediately. My lower back muscle was spasming so badly she could see it. She touched it to confirm, asked a few questions, and told me that the drugs she was prescribing would help. If they didn't, I would go back in and get a scan.

I thought I was doing better. It turns out I just hadn't been walking enough for my back to put up all of its 'on strike' placards. I went back yesterday and was told that my back is not doing as well as it should at this point in my 'recovery.' I was given more drugs (!) and given a referral to the physical therapy department. Next Friday, I will be getting an ultrasound of my back to determine what is wrong with my 'lumbar vertebrae' and what the course of action will be to make it so that maybe, just maybe, I will no longer find myself unable to move for an entire day. I am rapidly reaching a level of chronic pain and I'm hopeful that the PT will help me heal and no longer experience this pain on regular basis.

Girl Friday, get your act together

2009-04-24T19:37:00.003-04:00

On the one hand, I should hate today. On the other hand, I am so far beyond amused at today.

I was running late for work, and I was kinda irritated. I was in a rush and needed to park, so when I saw three open spots across the street my workplace, I pulled in. Quick. One could argue that it was a little TOO QUICK, but those people would just be asking for me to lay down some ass-whupping because you do not get to tease me about my driving skillz. Which are plentiful, I swear.

Because, you see, I pulled in a little too fast, and somehow the angle of the turn and the speed of the car caused me TO HOP THE CURB SO BADLY THAT I KILLED MY TIRE.

NO SHIT.

Two OU employees were walking by and turned to stare, a mix of shock and amusement on their faces. My tire had made a decent 'pop' sound when it hit the curb. I knew it was dead. So I just sat there and laughed. I felt like this woman in a recent episode of Grey's Anatomy, the woman who is yelling "YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!" every single time she gets bad news. As if the world is falling down around her ears and every time she gets a handle on it, a curve ball gets tossed in her face.

I got out of the car and surveyed the tire, some part of me accepting the inevitable. And, yep, there it was: a two-to-three inch long tear in the rubber, all the way through the 'sidewall,' according to my dad. In the space of time it took me to explain to my dad what had happened, all of the air drained out of my tire. ALL OF IT.

My boss let me move the car to our back parking lot, which was nice considering that it meant my other boss had to park in a spot meant for the people that rent the apartments above the shop. My dad came, checked the tire, declared it dead (which, HELLO? I TOLD YOU IT WAS!), picked up a replacement (artfully forging my signature, I am sure), and replaced it.

So that was my morning.

AND THEN. YES REALLY.

I decided to just park my car in a local neighborhood for the rest of the day and just walk anywhere I needed to go. On my way to Chinese class, I saw a bicyclist get hit by a van. Once I saw the biker was okay, I laughed.

NOW, before you start saying I am a horrible person or anything like that, let me just point out that Athens bicyclists are more-often-than-not assholes of the best order. They are uppity and rude and obey NONE of the rules that they are supposed to. Oh, and they rarely wear helmets.

In this case, a van was waiting to turn left. Clear as day, blinker going and everything. It finally had a clear shot to turn and this bike came out of nowhere and basically got toppled over by the van. That's the best way to describe it. I heard an 'aaah,' which was more of 'whoa, what the hell, you mean there are CARS on ROADS?' scream of surprise, not one of pain. I screamed in shock, frightening my poor dad (who I was on the phone with), and walked closer to make sure the girl was okay. The business owner of where the van was going came out and asked if she needed to call 911 as a few cars stopped to see if they should help. The poor van driver stood there, looking panicked and upset.

The bicyclist stood up. "I'm fine, I'm fine, okay?" she snapped. Okay, fine, she was hit by a car, SHE IS TOTALLY FINE, SURE. Then she picked up her bike, popped it up and down once or twice and loudly declared, "YOU MESSED UP MY BIKE!"

Really? You came up on the LEFT SIDE of a vehicle when it was waiting to turn LEFT, you weren't wearing a helmet, you aren't letting anyone call 911, and you're pissed because your bike got messed up?

I just had to laugh. I mean, really? Of all the things you could be upset about, you choose to be angry that your bike isn't properly aligned anymore? Sure, she could have been in shock, but her reaction was just too ridiculous.

I'm almost afraid to see what the rest of the night will be like.

Wilco = awesome

2009-04-23T10:39:00.003-04:00

Long overdue, I know, I know.

I saw Wilco last Friday at MemAud, a place that I am hoping to not enter again until May. Why? Because I was there until 2 in the morning for David Sedaris on the seventh (or the eighth, depending on how you look at things) and was there again a week later for a reading from Sandra Steingraber. Okay, sure, I was paid to go to both events, and I had been planning to go see Steingraber anyway, but really? How many hours do YOU want to spend in the university auditorium?

Anyway. Wilco was pretty much awesome. Not as awesome as the JM show earlier in the week, but had that not been my baseline for the concert, it would have been pretty freaking spectacular. The band had good chemistry, Jeff Tweedy talked about as much as was expected (ie, not a lot), and they stuck around after the show so that the 30 or so fans who stuck it out to meet, at the very least, Jeff, got to.

I got my shirt signed by Jeff Tweedy and got to tell him 'he was really good tonight,' only to be told that he actually doesn't hear that that often. Really? Why not? I'd like to think I'm not the only one who realizes that performers probably like to hear, 'oh my god, you were amazing tonight! Thank you!' rather than 'oh my god, I love you, will you have my babies?!'

It'd be a just a little too ironic if I was the only sane one in this situation.

Blown away and blown down

2009-04-16T15:07:00.003-04:00

Jack's Mannequin was spectacular. I usually measure the greatness of a concert by how I feel when the performer walks off the stage, and I felt both sad and surprised when he and the rest of the band walked off the stage (before coming back for an encore). They played for over an hour and a half, and I still can't believe how quickly the time passed.

At the concert, I learned an important thing about Columbus-dwellers/Ohioans. They don't fucking dance. Seriously. Out of a crowd of at least 300, I was the only one dancing that I could see. At the end of the show, I got a fist-bump from the event staff/security guard person, who said "You were rocking tonight!" Well, yeah. JM isn't the most danceable music in the world, but I was so jazzed to be there that I didn't much care if it was or not.

I had my digital recorder with me, and I recorded the show, not sure if it were turn out decently or not. It did, but it's just for me. I often struggle to remember stuff if I have no record of the experience, and to get to repeatedly relive this experience is something I cherish. I also snagged a few photos with my phone. They turned out pretty decently for how tiny and bad they looked on my phone. Here's one from his encore, feel free to ignore the camera in the lower left hand corner:

So there is that. Amazing. If you have the chance to see him this summer, DO IT. He is touring as the headliner for the next few months, then he will be touring with the fray. You can check out his site here.

On the flip side, I came home, went to bed, and woke up to an e-mail from the Ohio Board of Regents, informing me that the scholarship I was awarded last year (the Ohio Academic Scholarship) is not being renewed next year. At the moment, there are no funds in Ohio's budget for this scholarship. On the one hand, I understand there is a financial crisis. I understand there is a massive meltdown of budgets right now. But this is a scholarship that I earned, a scholarship I received based on merit. MERIT.

I will still be able to go to school next year; I was reassured of this by one of the workers at the financial aid office. But a lot of the aid I will be receiving is need based. It is hard to feel proud of my accomplishments at OU at this point when my aid is so heavily funded by 'need.' Yes, I NEED the money, but I was SO PROUD of the fact that I had more than one scholarship that I could point to as something I earned for working my ass of the past few years. I have studied myself to the bone, to the brink of sanity, to the point of severe sleep deprivation, and I am quite probably losing a scholarship because of a mismanaged budget and a financial crisis that I did not cause, that I am a victim of. I am so angry. I am also disappointed.

I was given an e-mail for someone to contact, and hopefully she can lay out some sort of game plan for what I should do if this scholarship is eliminated. Because going to a bank and punching a CEO in the face is, sadly, not an option.

A long time coming

2009-04-13T22:59:00.002-04:00

Tomorrow, I'm going to Columbus to see Jack's Mannequin, a band I have loved for a good long while. The 'band' mainly consists of Andrew McMahon, the lead singer, piano player and lyrical master, whose previous musical venture was Something Corporate, a band I had fallen in love with when I was 13. I was automatically excited for the first Jack's Mannequin album, Everything in Transit, and it blew me away. When I am old and my kids ask me what album defined my high school years, I will point to that album. I have listened to it many times, through my best days and my worst. It suits all of my moods.

Jack's Mannequin released their second album, The Glass Passenger, in September of last year. I put off buying the album for a while, after excitedly buying the two EPs that were released on iTunes in the months leading up to the release. I was in a bad state (as some of you might remember) and there is one song in particular that I can't listen to, because it has such a strong sensory connection to that time. I'm hoping that changes with time.

But I love this album. Like Everything in Transit, it has blown me away. Even the songs I didn't like at first have grown on me. I am so excited to finally get to see this artist that has shaped so much of my teenage years. The video below is an acoustic version of one of my favorite songs on the album. It captures how I feel some days really well.

Sorry to gush internet, but I am excited.

Windows to the soul, new framing

2009-04-09T21:36:00.007-04:00

I have had the same glasses for the past three years, a time that was far too long. I finally made the jump and got contacts, because I LOVE sunglasses. LOVE THEM. I think they are the best accessory ever, and love that they don't bother me the way any other accessories do (jewelry wise). I'm sensitive to metal, especially in my ears, which is really annoying.

Anyway, I ordered these:

I also bought these (worn by me):

I assume that you can figure out what the contacts look like. Me, without glasses, frameless for the first time since age nine. I go back tomorrow for a check-up, wherein I will complain about my right contact, and my struggles to properly focus indoors. I feel like I am constantly squinting, but for new, exciting reasons! Ones I can't figure out, because I am wearing 'my' prescription! YAY!

To beat the blues, sing

2009-04-06T02:31:00.002-04:00

I am absolutely in love with this song and this video. Everyone I have shared it with has adored it, hopefully you will too. The artist is Oren Lavie, the song is 'Her Morning Elegance' and it should be listened to whenever necessary. Hope you all enjoy it as much as I have and do.

The bank tellers always seem so happy to see me

2009-02-17T09:59:00.002-05:00

"I forgot my debit card, so I wrote myself a check, which I'm not even sure is what you are supposed to do, but I did it."

"That's fine."

