1) Drink no soda for 365 days.
2) Lose fifteen pounds. (It's like math. If 1), then 2)...)
3) Actually finish a story I start.
4) Graduate.5) Claw someone with my nails. No, bad Wren!
::EDIT::
6) Stop buying things I don't need. Am not rich in manner of snobby uncle.
Feel like am dying. No homework today. Can't move, sit upright, write , or type. Perhaps I should just nap in the shower.
Put list of make-up work I have left to do in sidebar to encourage me to work on it. I think it may have been a little counter-productive, because now I am just overwhelmed. Which may also be a good thing, since it will encourage me to work.
Right then. Geology labs it is.
If you are angry at me, there are ways of going about it. Randomly losing an entire toenail and portions of two others is not what I would call either mature or subtle. I know you're pissed that you always feel like your toes are curled. Trust me, I am too.
But it is not my fault.
Also, your ploy didn't work. My foot may look kinda nasty, but I didn't feel a thing.
No love,
Wren's brain, which has quite enough on its mind already, thanks
Five hours later, you wake up with amazing body... and the sudden urge to
I have met a girl that makes MiniFam seem polite. In fact, MiniFam may be becoming more polite because of her.
Both of these girls received easily $1k worth of presents at the ripe age of seven. MiniFam loved them all, but all the other brat did was complain about getting "an ugly iPod."
YOU ARE SEVEN. You are lucky you HAVE an iPod! No. You shouldn't have an iPod, because you are going to lose it or break it in about two seconds. Holy crap.
If I am woken up at 7AM to watch two rabid brats tear through paper ever again I am going to maim someone. This family misses the point of this damn holiday, and are creating two of the most spoiled brats ever to terrorize Saint Louis. At least MiniFam knows she is spoiled. Maybe she'll end up all postmodernist like I did.
I AM GOING TO BED.
It is not a good idea to wear a shirt that says "You Have Cholera! :D" to the family Christmas Eve dinner.
Er. Last night apparently re-designed story blog site while under the influence of Ambien.
I really need to stop moving when I take that crap.
Here's my room. First shot is from the basement hallway, through the door. Pictures are huge so you can spy and see details. Yes, I do keep it this clean.
This is my amazing bed. It's a full futon on a queen futon frame, so there is space around the mattress between the frame. I used the bed skirt to fill the gap with shiny crinkly fabric, which looks amazing. Unc once tried to get me a new mattress, and I foamed at the mouth. I love my bed just the way it is, and if you can't figure out exactly why, I am not telling you. XD
The bedspread is handmade, I believe, and cost almost $400. There are currently three tears in it from Spawn and Co. sneaking into my room, which I have every intention of fixing tomorrow while listening to some sort of Medieval music. The pictures above the headboard are the only cool thing Unc has ever gotten me of his own volition. Oh, and those ceiling lights can be dimmed.
On the right side of the room is my bookshelf and the door to the bathroom. The shelf has a few of the several hundred books I have to my name. It also currently has my mother's journal on it. The CD stand to the right with the enormous candle? The pot it's in used to be the home of Cassandra the Orchid. Yay trivia.
I usually leave the door to the bathroom open in my room and keep the one in the hall locked. Makes my room feel less enclosed, and makes listening to music easier when I am in the Epic Shower (tm). A long time ago Rose (Anna) dubbed this the Alice in Wonderland bathroom. I'm short enough to where moving around in it isn't a problem, but I think the ceiling in it is almost a foot shorter than the ceiling in my bedroom.
Here is the door to the Epic Shower. The shower extends on either side of the door to either wall of the bathroom. When the door shuts, it seals off completely, so it can get really steamy in there. The bench you can see on the left has a twin on the right. They are cool, but a little cold (shocking, since it is stone). If I feel like sitting I usually sacrifice a towel. The visible knob is for the left shower head, which feels like a thunderstorm. The one on the right is removable and has like twelve settings. I don't know what Fam was thinking when she built this, but I can guarantee it wasn't about sex. IT'S ALL A COINCIDENCE. V:
Here is the dresser that sits opposite my bed on the same wall as the main door. It makes my clothing smell overwhelmingly of wood, but I am going to attempt to fix that with socks full of baking soda. Fam bought it for me when I whined about not having a closet. I still cannot decide how I feel about its existence, but it matches the room. The topmost decoration is the infamous calligraphy set. Below it is a pot that used to have a plant in it. :( Below that is a dragon candle I've had since eighth grade whose head is slightly melted. Below that? Three-wick candle. Below that is my Crying Buddha statue, below that some Chinese Dragon china, and the bottom is a big vase that I used to put orchids in.
