When told "because that's the way God made them" after asking why male fruit flies don't undergo crossing-over during meiosis, it is probably not a good idea to respond "Yes, but why did He make them that way?"
I've had several people express curiosity about exactly what medication I'm now on, so here you go:
Tegretol.
I went to the psychiatrist this morning to discuss medication and a formal diagnosis. Formally, I have been diagnosed with bipolar I disorder, which is the most severe of the types of manic depression. This means that I alternate from euphoric manic extremes to near-suicidal depression when left unchecked. Many people also become psychotic with time (hi mom). Luckily, I have yet to have a psychotic episode, though it's possible that won't manifest until I am older. But, since I'd rather not ever have delusions of being Jesus, I'm going on medication now.
This is where the real warning comes in. The available medicines work differently for everyone, which means that the next few weeks could be very hard for me as I experiment with drugs to determine what is the most effective and least obnoxious of my available options. I am being started out on an anticonvulsant that works great for some people, but has rather serious side effects for others. These include a bad rash, liver damage, and decreased blood and plasma counts. So, I'll be needing periodic blood tests for a while to ensure I'm not affected. Some people also lose cognitive ability to a rather upsetting degree.
Basically I am warning everyone that if I seem weird for the next few weeks, there is likely a good reason. Adjusting to meds is never easy, and I may have to go through it several times before we find one that does less harm than good. I'm slightly manic right now, so there's a chance that starting on the meds will send me into a strong depressive swing before I begin to stabilize. Thus, I am writing this before I take my first dose, because if I do become depressed I'll be far less likely to tell people what's going on.
I'm not trying to scare you guys. There's a good chance that this will be an easy thing. But I also may need help figuring out whether or not I'm acting abnormally, and I'm worried that the meds will make that more difficult for me because it might change my "normal" swing pattern.
I may also end up having an identity crisis. What is "normal" Wren like? I know I won't change fundamentally, but it's hard to say what effect removing my mania will have on things like my work ethic and some of my more random tendencies.
In short, long month ahead. Please be gentle and understanding while I get my brain figured out.
<3
There were 24 people at Heroes last night. That does not include the people who actually live in our house.
It has already been established that I have a tendency to derail any group conversation, but I don't think anyone knows how bad it would be if I didn't think before I spoke. Consider the following, and remember that "Pegasus" was my ultra-exclusive four-year college prep English class.
The Scenario in My Head
Prof: "Think about your best or worst teacher and tell me about him or her."
Me: "My best was Ms. Brewster, my Pegasus teacher."
Prof: O.o "Pegasus?"
Me: ^_^ "Yeah, winged horse husbandry?"
Class: o.o *crickets*
What I Actually Said
Prof: "Think about your best or worst teacher and tell me about him or her."
Me: "My best teacher was Ms. Brewster, my English teacher."
Prof: "And yet you are a Biology Major.."
Now if I could just catch myself in time for all the weird things I say.
My Animal Behavior textbook is insane. Not surprising, considering most animal behaviorists are insane. Think about it: if you spent most of your life researching behaviors that ultimately exist for and are triggered in an attempt to have sex/ prevent others from having sex/ become more desireable for sex / etc, how long would you stay socially acceptable? Still, I'm not sure that excuses him from writing in the first person and inserting pictures of bees attempting to fuck his thumb. Or this, for that matter:
"It is not just insects whose nervous systems employ rules of thumb as simple as "attempt to insert penis into yellow or orange objects."
When I find out which one of you was using my TV over break, be prepared to kiss your testicles goodbye in a rather sickeningly literal fashion.
Ironically, had you not left generic root beer cans all over my coffee table, I'd have no idea you had done it at all...
No love,
The Irate and Possessive Wren who will keep asking until someone fesses up
In our defense, there was a two-day span for these. I was pressured into putting the second one up here by Sarah.
Diego: "So what are you putting an application in for?"
Daryl: "The Old Spaghetti Factory."
Me: "He dreams big."
Daryl: "...whaaat?"
Me: "Daryl. You're going to be a stereotypical gay waiter. "
Daryl: "No I'm not!"
Me: "So you're not going to be a waiter?"
Daryl: "....yes..."
Me: "Oh, so working there will magically make you straight? You might want to warn your boyfriend-- 'Sorry man, but their spaghetti really makes me crave pussy."
Room: *horrified laughter*
Matt: *singing song about being Mr. Saran Wrap to the Chicago soundtrack.*
Me: *snort* '''Let me store your leftovers'! It's a new euphemism for sex!"
Table: *iz ded*
Matt and Brandon: "Hey, it's not really 'leftovers'. We're still alive!"
Me: "Who says it's referring to your junk?"
Table: *lightbulbs*
Areta: "Oh God, this conversation is snowballing."
Table: "..." *iz ded some more*
Well, not really. We had classes, of course, because we always have classes. And there's been snow on the ground since...the seventh or so. But there was fresh snowfall last night, so we decided to grab a few pics today. Photography credit goes to Sarah.
This is Areta, our fifth member for this semester while Madeline is abroad. She's from Caifornia, so is naturally fascinated by snow.
I happen to hate snow, but it's fun in small amounts. Such as this one. =D
I've stood out on campus more than usual today because everything is so white. Or my hair could just be that purple...
You know it's going to be one of those days when you can't find the most conspicuous shoes you own. I mean really. How can I keep missing a pair of red patent leather knee-high combat boots?
1)Worst patient to give a check-up to:
Sarah: "How old is the rat? Two?"
Me: "Yeah, so he'll probably live through our senior year, but that's it. Oh, we might want to take him in for a checkup, because a lot of rats get cancer when they're older."
Sarah: "Yeah, I was reading up on that. They can get respiratory problems too, which is why I was so worried when he was sneezing over break. I was listening to him breathe, but he kept licking my ear and trying to get in my cleavage, so I stopped. He seemed fine."
Me: *laughs* "Why hello, nurse!" *wags tongue vigorously* "Bom-chikka-wow-wow!"
Sarah: "WREN!"
Me: "What! If he were human, that would totally be a porno, but since he's a rat it's okay!"
Sarah: "I hate you! Now I'm afraid to go to the doctor!"
Me: "Sarah, I highly doubt you're going to swan dive into someone's cleavage."
Sarah: "Swan...dive..." *flail* "Is that it?"
Me: "Sure, I can't see you though, but it sounds great."
Sarah: "Good, because I was trying to do this frog thing, and then I thought that was wrong..."
2)Though since we live in Comic House, the confusion may be understandable:
Me: "Hush."
Sarah: "Hush?"
Me: "Yes, hush."
Sarah: "...Hush..."
Me: "Yes, hush, the word that means 'be quiet!'"
Sarah: "Hush?"
Me: ... XD
Okay, so I've reached a new low at work tonight by discovering something worse than seeing naked professors all the time-- dealing with incidents occuring AT YOUR OWN HOME.