"I'm kinda wondering what's next, 'cause I have a test today, and you need your student ID to take it, 'cause my professor is kind of psycho, but the nice kind of psycho. Honestly, I expected to find out I forgot pants after I noticed I didn't have my debit card."

Awkward silence.

The best part is I haven't even caffeinated yet.

How many fingers do you have?

2009-01-31T13:39:00.002-05:00

"Why would you buy a Claddagh necklace? I mean, unless you didn't have fingers?"

*Shrugs*

"I mean, most people have fingers."

"Yeah, most people have at least a few."

"Most people usually have ten."

"Most people have ten, but a whole bunch have at least a few."

Accidentally scarce

2009-01-19T21:34:00.002-05:00

My new year started with a bladder infection, one that I wasn't able to get diagnosed and treated until the Monday after New Years. The Monday after New Years was also the first day of classes of winter quarter.

I think I deserve a medal for not dying from the pain those first few days. I also deserve a medal for not snapping and running through the streets screaming after my eighty-seventh visit to the bathroom in an hour. My doctor prescribed Cipro, probably because, by the time I got to the doctor, I'd had the infection long enough that there was a chance the damn infection had spread. I ended up saying 'Hello, kidneys, please note that I thanked you for nineteen years of hard work by sending an infection your way!' You know, basically.

Anyway, since then I have been busy working, going to class or studying. I've not had a lot of time to blog. I started the first week having to play catch-up and I'm just now getting to a point where I am not tearing my hair out trying to concentrate on the task at hand, because my brain is busy thinking about all the other things I need to do.

Hopefully there will be more posts over the next few weeks.

Fin

2009-01-03T14:11:00.002-05:00

The past few months have been some of the longest and most stressful I can imagine having to experience. At the end of the day, the dorms were a mistake, a big, huge, horrible mistake that ate up my time and my life and bits of my sanity that I was a rather big fan of, seeing as how they were, you know, bits of my SANITY.

But.

It's over.

I got the formal e-mail yesterday afternoon, with a precise warning that I had to be checked out of the building by 10 p.m. Saturday (today) and that I had to move all of my things out. Apparently they weren't paying attention when I said I moved ALL OF MY STUFF out the Thursday before finals started. Which was almost TWO MONTHS AGO.

Anyway. I am living at home, which is much lower stress, which is what I need. I need calm and a knowledge of who is showing up, when they are around, and, possibly, why they are throwing up in my bathroom. It's not even that I need to know in advance, it's just... I need some feeling of safety and control. Things were bad towards the end. Very, very bad. I saw eight different people for different reasons before I met with the right combination of people who were able to help me get this exemption for my health.

I am out of the dorms and I have no plans of going back.

Fin.

Reject

2008-11-21T15:30:00.004-05:00

At 8:24 a.m., while I was taking my very last final, one of the people that works in the housing department was sending me an e-mail saying that the housing committee appreciated my concerns, but that it had rejected my request. My head exploded about one hour and thirty minutes later, when I checked my e-mail and found this out.

Actually, 'exploded' is not the right term for what happened. It was a hot, molten rage for which there is no comparison. If I could shoot fire out of my mouth, there would have been fire everywhere. There would have been no control over the flames of rage. I flipped my computer off. I have never flipped my computer off before, no matter how angry it has made me.

Now I am going through the appeals process, wherein I get to give the university EVEN MORE DETAILS about things that I feel are personal. Yes, internet, I've not told the whole story about how crummy this situation has been, and I'm gonna keep some things to myself. I would say sorry, but I'm not.

Anyway, now I have to wait. Again.

Day 19

2008-11-19T21:09:00.001-05:00

It's hard to update a blog everyday.

This time tomorrow, I could know what if my contract termination has been granted. Keep your fingers crossed for me, please.

Day two of finals

2008-11-18T17:18:00.002-05:00

I only have two finals left. I should be overjoyed about this.

But.

My remaining two finals are both at 8 a.m. For those of you who don't know the difference between a.m. and p.m., that is eight in the MORNING. As in, the sun will have only been up for maybe an hour at that point. Which means that I will be driving when the deer are still frolicking through the fields near our house.

That is a much nicer way to describe the way the deer STAND ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD and stare at you as you slam on the brakes. I swear they fist bump after I can't see them anymore, because they get such a thrill from how I pale I get when I see them.

Also, this is for my co-worker, Bryan, whose name I will actually spell right. See, Bryan, I AM mentioning you in my blog. HA!

It's raining, it's pouring

2008-11-15T11:04:00.003-05:00

It was so dark this morning that I didn't realize it was morning. I feel like I am catching up on all the sleep I didn't get the past few weeks, even though I shouldn't be catching up on all the sleep I've not been getting until this time next week. I can't imagine being on a semester schedule when I am already so ready for this quarter to be over

I am back at home, I'm not sure if I've mentioned that. Home has dial up, so posts will probably continue to be light for a few days. Apologies.

Home

2008-11-14T19:35:00.003-05:00

A university should never allow things to get so bad that a student finds their only option is to move out of their dorm before the quarter is out. I can't imagine being a student whose only option was to take an emergency move, because I cannot imagine ever returning to the dorms as a resident.

I'm already back at home and will be commuting next week, finals week. There are a few things going on that I will hopefully be able to comfortably discuss by this time next month, but I'm going to play that stuff close to the chest until then.

Happy almost halfway through NaBloPoMo guys!

Sympathy

2008-11-13T16:58:00.003-05:00

It is really hard to sit at a table across from someone and know that your statements could affect the rest of their college career. It is really hard to get to a point where you hope that he or she gets the worst punishment imaginable, because their actions have caused you so much pain and trouble.

It is really hard to look in the mirror and realize that you've begun to look scared all the time. But it makes it really easy to wish that they get the full extent of the possible punishments tossed at them.

Day 12

2008-11-12T20:17:00.001-05:00

Today I went to the doctor, got something that I am ready to call the best thing ever because I am calm for the first time in days, and now all of those night of bad sleep have caught up with me and I am ready to sleep and sleep and sleep.

End.

Oh, we're falling apart to songs about hips and hearts

2008-11-11T19:41:00.003-05:00

I am losing it. I am completely and totally losing it.

Last night, I had a panic attack. I've never been clear on what the difference between an anxiety and panic attack are, but, for me, the difference is how I feel during one. I can pull myself together during an anxiety attack, and they are brief (usually) and very focused. When I have an anxiety attack, I can still breath. I'm not perfect, but I can fake normal during an anxiety attack. I can't fake normal during a panic attack.

I have to request an exemption to be allowed out of my housing contract. Last night, I composed a letter that will be one of the only things that will tell a committee of strangers that I should not be forced to return to the dorms next quarter. I began crying while writing it - I hate that I am so utterly miserable and feel so helpless and this process is only making me feel more helpless. After I got off the phone with Jon, I tried to rest, to calm down. I was anxious and tense and felt anything but okay.

My barely controlled panic totally went rogue on me, for lack of a better way to describe it. I couldn't breath, I was crying and couldn't stop, and I thought I was either going to throw up or pass out. I could not calm down. I could not talk myself out of the tailspin I found myself in. I have gotten to a really bad place and those moments last night, those moments when I couldn't pull it together, is exactly where I am at. I am at a place where one wrong thought, one wrong train of thought, will make me start crying or whimpering or struggling to breath. I feel trapped. I feel helpless. I haven't felt this way in years and years and I hate that I feel this way because of something that can be changed, but that a committee is the one that decides if I need this change.

People, I need this change. If I am forced to return to the dorms next quarter, I honestly don't know what I will do. Probably lose my shit.

A little screwed up

2008-11-09T19:00:00.002-05:00

The posts for NaBloPoMo will be rather sucky the next few days - I got some rather sucktacular news that will be eating up my time for the next little while. I have lost all faith in the university system and will never again count on it to help me beyond scholarships and classes.

I thought I would cry

2008-11-05T17:50:00.003-05:00

I thought I would cry when I entered and when I left the polls - when I entered because of the purposeful way the people headed towards the polls were walking, reminiscent of the purpose to people's walk in V for Vendetta. We were going to be part of the change, we were going to be heard. When I left, it was pride. It was seven in the morning and there was a line at least twenty people long, all of the people in it college students. The media hadn't expected us to do this, and we were.

I didn't.

I thought I would cry when the Ohio polls closed, because it meant that the ads, the awfulness, the arguing with Jon because our opinions on politics do not alway overlap, and all the other stuff was over.

I didn't.

I thought I would cry during the election party in the lounge when a group of us were eating cotton candy and talking about what our parents' opinions on the election were and what we thought. It was a strange feeling to be in a group of people that understood what I was talking about, that was just as stressed as I was. It was like coming home.

I didn't.

I thought I would cry when the man on CNN said there was no way McCain was going to reach 270 after they called Ohio, Virginia and Pennsylvania for Obama. I was shocked, I was amazed, I was proud because people had voted, they had participated, they had fought for the person they believed in. Seeing the map turn blue on television and on the New York Times website (which had a really interesting map that colored in the second any percentage of votes was out - which is how Utah, Arizona, and Texas were all blue at one point) was just... there was something truly powerful about it.

I didn't.

I thought I would cry during McCain's concession speech and Obama's speech, because they were both good speeches and because it truly meant this battle was over. One tear happened, but... I didn't cry.

I remembered about Proposition 8 in California, I googled it, I found a map showing how the votes were rolling in, knowing that the polls had been close leading up to election day.

I saw that people were voting 'yes' to add an amendment to the California constitution that would make marriage between a man and a woman only. That it was 'yes' by at least 2.5 percent.

I started crying. They were not the tears of joy or relief that I had been expecting. They were tears of disappointment and anger and shame and sadness. I cried for my friends that are gay and for the people I know or know of that had gotten married since California legalized gay marriage in June. I cried for the fact that we could elect a black man to the presidency, but we can't vote for civil rights. I cried for the 16,000 couples that have gotten married in four and a half months.

It is taking everything in me to not cry now.

On a day that I expected to feel light and joyful and free of the awfulness of the past year, I am angry and sad. I am hoping that this isn't allowed to be put on the constitution, that for once civil rights will beat out narrow minded opinion. That the government will defend its people by taking a stance on something that it has avoided taking a stance on for years.

This is the change that I find myself believing in today.

I voted!

2008-11-04T07:12:00.003-05:00

I voted. I was walking to my polling location when they opened, and I got to hear someone yell, "Hear ye, hear ye, the polls are now open!"

