I don't like what's happening. I don't like it and I'm powerless to stop it. It's so easy to be a friend, to be an understanding and sympathetic ear, to give affection to someone who's starved for it. It's so easy to play and flirt and laugh, to cuddle and charm. It's so easy, isn't it?

It's so easy to be as cool as autumn rain You start by sweeping standards down the well-known drain Then swap your zeal For nerves of steel It's so easy and you feel no pain... Leonard Bernstein, "Mass: Trope"

I hope you're thinking about what you're doing. I hope you aren't just falling into the same trap you've fallen into before. I hope you both are thinking about it. Jealous? Of course he is. I would be. I am frustrated, almost angry. Sad and hurt and wanting to shake you both. I hope you're thinking about it. Because you're encouraging her, and she's hurting him. And I know he's wrong, and I know he's not thinking straight himself, but this is so wrong. I love you all, but this is wrong. The tension in the air with all three of you here, getting up in the morning to find her asleep curled up against you. I was wrong to suggest she stay with you. And I knew it, but I didn't know what else to do, where else to go. I was wrong to ever let the two of you meet. It's not helping anything.

Vampire quotes:

• On Diablerie: Jeff: Oooh, I'll kill you....and then you...and then you, and go down by steps. It's a buffet! DM: Who gets to be dessert?
• (As vampires) Mutually feeding from each other is like sex on a treadmill...without the climax.
• DM: Are you the one I have to blame for my werewolf's death? Jeff:Yes. However, in the light of recent affaires, I'd like to direct your attention...your ire, if you will, to the young woman over here.
• Why am I having flashbacks from Princess Bride?
• Ryken:"The family - not the fencer. I think his willpower's a bit too high. DM: Yeah...it'd be 'Kill yourself'. 'Screw you.' (stabbing gestures)
• Sickle cell anaemia...they have less haemoglobin. -- Blood Lite? -- Tastes great, less filling.
• Jo: I look cute and innocent until she turns her back...Then I turn into her worst nightmare.
• Me: Everyone else is reading all kinds of innuendo into that...but she's just thinking 'Flute, mmm...' (In chorus, Me, Lily, and Jo): And one time, at band camp... DM: Okay, all the women take five agg for that comment. That's the new threat. Agg damage for being stupid.
• Jeff: On a scale of one to ten, let's go back to fighting the guy who almost kicked my ass...
• Jeff: Tzimische are all about Occult. Jo: Yes, but I'm on the run from my tribe, remember? Me: Yeah, she goes 'Eww, they use bones!' And runs.
• (Lily, indicating the knight, instead of her brother): I'm hiding behind him. Ryken: Hey! Lily: Look, I saw what he can do. You? You didn't do anything!
• "Guys, guys! Climax! Climax!" (To the two girls, who are busy singing Do your ears hang low? Tzimische-style, instead of paying attention to the vampiress opening a portal to Hell)
• Go where angles fear to tread. Spelling is as pronounced.
• Jeff: What am I doing? I'm rolling around in the mud, like the knight that I am.
• Jeff, to Jo: You may be ugly, but you're going for the witch. Something must be good.
• DM: Run away, and try not to wet yourself. Which would be terribly embarrassing for a Zulo form.
• DM: You make it through the wall of water. Jo: Does the fire go out?
• Jeff: I didn't think to split my pool and throw more than one dagger...because I didn't think about it until just...well, because it didn't occur to me. So I just throw one, extra well.
• You had to be there, to see the DM and Ryken miming Gabi's unsuccessful efforts to get through the wall of water. DM: ...It's very...wet.
• Don't worry, you'll get to beat down the daemon who's coming through the circle. Jo: Unless it makes me run away too. DM: It'll just set you on fire, maybe. Jo (disgustedly): Exactly.
• DM: You see someone who looks a lot like her (indicates Jo) but doesn't smell. Jo: Oh, look...he's kind of cute - let me REARRANGE YOUR NOSE FOR YOU!
• Me: I'm a portable blood pool for Mateo. (Character is not much of a fighter) Jeff: Everyone's got to have a purpose.
• DM: And Mateo parries the daemon. Ryken: Damn. DM (pointing at me): I'm not the one who named the NPC after me...