The sad thing is, I can see this exact thing happening in one of my courses here.
Professor to group of girls covered in whitish goo: What happened to you?
Girl #1: Egg sac war.
Girl #2 and Girl #3: Yeah.
Professor: ... Ugh.
Guy: I love this class.
--Fort DeSoto Beach, Florida
Overheard by: There's nothing like lab in the field
I woke up yesterday morning, thought "damn it's cold!", and then looked out the window to see a light dusting of snow all over everything. That evening, Daryl walked into the house absolutely covered in snow, and I looked out the window again to find three inches and then some. Moral of this story? I really need to pay a lot more attention and spend less time cleaning. <<; Also, Daryl is awesome and got me a present:
I had to spend some time getting FTP set back up on my big computer to get that image uploaded. Though I've been spending a lot of time on bigcomputer in any case in a desperate attempt to get it working for games again. I opened her up to see if I could get any more dust out of the fans, grabbed a pair of tweezers, and ended up removing a chunk of lint, Sarahhair, and my underwear 1x1 inches in size from the bottom fan. Needless to say, not only is my computer running a lot cooler, but the fans are much, much happier.
Now if I could just get the shift key back on...
Feel free to stop being sick at any point now. I am on vacation and there is much fun to be had. Unfortunately, you refusing to accept that food is a good thing is kind of throwing a damper on the whole squee aspect of my week.
No love,
The girl who really wants to make fried rice but can't because you suck!
College cooking-- you know there's enough food in the kitchen to make a meal if you could figure out the least weird way to combine it.
so you dont want to hear about my good song?
and you dont want to hear about how i am getting on
with all the things that i can get done
the sun is in the sky & i am by my lonesome
so you don't want to hear about my good day?
you have better things to do than to hear me say
god its been a lovely day! everything is going my way
i took out the trash today and i'm on fire...
so you don't want to hear about my good friends?
you dont have the guts to take the truth or consequence
success is in the eye of the beholder
and its looking even better over your cold shoulder
i'm not suggesting you up and line me up for questioning
but jesus think about the bridges you are burning
and i'm betting
that even though you knew it from the start
you'd rather be a bitch than be an ordinary broken heart
so go ahead and talk about your bad day...
i want all the details of the pain and misery
that you are inflicting on the others
i consider them my sisters and i'd like their numbers
god its been a lovely day! everything is going my way
i took up croquet today and i'm on fire
i picked up the pieces of my broken ego
i have finally made my peace as far as you and me go
but i'd love to have you up to see the place
& i'd like to do more than survive i'd like to rub it in your face.....
hey! its been a lovely day! everything is going my way
i had so much fun today and i'm on fire
god it's been a lovely day everything's been going my way
ever since you went away hey i'm on fire.....
i'm on fire...
i'm on fire...
so you dont want to hear about my good day?
I was backdating my blog and realized I never posted the movie we made with us and S.T. Strange when he was a tiny.
We need to make one now that he is fat, lazy, and grownup.
::EDIT::
Now with 100% more link to the video in question...
It would have made Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man easier to live through.
So, I e-mailed my boss two weeks ago and asked if he wanted me to work. Here's the response I got:
Wren, at this time we have our schedule complete up until the beginning of the spring semester. As far as moving back in your house early you would have to take that up with [ladyboss]. She turned in a list of names of who was returning early to work at Security to Student Development for early move in. It may be too late for you to move back early.So I do e-mail Ladyboss, and she says she can get me into the house on the fifth even though I'm not working. So I call in today to get them to unplug my doors, and the boss I e-mailed above shows up to let me in. Guess what he asks?
I cannot believe that I just spent twenty hours in a car. I mean, I know I did, but the fact that I am less sore than I was after the plane flight and both of us are still alive is still a rather shocking feat. I'm still miffed that Diego did not let me drive, but he swears up and down that I was still useful. (I think he's just happy I let him listen to techno the entire way.)
It definitely didn't feel like we were on the road for as long as we were, and I think a lot of it had to do with us being willing to break. We stopped and had a long lunch, stopped periodically to get drinks, and then went to an actual restaurant for dinner (the halfway mark).
I'm not too impressed with Oregon. It was supposed to be this sort of promised land after we finally got out of Cali, and it really wasn't. It was dark, so we really couldn't see anything. Though that also could have been because the entirety of the state was a MASS OF RAIN AND FOG. I don't actually believe that Portland exists, either. It's all a big lie.
As plane flights go, this one has actually been rather pleasant. I got to watch a movie, I finished Dune, and as yet no one has attempted to steal my PS3. I’m still dead tired and the plane air is causing my skin to rebel in dehydrated rage, but we’re twenty minutes from
Well, not really. The worst is probably yet to come. I really hate the LAX, and I’m even more terrified of
::EDIT FROM COUCH::
What I went through to get my luggage cannot really be described as a “throng” of people, or even a herd. Those words suggest both sentience and motion. Instead, I got to wade through a clot of stationary meatbeasts to wait at the world’s least helpful baggage claim. An hour later, we flee for the car.
Speaking as someone who just spent four hours on a plane, I think I can safely say that I LOVE CARS.
I am going to be so exhausted today. Here is why:
1) Wake up. Clean room, get self presentable to go get lunch with aunt.
2) Eat lunch. Go by Circuit City and grab cables Unc needs for the PS3 so I can take my pretty ones home.
3) Come home $100 poorer, plug in cables, turn on PS3.
4) Note that nothing is showing up on screen. WTF. =_=;
5) End up on floor for the next hour, surrounded by cables, remotes, and manuals, frantically typing to Tim on the computer trying to brainstorm how to get this damn thing working.
6) Tim gives up. By all rights, it should be working.
7) I solve problem by tricking PS3. Yay pretty pictures! A happy dance ensues.
8) ....Why is there no sound?
9) Scrounge through closet and find old a/v cables for PS2.
10) Yay, sound! Wait, you want your money back, Unc? I need food money for road trip. YAY! =D
11) Ohgodit'sfouro'clockIneedtopack!
12) There is no way I am getting all of this home with me...
13) lie gasping on floor Finish packing, give Unc pack of clothes to ship, and continue cleaning room.
I barely slept last night and I think all the planning is making me manic. I am going to be such a wreck when I land in Cali. >.<; Just think- After I make it through security with my laptop, PS3, trenchcoat, and knee-high boots I can have a nice relaxing flight and watch movies until my brain melts out my ears.
This is what the playlist I listen to when I write my erotica stories consists of:
1) Is This Real?- Lisa Hall
2) Tales of Brave Ulysses- Cream
3) Blood, Milk, and Sky- White Zombie
4) Night Ride Across the Caucasus- Loreena McKennitt
5) Lullaby- The Cure
6) Corazon Espinado- Santana (Sorry, Sarah, but it's true. These three, in this order.)