I am so relieved this election will be over after today. Living in a swing state is frustrating and I will be happy to no longer see advertisements mongering fear or appealing to your hopes. I'm ready to see differences, because I am tired of only hearing about them.

I had a thirty-minute wait, almost exactly. If anyone is voting on OU's campus today and reads this before voting, good luck! The poll workers at Jeff are pretty nice from what I dealt with from 6:30-7 a.m.

Happy NaBloPoMo!

2008-11-01T10:10:00.002-04:00

I'm participating in National Blog Posting Month, which means I have to update my blog for the next thirty days. I'm hopeful about my participation, though I've already come to the realization that weekends will probably be more links than actual posts.

With that in mind, here's a webcomic I think you should check out: Questionable Content.

I got turned onto the comic nearly a year ago, when Jon and I were first figuring things out. That first week he and I were together, the story line involved a secret handshake that was perfect to relate to some of the things we were wondering about. I ended up reading the archive in December, when I should have been doing homework for my English and Spanish classes.

The comic itself follows a group of twenty-somethings in a part of Massachusetts, having grown from a cast of two characters to many. My favorite is Hannelore, a blonde with severe OCD. In one comic, she got drunk while spending time with her control freak business tycoon mother and decided to touch a public toilet to prove a point. Yeah. I hope that came across as funny, because it was.

Have a great day guys! To all the Athenians reading this, enjoy Halloween and don't get caught if you enjoy it too much! See you tomorrow.

Bringing my little fangirl heart back to life

2008-10-27T21:48:00.001-04:00

I am watching Heroes right now, and I have NO IDEA what is going on.

I LOVE IT!

(Up until tonight, Heroes has been annoying and hard to follow. While I'm slightly confused, it is nothing compared to the past few weeks. I have been yelling at the TV in a good way. YES!!!)

In which I babble and lack a point

2008-10-24T17:43:00.002-04:00

It is grey and dreary outside. I have one window in my room, which is filled with my air conditioner, so all I can see is a flat, bluish-grey from the upper half my window.

I know in a few weeks, I will hate this weather. I will call it names and shake my fist at it and wish for spring. Right now I am feeling particularly generous to the weather, though, because this weather, this awful, dreary weather? This weather means that it is late October and my quarter will be finished soon. This weather means winter break and reading books that I get to choose and not having to stay up until 3 a.m. to finish my homework.

I am going home for the weekend, to watch movies and hang out and get away from the craziness that is my dorm. I have some really great stories to share about my dorm life, especially the time one of my floormates decided it was a better idea to get me instead of an RA. Just so you know, dear readers, if we ever live in the same building, if you decide to get me instead of the person paid to resolve the various situations that pop up in dorm life?

I will be very, very grumpy.

Tales of ye olde universitee

2008-10-19T13:30:00.002-04:00

Today, I went to the student health center to make an appointment to finally deal with some issues I've been having.

Hudson used to be open Monday through Friday only; budget constraints meant that the university could not afford to have Hudson open anymore than that, despite the overwhelming consensus that it needed to be open more. Amazingly, students need medical attention on the weekends! Because, apparently, we still get infections and have unprotected sex and punch walls while drunk on the weekend. So the bigwigs on campus put their heads together and, after realizing that they couldn't build a better facility or really do anything to improve our health care, decided that the solution was a $40 fee! The fee, they said, would mean they could afford to be open four hours on Sunday and could hire another doctor, among other things.

If a student decided not to pay the fee, he or she now has to pay for x-rays, visiting the campus psychiatrists, and being told that he or she does, in fact, have a massive sinus infection that is slowly making his or her head implode.

For me, the fee means I can go see a doctor, which makes me okay with part of my loans and what not going into the program. I thought, 'hey, Hudson will be open on the weekends! I will be able to get any help I need!'

Because it turns out that I need help. But that is another post for another day.

I met my mom and brother for coffee this morning, then sat outside of Hudson until it opened at one. I walked inside, waited for my eyes to re-focus (it was really bright outside and I am very tired), and found the elevator. No one on staff noticed me - at least five other people walked in with me. Not many workers had shown up while I was sitting outside, so I had my doubts about whether or not the elevator would even come. In most buildings on campus, they shut off the elevator when the rest of the building is closed. But the elevator doors immediately slid open, I stepped inside, and pressed the third floor button.

It reached the third floor, the doors slid open and... I was greeted by near complete darkness. The only light on the third floor was coming from the sun filtering in.

I went back downstairs and found out that only the emergency care bit of the building is functioning during Sundays. I didn't bother pointing out that the third floor was accessible and that I could have spent the day doing my homework up there, presumably without them finding me. I'll let them find that out on their own.

The first thing I do

2008-10-10T16:53:00.002-04:00

The problem with Athens is that the weather is unpredictable. Even if it is predictable, the temperature varies so much that my options suck when I get dressed in the morning. It is 45 degrees and foggy at 8 in the morning, then it is 75 and balmy by 1. It sucks.

Today, I was wearing jeans and a tee shirt, with a sweater thrown on for good measure. It was 45 degrees when I ran out the door (I turned off my alarm when it went off, and I do not remember doing this, but I did and did not wake up until twenty minutes before I had to be out the door). At 3, when my parents picked me up so I could get some groceries from Wal-Mart, it was 80. I was boiling in my jeans.

When it is hot and disgusting, I try to avoid wearing anything that is denim. I just canNOT stand to have jeans touching my skin when it is hot. They make me feel like I am suffocating.

So the first thing I did when I got back to my dorm was dig a pair of pajama bottoms out of my dresser and rip off my jeans. I wanted to cuddle my pajama bottoms to my chest and sing a happy little song about how wonderful they were when I grabbed them from my dresser.

Turns out it takes very, very little to make me happy.

My exhaustion runneth over

2008-10-08T17:23:00.003-04:00

I have spent the entire day attempting to not fall asleep in class. The ENTIRE DAY. The only time I've not found myself struggling to not nod off has been at work or while I was writing a story for my news writing class. I find this absolutely arbitrary, because I actually fell asleep relatively early and didn't wake up until after seven a.m.

Anyway, of all of my classes this quarter, my favorite class is news writing followed by oceanography. I love news writing because it is actual journalism, instead of information about the history of journalism or an unhappy education in the area of independent and dependent clauses. I also love that class because there is no homework. The most effort I put into that class is going over my assignments and AP style quizzes and figuring out what I did wrong so that I do not repeat that mistake. As much as I loved telling people I wrote an obit for a Finnish man with 22 grandchildren, as gleefully as I reported this fact to people because it made me giggle, it is the (lack of) homework that has won me over. I often have a laundry list of things competing for my time, a list that never, ever gets shorter. I am caught up for perhaps 2.1 seconds before I realize that I can't remember when I last showered or that my dishes are all dirty or that there is a third component to my Chinese homework.

It is insanity, this college life, make no mistake.

But I love it. I am good at this education thing. I have been struggling this quarter, really struggling under the amount of homework and class hours and work hours and the fact that I really love spending time with my family, boyfriend and friends, to find a balance. What takes a priority on a day-to-day basis? Usually my schoolwork sucks up all of my attention until at least eleven at night, then I talk to Jon, then I sleep or keep doing homework. I am trying to find some time for myself - time to just sit and breathe, to not worry about stuff. But even with all of this, I love the things I am learning, I love having to push myself, even.

What was it that I was saying the other day about crazy flakes?

Suddenly reminded how permanently my foot resides in my mouth

2008-10-04T11:31:00.003-04:00

I've been on the pill since September of 2006. My family doctor, back when we had insurance, felt that it was a good idea, and, well, I felt like it was a good idea. It has been nice having control over something that can sometimes be very, very inconvenient and knowing that I don't really need to worry about having babies until I am ready for babies.

I take it on time most days or at least close enough to on time that I should be fine. So I was really very pissed when I used the restroom yesterday and found that my pill had utterly failed for the first time in over two years.

When talking to Jon last night, I said, "Yeah, and add to that the fact that my birth control failed and... ugh!"

The silence was beyond quiet as it dawned on me what I just said and how bad it must sound.

It wouldn't be so bad if it didn't happen on a regular basis, this foot in mouth thing. I'm lucky that I've not killed Jon with these mis-speaking at this point.

Ugg actually made an adorable shoe

2008-09-27T20:45:00.002-04:00

I was on Zappos and saw these. I am drooling. They actually look vaguely warm and yet are still stylish (at least, they are to me). Plus, leopard print flats! I love leopard print flats - I got a pair several years ago from the Isaac Mizrahi for Target line, and have worn out the sole of one of the shoes. The thought of having sheep fur keeping my feet warm during the winter, without looking like the rest of campus, is so tempting.

Now I just have to find a really, really, REALLY good reason to buy them when I have too many other things that I actually NEED

Horrified

2008-09-17T22:21:00.000-04:00

I'm watching mtvU, which is a rather odd experience, because do you know what mtvU shows?

MUSIC VIDEOS.

It is a very disorienting experience to be able to turn on the TV at any time during the day and being able to see a music video that ISN'T that awful Kid Rock song. A good chunk of the time I spend in my dorm is spent watching/listening to the music videos. Some aren't worth remembering, but some are.

My only complaint is a commercial that runs during every other commercial break. It is an ad for Hooters. It opens with a girl being interviewed and asked if she has ever held a job before.

"No, I'm in college!"

"What kind of job would you like?"

"I'd like one where I could work with my friends, make lots of money and have fun!"

"I'm sorry, that kind of dream job doesn't exist."

In the split second that the camera is focused on the older woman who is interviewing the young brunette, the girl changes her outfit into a Hooters tank top. I don't remember exactly what she says next, because EVERY SINGLE TIME, my head has exploded in utter horror when I see that outfit.

Since when is Hooters a dream job?

You were an engine driver, I was a deep sea diver

2008-09-13T20:16:00.002-04:00

One thing I had magically forgotten during my ten week 'vacation' from school was how hard school actually is.

I should have remembered when I found my notes from spring quarter and DID NOT REMEMBER those days. At all. I knew I had gone to class because I had all of my notes and papers in the notebook in my hands, but I didn't remember the lecture or if I had contributed anything thoughtful to the class that day. I was waking up by no later then 7 am every single week day, working eight hours and going to class eighteen hours and foregoing a social life for that education thing.

I am trying to keep everything balanced. It helps that I am on campus now, as much as I miss home. It's easier to go out and have a life when the life is a five minute walk from where you sleep and study.

