March 2008


My, this semester just slipped right past me. It’s a couple of weeks until the last day of class (well, three, technically speaking), and I have three papers papers and five major exams to attend to. Oh, joy. Thankfully, the toughest paper is actually not as long as I feared – only about five pages, really, although she wants a ridiculous amount of sources (and an abstract!) for it, which is why I assumed it was a twenty page monster. It’s the due dates that caught me off guard; next semester, I totally need to immediately tape all of my syllabi on the wall, deadlines highlighted.

Some thoughts:

I don’t know whether to still take summer classes. There’s no financial aid for summer (can we say SCAM, considering that nine credits are required? greedy bitches), and since I’ve decided to stay the four years here I have time, sort of, to do that later. And not a lot of money right now. Still, maybe one class would be nice, except, again, wondering how worth-it it’d be to commute all that way and back for one probably shitty class. Eh, I’ve got a week to think it through (considerably more time than for some of those papers/tests, but…m’eh).

That whole going-to-England thing I occasionally humor my sister about? Totally going to do it. It’ll take a few years, but, considering the depth and tenure of my love affair with that country, how could I not? It’s one of those things that’s simply going to have to happen. And if I have to outright live there for a few years, to make the trip worthwhile? So it goes.

I’ve been watching Boy Meets World clips/episodes online. Let’s not get into why, but some of those episodes were pretty enjoyable. Troubled!Shawn remains my guilty pleasure – cringeworthy (a cult? really?) but I can’t tear myself away. Tragically, he does cut his hair pretty short later on (WHY?). Also, the subtle slashy undertones between Shawn and Cory I remember are actually pretty blatant, which is hilarious.

I’ve decided it’s best to take the first one that forms off. I don’t know why I was ever under the impression you’re not supposed to.

But yeah, you peel that first one off, and then moisturize for the next few days while the new, neater one comes in. No scars, no weird, ugly healing process. It’s like the first time your body’s too excited and it’s all “yeah! clot! clot! clot!clo – layer! layer!” But then when it has to go back and do it over a few days later it’s all “Uh, sorry. I’ll just. Um. Cover that.”

And you’re all, “With skin?” Like, “Not that weird mess you made before?”

And he’s all, “Um. Yeah. *beat* Sorry.” And blushes. And then you have to keep your disapproving face long enough to round the corner before you smile because you have the cutest epidermis, all young and scraggly-haired and gay and shy and excitable, with just a couple of tattoos here and there that he got for his boyfriend (who smokes, by the way, and you obsess about their relationship a little more than is healthy and watch them standing around in the parking lot from your window when he stops by during your epidermis’s lunch break) and I know I shouldn’t be assigning any of my organs personalities or sexual orientations, alright? So shut up.

Wow, what a lovely little post that last one was. Seriously, skip it.

Anyway, I’m in the library again, because I’ve realized there’s nowhere else I ever really get around to posting here. My stomach just growled, even though I had two bowls of Fruit Loops all of an hour and a half ago. Shut up, stomach. That dove bar is for tomorrow. Although, in related Fruit Loops news, they must have changed something in their Reduced Sugar edition because it’s suddenly delicious, whereas before it was pure cardboard. (!) I thought I had picked up the regular by mistake. I’ve since moved the cereal and thrown away the box without looking at it, because I really don’t want to know how the fuck they managed it. I suspect it has something to do with adding whatever it is that lets you eat half the box and still feel hungry. Still, delicious.

Today I get the test back in my Legitimate Psychology class (unlike some other courses that won’t be named…right now), which should cheer me up a little before I take the memory test, which will probably be fairly depressing. Oh, and my initial instinct that a class about memory would be unbelievably dull? So right. And then there’s my wonderful lab with my wonderful TA, and hopefully another not-quite-safe ride home from Patricia. Oh, Patricia.

My mother has decided to help me find a job. Except, while the idea of more monies in my bank account for her to raid sounds attractive to her, she doesn’t really want me to. Not really. Still, she’s spoken with “someone” who “knows” the “owner” of a cafe – or bakery – or grocerystore-someplace, anyway, who “may” be looking for someone. No, she doesn’t know where this mystery place is, or what it’s called, or what they sell. And no, this isn’t going to go anywhere. Still, I got my hair did and my eyebrows too (which means that once again the surrounding skin is all red and my eyebrows are thin and sort of shapeless and totally chongalicious). Which is nice.

Shut up, stomach! Oh, alright, have a little square. *shiver* Seriously, this chocolate is good.

Sheesh, my hormones or something have been going a little crazy lately. A few minutes ago I found out my sister’s friends are coming over and I nearly cried (no, really) at the thought that I had to put on an uncomfortable bra and jeans again. But, now I’m fine. *sigh* Actually, writing about it makes me feel a little angry again *glares at bra*

Enough about cheap undergarments, though. I owe God a sincere apology, because the bookstore is now has restocked its supply of Dove Smooth Milk Chocolates! I know how excited you all are by that particular saga. I wandered in yesterday and there they were, piled all lazy and decadently on one another. Dirty, almost. So I got one, paid for it, and delicately ate it. Slowly. It was delicious.

And then I couldn’t get it out of my head that I should get another…to have while watching Project Runway, you know, because pretty clothes ain’t nothing without good snackage. So I kind of slink back into the store. And when the cashier calls me up I kind of awkwardly shove two more Milk Dove bars her way, and there’s this little pause where she kind of looks at me incredulously and I just smile, possibly a little crazily. But she rings it up and just says, “Should I expect you back in an hour?”
And I was all, “No no, this is for the week.” Which means it actually is, because I don’t want to go crawling back when I said I wouldn’t, and that leaves one dove bar a day, which is indulgent enough, isn’t it?