At Best Buy this morning: We had the TV in its box out in the parking lot. It was determined that the beast would never fit into the trunk of Angel's Taurus...so David was going to go home, get his Buick with the three-body trunk, and bring it back. To do this, we had to move the box from its position behind the Taurus, where the nice guy from Best Buy (Oh, dear gods, the salesmen at Best Buy are so incredibly cute, I wanted to buy things just to make them stay around. Ooooh, yum.) left it, after we told him he could go back inside (siigh). So we decided to lift it. And I, not wanting to stand around and do the "girl thing", tried to help. On the heavy end - did you know that TV's have a heavy end and a light end? - since they were lifting the light end, and then David let go of the heavy end without really warning me, and the next thing I knew, the heavy end was tilted toward my fingers, which were on the concrete, and I started yelping "Ow! Ow!" And then Matt let go of his end too. "What is it, dear?" Me: "Ow! Ow! Ow!" Took a good half-minute to come up with a coherent "Box on fingers!" And a bit longer to get the box lifted again. Mmm, pretty patterned fingers. But they don't still hurt. So David took the Taurus, and I went to Wal-Mart to buy bungee cords, which is where I found the cutest little bungee cords in a box of 24 of varying sizes. They're adorable. I love 'em. And then I got a plastic bag with only one handle to carry them in, and we stood out in the wind. And some stranger, some total stranger in an SUV, offered us a ride in his SUV, if we needed help getting the TV home. Wasn't that sweet? We turned him down, but I thought about getting his plate number and trying to find out if I could track him down from his plate number and write him a "you're sweet" note. We got the TV home finally. And it's cool, especially with the shelf that Daddy made for it to put the VCR and DVD player underneath, which makes it fit just perfectly under the bar.

Turkey and stuffings

Subtitled: I'm not bad, I'm just drawn that way.

Thursday: got up eaaaarly in the morning, to get the bread out of the bread machine. Went to Bever-family-Thanksgiving. Read Lord of the Rings, ate, came home, slept. Watched Goldmember. which means that I am at least ten IQ points worse off than I was before. My life is the poorer for having seen Goldmember. But we did follow it up with Lilo and Stitch, which is the greatest Disney movie in recent memory. I laughed, I cried. Several times. If you haven't seen it, you must. You must.

"This is my family. I found it myself. It's little, and it's broken, but it's still good...Yeah. Still good."

*sniffle, sob* Got up early this morning and went shopping at Best Buy, because they had a D-Link Wireless router on sale for $50, which was way cheaper than the access points normally are. We got the last one. And a wireless card for my laptop. And some wireless headphones, which I have to take back because they're missing the power adapter. And then I said "Hey, Matt? Weren't we going to look at TV's?" Because, you see, the one we have is fifteen years or more old, and it's got like three inches on each side that are spread off the screen. Daddy says all the resistors are burnt out. So you can't see the numbers in the video games, how sad is that? So, just so that Matt can play blitzball in FFX (since he keeps losing because he can't see the numbers to shoot), we got a new TV. Okay, we got it so I could see the two inches on the side of the screen for my movies as well. It's just...generally exciting. Because it's a 32" flat-screen (not flat-panel), HDTV, and it's byootiful. Even better, Daddy put a new floor in the kitchen. It's byootiful too. This is a good life. Except that I haven't gotten anything done in the last few days. Nothing of any value at all. I really, really, really need to do some notes...I guess tomorrow, maybe, I'll have time. I hope so. I don't want to fail these two last exams. Roger Rabbit's on the TV. I'm outta here to watch it. I love this movie.

In re: Piccolo, once again.