This week started with plans to do EVERYTHING and has slowly narrowed to a few select things. I actually went to the formal sorority rush last night, only to drop out two hours later. I was going to miss every event they were holding this weekend and I could only imagine what the rest of the quarter was going to be like. OU, being on a quarter schedule, has tests soon after classes start; there was no way I could cram for my tests AND be a pledge AND work AND do all the other things I have to do, including sleep. Sleeping is so very important to my sanity, next to eating three meals a day and getting to read something non-school assigned at least once a day. If you ever want to know what I am like when I am drunk, just keep from sleeping. Once I hit about hour 22 of being awake, I will be just as insane and likely to fall over as anyone who is drunk. I've experienced this in the past and can only imagine how much more FUN it will be considering one of my jobs at work is calling people and leaving messages.

If you ever order books from where I work and get a message where the caller says 'we are open until...' and then recites a phone number, then says 'you can reach us at 7 pm if you have any questions,' that is me.

Just wait 'til I get a little further in Chinese.

Just like a brand new penny

2008-09-05T18:41:00.004-04:00

Yesterday, the dorms here at ye olde university opened at noon, for all incoming freshman. Even though I already have 38 credits under my belt, I am still considered an incoming freshman, which is probably for the best. My parents and I, with the help of some volunteers on campus, moved in my boxes and boxes of stuff. Seriously, I am not kidding, I probably had over a dozen boxes. Granted, they were not large boxes, but still.

Even more impressive?

In this relatively small room, I managed to get everything to fit. There is still a need for some re-organization, and I need to pick up some shelving and a TV stand, but it is actually a very nice little room. I remember my older sister's various singles always felt incredibly small, as if they had been designed by someone hoping to drive the resident mad. My single, by comparison, feels practically spacious. I have a practically walk-in closet, which I have many, many plans for.

You'd think I'd be feeling homesick at this point. I probably would at this point, except my family is a ten minute drive away. Also, I spent last night at home. Lets just say that my dinner decided that it didn't like that I had eaten it, and I felt way too awful to stay in an unfamiliar place, which still needed a lot of unpacking done for it to feel like home. I still don't feel a hundred percent today, but I feel far better than I did last night, when I was treading the fine line between not sleeping because I couldn't get my brain to shut down and being so exhausted that I could barely keep my eyes open.

Everything feels possible right now - it's all brand new and simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar.

59 days, five hours and a decent amount of minutes

2008-08-28T18:58:00.003-04:00

Last time I saw my guy, it was about exactly two months ago.

I firmly believe in the awesomeness of our long distance relationship, but I want it noted, somewhere by someone in our universe, that not seeing your significant partner person thing for a little over SIXTY DAYS? SUCKS.

Tomorrow, we are going to the Greek festival in Columbus, with a brief stop at Target so I can pick up a few things I still need for the dorms. (I like eating my cereal out of bowls and my sandwiches off of plates. Call me crazy. Could I get bowls at Wal-Mart or Kroger? Yes. But the ones at Target are a nice turquoise-aqua-y color that I really, really, REALLY like.)

Jon is going to meet us at the festival and then I am going to spend the weekend a little further north, hanging out with him.

Muahahahaha!

I mean, erm.... Hey, I've not seen my boyfriend in almost an entire quarter's worth of time. Indulge my slight madness. Please?

This little piggie went to market...

2008-08-27T20:29:00.004-04:00

I have two younger brothers - one is fifteen and the other is nine. The younger of the two recently decided he wanted a guinea pig. When he sets his mind on something he wants, he focuses on it in a way that makes me hope that he doesn't become a lawyer one day - because I don't want to be on the wrong end of his focus.

An example of this happened about a month ago. Our fair city was holding a beer fest week, culminating in a festival on the main street that cuts through uptown; we don't call it 'downtown,' no, we call it 'uptown.' It's one of the ways we identify out-of-towners. That and the fact that they actually obey the crosswalks with the little flashing men and hands.

Anyway, Iz had made some jewelry to sell at Boogie on the Bricks. There was beer, which you didn't get in trouble for having as long as you stayed on the bricks, live music, food and vendors selling jewelry, soap and all the other things you find at events like that. He was hoping to make enough to buy a bicycle, as well as a long list of other things. I sat uptown with my parents and Iz and watched as my little brother proved that he would have made an amazing girl scout, had he been a girl: he caught peoples' attention, told them how he was hoping to make enough a buy a bike, and the bemused man, woman or couple would often walk away with a set of earrings or a little clay creature he'd made.

By the end of the day, he'd made enough to buy the bicycle he wanted.

So my family knew that it was a matter of time before we ended up at petland, picking out a guinea pig and all the things that go with the little things. The only problem is he wanted one sooner rather than later and the holidays are still months away.

Enter Facebook and its marketplace.

Facebook's marketplace, for the uninitiated, is a little like what I've heard craigslist is like. You create a listing, putting it under a label of choice, from 'free' to 'wanted' to 'for sale,' and wait for someone to contact you. I love the Facebook marketplace and often peruse it, hoping to see a cheap futon or something else. It's like going to a million micro yard sales, only you don't have to deal with the grumpy or indifferent people perched in their beach chairs, waiting for you to find something your willing to buy mixed in with all the pairless earrings and shoes that seem to turn up at yard sales.

One day last week, I logged into Facebook and the mini-feed that is your front page when you log in (I really hope all this explanation is unnecessary), the wonderful mini-feed, informed me that one of my friends had just listed his two pet guinea pigs. For free. Complete with a habitat and food and pretty much everything you need when you decide to become a guinea pig papa or mama.

I messaged him and to make an already long story short, my brother is gonna have his guinea pigs. The look on his face when I told him this was so worth it - I had told him he was going to get something he had wanted, had been reading up on and learning about and attempting to convince our parents would be a good idea, without having to lift a finger.

At least, not until they're here.

Thunder, leaks, crappy sleep, oh my!

2008-08-05T15:36:00.002-04:00

Last night, a thunderstorm blew through town. A loud, moving the trees outside my window, gushing water thunderstorm.

Normally, I sleep through storms. The only thing that can wake me up is my phone buzzing, but that's because my phone is no more than two feet away from my face when it buzzes. Storms are not even in my room, so I don't even budge. In mid-May, a major storm blew through and my classmates discussed how they were forced to sit in the hallways of their dorms until a tornado warning expired. Lightning struck several trees and there was a brief touchdown at a lake a few miles out of town. I slept through the night.

Jon and I went camping, at this fighting event thing that he attends nearly every year. It was during the last week of June, and I'm afraid it's ruined my ability to sleep through storms.

June was an extremely wet month for Ohio. We were in a tent. Tents are not, apparently, completely and totally water PROOF. The rain turned a loaf of banana bread into mold, and messed up several novels I had brought with us. It also strained my already severely cracked patience; the camping trip will not be filed in the 'successful vacations' anytime in the future. I woke up on several occasions because I rolled over and found my foot suddenly cold and damp, the sheet on our inflatable mattress damp anywhere it touched the floor of the tent. I remember moving books that were at least slightly damp, and avoiding a part of my pillow because a few of the seams of the tent were also leaking.

So, last night, during the house rattling thunder, I woke up and thought 'I have to save the books!' I didn't think 'oh, a storm,' nor did I think 'ehhh...' as I normally do, instantly falling back to sleep. No, I had a panicked stricken thought, one that grates on me because it makes no logical sense, and, yet, that is what I woke up and thought. In reality, my books are fine and I don't have to avoid any part of my bedding to get a good nights sleep. But I'm rattled, and that feeling aggravates me.

Two am

2008-07-28T10:43:00.003-04:00

When Jon and I first got together, I couldn't fall asleep until we'd had our good night phone call. If he was going out for the night, he would call me when he got home, and I would be in a fitful state of not-quite-asleep until my phone started buzzing. Part of it was habit - I'm not such a creature of habit that my routine can't be changed, but I am enough of one that I sometimes struggle to sleep if my routine is different. I can fall asleep anywhere, just let me brush my teeth, call my boyfriend and find a comfortable spot on the bed. That last one takes longer, but I will fall asleep eventually.

The past few weeks though, I've been out like a light not long after hitting the sheets. It doesn't matter if I know that I am going to get a call in hour - I'm out. When he calls, I wake up enough to have a conversation, usually one that I can't remember beyond the greeting, the good-bye and one or two words in between. I'm not good at having conversations when they require me waking up. I usually greet him with an over-enthusiastic "Hey!" that feels like it is louder than it probably is. Then I try to say that I wasn't that asleep, seriously, I was half awake when the phone rang. Nevermind that I vaguely remember looking at the phone and wondering why, exactly, it was there. This is usually followed by a disbelieving statement from Jon, then lots of sleepy 'your pretty's and 'I love you's from me. I can only imagine what those conversations would look like if someone transcribed them.

You can call me at two am and I'll swear I was still awake, but it's fairly likely that I won't even remember what I said in the morning.

The places you'll go

2008-07-21T14:30:00.002-04:00

I am looking for bedding and rugs and towels and other various things I never really thought about me needing before on Targets website. I usually consider myself internet savvy - I can Google things faster than you can say 'hey, where'd the phone book go?' But on the rare occasion I try to utilize a websites search feature, it fails. Miserably.

I type in '6x4 rug,' hoping I'll find the rug featured in this weeks ad. I'm supposed to be getting things to make my room a wonderful living environment and that starts with a rug. At least, it starts with a rug in my head. I'm not really looking forward to living in the dorms, not one tiny bit, but I'm hoping that getting some bedding and things will change that.

My search results in a few ugly rugs, rugs that look like people who own pets with digestion problems own for those occasions when Fluffy eats five pounds of granola. These do NOT look like rugs I would ever buy. So, I try a few other searches, after checking the bar at the top of the site to make sure I didn't miss a section labeled 'college 08.'

Finally, I get fed up and go through the listings that drop down from those little tags at the top if you roll your mouse over them. Bed+Bath yields 'College 08,' of course. So, I find the rug sections, go through ELEVEN pages of thumbnails of rugs, to find that the rugs featured in this weeks ad?

They're only available in stores. Oh, and I never found the one I was looking for.

I really dislike trying to shop online.

That whole 'outlook on life' thing

2008-06-18T13:46:00.002-04:00

Sometimes it really amazes me what can change my perspective on a situation, what can change my perspective on life.

Recently, I quit my job. I had been baby-sitting for this couple for nearly three years, had watched their son grow and seen their family grow. Had you asked me two years ago if I would ever leave the gig if I stayed here for school, I would have said no.