Speaking of food, I’m decidedly watching what I eat for now. Not altering or anything yet; just, taking note. Ok, there’s a somewhat conscious effort to be healthy, or at least stay on “okay”. I let how much money I feel I have available control my diet too much, probably. On the other hand, it’s true I have no money. And, no income. Still, the other day (about a week and a half ago) I had the worst stomach cramping ever. Gas, I guess? Air in my intestines? I don’t know, but it was painful as all fuck. The kind of pain where you lie in bed moaning and thinking “Jesus, I’m never having kids, ever” because I’m so not good at the abdominal kind of pain. Or, anything in that general area. Anyway, I had to take Alka-Seltzer and I threw up for the first time since I was seven. How miserable. But I quickly realized it probably had something to do the food intake for that day being thirteen Hershey’s Kisses and some soup-water (that puke was not pretty, people). And since then I’ve been kind of making sure to have real, solid, food every day even though I’m being freer with my wallet than ever before, and I’m not sure if I’m being healthy or just indulgent. Like, “I could go for a subways sweet onion chicken teriyaki right now. Ok then, I will.” I’m scared of checking my bank account.

OH, I also wanted to start an exercise regime. I’ve “meant to” for years, but a secret fear of mine is that I’ll lose weight in places where I really don’t want to/can’t afford to. You know? You know. Which is why I’ll concentrate on the limbs most on display – my spindly, flail-y arms. I plan on sitting around and lifting these cute little blue rubber weight-thingies (well, cute after I scrubbed them down), probably while watching TV. I’ve done it like three times so far and sadly, I’m not seeing any difference in my arms at all. How long does this take, again? Anyway, if that works out at all, I’ll concentrate on the legs, which are currently on the chicken side. The rest can just fuck off. What do you need muscles for, stomach? That’s right, you don’t. You just hang there and ingest, ok? (plus, since I’m apparently totally anti-feminist deep inside, I think girls look better with nice, soft bellies, you know?)

Damn, I was going to write a bitty bit about the PR finale, but this post kinda got away from me. What with all the bitching I had to do. And the insincere planning.

And I still haven’t put on that bra. This shirt is pretty thick, right? Right…

Ok, before I go? I was talking to my dog (my social life is jumpin‘ like that) and somehow I ended up thinking about the bookstore’s lack of Dove Smooth Milk Chocolates. And yes, I got pissed. Why? Why is it taking so long to get the new order in (heh, I did ask, and was reassured a week ago that it had been placed).

Why? I’m so hungry. Not in the physical way; soul-hungry. Also, getting kinda bitchy.

I wonder if this is God’s idea of an intervention. Not funny, Lord (from what I gather watching the A&E show “Intervention”, the ultimate goal of any seems to be a good long laugh). *munches discontentedly on fried cheese*

On the glass-half-full side, thinking about my sista choking down carrot sticks and potato chips for dinner kind of makes me feel better.

Well, I like to think I know myself pretty well. I mean, I spend a lot of time in self-absorbed contemplation. And right now, I’m judging myself to be too tired to really study statistics. Instead, I’m going to sleep. Yes, at nine o’ clock. And then I have four hours tomorrow (assuming I skip that Psychology of Condescending Hippiness and Organic Fruits class, which I am) to let everything sink in. I’m probably feeling some overconfidence in my ability to do well on this test. But then, my “do well” standards are pretty low when it comes to stats. I just want a B. Yes, a B- will do. Although I am disappointed I probably won’t get to do the extra credit thousand pages of homework. It was only a couple of points (literally, two points) but still. I’m going to be all ashamed and stuff. Oh well; I’ve yet to hand in a single extra credit homework in all the class and a half this prof’s had me; why oh why does he continue to expect it?

I had other stuff to say. No, really. I even had nicknames, but I’m very tired. Off to bed I go.

I was this close to just skipping out on math. Not in the fun, let’s-go-hang-in-the-mall-instead way, though. In the going-to-cower-under-the-covers-at-home-and-feel-pathetic way. Because I totally took advantage of the professor’s generous extension of the test date to study absolutely nothing. And I wasn’t sure I could handle the disappointment (more accurately, utter contempt and disdain) in his eyes. Especially after I had to skip breakfast this morning and couldn’t find anything to eat because this campus is absolute crap at keeping its students fed. Hamburger-and-fries place? Opens at eleven. Bookstore: out of dove chocolates, out of goddam Snickers (really, who runs out of Snickers?). And yeah, that’s about it for food options here except Subways, and I’d sooner cram a pencil in my eye than choke down another sweet onion chicken terryaki (or so I thought back at ten in the morning. Now, it’s sounding quite good).

I ended up going, though, because skipping statistics? Just never a good idea. Never, ever. I know that. Still, sitting stock still, terrified and hungry for almost an hour will do things for your priorities list. So, going to study today. Hard. Real hard. And tomorrow, too. And that’s about it, cause then it’s test day. And I’m going to kick that test’s ass.

I’m in the library waiting for the bus now. I can’t help but think once again of how much I’ve grown to really like this little craphole, and how much I used to hate it. Apparently recently someone has been wandering around and quietly turning things upside down, or so the librarians say. They’ve been finding things upside down for weeks now. My guess is one of the latest batch of bums has a little OCD.

And, holy shit, I forgot another of this library’s “quirks”: the clocks that are over five minutes behind. Let’s pray I didn’t miss the bus, y’all.