Which Evangelion Character Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla Misato - I'm not sure whether to be insulted or not.
Where Did Your Soul Originate?
brought to you by Quizilla You come from the Ocean. You've always been drawn to the sea, the sound of the waves, the crystal blue water, near the sea is where you belong. Mmmm....water.
Which Mel Brooks Movie Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla Spaceballs! Yay.
Which Rocky Horror Character are You?
brought to you by Quizilla You are *Magenta*! You're husky singing voice and luscious lips make you very very sexy! Guys want you, girls want to be you and you have the biggest hair ever seen on film! You do have a rather strange obsession with your brother though... No, I'm not. That's M's property - hers, hers, hers. Okay, enough quizzes. On to a real journal entry.

Quizzes, in re: Piccolo

What Moulin Rouge Character Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla Yum. Now...about that capitalisation, and the phrase "dem hoes"....
* Which Tragic Shakespearean Heroin are You? *
brought to you by Quizilla

Othello's: Desdemona - The daughter of the Venetian senator Brabanzio. Desdemona and Othello are secretly married before the play begins. While in many ways stereotypically pure and meek, Desdemona is also determined and self-possessed. She is equally capable of defending her marriage, jesting bawdily with Iago, and responding with dignity to Othello's incomprehensible jealousy. She is strangled by Othello when he is under the impression that she was unfaithful.

Desdemona. I like Desdemona, even if she's a "household Kate" in so many ways. But furthermore...I'm a Shakespearean Heroin? Sounds like something for thespians to shoot up...
What Sort of Romantic Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla Apparently, my innocence and enthusiasm are reserved for Meg Ryan movies. ...Right. Just because I'm madly in love...
"Which 'Labyrinth' Character are you?"
brought to you by Quizilla Mmmm....David Bowie.... I suppose that'll do. Jareth's really quite a character - he's one of my favourite villains. Because he almost wins. Sarah's almost not-quite-strong enough. And he's so devious and wonderful and...*purrs* Shoot me. I think David Bowie's hot. Canada is like a loft apartment over a really great party. "Keep it down, eh?" --Robin Williams

This morning:

It is cold out, this morning, cold and crisp and sharp and clear. It is winter out; I can see my breath in the wind. There is snow on the ground, fresh and fallen, crisp and bright, reflecting the morning sunlight in diamond flakes. I have seen this effect before, when tiny pieces of bright plastic fall into the cotton-ball snow of a ceramic village and tremble, sparkling lamplight back in a catch-your-eye glitter. I have seen this morning before, with snow fallen fresh and soft, winter-cold on an empty campus. I have been here before. Have I seen it, though, truly? Has this brilliance, fascinating as it is, struck my eye with such infinite poetry before? It must have, for this humming in my soul, this sudden contentment with the glint and silence of the light's play seems familiar somehow. The sidewalks are slick; I walk on snow-covered grass and feel the sharp bite of the frozen air on my nose and my ears. Meeta is leaving; she has a long drive ahead of her, and she's already taken today's exam. It's not easy, she tells me. It doesn't matter. The worry and the fear and the driving frustration are as frozen as the morning, lost and far away. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters for these few moments but the stillness that surrounds me, leaching into my bones and cooling my blood, the crunch of feet on ice-ensheathed blades of glass, the smooth slick reflections of what, yesterday, were puddles on the pavement. It is a moment, frozen, a moment to be remembered and embraced, sharp and still and cold as the coming winter. It is time; it is now.

With a couple of wires, you - yes, you - could be Pippi Longstocking!