Things changed. They started being home a LOT more when they had their daughter and their son stopped listening to me the way he used to. I became more hesitant with doling out time-outs, because my punishing him often got him in trouble with his parents. My two hours of peace when he napped went up in smoke when I started watching him and his sister - their naps never over-lapped for more than thirty minutes. I felt like a horrible person, disengaged and unhappy. I love those little kids, but I just could not take their parents being RIGHT THERE ALL THE TIME. It was like the ultimate pressure - I had to walk this fine line or else watch the little dude get in trouble or lose my patience because she would be screaming her head off and he would be trying to get my attention.

I knew it was time for me to leave many, many times over the past few months, but I knew I had to quit when I started wondering if I really wanted kids one day. Anyone that knows me knows that I coo at babies like a mad woman and that I’m beyond content to have one sided conversations with toddlers at the grocery store. I’m that girl, the girl that likes kids and knows she wants a bunch of them. Girls like me, we want kids and struggle with the concept of not wanting a few. And there I was, wondering if my conversations with teh boy about random things like baby names and awful habits our kids will inherit one day, you know, our future kids as conversation topic, was really a path I wanted to head down.

So I finished. It was about as informal as it could get, my last day - some of their friends came into town, so I spent forty-five minutes at their house before giving up and going home. There aren’t words to express the mix of emotions I felt as I walked out of the door - a sense of freedom (I’ve likened it to the scene in the Rescuers Down Under, when the lizard gets out of the cage and dances around, singing ‘I’m free, I’m free!!!’), a little big of anger, and a touch of disappointment.

Since last Friday, things have gotten better. I feel like I have a handle on things and I’ve been so happy, happier than I’ve been in a while. The last time I remember feeling like this, I was at teh boy’s for spring break. While I loved that job a great deal, it stopped being fun or enjoyable for me. I’ve got a job somewhere else now and other then a few scheduling conflicts, I’m far more at ease there. A weight has been removed, one that I didn’t even realize was there.

And it feels really, really good.

Sometimes, my education is worth every cent

2008-01-17T09:49:00.000-05:00

"Today, in class, we learned about pyramids and Egypt and floods! They had time sheets with excuses for why people missed work, and there was one, this one hieroglyph, and it said the guy missed work because he had a hangover."

"..."

"There was a hieroglyph for hangover! THAT IS SO COOL!"

Addictive tendencies

2008-01-16T13:52:00.000-05:00

Why does the internet have to be so distracting?

And why did Teh Boy's laptop have to decide to be ornery two days before he comes down to visit?

Kicking ass never looked so studious

2007-11-20T13:49:00.000-05:00

I took my second final today, which means I can have a life again. In theory. Until I remember that I have expectations to meet, English and Spanish classes to take, and the ACT to prep for. BUT! Sometime in the near future, I will be able to completely veg out and be a person.

Do you know how weird that is?

I spent most of yesterday and all of this morning reviewing my notes and the chapters we had read for my history class and just generally trying to stuff my head with all of this seemingly important information. I managed to catch a chest cold late last week, so I spent much of my studying time, from Friday through yesterday, passing out when I was supposed to be writing about Chaucer, or the Hundred Years' War. If one of my friends hadn't typed up her notes and shared them, I don't know what I would be doing right now. Probably sitting in a corner and bawling uncontrollably, because, honestly, my brain just wasn't holding onto all of that stuff. Or laughing hysterically. Freaking out tends to have two outcomes for me, though after a certain point, one turns into the other.

Thanks to all the napping I was doing during the day, and all of the coughing I've been doing at night, I didn't really get much sleep last night. I finally stopped feeling like my eyelids were made of lead around 11:30, and made myself turn off the light at one. I spent the entire night being restless, waking up every hour on the hour, sometimes cause of the being sick thing, and sometimes because of the panic mode I entered the minute I started to feel semi-normal(I have never loved antibiotics more than I do right now).

Thanks to the restless night that resulted in about four hours of sleep, I was kinda loopy this morning. Not terribly so, but enough that when I looked up and registered which episode of Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends my brother's were watching, I started laughing hysterically. I couldn't help it.

I had last seen it at 3 in the morning sometime in July of last year. One of the main characters, Mac, can't have sugar. You know those kids that could literally climb walls when given any sort of sugar? He's like that. And his imaginary friend, Bloo, manages to give him sugar. This is during a party that shouldn't be happening or something, so the colors are very rave-esque. And because I was about as out of it this morning as I was last July, I started laughing about as hard as I did when I saw it the first time. I don't know if it's actually really funny, or if I'm just always in a really screwed up state of mind when they show it.

Either way, I managed to pull myself together and go back to singing my notes, because reading them out loud was just too straight forward. Took the test, survived, and now I might not have to say "I can't have fun, I'm STUDYING!" to my mom for a while.

Leaves do fall

2007-11-11T12:44:00.000-05:00

I'm trying to register for classes, classes that I spent many (okay, maybe two) hours picking out last night. But the registration section is down and I'm wondering why, exactly, the universe hates me.

Over dramatic? Sure. But one of the classes has 8 open spaces left, and I will be quite the unhappy creature if I don't get into it. Mostly because I have no idea quite what I want to take, beyond the three classes I've picked out, and I really want to take this class. It may not be the best class ever(philosophy 101, for the curious), but I'm curious what we'll be taught. Also, if I stay here, it'll rack up my tier II requirements, something that makes very little sense to me, but that is apparently very important to eventually graduating. I guess that's why they call them requirements.

It feels weird to be picking out classes when I'm not even done with the classes I'm in at the moment, but I think it would be even weirder to pick out classes once I was done. Because then I'd actually be able to think, and thinking is quite a dangerous thing when it comes to me. I'd have lists and charts and all sorts of things mapping out why I was taking the classes and how I was going to get from one building to the other quickly, etc. Because then I'd know for sure that I had the 'perfect' schedule.

Who needs lazy Sundays?

The mixed tape

2007-11-09T11:14:00.000-05:00

I'm trying to write something for Speakeasy, which is only challenging because I have no idea what to write. It's the end of the quarter, and my entire focus is on my finals and kicking ass on them. Or at least passing. You know, whichever.

I'm not really nervous about finals, it's just, they're my first REAL finals. This is my test run of college- am I surviving? Doing better than surviving? Thriving, maybe?

I'd probably go with the third one, except for those really fun days when I wake up and have to talk myself out of bed, because class, how can it possibly be interesting today? How can my professor possibly make the Black Death interesting? It was diseases and and death and all sorts of awful things, and, gee, I wonder when Jerry Bruckheimer or some other producer/writer will conquer that and try to make it into an action-adventure flick.

Of course, it was interesting. To me, anyway. I love history, in a 'whoa, that's what happened, and then that happened and it made all of this happen? NO WAY!' sort of way. I'm odd. You get used to it.

I suppose I should probably write my post for speakeasy. Or pick out my classes for next quarter, even though I have no idea what I want to take, or what the rest of my life looks like next quarter. I like to keep things interesting, obviously.

Entertainer

2007-11-07T12:53:00.000-05:00

I've been wearing a different hat every day for about a week now. They were pretty usual, just a bunch of flat knit stockinette stitch caps I've made over the years. Some of them look 'different,' because yarn? Yarn has gone and become AWESOME. There is a reason I can waste hours in a yarn shop, just drooling over the various types and colors.

Anyway. On Monday, I started wearing my mom's hats. I blame Guy Fawkes day- I didn't have a mask, so I borrowed a hat she made that looks like a bubble bath, complete with little rubber ducky. Mostly, I wanted to be silly: that irritatingly good mood I mentioned a while go has yet to go away. Everyone loved the hat(the outright staring was amusing, especially when people would just stop their conversations. That's happening a little more now that I'm wearing full sized hats.).

So now I'm wondering: how many days in a row can I go without wearing the same hat? At what point am I really going to want to wear a hat I've already worn?

This is making the gloomy days better, that's for sure.

I'll sleep when I'm dead

2007-10-26T22:27:00.000-04:00

I've been insanely busy the past week and a half. Which isn't really a bad thing; I've figured out over the past few months that I actually like being busy. As in constantly doing something. The only flaw with this is that most of the stuff keeping me busy is so intense that by the end of the night, when I normally update, my brain is mush and conversation is reduced to me going 'uhhhhh' in a zombie like tone. This also what my mornings often sound like, during the first five minutes when I am talking myself into getting out of bed. I am not one of those people that wakes up easily, unless I have a deadline or a test, and then it is the panic that gets me out of bed, not pure unbridled love for the world. If I ever wake up and immediately greet the day with a smile, my family will know that I have been traded in for a pod person.

This past week has been a mess of meetings, class work, homework, knitting, tests, and other miscellaneous things. You ever have one of those weeks where you're constantly bouncing from place to place and thing to thing and you're so excited about everything that you can't sleep because you're brain just won't shut down? Or is that just exclusive to me?

I mostly blame my friends for the lack of sleep: two friends I haven't seen in a while(one since Christmas time and the other in early September) are in Athens this weekend for the block party, and I have been so jazzed about them coming into town that I've been like 'YAY AIR! YAY SUN! YAY EXISTENCE!' all the time. I mean, I have things to stress over, things that would actually make sense for keeping me up until 2:30 in the morning, but pure excitement? THAT IS NOT NORMAL. Maybe I have been exchanged for a pod person and don't know it. I mean, I am normally a happy person, but this week I have been bordering on obnoxiously happy. I actually was irritable today, and I was like, 'oh, thank god, I'm turning back into a person.'

I can only imagine how great it's going to be to be around me if this weekend goes well at all.

(Please note: I am really really sleep deprived as I write this, and I also spent part of my afternoon writing a post for Speakeasy. Hopefully I will make more sense when I post next.)

Playing dress up

2007-10-16T21:57:00.000-04:00

Over the weekend, I was mistaken for a guy. I was in a hotel lobby with my dad and the short one, waiting for my mom to wrap up a meeting, when this man walked up and asked if I knew where the elevator was.

More precisely, he said: "Excuse me, young man, do you know where the elevator is?" Dumbstruck (last I checked, I do, in fact, happen to look like a girl), I pointed and croaked out, "That way." He then slapped me on the back and told my dad, "I figured if anybody would know where the elevator was, it'd be this guy."

Sure, I was sprawled out across a chair in such a way that it might have been hard to tell that I happen to be, you know, A GIRL. Yeah, I was wearing a hat that isn't necessarily the most girly hat in the world. Let's not forget my creaky voice brought on by a cold.