7) Lithium Flower- Scott Mathhew
8) Tusk- Fleetwood Mac
9) They- Jem
10) Goodnight Moon- Shivaree
11) Resident Evil Main Theme- Marilyn Manson
12) Holomovement- Meanwhile Back In Communist Russia
13) Steam Will Rise- Silverchair
14) Rolling- Soul Coughing
15) Aeroplane- Red Hot Chili Peppers
That's my most recent one, at least, and I have a feeling it will undergo some tweaking. I'm not sure about Jem, Shivaree, or Soul Coughing, but I haven't found anything else with the appropriate beat and tone I'm looking for yet.
So there you have it. Also, I think I may have come up with a pen-name. What's your kneejerk reaction to Cassandra Layton? (Edit: That's the last name of the kid I had a crush on in grade school, you bastards. Stop laughing.)
Today:
1) Paint Anna's walls
2) Finish Packing
Tomorrow:
1) Fly to California
Tuesday:
1) Road trip to Tacoma!
Now all I have to do is survive until then.
I think my uncle might be upstairs somewhere with Gabriel and the Spear of Destiny. He just walked in with two people I have never seen, went upstairs without a word, and shut the door. If the chanting starts, I am getting the hell out.
Need to leave anyway. He hasn't had a single conversation with me since the wisdom tooth incident. He has absolutely no interest in what's going on with me and clearly doesn't give a damn that I am here for the first time in 11 months...and leaving in three days. I'm just here when he needs me to do something.
You know you're in the Midwest when you can't find non-instant rice in the grocery store.
Minifam picked me a present out herself this year, and I am shocked to say that it is the most awesome and adorable thing I have seen in a long time.
I don't get my family. Earlier this week the plan was for me to go spend Christmas at Fam's. We were going to open presents, make my famous donuts, and just kinda hang out. Yesterday, no one told me otherwise, so I assumed that plan was still in effect. Today, I wake up at 11:30 and no one is here, and there is no note telling me what is going on. I also have no car, so I have no way to get anywhere. I call Fam, and she says "someone will pick me up eventually." No time frame, nothing.
Thirty minutes later, Unc drops off car, intercepts the USPS guy, and tells me to go over to Fam's once she's done at brunch. I called her about two minutes ago. Brunch is long over, and she's about to take a nap. According to her, I am now supposed to meet up with Unc, who was supposed to call me and tell me this over an hour ago.
So here I am, alone at home, wondering where the FUCK I am supposed to be right now.
I think I'm just going to go back to bed.
::EDIT::
I just now got ahold of Unc. It's 4:24 PM. They've been opening presents for the past hour. I know I can't expect them to wait for me if I'm not there--what bugs me is that he didn't call me when they started. Present opening is one of those social "we do it one at a time so everyone can see what we got" things, so it's not like he didn't know I wasn't there.
I don't want to go, anyway. Fam's not going, Unc has basically ignored me the entire time I've been here, and I'd feel weird around everyone else. Spending Christmas with a bunch of people who aren't related to you by blood and have no idea what you're like is depressing. I would have been okay earlier today. It would have made me depressed, but I would have been able to handle it. But, on top of being shuffled around incessantly today, I can't do it. I don't have the skin necessary to go sit in my little corner and be politely ignored for the evening. Presents are not worth that.
I love you. I'm deeply sorry that it was my uncle who answered the door and not me, because I had thrown together a care package of yummy foods and had every intention of tipping you as much as possible.
As it is, I'm sending spirit vibes that the rest of your day goes well. Meery Christmas, sir!
Love,
The very guilty gamer girl
Buying a starter bondage kit, stupidly leaving the receipt in the car, and blaming it on me when Fam finds it a month later?
Very mature. I really had no idea just how much of a skeezeball you were until I heard about this little incident.
Being woken up, handed a credit card, and ordered to buy two 60GB PS3s online is one of the most surreal things that has happened to me in a while.
Then again, receiving phone confirmation that both of them are in the mail and I'll need to sign for them tomorrow is even more edgifying. The prices were even reasonable.
*whimpers* I need to build a fort.
I survived yesterday. Most of it was spent hugging the toilet and throwing up everything I attempted to swallow, water included, until I was dehydrated, exhausted, sore, and in tears. We called my doctor around three AM and he took me off the antibiotics and the vicodin. Since then I've been on ibuprofen, so my nose has been really bloody, but I feel just fine and have managed to eat things today. Hopefully after another night's sleep my back and neck won't be sore and angry anymore.
I cannot even begin to express how miserable last night was. Being unable to stand because you're dehydrated, and unable to sleep because you're still so sick while you've been off pain meds for hours is enough to make me want to DIE.
I ate french fries and a chocolate shake today, tho. It made me happy.
I am calling the docs tomorrow and getting new pain meds. This is worse than just not taking any.
"You may experience nausea for the first few days as your body adjusts to the medication."
That cannot even BEGIN to describe how my body reacts when I take those damned pills. Damn stuff makes me dry heave AND has given me hiccups twice. On the plus side, one side of my mouth has stopped bleeding.
To anyone who attempts to call me today, I'm sorry, but there are two huge wads of gauze in my mouth to absorb all the blood my gums are giving away so freely. Because of that, I can't talk. I do seem to be coherent enough to text or IM, so if you're dying for some Wrentime, please, track me down. I am dying for some distraction from the pain in my jaw. I've changed the settings on tril to make noise when people IM me, so I should hear if people want to talk to me if I'm not passed out too hard.
I found out something interesting today. Fam is a flawless speaker of Grunt-Charades. I was able to relay things to her like "Where is my iPod and pullover," "I'm dizzy but not sick to my stomach," "We replace the gauze every thirty minutes," and "for the love of God turn out the light before I kill you." I suppose a lot of it has to do with having a relatively young child and needing to be more up on the body language, but this is a level of observational skills I had not yet seen in her.
Okay, wow. Apparently the meds I am on make me dizzy and light sensitive. That does not make me a fan. For some reason, dudeman did not give me Vicoden, which I know for a fact I can function fine under. This stuff is not quite on par, so I have no idea what it will do to me in the long run.
Ugh, time to change my gauze. I have bloody spit drying on my tongue, and I'm getting rather sick of that metallic taste. I may be bleeding until 9PM, they say.
I don't know about you, but to me that sounds like a PARTY.
Unc: "So, are you ready to get your wisdom teeth out?"
Me: "Oh, of course. I am going to LOVE being on Vicoden for two weeks."
Unc: "I don't envy you. I'd gladly never take that stuff again."
Me: "Yeah, it can make some people angry and very irritable, but I just get kind of hazy and loopy. It doesn't really even make me tired."
Unc: "That's good. So what are you going on Vicoden for?"
What the hell possessed you to
a) open my mail,
b) pay my credit card bill,
c) get angry about doing it?