Today, my hair is in pigtail braids. I love pigtail braids. I love the way they tuck behind my ears and fly around when I turn my head. I love how everyone tells me I look cute in pigtail braids. I love putting ribbons in them for going to see Harry Potter - one red and one yellow - and wearing my cloak (which I've had since high school) and having people turn around and look as I walk past. I love how people ask me where I got it, and I love saying "I made it." I need to make another cloak. I need to see if I can con Mom into making me a dress for the St. Vitus Dance. It'd be fun to go in garb. Neurology exam this morning. I made cupcakes last night, chocolate ones, with fudge icing, and forgot to leave a note for people to eat them. So I had to tell Ryken this morning that it was okay to eat them. I made cupcakes, with one hand on the mixer and the other one going through migraine notes. And I read the book. And I got a 63% before the curve, which is just fine by me, because that means I'm still high-passing Medicine even before Lowene curves it. Nick kicked its butt, but nobody's surprised by that. We forgive him for being too smart for our good; there's always someone like that. Everyone else was lucky if they passed at all...like a quarter of the class. Mostly...because nobody cared. It's breaktime now, finally, and I'm going to go hop in my car, go home, type up a few notes, and then take the evening off. And the next day. Make a carrot cake to take to somebody's Thanksgiving (maybe the Bevers' tomorrow, or if they don't want any food, to Matt's family one on Saturday) and clean house a bit. Ryken leaves on the 2nd, which is sort of a strange thought. I'm so used to having him around...and I worry about what will happen. Be careful. Write. Come back and see me. All that stuff sounds so trite, but I don't know what else to say. Don't let the Air Force break your heart. Figure out who you are. Find a direction to your life, so you aren't so...lost. I'm going to miss him. Sadly, I'm already making plans for the corner that his stuff has occupied. I think, over Christmas break, I'll redecorate a bit.

Today, my hair is in pigtail braids. Yay.

Random: Bastet

A relatively extended piece of prose, inspired by my utter boredom during biostatistics today. Listening to everyone over the wall deciding what to study tonight for the Neuro exam tomorrow. Nobody seems to have ever passed the exam in the past years - class averages in the 50's, high scores maybe 60's. Comforting, that, that they always curve it. Fuuurthermore, the whole section is worth like 12 points out of 350. Gah. That's like 3.5% of the grade, not exactly a big deal. Why kill myself over it? In any case: Bastet, with apologies to anyone who's familiar with the mythology of the Egyptian cat goddess - the Bastet of mythology is a goddess of fertility and joy--originally the patroness of the sun. She has always, however, been a wild goddess...and I mean no disrespect to the mythologies and traditions by borrowing her name. We have hunted together since the dawn of time, my Bastet and I, finding each other over and over again as she is born and reborn. I have found her in every nation and every walk of life, sought her out and borne her away to teach her the power which is hers, to bring her to the station she is destined to occupy. Goddess, lover, huntress-mine, she is the queen of night creatures, their undisputed mistress, and she is devoted only, always, ever, to me. She is neither child nor woman, young nor old, a dark and changeling beast. Those who bear her reincarnation wonder at the child who resembles them not; the child who cares little for their warmth and love, using them only to nourish her, to sate the hunger of her growth--for she must feed her growing power, as she feeds her growing body--until she is strong enough to call to me, her master and her lover. And when she calls at last...my search is ended, and I at last can see her face once more. She does not know, my Bastet, to whom she calls--or how--or why; but she does call, she must, she always will. There is no way to deny the divinity of her soul, my goddess of the night; it will not and cannot be ignored. I have found her in Iceland, in France, in Russia, in China, ever and always the same: a dusky child, her skin tanned by the desert sun, her hair as black as the night she rules, a child fine and slim and wild, with eyes slit-pupilled and verdant, enchanting, frightening, the eyes of the jungle cat that is always the first form she learns to adopt. She does not know, my Bastet, who she summons when she calls me--but she knows my voice, my scent, my soul--no matter what guise I choose to adopt. She does not refuse me when I come to her, abandoning all that was hers for my offered hands, coming forth without question to claim the birthright of her soul--to stand beside me, goddess and huntress, lover and beloved, partner and combatant and child--she is all and is my all. We fight, my Bastet and I, as the predators we are--each of us a hunter, a warrior, proud and unyielding. When she first learns of her power, she tests it always, rebelling against me; she fights me as if we were the most mortal of enemies, hurling everything back in my face--my tutelage, my influence, my love--she is proud, haughty even, untamed. That is why I love her, my Bastet, why I am willing to tolerate her childish rebelliousness in life after life after life--because she is untamed, free, unafraid of me...and because she comes, always, to understand--to remember--to know: I am Death; I cannot die. Goddess that she is, potent and powerful, she serves me by my side in the end, walking the night on a leash of devotion, fine and strong. And we hunt together, she and I, in the end. She is my Bastet, my immortal child, my goddess and my love. She is mine, ever and forever, as she has been since the night first fell, since she was born of the gathering shadows, full-formed and lovely, knowing me to be her master even as she first learned to change her form, first hunted, fulfilling her destiny with the first savour of blood on her tongue. She has always known--and always known me, as she has loved me in her wild way, since the beginning of time. I am her master; I have ever been, even as she has ever been my only love. We have hunted together since the first night of time, my Bastet and I, finding each other over and over again as she is born and reborn. And that is why now, in the time between her birthings, I hunt without pause, seeking, searching, destroying that which denies me hope, for the desert-dark child with her slit-pupilled eyes--my Bastet, my goddess. My only love.