But I was wearing shoes with pink stripes! And jeans that actually fit, which not many guys seem to go for. I figured I looked somewhat girly.

My first reaction was to buy one of those pink ribbons, the one's little newborns get before they start growing in hair so you don't have to constantly inform people that the little thing you're toting is a girl. Maybe even get a few dozen. Because subtlety is over-rated.

My next, and arguably more logical reaction, was to just try dressing a little more like a girl. I tend to live in jeans and t-shirts, and have been slowly inching towards wearing a few of the skirts and dresses I've managed to accumulate over the past several years. This just pushed me over the edge. I have been mistaken for a boy maybe twice before this, and the one time, I was wearing a polo, the kid only saw me from the back, AND my hair was significantly shorter.

If this was a few months ago, it wouldn't really be bothering me. I've just finally started getting comfortable with being a girl, and dressing up when I feel like it, or painting my nails(which I did for the first time in a year yesterday. It looks about as bad as you would expect after not painting them for a year), and it just really grates on me that I can feel so girly, and yet still be mistaken for a boy. I'm restraining myself from drenching myself in pink clothes and accessories, but when you see me and I'm not in my usual 'I fell out of bed and grabbed what I knew was clean from the top of my dresser' garb? Don't be surprised.

A lazy post

2007-10-12T19:42:00.001-04:00

The cupcakes are more fierce in color in person-more pink. FAR more pink. I don't know how the banana bread turns out so shiny, other then maybe the tofu? I've been asked many times, and it's the only logical explanation.

This post shall be known as the I am lazy but still felt like updating post. Marvel at my baking skills while I research cell phones and marvel at my younger brother, sitting still, reading Harry Potter:

He doesn't sit still. Period. The reading bug finally caught him.

First three rows will get wet

2007-10-11T21:12:00.000-04:00

The Dude was in a really good mood today. I mean, he's normally in a good mood, but this was one of those good moods where I wished I didn't have to put him down for his nap. You don't get many of those, whether you're the baby-sitter or the parent, I've learned.

He wasn't overly bouncy or asking questions that seemed to result in an endless series of 'why's. Have you ever tried to have a conversation with a three year old who feels the need to respond to every answer with a 'why?' It's cute the first few times, but eventually you slip into the 'because' mode. It's either that, or answer every time, and lose a small piece of your ability to be a normal person in the process; I say 'why?' more than I did a year ago. Which is arguably a good thing, but I was happy to not always feel an urge to ask why.

Anyway: He was excited about having gotten to go to a petting zoo with his preschool, and, as a result of the field trip, had to have a bath. Baths and the Dude always seem to go well together-though I have to start it with the knowledge that my nice, dry, warm clothes are going to be soaked within seconds of him diving into the bathtub. (And I'm not kidding about the diving. He LOVES water.)

I have no problem with bath time. It is one of the few occasions where I am allowed to fully participate in whatever game he has made up for that moment. Most of the time, I get told that what I just said for the doll I'm holding is NOT what it was supposed to say, and then told what I am supposed to say. Thankfully, we don't play with dolls much. Or are they action figures when you're a boy? I mean, they don't look like action figures.

Today was no exception to the usual awesomeness of bath time. Especially the part where he decided to splash me to the point of my hair being soaking wet and my pants and shirt looking like I just spent ten minutes in a drizzle, artfully missing select drops so as to accomplish a nice splatter pattern. It always starts with a few splashes from him throwing something in the air, and next thing I know, I'm wondering if the door should have as much water on it as it does. He gets 'bath' and 'pool' confused, I think, because I didn't get splashed that much over the summer, when we spent a multitude of hours playing with his kiddy pool and the hose.

I don't think he'd do it if I didn't put up with it, but if there is one thing I'm known for with that kid, it is putting up with stuff. There was one point last year where I was carrying around my dinner for the night in my bag, and he eventually figured this out. From that point on, I learned to pack more food, because he could easily down half of my dinner, and to be prepared for him to go diving in my bag, asking what food I had with me today. Which, while proving that my mom is an infinitely awesome cook, also completely reorganized my bag so that I didn't have to worry about him tossing my CD wallet across the room in search of some fake tuna casserole.

After his bath, he decided to crash for nearly three hours. It always seems to work out so that the days I'm willing to listen to him play drums for an hour straight, he passes out for the majority of the time I'm there. Sure, I get a lot of homework done, but I always feel a little guilty, like 'I was supposed to hang out with you, but because you slept all afternoon, I basically just sat and did nothing.' I don't think he cares, but I do, and sometimes it bugs me. Not today though. Today he was happy and I was happy and there was no major mayhem or destruction involved to get there. Today just kicked ass.

Guaranteed to get double takes

2007-10-09T14:36:00.000-04:00

So, it's been a little while since I've updated. I could come up with a variety of reasons, ranging from the large stack of school work I have (I have to read Beowulf, the Canterbury Tales, and Hamlet in the next two weeks, because I've not yet and I need to for my English class), to my own inclination to put off doing something I'm good at, because I figure eventually I'll write something really awful and never be able to post a blog again for the shame of it. Hey, I'm a variety of contradictions and oddities. You get used to it.

But a picture says a thousand words, and this one says a lot about how my mornings have been for the past eleven days:

It's from the morning after the Atari's show, so I was basically talking myself into getting out of bed. A lot of mornings look like that for me. Only my hair usually hasn't decided to stick up in seventeen different directions. Most mornings, it limits itself to six.

So what have I been doing, besides procrastinating?

Cleaning. And getting ready to cave into the fact that I want to bake.

I spent all of Saturday cleaning my house, and nearly vacuumed our dog by the end of the day. To say that she sheds would be an understatement; it's more like she's trying to go bald, and failing miserably. There was fur in piles around the game cube, in shoes, in the spider webs I sucked out of the corners. Whenever Dreamer gets excited, she sheds, which is perhaps the most aggravating thing in the world. The shedding just never, ever ends. If she wouldn't hide under my mom's bed for several days afterward, I really would vacuum her.

The upside to all the cleaning (it really wasn't that fun; if I ever meet anyone who can say cleaning is fun, I will assume that I just met Martha Stewart. And I will walk away) was that I got to fill up the CD player and actually got to listen to some albums I either hadn't gotten to yet, or hadn't really just listened to in a while. Nellie McKay's new album kicks ass; anyone that can sing a song about feminists and another song about zombies and have you singing along to both is pretty much a genius.

So, I'm gonna talk about the aforementioned baking, and then I've got notes to type up, textbooks to read, and other fun bits and pieces to do that fill my day and leave me wondering if giving up coffee was really such a brilliant idea.

I haven't baked anything in a month. I used to bake at least once a week, and, after a month of not baking, I think I'm finally going through withdrawal. I look at bags of cocoa and wonder how many cupcakes I would get out of it. I pick up jars of instant espresso powder and put them back several times during shopping trips. There is no substitute for baking- not learning, not knitting, not the Internet. I want to bake.

I used to bake for this one guy, but he moved up north a few months back, and as good as I am at baking, I don't think my stuff can survive the mail. I also used to bake for Donkey, but my mom's taken that over for the time being- I make banana nut muffins. She makes pumpkin muffins. Pumpkin muffins trump banana nut muffins. I would complain, but when I can eat three in a row without blinking, I probably shouldn't. Technically speaking, I've had no reason to bake for the past month. But when you really love something, you like to do it even when you have no reason. Besides, nothing can brighten one's day like giving someone a still warm pudding cake and seeing their reaction.

I also have been, in a way, avoid baking lately, because I think once I start again, I won't stop. My parents would come home to find me surrounded by cupcakes, muffins, cookies, and several different types of frosting. You can only give away so much before your friends can't eat anymore, and my family is kind of iffy when it comes to some of my more experimental cupcakes (green tea cupcakes ended up going to the dog (they tasted odd to me too); chum (chai and rum) cupcakes had to be encouraged. Heavily. Alcohol bakes off when you cook. They didn't really believe me.).

Even though I want to bake so much that I'm not sure if I'll be able to stop, I'm going to. Because I need something that is not processed and filled with high fructose corn syrup, that I know will taste good. In addition to the needing something I know is healthy, or that I can at least pretend is healthy (vegan cupcakes are healthy... right?), I promised a couple of people from around town some baked goods. Besides, the looks I get when I walk around town with boxes full of goodies are almost as good as the ones I get when I wear my peep hats. (Which I can't describe, other than they're colorful and poofy and have nearly caused people to walk into street lights because they're too busy staring at my head.)

So when I post again and it's a bunch of pictures of cupcakes and banana nut bread and latkes(I've been craving them like mad for some reason)? Try not to drool all over your keyboard.

A Series of Firsts

2007-09-28T23:22:00.000-04:00

That's what this past week(week 4, for those of them that are keeping track) was: a series of firsts.

Some of them were major, while others were more minor, but they were still firsts and that makes them important, right?

Yesterday, I went to my first concert since June. It was the Atari's, at the Union, and it was awesome. The first two acts were kinda 'eh,' but the Atari's delivered a solid show. I had fun and also wanted to hit people. Hard. In the face.

Which is always a lovely combination.

It was only because I was in the mosh pit. Which I didn't know was going to be that. Or even if you would call it a mosh pit. I should've known it was going to be a mosh pit when people were yelling at the band both in front and behind me. But no. I just knew that I was close to the stage and within minutes of their performance starting, I was getting stepped on, knocked around, smashed, smushed, struggling to not fall over, struggling to keep people standing up, and, at one lovely point, nearly getting my glasses knocked off when I failed to grab a crowd surfer's legs and got a foot to the face instead.

Just writing that makes my lip curl a little at the thought of someone's foot on my face. Not even a foot! A shoe that contained a foot! A shoe that had stepped in who-knows-what and IT! TOUCHED! MY! FACE!

Anyway. The show was awesome. I can't decide if it was the excited crowd(annoyed as I was at certain points) or the band, but, either way, I left sweaty, exhausted, and grinning, just a little.

The second big first was: I took my first 'real' test. It was for my history class and thinking about it, honestly, makes me nauseated. I want to believe that I did really, really well. But the rest of me is thinking 'I'll be happy if I get a 'B.' Please, please, PLEASE let me get a 'B.' It was, in most ways, my fault for not starting to study sooner. You remember that balance I've been talking about? I'm beginning to think it is the stuff made of fairy tales and spun sugar. It doesn't exist, and when it does, it falls apart very, very easily. BUT! Now I know how to better study for the next test. Which means I can improve. And, hopefully, figure out this college thing. I just need to stop being a Pretend-A-Freshman and start being me.