I pay my bills online, dumbass. That was not a current bill. So now we both paid on the same charge, and one of us just wasted a lot of money. I see why you're pissed, but I fail to see how that is my fault since the credit card and the bill were both IN MY NAME.
Also, don't call Amber and tell her about it without telling her the entire story. I don't need to get a lecture from her about it for something I didn't orchestrate. Luckily, now we're both mad at you.
Much hate.
"If you're looking for a ride, I'm looking for passengers" will not get me in your truck. It will only get you the empty promise of one of my freshly painted middle fingers. It will also make me even angrier at my family, who, if they had actually been at the airport when I arrived, would have prevented this little rendevous.
No love,
The stiff and cranky girl who just wants to go the fuck to bed already.
My Christmas homecomings are frequently less than happy occasions. When I came back last year, they told me they'd sold all my stuff, and the year before that I didn't even have a room to sleep in. One of their favorite pastimes is leaving me alone for indeterminate amounts of time at the airport.
And yet I'm upset that things weren't different this year. My plane was an hour late. When I land, I call Fam to see where I should meet them. "Call Unc," she says. "You didn't let us know your plane was going to be late, so Minifam and I went home and he's out with [stripper girlfriend who is as old as I am]. I'm not sure when one of us can pick you up."
"..." Yes, my lack of precognitive ability has failed us all, and as a result I missed my window of opportunity to be part of the family. I call Unc-- it gets better.
"Hey, who is picking me up?"
"I don't know. I'm on my way to [stripper girlfriend who is as old as I am]'s."
"...So when am I going to get picked up?"
"I don't know."
"..."
And then it is decided that he will pick her up first and then they will both come to get me.
"Is that okay?"
"Does my opinion really matter?"
"Well, I at least want you to be honest."
He did have the sense not to bring her, at least. But when we got home? "Alright, I'm going to bed. I only got five hours of sleep last night." Twenty minutes later, girlfriend "sneaks in."
There is no food in the house. And he did not ask about my flight, or how I weathered the storm, or how the semester was, or anything. He just...fucking chauffeured me to the house and went upstairs and shut the door to the master suite.
I don't know if I can adequately explain why it makes me so upset. (Apparently that is something I've been failing at recently.) It's just this overwhelming sense of apathy that I am getting from them. It's not that they don't care, really, they just have no fucking clue what is going on with anyone else but themselves.
I'm not even sure now why I brought copies of the science magazine. It's just going to set me up for another night of feeling like this if I give it to them.
Talking to people to feel better has failed. I'm just going to go shower.
Fucking finals week hates me.
I'd rather live in a tree
And act like a monkey
If I could still smell pretty.
I'm pretty much resigned to failing my stats exam, and thus the class. My pride's pretty wounded, but I need to focus on my other classes, get good grades there, and then just retake it my senior year from a different professor at a later time of day.
No more 8AM classes for me. The Wren has learned her lesson.
Though all this really could just be the sleepy apathy talking. I was far too wired to sleep last night.
It's sad when the majority of my stats study focuses not on the material I still need to learn, but how to more effectively take the professor's tests. SOMETHING IS NOT RIGHT HERE.
Dear incredibly drunk sorority girl who has fully embraced the stereotype:
Don't act so shocked when we tell you it will be a while before we can let you back into your room, especially when there are two ambulances and a fire truck parked outside that are visible from your hall window. There is a diabetic in the nearby frat with a blood glucose level of over 700 (LOL BEER). We will get to you when we can. Oh, my, it's five minutes later? Are the ambulances still in sight? Yes? Go away. Also, having your slightly less drunk boyfriend call in for you will not magically make us change our priorities, especially since he is certainly not one of your "sisters."
Finally, if you're going to flop your microskirt-clad ass on the floor in a drunken stupor, please wear underwear. I did not need to see exactly what your loving man was about to get himself into.
Sewer rats would have run in fear. I, however, had to calmly unlock your door and amble off to find a pleasant place to obtain a concussion.
you can tell
from the scars on my arms
and cracks in my hips
and the dents in my car
and the blisters on my lips
that I'm not the carefullest of girls
you can tell
from the glass on the floor
and the strings that're breaking
and I keep on breaking more
and it looks like I am shaking
but it's just the temperature
and then again
if it were any colder I could disengage
if I were any older I could act my age
but i dont think that youd believe me
it's
not
the
way
I'm
meant
to
be
it's just the way the operation made me
and you can tell
from the state of my room
that they let me out too soon
and the pills that I ate
came a couple years too late
and I've got some issues to work through
there I go again
pretending to be you
make-believing
that I have a soul beneath the surface
trying to convince you
it was accidentally on purpose
I am not so serious
this passion is a plagiarism
I might join your century
but only on a rare occasion
I was taken out
before the labor pains set in and now
behold the world's worst accident
Iam the girl anachronism
and you can tell
by the red in my eyes
and the bruises on my thighs
and the knots in my hair
and the bathtub full of flies
that I'm not right now at all
there I go again
pretending that I'll fall
don't call the doctors
cause they've seen it all before
they'll say just
let
her
crash
and
burn
she'll learn
the attention just encourages her
and you can tell
from the full-body cast
that I'm sorry that I asked
though you did everything you could
(like any decent person would)
but I might be catching so don't touch
you'll start believing youre immune to gravity and stuff
don't get me wet
because the bandages will all come off
and you can tell
from the smoke at the stake
that the current state is critical
well it is the little things, for instance:
in the time it takes to break it she can make up ten excuses:
please excuse her for the day, its just the way the medication makes her...
I don't necessarily believe there is a cure for this
so I might join your century but only as a doubtful guest
I was too precarious removed as a caesarian
behold the worlds worst accident
I AM THE GIRL ANACHRONISM
Over a week ago I asked you to mail a package that had been misdelivered to Unc's house. Normally I would have just waited and gotten it when I was pulled, kicking and screaming, back into the clutches of Saint Louis. Unfortunately, the package contains Maddo's birthday present, and since she is going abroad next semester, she kind of needs it now.
Fast forward to today. I call you to ask when you sent the package, and you of course have yet to get around to doing it.
"Do you still want me to send it? You're going to be back here in a week and a half."
"Yes, I know, but Maddo's birthday was on Sunday."
"So I should still send it?"
"That would be a yes."
"Look, I'm sorry."
"That package was really important."
"I know, and I'm trying to apologize. I'll mail it first thing tomorrow."
"..."
My mother used to tell me "sorry doesn't cut it." I mean, sure, I'm glad you're remorseful, but how hard is it to pull your head out of your ass and pay attention to what's important to someone else for two seconds? You said you knew it was important, but evidently you still didn't see the need to care.
I can't count on you for anything, but unfortunately I'm still occasionally required to try. Do you even listen when I speak? Considering all the times you've picked up the phone and called people when I was in mid-sentence about something, I'll have to go with no.