"A princess bride personality test!"
brought to you by Quizilla And unlike you, Piccy, I think I should like to be Buttercup. Or Westley. Either one gets manhandled by interesting people, although she would have been much better off plotting to kill Humperdinck.
What's your brand of sexy?
brought to you by Quizilla That one, I like.
What kind of porno would you star in?
brought to you by Quizilla Bleah. How disappointingly sweet. :P Tired this morning. Was going to go to bed early, but then I got distracted by existence, and the next thing I knew it was a quarter to midnight. We start class fifteen minutes late today, because there's not much left to cover, and Angel made me coffee . Yay! As long as I don't leave it on the stairs again. :P Think I'm going to grab my clinical medicine book and maybe read over lunch. Everyone always fails the Neuro exam, but I don't want to.

People say the darndest things...

Ryken, to the Tv: "It's a rock! You found a rock that looks vaguely like a pointy sharp thing!" Almost as funny as when I came home yesterday with curtain rods. He peeks out, half-awake, and his eyes git big as saucers. Ducking down below the back of the couch, he pulls the blankets over his head and whimpers. "No hit with stick! No hit with stick!" McBride, talking about Fragile X syndrome, a triple-repeat mutation of the chromosome: "And now for triple-X..." He facepalms. In front of the whole class. "The porno lecture..." I can't remember what Smith said today that had us in stitches for like ten minutes...

Things to make you laugh...

http://www.bash.org: a database of IRC chat quotes. Like the following:

Kazz> Do vampires have anuses? Cause that's why I wouldn't let this kid invade a vampire's anus in this RPG, right, I was GMing, and his character was an Anus Shade, with the power to possess and control the anuses of people and animals.. and I figured that vampires don't have anuses. Zaratustra> a vampire's anus is present, but non-working. Zaratustra> like a network card without the appropriate driver. Kazz> Wow. You're the biggest dork on Earth. Sharkey> And you're DMing an rpg with Anus Shades.

I've done nothing this evening but RP and watch Knight Hunters on DVD. It feels so good. Tomorrow I'll have to cram like mad for the Neuro exam on Wednesday (the one that everyone always fails, and they curve like nuts), but tonight...tonight I've done nothing. Yay.

Dachau

There is a gate in Dachau, with an infamous inscription: "Arbeit Macht Frei" - "Work makes Free". A particularly wicked turn by the Nazis who built the camp...and a striking one at that. I last saw Dachau the summer after my senior year of high school.

There are words on the gate,
          and as you enter,
     surrounded now with green things
and growing, life
              and the soft silence
                              of summer.

Feet mark stones
                  as ever before, passing,
unheard-of pausing to wonder,
          to ponder, remember
the words of the gate.
                       Don't linger;
     there is blood in this ground - 
             can you see it still?

Read words as you enter, 
               know the wide vista is false,
         as empty as memory.
Wishes are whispered like prayers,
                like the thoughts unspoken,
      unheard, unwanted here --
forgotten now.

There are green things now
           and growing, richly fed
       on blood and tears
                      Does it know,
  this verdancy,
         of what its sustenance is borne?
                Does it care?
                        It is summer, soft
and hot, silent and still.