The final big first was, arguably, not that big at all. Of course, when you weigh a little over 7 pounds, you aren't that big.

The couple I baby sit for have a new baby girl, a beautiful, lovely little thing that I got to hold and see for the first time this week (she is 2 weeks old this Sunday). I am so happy for them. I like babies, so the only thing that makes me nervous with the New Baby(who will get a nickname soon, just as the Dude is the Dude) is that I have not really dealt with a kid under a year old since my youngest brother was born. And that was 8 and a half years ago.

But I got to hold her for the first time. And she grabbed my finger with her little fist and held it so tight and, just like her older brother and my own brother, she totally owns me now.

I looked at her and thought exactly what I had said when I called her parents to congratulate them: 'Welcome to the family.'

It was an exciting, hectic, first oriented week. And I would not trade it for any normal boring week in the world.

Worn Down

2007-09-24T23:34:00.001-04:00

This whole commuter student thing is wearing really, really thin.

This isn't just the exhaustion talking. No, wait, it is the exhaustion talking. Combined with the exhausted limbs that are going to figure out a way to exert revenge for me carrying around a 30 pound(I'm guessing here) backpack-that one of my friend's described as 'bigger than my backpack-and that's saying something'- and the constant 'GO GO GO!' mode I have to be in... I'm just dead.

We only have one car, and my dad has been dropping me off lately. This means that I'm out of the house by 9 am. If I'm lucky. If I'm not lucky, it's more like 8:30. I did not cherish sleep enough when I had it, and now it is gone. I have two hours to kill before my first class, and I spend it at Donkey, sometimes working on some reading for a class, sometimes not. Mostly not. It's not that I'm un-motivated, and it's not really procrastinating. I'm just really, really tired, and spend those hours convincing myself that the sun is not the evil devil spawn come to torture me with its rays of potentially cancerous shininess. It's just the sun.

Gee, I'm really tired right now, too. Can you tell?

Commuting basically is code for nomad. My backpack is gigantic because I have to fit food into it as well as all of the books I need for the day. There is no going home if I realize I left my history book behind, or my jeans are too warm now. I've actually spent the last two days at the place where I work, BEFORE I have to clock in, not because I'm early by mistake, but because it's a nice and quiet space to study. I've resorted to hanging out at my job, because the drinks are free and I know the people there. I need a dorm, or a car, a place to toss my things, and have a change of clothes and maybe some food. Perhaps a hollowed out tree trunk with a changing room attachment. Because those are totally easy to find.

I want to say that I miss normal, because this is not what normal used to be. Normal used to be that I'd spend the day at the library doing school, instead of bopping there for an hour between classes. Normal used to be sleeping in 'til noon because I didn't have anywhere to be and was only slightly behind in my school work. Normal used to be a great deal of wonderful things. But this is the new version of normal. Normal 2.0. Normal with a schedule and deadlines that can't be bent and times to wake up that aren't very bendy, either. I miss the normal I used to have, but I like parts of the new normal. That is what I am going to keep telling myself, anyway.

24 Hour Fast

2007-09-19T15:36:00.000-04:00

My latest assignment from my Intro class is a 24 Hour Fast from all mass media(books, internet, music, newspaper, TV, movies, etc), which I am then supposed to write about in my next response essay, describing how I felt throughout.

This sounds incredibly daunting.

24 hours where the sound that wakes me is a buzzer, or my mom, instead of the CD of my choice. 24 hours without my headphones, instant messenger, comics, television, or weather channel. 24 hours where the only reasons why I would be online or reading is for school. 24 hours where, if I want to talk to someone, I will have to pick up a phone and actually talk, as opposed to signing onto AIM. And I really, really hate talking on the phone.

I wonder if my prof knows that this assignment coincides with Yom Kippur? So not only do I have to go 24 hours without food or drink this weekend, but I have to pick a day where I have to avoid all the things that I do to avoid school? (The assignment isn't due until Wednesday, so I don't have to go without media and food at the same time, but it amuses me that, while some students are going without food for 24 hours on campus, others are going without any form of mass media for 24 hours.)

In some ways, I have thought about doing something similar in the past-avoiding television and other distractions for a day- but never to find out my reaction to being deprived of my entertainment, and I would never, ever include music in the group of things to avoid for the day. Usually, I would do something like that so I could get schoolwork done, and even then, I wouldn't pursue it so seriously. Music is such a serious, complete part of my life that the deprivation from that alone will endlessly aggravate me.

My brothers, however, will love knowing that I get absolutely no say in what is on the TV at any point for a day. They will revel in this, because they are brothers and I am the older sister, and if there is one thing they love, it is driving me up a wall.

It should be an interesting weekend.

Week Two

2007-09-14T23:12:00.000-04:00

So, I survived another week, though it felt less like survival and more like hitting my stride. I feel like I spent part of this week finding my place, and the rest of it trying to catch up on my reading!

Monday, I went to a meeting for Speakeasy, which is an online 'zine of sorts, an alternative, or compliment to, depending on how you look at it, to the student paper. I was dead exhausted(I had gone from class to work to the meeting, and simultaneously felt productive and like I was going to die at any moment), but still managed to get into it. 'It' being the meeting, which was two separate ones, one being the all-staff meeting, the other being for the newbies, like me.

During the first half, we covered interviewing techniques(which was being taught by my intro prof. It was odd to see him outside of class), and, if you were sitting to the one side of the room, got to see the various editors' hands as they were pointed out. During the second half, we got to learn about the various parts of speakeasy(I'm interested in blogging and copy editing, but am afraid that my grammar skills just aren't up to par yet), what their policies are, etc. While I felt a little awkward, seeing as I am not a journalism major and the people I sat next to were, it was the first time since I started classes that I felt like maybe I can fit in here, as a student as opposed to a townie.

Monday also brought with it an ugly fit of allergies and a sinus headache at the end of the night, that left me on the couch, in tears, panicking and worrying that I was getting a cold when I could not(and cannot) afford to have one. It came at the worst possible time, when I was trying to not freak out about my classes and the amount of work I had to do over the next few days. But I got through it, and by the end of the week(translation: today), Monday evening seemed like a distant memory of someone who occasionally worries to much.

The biggest highlight of the week for me was raising my hand and answering a question(correctly!) in my 300 person Intro class. My prof asked some variation of 'what was the most watched show on cable this summer?' and I was just like, BAM, hand up! 'High School Musical!' (It's High School Musical 2, but I was excited and nervous, so I can be/was forgiven for the drop of a number) I have a tendency to pay attention to entertainment news, so the fact was old news to me.

This week also saw me doing my first real discussion group(my lone Friday class, at 9 in the morning. It sounded so much later in the day when I signed up). I really enjoyed that, if only because it actually gives me someone to talk about the text of the book with. Where I don't live in the dorms, and have yet to say 'Hi! I'm Aisha!' to any of my classmates, and where I also tend to be really enthusiastic about learning anything new, the discussion group let me, you know, discuss the text. I may be one of the few people in the class that actually enjoys reading the textbook, and I'm afraid this means I am doomed to be one of those people that actually enjoys studying(when they are actually caught up on it all).

To wrap things up: where this week brought my stride, and last week was all about survival, I'm hoping next week finds me finding a balance between my high school classes and my university classes, and everything else. I'm also hoping next week finds me not being so intimidated by my classmates(or them not being intimidated by me, whichever is the case). I won't bite if they won't!

A Full Head of Hair

2007-09-12T13:05:00.000-04:00

Last July, I shaved my head. To be accurate, one of my friends shaved my head, but it was still a major act, no matter whose hands the clippers were in.

It was something I had wanted to do since I was twelve, for no reason other than to see what it looked like. I asked about severely short hair cuts and buzz cuts when I went to the hairdresser, not every time, just occasionally, not sure if I could go through with it; I just wanted opinions. Every single hairdresser I went to basically refused to shave my head.

So I got used to having hair, even if I kept it in a ponytail or messy, constantly falling apart bun all the time. It gave me something to fidget with, so that my hands had something to do when I was nervous, or distracted, or just needed a familiar motion.

Then, last July, I went camping and got lice. To make a long story short, I spent a week obsessively combing through my hair and chemically destroying the buggers, only to realize there was no way I could stand to have my hair on my back or my neck or anywhere on my head, at all, anymore. Every time a strand of hair shifted, I thought it was a bug. It hadn't helped that every time I finished an hour of obsessive combing, I'd see one crawling across my temple.

With my sanity on a thin edge(I am a jumpy person by nature, but I was bordering on developing a twitch after the ten day period you have to wait between one chemical wash and the next), I took up a friend's offer to shave my head for me. When it grew out a little, and I knew that I liked it, I asked him to shave it again. I wasn't ready to have hair again, because of the anxiety I'd dealt with during the lice invasion, and taking care of hair that is half an inch long is a lot easier than dealing with hair that is down to your collarbones.

I shaved my head for almost a year, though at one point it was a mohawk that either stood on its own, or did not, because I was not going to bother with gel. And then the friend with the clippers moved(though at this point, I had shaved my head on my own. I'm just too lazy to buy a set of clippers). So I've not shaved my head since May. I actually took a measuring stick to my hair, and it is three inches long. I actually have hair to play with! I can clip my hair back, not much, but enough that my hair clips stay in my hair. I can twist it between my fingers, a terrible habit I've had since I was little, one that was so bad that my parents once had to cut my fingers out of my hair. I feel like a girly-girl again, something I've never really aspired to be. Having hair is a lot more defining than I imagined it was when I actually had it. And now that I have it, I am constantly trying to answer the question, 'are you going to shave it again?'

I loved shaving my head, loved the freedom and my hats sticking to my head because buzzed hair works like velcro and random head massages from friends because they liked my 'peach fuzz', but for now? For now, I have hair.

One Down, Nine to Go

2007-09-08T11:19:00.000-04:00

So, I survived my first week. Granted, it was easier than your average freshman's, what with two of my classes being online and the fact that I still have home baked foods to eat throughout the day(my mom's cinnamon bread was a life-saver at least twice), but it was harder than I thought it would be.