The pillows in the corner are what remains of my enormous collection (thank you Spawn and Co. -.-) that I used to keep around for maximum Sex Rug floppage. The Sex Rug is currently awaiting me to freak out and clean it, and is not yet on display in the room. Despite its name, there are cosmic laws against sex ever actually being had on it. (Ever tried to clean bodily fluids off leather? Sorry, but it has to be said.)
Opposite the bookshelf is my stereo system and the shelf I am using for an impromptu desk, plus Toby the Tuxedo Tiger, but I forgot to get a picture and am now too tired to do so.
Made rather painful decision upon coming back to Saint Louis and seeing how immaculate my room was. (I have taken to calling my room the Wren Museum. I'll explain later.) Apparently [stripper girlfriend who is as old as I am] busted her ass to get it clean and ready for me. There is not a speck of dust in sight, and all my candleholders have fresh candles.
So, she is now simply [girlfriend]. It is clear she's trying to be nice, and I really can't justify being a bitch for no reason. I may not respect her, but if I were mean to everyone I didn't respect...well. I'd run out of venom.
Unc is being his normal self. He gave me the requisite hug, handed me car keys and $100, and called it a day. As long as he keeps giving me money, this will not be an issue. >> I was also invited to eat dinners with them every night by [girlfriend], which is an enormous step up from last year.
Went through my room today while unpacking in the hopes that a clean and moved-in room will cause me to do homework more efficiently. While sorting through all the old body wash in my bathroom, I stumbled across a large box with a clasp. Opened clasp, discovered High School Me's Nailpolish Stash(tm). After much squeeing and accidental brain cell murder, I had them all reconstituted, and now have a veritable rainbow of colors to choose from for my nails. They are all lined up in a row by shade behind my sink now. Just seeing them makes me ache for nailpolish remover.
I think I'll take pictures of my living quarters and post them later, since none of you have ever seen my bedroom here.
Last night I apparently decided it was a good idea to nailpolish a huge orange flower onto one of my suitcases.
I'll certainly be able to find it at baggage claim, anyway.
I hit on my hot professor today. In front of the entire class. D:
We had our final at noon. Otto and I went to the room at about 11:35 to get settled in. Oddly enough, we were the first ones there. I desperately wanted to get on my laptop and surf the web for a little while to let my brain unwind before the exam, but the only electrical outlet is at the front of the room, behind the professor's desk. Like that is going to stop me!
"He is going to be so flustered when he walks in and finds you in his chair, Wren," notes Otto, which is probably what I can safely blame the rest of this fiasco on. I set my laptop on the desk, place my cappuccino beside it, then get out a bunch of papers and spread them across all the rest of the empty space. As a final touch, I open up iTunes and start blasting some music.
"You're my obsession," says Animotion.
"You're insane," says a scruffy classmate as he walks in.
Students are walking by in the hall, slowing down, and going o.o .
Other classmates start filing in and giggling. I wave and smile jauntily. Some of them begin wondering if the professor would let us listen to music during the final. Others suggest other bad 80s songs to play. My favorites begin dancing in their chairs.
It is now 11:58, and Corey Hart is elucidating why he wears his sunglasses at night. The professor walks in at his normal brisk pace, sees me, and stops cold.
"Hi!" I smile.
"Hello, Wren..." He approaches the desk tremulously.
"Trade ya." The words slipped out of my mouth before I knew what was happening.
He blinks. "You want me to sit at your desk?"
"Yeah, actually. I really have no intention of moving."
He glances at the desk, then back at me. Several people in the class begin giggling hysterically.
"But I want to grade papers. I'm not sure I'd have enough room at your desk."
"Welcome to our world." The class begins to giggle harder. The professor is grinning bemusedly.
"Wren."
"Okay, fine. Can we at least keep the music on?"
"No. That wouldn't be fair to everyone else."
"Actually, it was their idea." One of the guys in the back of the room is now crying.
"Okay. It wouldn't be fair to me. I think I wouldn't be able to grade papers."
"I think the beat might help you get a good rhythm going."