Fuck you,
Wren. Not Lauren, Wren, who would like to matter to you once in a while.
Maddo just turned twenty. We love her.
\
Hair before dying.
This does it no justice.
I had a kid I had never seen before in my life say hello to me today. This obviously means that I have, in fact, seen him, but have since forgotten he ever existed. I really wish that would stop happening. It makes me feel like a terrible person.
I found out at Madeline's birthday dinner that other students in my Asia 144 class have noticed I play games in class. Here's how:
J: "Wren, how did you do on your exams?"
W: "I got a 44/45 on China, and 43/45 on India."
J: "Oh, nice!"
J: "...So, may I ask what game you play every day?"
W: "Game? Oh....you mean in class..."
J: "Well, you do sit front and center. I think everyone in the class watches you play, actually."
I pondered that for a bit.
Today in class, I opened my laptop as usual, but instead of pulling up Wizardry V I loaded Illustrator, chose a huge font, and wrote HELLO J AND EVERYONE ELSE BEHIND ME!
That sat on my screen for a good five minutes, and I heard a few quiet *snerks* behind me. After class, J came up to me and said "I saw your little note. It took everything I had not to laugh very hard in the middle of the guest lecturer's discussion."
I am amazing.
You are Batman
| You are dark, love gadgets and have vowed to help the innocent not suffer the pain you have endured.  |
Right now I look like a German dominatrix. The top of my hair is platinum blonde, side parted, and slicked against my head into a bun. The only catch is that the bun is pink. If it weren't for the fact that my two most despised colors were currently inhabiting my head, it would look pretty damn cool. Maybe some sort of diabolical blue and blonde combo...
My plan right now is to finish bleaching tonight, deep condition it, give myself a happy scalp treatment, and then wake up and redye it. That will give my hair some time to recover in between chemical attacks. And allow me to sleep at a decent hour, because I have a LOT of studying to do. Stats quiz Monday, and Microbio exam the second on Wednesday. Not happy.
I wish my digicam charger weren't MIA, because I'd love to get some shots of my hair to post.
Shocking, I know.
I was thoroughly betrayed by estrogen at work tonight. Seriously. It snuck up on me and held me hostage.
There was a party at Sigma Chi that quickly turned into an interfrat fight, and I went along as crowd control. Unfortunately, I was...rather effective at it. Apparently every drunk boy within a 200 foot radius felt the need to come by and gripe to me about how terrible life was. I think one of them ended up in tears. Bossman Prime was inside, questioning the kids who got injured, and I was outside...being questioned by a bunch of vodka-basted bleeding hearts.
Later, we came across a kid who must have suffered from some sort of paranoid disorder, because he was so terrified of us he started crying. And I wanted to hug him. Please explain that to me. Bossman Prime is looking at him like he is a special breed of wuss, and I want to pet him like a puppy! Clearly something is amiss. Then again, I've always been completely undone by crying boys. It's like a Wren insta-snuggle tactic. Don't ask me why.
And now I do dishes in a desperate attempt to stay awake for the last part of my shift.
I freaking love it. People make me so ridiculously sad. How hard is it not to fling a piece of plastic at your electronics? The awesome part is that the remote, in most cases, seems to survive.
Clearly the true spelling is the "wheemote," since it looks like it certainly takes pleasure in attacking its fellow inanimate objects.
The beeping of reversing trucks acts like a battering ram on my right eye when I have a migraine. I didn't know it was possible to be physically abused by sound waves.
But sometimes there's no other way to calm me down. I'm so angry right now that it's manifesting physically through heat. I'll probably be steadily removing layers as I progress through the post. (In fact, off goes my pullover.)
Today was terrible. I was in so much pain after patrolling in the ice last night that I had to string myself out on sleep meds to get to bed by two. I was still drugged out of my mind by my first class, so I slept through it and one third of my second one before I managed to stay conscious enough to drag myself out of bed. I slipped twice on the way to Micro because my right leg was still fucked up beyond all reason. Then, Maddo fell on her way to our class, and we ducked out and spent half the day running the medical gauntlet at the local hospital. Maddo is now slightly less enamoured of snow, and I am emotionally exhausted because not only do I hate doctors, but hospitals always remind me of my grandmother dying, my mother being constantly sick, and Fam telling everyone my sophomore year that I was never coming back to school because I was going to die when I had yet to be DIAGNOSED for anything.
Which then gets me thinking about how useless they are. I've been trying to get them to send me my fucking insurance information for the past semester, and they have yet to take the two seconds necessary to put the card in the mail. So now I have a bill for blood tests sitting on my desk, and I'm probably just going to have to eat the costs instead of actually getting my insurance to cover it. Which then gets me thinking about all the other shit they've done this semester, and how much I am really dreading going back to Saint Louis. I always spend my first night back crying on the floor because of something one of them did.
And I don't know why, but recently all these things I'd forgotten about my mother have come rushing back to me. I don't know what's been triggering them. Maybe it's some sort of time release thing since I couldn't handle it all at once when I was 12. Either way, I really kind of wish I didn't remember.
So I've basically spent the entire night stewing and desperately trying to ignore it because I have stuff I need to get done, and I don't have time to be upset. Like, for example, my lab partner fucking disappearing the day before a presentation which I now have to create and present on my own tomorrow at one. Thank you, lab partner. I hope you fucking die in a hole, suffocated by your own weed smoke.
As a result, the highlight of my day was baked fucking macaroni. It should have been planning Winter Break hijinks with the boy, but he decided it was an ideal time to go off on a rant about how much he hates A.L.W. when I suggested we go see CATS at one of the oldest and prettiest theaters in town. Which, after the rest of the day, made me snap, and we ended up getting into a fight.
Of course, now I'll be up until 4AM psychoanalyzing myself because I can't tell what the fuck is going on in my head anymore. Any time I am happy, I start worrying that it's mania, and any time I get upset I question the justifiability of my anger and drown in guilt. I have a headache, my legs are still killing me, and the world outside is slowly icing over, which is making me dread treading all the way across campus to the library at 8AM to go to a class that I'll most likely fail and hate myself forever for.
I am so fucking done with this year. How hard is it for me to not be miserable before I have to go back into Saint Louis? I really think I'm trying as hard as I can, but all I seem to be accomplishing is a slow downward spiral into failure. So many people have told me recently that I'm "caustic" and "mean." I'd like to think it's just me trying to cope with everything and failing, but maybe I am just a bitch. I hate my family for being too wrapped up in their own little drama to even remember that I don't eat red meat, but what if I'm just doing the same thing to other people?
If you actually read this far, I'm sorry. I just needed to vent. This is not what my blog is for. I just want to put my moods in context since I don't want to talk about any of this stuff unless it overwhelms me. It's depressing. When you're trying not to be depressed, you don't talk about the sad.