My history class is what has thrown me, to be honest. The professor launched into a lecture the first day of class(when most professors just read their syllabus and tell you that you can leave, or so I'd been told), and I'm not sure if I'm taking notes on the right things, which really freaks me out. I've been home schooled my entire life, so I don't know what you're supposed to take away from a class where the professor talks about what you are learning, expanding on what is in the reading. I'm used to doing the reading and then finding out anything extra, anything that expands on what is in the text, on my own. I'm not used to someone telling me the extra bits, and then expecting me to remember it for a test. It doesn't help that the text is written in the smallest type imaginable, meaning that 29 pages of reading feels more like 40. It's all fascinating-I love history, so even though it is a textbook and I am supposed to find it boring, I really don't. I just feel like my eyes are going to fall out of my head after a while from reading such small print.

My other class with the university has gone a lot smoother. I've only had one class, and it was actually just the syllabus reading, which was great, considering I walked into the lecture hall prepared to have to stay the full two hours. It was a relief to walk out after only 40 minutes, with only a basic assignment. It's Intro to Mass Communication, and I'm not sure what I am expecting from this class, other then to never, ever look at a newspaper the same way again. Considering I have been suspiciously eying commercials and newspapers for the past six months, wondering what research went into that ad for kids cereal, or what made them choose to use that particular phrase to describe a pop-tartlet's performance, I figure this class will only make me worse when it comes to mass media and my general snarky attitude towards it all.

Intro will probably end up being my favorite class, just because it feels a lot more straight forward than my history class. The only thing that makes me not sure about the class is that the professor is really nice and approachable, and I'm a tad suspicious of nice, approachable people on a college campus. They are not supposed to exist. At least, not when they are the people teaching you.

Listening In

2007-09-05T15:02:00.000-04:00

So, I'm taking university classes and I'm liking what I've been learning so far. My brain, it is getting filled with information of the type that will annoy all of my friends. A lot. But, my classmates, they have conversations that cause me to giggle. Quietly, because if I can hear them, then they can hear me. Right?

"I don't have any appropriate pictures of me! All of my recent pictures are of me drinking! Or passed out!"-guy behind me after we are handed personal information sheets for class, with a square for pictures of ourselves.

I've got nine more weeks worth of conversations to overhear. Ah, college.

13 Week

2007-09-01T23:45:00.000-04:00

13 weeks from today, I will be eighteen(that is, if I manage to bang this out before midnight).

I don't know why I am so excited about this, other than it is the typical big birthday, one where I can buy cigarettes, rent porn(or simply peek in the back rooms at video rentals), enlist in the army, and buy lottery tickets. None of that really appeals to me. I have breathing problems(seasonal bronchitis, or, as I call it, 'that awful feeling where I cannot breathe but can cough violently for your viewing pleasure, you sadistic bastards.'), so smoking isn't something I can really do, though I handle being around smokers fairly well. Porn doesn't interest me(other than to see what everyone is talking about). Enlisting in the army isn't something I am likely to do, because I don't think I would much enjoy getting sent to war, whatever the reasons. And buying lottery tickets? I'd rather spend my money on things like these flats.

I guess the main reason I'm looking forward to being eighteen is that it will mean that I am an adult. Though I'm not sure how 'adult' me will differ from 'kid' me. I don't plan on hitting up clubs and forgetting my underwear, or getting arrested with a DUI and cocaine in my pocket. I don't really have a concept of who I am after I turn eighteen, because, honestly, I don't think there will be much difference. I will still make mistakes, still worry over stupid little things, probably still not know where I really want to go for college, and still have moments of brilliance and moments of massive idiocy, because that is who I am, and I tend to change rather gradually. I'm not going to use my birthday as an excuse to get piercings or run out and get married or enlist in the army or anything major like that.(Yes, piercings are on the same level as the other two. I rarely wear earrings, so a nose or lip ring would be like deciding I want to be a nun.)

I guess the point is that I am looking forward to my eighteenth birthday, because it is my eighteenth birthday(and I have been taught by society to look forward to it).

scribbling

2007-08-29T22:53:00.000-04:00

I don't know when, but I stopped being afraid
No longer afraid of the air
Full of poison and drowning me in everything;
I'm just living, existing, a blur of forgotten steps,
Except by you, or so I hope

I am hopeless
Missing you when what I miss
Is what we have now
I would break all the rules and laws
To convey my words without a sound
I would do anything and everything
To tell you
So I might let go and go on with my life
I will break everything
To live and learn and realize

I'm not afraid
I'm not afraid
I'm not afraid of anything
Except the thought of losing you
Maybe perfection is just
A series of flaws stitched together
To make up me and you
I will forgive you
If you will forgive me

Darkness comes before the sun goes down
Your absence is like losing all my senses
I could just breathe to know
You've left
And I'm not afraid
Because I'm putting all my trust
In a promise
Of return
And in return I only swear the truth
To be exhilarated by
Your smile, your touch, your kiss, your laugh
To be honest
If only to sell you on the truth

Whenever you leave
I am merely counting the days
Until you come back
I am not afraid of anything,
With your hand in mine,
I am not afraid of anything

~I have a tendency to write random little things that grow into big things that growl at me from between notebook pages until I share. I have a stack of these things.

Flowers for Sunday

2007-08-26T22:01:00.000-04:00

I worked a wedding reception last night, and one of the bridal party members left behind their bouquet(which is spelled with two U's, apparently). It's a very pretty arrangement, though you can tell the flowers weren't meant to last long-they were wilting by the time I got them home. BUT! I cut off the bottom of the stems, at an angle(I think Martha Stewart tells you to do that?), and put 'em in water, and they've perked up a little. Which is awesome, because it's really nice to walk into the kitchen and see a bunch of roses perched on the kitchen table.

they gained a few cool points

2007-08-20T19:28:00.000-04:00

I'm back on facebook. I am happy and am probably being obnoxiously annoying at this point, but I don't care. It only took three months, and a ridiculous amount of text to get here.

Now, to poke, post on walls, and change my status so much that the computer makes an angry whirring noise and curses me out in four different languages at the same time.

Hey, stranger things have happened.

seeing myself

2007-08-19T18:53:00.000-04:00

"Ow.. ouch, ow... hot, ow ow ow."

"Izzy, what are you doing?"

"Trying to pick off the onions."

"Oh. Why don't you use a fork?"

I would say something about how this should've been obvious, I mean, the kid is pretty smart and all, getting a fork out to pick onions off of pizza shouldn't be that hard of an idea to form, right?

But I'm the girl who will bite something, yell some variation of the above, and then take another bite.

All the people who tell me I am a smart girl, or think I am and imply so in conversation with me, really should spend 24 hours with me.

Facebook used to be cool

2007-08-17T22:24:00.000-04:00

Back in May, I was kicked off Facebook. I talked about it, I bitched about it, and I e-mailed the hell out of their customer service representatives, first dealing with a lovely guy that blew me off with the casualness of someone who could not care less, because he didn't care at all. Then I e-mailed through another e-mail I found on the site. That time, I got a very pleasant, helpful worker who answered all of my questions, and finally was able to reassure me that, once I had my university account, they could reactivate my account. With that knowledge, I settled back to wait out the long, dull summer, made duller by the lack of walls, events, and the stalker feed.

On Tuesday, I got my shiny, lovely e-mail and sent off an e-mail to facebook. Like a kid knowing they were going to get the present they'd been asking for all year for Christmas, I was content, ready for the 'okay, just e-mail us from the new address and you'll be back online!' reply that would surely come. After all, I had my e-mail, which was all I needed. I had no reason to worry.

I really should just be a pessimist. It would be better for me, and the world in general. Well, I might not have my sparkling on the spot wit, but my cynicism would be the best on the block.

Instead, I got asked to e-mail the customer service rep all of the e-mails that had been exchanged up until this point, from my new e-mail. I'd kind of expected that, and happily obliged, though a cold pit of worry was worming it's way into my stomach. This wasn't helped by the slow response to my initial e-mail, as if they could care less if I was on there or not. Which, really, do they? All I represent to them is another single digit that will bring them a few cents, perhaps even a whole dollar, of revenue from ads.

Finally, today, around five(which would be two California time), I got a reply, telling me I couldn't re-join because they don't recognize 'that school'. Uh, yeah, duh, that's why I e-mailed once I got my school e-mail. Unless they don't recognize OU as a school and plan to kick off every member of the university's network, I'm allowed to be on facebook now. I told the rep this.

The more I interact with the facebook customer service reps, the more I am disappointed by the people. Fine, I get that you want to hang out with your co-workers and talk about that party so-and-so had last night, but could you pay attention to my problem? Please? Considering all you have to do is go 'oh, you have a valid .edu account, I just clicked the re-activate button, have a nice life'?

Apparently this is too much effort for such a well used and populated site.

Most people get kicked off facebook for a few hours, and only because the site itself is down. Me? I've been off for three months, all because I'm home-schooled, and when I can finally re-join, I get told to contact them on my eighteenth birthday, as if that is the ultimate gift. Never mind that I have a valid .edu account, which they say on their site is all you need to join a university network.

I am so angry over this. I feel like I am being told I did something wrong, when I did nothing, and when I finally have the ability to correct the problem, I get told that nothing has changed, leave us alone, and, by the way, don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.

One year, give or take a few hours

2007-08-17T15:06:00.001-04:00

It's been one year to the day since I got my learner's permit, and so today, I got my license.

I took the test last week, but killed a cone, which is considered a 'dangerous action' and an immediate failure of the maneuverability part of the test. For some reason, I was convinced that I had to take the written exam again, to get my license, so I spent most of last night and part of this morning reviewing. Which is good, it'll help keep me a good driver, those hours of obsessive reviewing. But it's aggravating to know that when I was baby-sitting last night, I could've been reading Color of Magic rather then the Digest of Ohio Motor Vehicle Laws (or something like that). Also, did you know that you only have to do one side to pass the maneuverability portion? 'Cause I didn't. But I did it and I have the awful photo ID to prove it (my OU student ID is better, and I didn't think I would be saying that). It took a ridiculous amount of hours with homemade cones this past week, but I'm licensed, and as soon as I have a car, people will be getting visited. Once I figure out how to read a map.

2007-08-16T18:14:00.000-04:00

twitter.com/fusionofme

I love my twitter. It lets me keep the world updated, 140 characters at a time.

this feels familiar

2007-08-16T01:08:00.000-04:00

This is probably the third or fourth time I've started a blog on here. This one might stick. Mostly because I have too much time on my hands, and it's this or perfecting my ability to say 'I like cereal' like Cheese.