He gives me a look.
"Okayyy, fine." I kill the music and slump off to my chair, pouting. (Oh God I pouted at my professor!)
He rallies valiantly and attempts to get a semblance of control over the class. He explains the basics of the final and then asks if anyone has a question. I raise my hand.
"Yes, Wren?"
"Can I steal you for a few seconds before the final?"
"Can you what?" The giggling resumes.
"Steal you."
"You want to talk to me."
"Yes."
"In the hall?"
"That would be preferable, yes."
"Okay, let me hand some stuff out."
He does so. Several of my classmates are too busy staring at me to hand out papers effectively. He finishes up, and looks at me.
"So we're talking now."
"Yes."
"Okay. I am walking towards the door." He begins to do so. Tears resume from the boy in the back row.
"Excellent." I get up and get to the door. Professor does an about-face.
"Wait, let me hand something else out first."
I hover in the doorway with my back against the doorframe and wait for him to finish. When he turns back toward me, I roll around the doorframe and into the hall.
I roll around the doorframe and into the hall.
He joins me, and we discuss whether or not I should take the final. We conclude no, pick a date to do so, and finish up the paperwork. I ask him for his signature and suggest we go back into the class where he can sign it at his precious desk.
"No, I'll just do it out here." Instead of using a wall, he kneels down on the floor.
So there I am, staring at my professor, who is down on one knee in front of me with paperwork in hand. A student walks down the hall, sees this, and gazes at me with great interest. I resist the urge to remove his spine.
Paperwork now signed, I give the professor his copy. We wish each other a good break and he flees for the classroom. "Thanks for the card," I hear him mumble. (I had sent all my professors thank-you notes for being so reasonable with my incompletes.)
I slink in a few seconds later, gather my stuff, and head for the hall. As soon as I leave the building, I call Maddo and explain that she is under no circumstances allowed to let me outdoors for the remainder of the day.
Otto called me later and told me I couldn't possibly have disrupted the class any more. For once, I am inclined to agree.
Saturday is going to be a disaster.
Unc's stupid twat of a receptionist booked the wrong flight for me home, so I will now be flying from Seattle to fucking Dallas/Fort Worth before heading in to Saint Louis. To make matters worse, I have just been informed that neither of them will be picking me up at the airport.
MiniFam will "be asleep," and Unc will be "out with [stripper who is as old as I am.]"
Nice to see you guys, too.
I have a final at noon today, and another one at noon tomorrow. I woke up at 8AM to study for this one in the confines of our lovely cafe (♫ which has a heated floor ♪ ...), and have since made a terrible discovery.
My brain seems to be full.
How am I supposed to be able to do well on this final and take one more if my BRAIN is full? It's not like a hard disc. There are no tools for me to run that compress old files and delete all the temp files. In any case, I have a feeling deleting all the temporary files would be counterproductive, since I highly doubt any of this material has made it through the cobweb-ridden detrital labyrinth that is my memory to find a free niche to set up shop.
Right now all I want to do is get on the plane, collapse akimbo all over a seat, and watch my newly remastered copy of The Last Unicorn.
So they think they know what is wrong with me.
The current theory is that this is another fibro flare-up, similar to my hands, and the resulting pain has caused me to tear a muscle in my stomach. So, we get rid of the pain, and the muscle gets to heal. They're planning on sending me to a pain clinic to receive trigger point therapy, and hopefully everything else will right itself.
::EDIT::
Fam: "How did you tear a muscle in your stomach?"
My Inner Brat: "Sex."
My Wiser Self: "I have no idea."
No, really, I have no idea. It certainly wasn't sex. =(
Head over to LJ for the thank-you post. You might also want to check out the actual flickr page, because there are more photos than I actually posted in the community.
No, I am NOT too lazy to link here, but I AM in the middle of finals. XP*
Attempting to blog this before the Ambien sets in full.
Wren: I'm going to take a shower. After taking Ambien.
Sarah: ...are you going to be alright?
Wren: Yeah, should be fine. I'll hallucinate, but I won't pass out in the shower or anything.
Sarah: ...give me a time frame.
Wren: 30 minutes?
Sarah: Okay, if you're not out in 30 minutes I am sending in a squat team.
Wren: ....a what now?
Sarah: SWAT! SWAT! SWAT TEAM!
NOTE TO SELF: Update this banner.