I already felt stupid because I'm failing stats. Spending 30 minutes looking for his office so we could discuss that sad fact before giving up and trudging home through the snow made me feel even less intelligent. I swear this man is lurking under a rock somewhere, snickering at me.
A really big rock.
I must say that listening to Pachelbel's Ciacona in f-moll while biking through snowfall with the sun on my face is one of the more surreal experiences I've had recently.
My independent project for Microbiology is destroying my soul. I didn't take into account when I wrote the experiment that I can smell bacteria and mold rather quickly. My mom used to call me a hypochondriac because I would change the dishrag three days before she thought it smelled funny. I can tell when things have been washed with a sponge that wasn't dried properly.
It is a curse.
And now, I am forcing myself to drink out of an intentionally unwashed Nalgene? Where was the smart? Seriously? Where did my brain go when I decided this was a possible thing? Now I'm supposed to be taking five swallows three times a day from two Nalgenes? That's 30 seperate cases of me WANTING TO DIE. My results are not nearly interesting enough to allow for this.
So! I am setting a new rule. I am drinking once a day from each nalgene. That cuts my trauma ratio by 1/3 which is far more bearable. Now I just need to decide if I should restart the experiment or just pretend the week I spent shuddering in fear was to "allow for the formation of biofilms within both bottles."
I think I can conclusively say that I am not made to be a research scientist. I'm unwilling to harm live creatures, and bacteria freak me out, even if I do know they came from my mouth. Knowing is only half the battle. I apparently am not all that good at accepting some truths.
Your friend, whom you are standing right next to, was just told she couldn't get into the ballet studio to practice because the professor did not put her on an admit list. She then asked to be let into Warner gym. I asked my boss, and he said no, since the building is closed.
So what makes you think you calling to ask me why I said no is going to magically change the current reality? This isn't some sort of test of your character and strength in the face of adversity. If you'd like to prove your worth, go yell "Open sesame" at the gym doors and see if they unlock from the sheer force of your personality.
"Um, um, like...wait. Okay, um, open, um....um....um, open sesame!"
Very persuasive.
(Apparently working off three hours of sleep makes me cranky. Who knew!)
If I can just get my Microbiology paper done tonight, I will be done and able to relax all day tomorrow. I'm really looking forward to relaxing all day tomorrow, too. I'm not sure if the sense of relief and freedom is caused by knowing I don't have much to do until next Monday, or by the knowledge that I won't be dealing with my family on Thursday. Is it sad that I enjoy holidays for the sole reason that they aren't involved?
Well, Thanksgiving is more fun now, because I actually get to cook food and play hostess. I enjoy throwing dinner parties. Back when it was just the family and someone else's crappy food, Thanksgiving was hell. Maybe that's another bit of the relief. I'm actually in charge of the holiday here, so if it sucks, there's only me to blame.
In all honesty, I'll probably be a little lonely on Thursday, but that is why I'm working. I'll have something else to focus on. That's exactly what I did over the Fourth of July, and I ended up having a lot of fun. Plus the money is a source of happy.
I just hope I can make it through Winter Break...
You sound very cute. I highly doubt this is true, since you're probably the one that won the fight that woke me up a couple of weeks ago. You also sound very happy, which is understandable considering my attic is nice and dry. But why did you have to wake me up by chewing? Now I am grumpy and confused, and my roommate is convinced you are going to break through the ceiling and chew on her face.
Please. Less chew, more being a silent creature of the night.
Thanks,
The girl who is desperately convincing herself angel food cake for breakfast equals bad.
I have a new hat.
It is an awesome hat.
It is also good at distracting from the crutch I am now hobbling around on. That's right. I sprained my ankle at work. In fact, I get to go talk to Big Boss about it today. That's a real treat, let me tell you. Luckily, I don't have to work until Thursday...
Tonight, I rid myself of the last vestige of my Southern upbringing.
I'm going to have to start drinking iced tea without sugar.
@.@
It's a bad sign when you spend ten minutes debating between Night on Bald Mountain and William Tell Overture for the family ringtone on your cell.
Guess which one won.
Well, I certainly won't be studying for my Stats quiz now. Because being stressed out already that I'm failing the class clearly isn't enough. Now I get to feel like a terrible, selfish person on top of being an utter academic failure. Now all I need is a depressive swing and we'll have a party.
World? Fuck you.
Well, as of 5:17 this morning the magazine's layout and copy editing are done. Which means that we should have a flawless 32-page masterpiece headed off to the printer's today.
It also means I slept through all my classes. And I don't really remember deciding to do that.
But! I'd call this entire weekend a success. We got it done, and ended up bonding over the course of the...30 hours we spent together on Saturday and Sunday. I didn't get to see The Prestige last night (though I hope that didn't stop my housemates), but I think Nick, Megan, me, and maybe a few other people have plans to go on Thursday as a sort of celebration for not having to scrutinize text when around one another.
Now I just have to get rid of the sour milk smell that seems to have taken over the house in my absence.
And I am just a tool.
I have spent the entire weekend over at Nick and Megan's working on copy and layout editing of the science magazine. I have read most of the articles at least three times and can recite most of the intro paragraphs verbatim. But, since I like all the people here, it has been fun, even if we are all getting a little stir crazy.
But seriously. I went to bed at 7AM Saturday, woke up at 11, and spent from 12 to 1AM sitting in their lounge working on stuff. Today I came over at 11, and am still here now.
But!
It is going to be amazing. I'm grabbing a copy for myself, one for Tim, two for my family (to see if they even notice I did anything), and one for Anna. That's all I can think of now unless Mike wants one.
I'll also have it in .pdf format at the end if you non-Washington people want a looksee. I'll post it here after we release it on campus so I don't get accused of leaking.
1) Wavy hair doesn't look half bad on me.
2) Blood sugars of 84 or below make it harder for me to think or concentrate.
3) Blood sugars of 70 or below leave me shaky and sweaty. I also don't seem to ever drop below 67.
4) Blood sugars of 130 or higher make me feel headachy and very thirsty. Luckily (?), my blood sugars rarely make it above 90.
5) I can drink one can of Coke between the hours of 1-3 and be fine, but only if I've had three small meals beforehand.
6) 16 ounce cocoas are the equivalent of a bull in a china store to my body. From now on, I do 8oz only. (>.<)
7) The bitch who ruined my ELEMENTS article last weekend removed all but three of her edits from my paper. I just got done removing the other three and adding two of my own. Take that, twatbeast. You still owe me an apology.
8) It is possible for four to six inches of standing water to accumulate in our parking lots between lunch and dinner, but be gone by the time I have to go to work. Apparently our drain only works nights.
9) List posts are kind of boring to write.
Alright. I dyed my hair pink on September 1st. Please click to see how bright it was.
Here are two pics I took of it tonight, two months and one week later.
For reference, here is a shot of my roots: (EW EW EW EW EW EW EW EW)
My hair is wavy, which is why all the lip biting.
Term paper.
Do you guys sit around the fire pole when you're not out saving the city and come up with ways to insult me and the mentally ill? I can think of no other possible source of your almost symbiotic stupidity.
There is a young man sitting in front of you who is a paranoid schizophrenic who may or may not have overdosed on his meds. He stumbled into the office and asked us to call an ambulance, but since then has almost been unresponsive. And what do you do? You turn around and start making cracks about my hair, which makes him more confused and distressed. But do you care? Nope.
"Is that your natural hair color?"
"Yes."
"So that's what you've looked like from the womb."
"mmmhm. The dye formed a symbiotic relationship with my hair follicles, and now I'm stuck with pink."
"Yes, she really talks like that." (THANKS BOSS :v)
"Have you been taking this guy's meds?"
I left the room.
Then, they're finally leaving, and one of them turns to me, stares, and says "You know, I used to have hair that color. Then I went bald."
"Yeah, I'm headed that way."
Har de fucking har. How dare you people. Care a little about the people you're helping and leave me alone when I'm in my uniform.
It has been raining steadily and without stopping since Saturday morning. This means, of course, that I can't find the rain hood to go with my hiking jacket, so I've been bundling myself up in the Suicide Scarf a la a fashionable woman from the Sixties and heading off from place to place.
I believe at this point most of the basements on campus have flooding. Water started pouring through the walls of the music building during the initial deluge on Saturday, and the poor Facilities (and my coworkers) had to scramble to attempt to save the pianos and harps. Since the pianos were actually built into the practice rooms and can't be removed, this posed a bit of a problem.
The basment of our house is probably flooded, too, but since it's sealed off, we won't know for sure until water comes seeping through our floor. Luckily, any damp spots have yet to be noted.
Local streams are starting to flood and take out roads, too. What I'm trying to get at is that this isn't normal Washington rain. Case in point, a photo, courtesy of my lovely roomie, of our garbage cans after they were swept away when the road outside our living room flooded. Thank you, car, for being parked there. 
Finally, the parking lot outside the SUB has been unofficially renamed "Lawrence Lake", since the water within it is approaching car-door level. Not shocking, since we've gotten about ten inches of rain since this started...
I wanted to nap beforehand, but was too fascinated by Hugh Laurie to give in and let my eyes close. So, once at work, I was ridiculously tired.
But!
Manstork (who I am back on good terms with) and Dispatcher and I sat in the office and had a Obnoxious-Son-Of-a-Bitch and Caspar bitchfest from 0000-0200. After that, I ran by the house for some caffeine and a round of "public woohoo," which I did not even know could BE a Sim desire.
Then!
Back to the office because I was ridiculously tired. Fall over on floor and sleep from 0430-0530, then get up and make waffles for later. Open buildings next, then go stare raptly at the rat in the stockroom for an indeterminate amount of time.
And now?
I blog until home. So tired. May have to walk the bike to avoid running into a pole.
Here's a shot of some bacteria I cultured from a Nalgene found in my car. It had been there since June, and apparently these little microbes withstood the time. Please do click for the large version.
They're a curved rod bacteria. We're re-culturing a plate so I can run some tests, and Mark Martin is going to sequence their DNA for me and tell me what they are exactly.
The microbiology t-shirt images are done. Here is one of them. Keep in mind the original image file was 20 inches across.
Me: "I've figured out how to stay awake!"
Sarah: "How?"
Me: "By leaping at things!"
Sarah: "...Oh my."
Me: "This bacteria is by far my favorite." (It's red and purple.)
Lab Partner: "Yeah, it kind of reminds me of your hair."
Me: "Excuse me! My hair is not bacterial!"
Lab Partner: "But! I like your hair, and the bacteria is pretty! This is a good thing!"
Me: "I hate you."
Stop being so cocky. You've been here for two months now, and you certainly have done nothing to justify that attitude. Last time I worked with you an entire building went unlocked because you fucked up the paperwork. You also tried to pull rank on me, which ended badly. Everyone has been laughing at you since then, and you've earned the prefix "Know-It-All" in office conversation. That is not a term of endearment.
You didn't give me much cause to like you last time we worked together, but this time was even worse. I am your shift lead. I may still be relatively new, but unlike you, I am not afraid to ask questions, or be wrong, which makes me much less likely to fuck up. Because of this very fact, I know more than you do. So stop getting pissy when I tell you to do something simple like initial your paperwork. That's supposed to be done at the beginning of the shift, and it was almost at the end. The boss was out, and the paperwork needed to be finished, and your ass was flopped at the computer looking at your precious bank account.
Also. Get out of my bubble. I should not be able to smell and taste the disgusting nachos you ate for dinner. My bubble extends to my personal life, as well. You don't need to know the combined credit limit of all my accounts. You also don't need to know what the ellipses in my HTML are for. Or why I am wearing a glowy bracelet, though I think that should be rather obvious. So back the fuck out.
Oh, and asking the dispatcher if she's dating "that dorky boy with the glasses?" Mistake. Why do you think you got sent on six admits tonight, and I only got sent on one?
Finally. Don't give me a dirty look when I didn't head over to break up the party at Sigma Nu. I had three buildings to close up thanks to our lovely fire drills, and with three Bossmans, an RD, and ALMIGHTY YOU, I figured the situation was under control. Someone needs to stay available for the other things that inevitably crop up on campus, and I decided it would be me. Besides, I've broken up parties, and as far as I know, you have not. Thus, I consider it excellent training for you to dive on in.
In short, find someplace more subtle to stuff that fat fucking head of yours.
Happy Halloween, you bastard.
Last night we received an e-mail from our RCC. Apparently on Wednesday she is "invading" all our houses to look for fire hazards. This means she is going to be looking for candles, incense, lighters, cords, etc near heaters and stuff. She is going to be walking through our houses and bedrooms and inspecting them for stuff. I was mad, but not nearly as mad as I am right now.
Apparently she's also looking for SUB dishes. Which means that she's not just going to be looking around our house, but going through our cabinets. And if she goes through our cabinets for dishes that aren't hers, is she also going to look through our drawers for candles and incense? That is a terrible violation of privacy. If she can smell incense or candles, she MIGHT be within her rights as an RCC to check our drawers, but while she's looking for fire hazards? I think not. As I told her in a reply e-mail: "I'm not sure why you'll be looking through our cabinets for fire hazards, since heaters and cords are rarely stored within. We use all my personal dishes in our house, but the principle still bothers me."
It's bad enough that we'll have to find a place to stash the rat on Wednesday. It's bad enough that I have to put the cabinets doors back on our bookshelves in the Study Zone. Now we also have to remove anything we think she won't like FROM OUR HOUSE?
Fuck that. She told us to take down any sarongs hanging over lights. She has one IN HER FUCKING LIVING ROOM. Why should we play by the rules if she doesn't?
I want to go grab a Guy Fawkes mask and wear it when she is doing her inspection on Wednesday. Clearly we no longer have the right to private property. Unfortunately, if we want our Theme House renewed, we also have no means of rebellion.
Dispatcher: "A girl in the SUB just fell down the stairs. I need you to go find her and see if she's okay. She was last seen in the basement."
Me: "Okay, sure. What does she look like?"
Dispatcher: "She's drunk."
Me: "You want me to go find a drunk girl in the SUB tonight?"
Dispatcher: "...shit."
Maddo: "What's Women's LAX?"
Me: "Women's Lacrosse. I used to be Women's XC. Cross country."
Maddo: "But it's an X."
Me: "Yeah, but Xmas, Xing. Cross."
Maddo: "Christmas is CHRIST-mas, not Crossmas."
Me: "Christ on a Crossmas."
Maddo: "No, that's Easter."
Me: *hysterical laughter*
Maddo: "You're so calling it that from now on."
Me: "Yes, yes I am. "Christonacrosstmas" is so much better than "Bunny Ear Day."
Maddo: So what's Christ on a Cracker Day?"
Me: "Every Sunday. Communion, DUH."
Maddo: "Isn't that technically Christ-IN-a-Cracker?"
Me: "He sprinkles it with love."
Sarah, Matt? NEVER LEAVE US ALONE AGAIN.
The Tale of the Heike can't be an account of real occurances. There is NO WAY.
Why? It's trying to convince me that in the Medieval Period of Japan, not only did seven-foot tall Japanese men EXIST, but that they could be litter-bearers without a) severely inconveniencing the other bearers, or b) causing extreme discomfort to the man inside.
Asian Societies: 44/45. I missed three classes and spent a lot of time playing Wizardry, but I did the reading and participated in class discussions.
Premodern Japanese Lit: 98/100. I missed three classes and did all the readings. I AM the class discussion. I am also the one who typed the study session notes and sent them to everyone. Apparently it paid off by getting everything in my head and lulling everyone else into a false sense of security.
Microbiology: 68% I missed at least six classes and studied my ass off, but I wasn't exposed to enough of the material. I figured I'd get a C, and I wasn't far off. Not happy, but not surprised. I failed my first Cell Bio exam, so it could be worse.
Statistics: 75% I missed most of the classes and did none of the homework. Since my last exam was a 62%, I am quite happy with the improvement. I have a solid C in the class now, so if I actually put forth a little effort I may get a B. Since I have As in two classes, I think I can afford to spread my focus out a little.
So all in all, I am satisfied.
I never thought I'd have to e-mail a professor and say the politely embarassed and formal equivalent of "Hey, I can't be in class because I had an allergic reaction to my shirt and I feel like burning. Tell me if I need to pick up my midterm kthx."
I mean really. But the going-to-class alternative would have been worse. If I had gone and it had gotten unbearable, I would have had to say something along the lines of "hi, I'm allergic to my clothing and I need to go be naked for a while. kbye!"
How many people even HAVE this problem? My chest, stomach, and right hand are red and feel like they are on FIRE. Last night when I was trying to go to sleep my eyes were watering uncontrollably, and this morning my eyes are puffy. Whatever got onto my shirt last night has royally fucked me up.
I've taken an allergy pill in the hopes that it will help. If it doesn't, I may go insane.
I've decided I love the midnight-eight AM shift on Friday/Saturday. It allows me to go home and crash, then have a lazy Saturday full of relaxation and not moving. Then I pass out early Saturday night and wake up at 10:30 Sunday SO FREAKING AWAKE.
I've already done my Sunday chore, and am busy working on my homework. It is going to be a lovely, relaxing evening.
I almost killed someone with my brain today.
There's this freshman in me and Maddo's Asian Societies class that is semi-stalking us. He's responsible for such gems as:
"I'm going to go out on a limb here and say you like purple."
"No, not really."
"Oh."
"...I was being sarcastic."
"...Oh! So why isn't your bike purple, too?"
"...Because I have some understanding of the term "overkill?"
He also eavesdrops on our conversations, stares at Maddo's tights, and watches me eat bagels. Needless to say, we don't really appreciate his existence.
Well, today I made him look like an idiot in front of the class. Maddo says it's possible that he might leave me alone now. One can only hope.
We were watching a video interview of Gandhi before he traveled to London to participate in the second Round Table conference. The interviewer was asking him if he'd wear European clothes or his traditional garb. Gandhi said he'd wear traditional clothing. The reporter asked if he'd do the same if he went to Buckingham Palace. Gandhi said yes.
The freshman goes off on a rant about how the interviewer kept asking him "trivial questions:"
"What is he going to WEAR? That is so stupid!"
My eyes go red.
"Actually, for the time, it's not. Him showing up half-naked in London would be considered incredibly offensive. Do you know how much of a scandal it would be if he went in his loincloth to see the Queen? He's taking a big risk and making a big statement by refusing to wear a European suit." A few people around the class nod and go "yeah."
"Yeah, but it doesn't matter what he wears..." mumbles Mr. I-Have-No-Way-to-Back-Up-My-Inane-Point.
"Yes, but it DID. It's possible that he could be jeopardizing his chances of making political changes by going over there in those clothes. But he does it anyway. Now it might not matter, but then it would be possible for them to refuse to see him if he wasn't in a suit. IT WAS A BIG DEAL."
And then the little son of a bitch rolled his eyes and said something stupid again. The guest speaker took this as her cue to take over and move on. And he sat there sulking for the rest of the class and I played Wizardry, fueled by my RAGE.
I got another midterm back today. 98/100.
WHAT IS GOING ON?
We tested my blood sugar with Daryl's glucometer kit today when I was feeling kind of dizzy. My blood sugar was at 67, which I had no clue was a problem until Daryl went "wow" and Maddo hissed "Jesus" while staring at the monitor. Apparently normal blood sugar levels hang around 100, though they can dip as low as 70 occasionally. But, since I feel so crappy more often than "occasionally", and the crappy-feeling-ness is caused by my blood sugar, it's pretty likely that I'm hypoglycemic.
So I'm going to find a doctor up here and head in for a talk. I'd like to go to Daryl's doctor, since he clearly knows about blood sugar disorders. I figure he'll probably want me to test my blood sugar regularly for a couple days, and then recommend a change of diet or send me off to a dietician.
The good news is that if this is actually what it seems like, most of my health problems will be solved by getting it under control. It's possible that my mood swings may even become less severe, since blood sugar levels can affect mood (i.e. if I'm low when depressed, I become more depressed than I would with just my bipolar disorder.)
So it's not really a bad thing.
NOTE TO SELF: Update this banner.