          They lie empty here, blood spilling,
soaking into the ground beneath.
     Clean gravel and paint,
                  dust raked over death 
            cannot conceal it,
it is still here.
               But see the reaching branches,
        plants live and stretching for the sun --
Work
     has made them free,
                           after all.
25-11-02
"Arbeit macht frei"

Open season on interpretation: Aile

Apparently, my muse - however briefly - flittered in to visit me today.

This is silver, in a shadow,
          a silent pause in silent nights,
     a moment lost
                   and remembered vast,
far away.
          A moment feathered and fair.

     Begemmed and yet begrimed,
                         paradoxic, impertinent I
have fallen fast
                 and far,
          unrepentant, unmoved, unstirred:
                        how far to this moment?

It is a thing of feathers,
               of hope unkindled, leaping
         with joy,
                   bespangled with stars.
A moment silver and silent, 
       waiting in the night,
             calling to impertinent I.

This is silver, in a shadow,
            calls me close and draws me in:
       A moment lost,
                  remembered now,
at last.
     How is it I
               had not heard before?

Lifted and uplifted,
              stirred by the soul,
     I cannot fly, I cling;
                  I fear to fall.
I am no feathered thing,
       no being of hope, I.

                And yet wings
like an eagle have I, borne
       on the breath of the dawn I 
                       am befeathered by light,
enfolded in glory and I
          am in the hands
of my Lord.
25-11-02

Open season on interpretations: "Sparrowsong"

     O my love
        if only you
could listen--hear--
             remember

    Days ago
the silence O
          you wishing back
  September

            Nights have gone
and taken dreams
               the frozen winter
    morning

           Shadows' own,
                         my summer child
now lost in days
          a-borning

The time was once
              and now is gone
      my love, my days of
                   glory

When winter's chill
          kept you beside
     to hear the fabled
                    story

And O my love
           my child if you
would listen--and 
              remember

    The days ago
  when comfort O
              was nestled in
December
           NsB 25-11-02

...Felt done right there, but as I read it, I'm not sure. Is it finished, or does it need something more?

What if...

Next time you're having a bad day, consider this:

What if you're a Siamese twin...
Attached at the shoulder-down.
Your twin brother is gay. You aren't.
He has a date coming over tonight... ...and there's only one ass between the two of you.

Courtesy of Scott K. Lowene, lovely marvellous woman, has the exams graded. Everyone comes into the lab: "Well...did all right. Not as good as I'd wanted, but well enough." Which is sort of how I feel. 71% on a 28-question exam, with one question I want to argue. I'm fairly certain that the lecturer we had on PKU told us that you could reverse the cerebral degeneration to some degree, as long as you treated it soon enough. It's not as good as treating the kids right away, so that there is no cerebral degeneration, but you can reverse it to some degree. That'd be a 74. I have the points to carry the exam up to passing; it's not that big of a deal. And it only counts 2/3 as much as any other exam - so the extra four points from my 89 will make it a 77, which is what I got on the last lab exam too. I do all of this complicated math to make sure I'm still passing. I should stop worrying so much. I'm in good shape. Not stellar, but I'm resigned to being a mediocre student in the classrooms. I got one high-pass, in Medical Genetics, and the rest are passing. Everyone else is doing great; I'm doing all right. Lindy's trying to get the lecture cancelled for tomorrow afternoon so that we can take the time to study for Wednesday's Neuro exam. But we can't just say "skip you, we have an exam," so we're going to have it. And the usual complement of us will show up, out of politeness. Including Jim - who's so unprofessional, according to Dr. Koritnik. Overheard, as we're cracking on Dr. Bell's use of completely hilarious phrases like "golly gee", "the whole ball of wax", and things like that all the time: Scott: "Makes you wonder what we say about you behind your back, Dr. V..." Vilensky: "I don't care. I'm done with you guys. You can all go to hell." Jim: "And you'll be waiting for us there." Vilensky: "I'm Jewish. I don't bother with that crap." Riotous laughter. Note that Vilensky teaches first-year anatomy, so he really is done with us. He's a rough professor, but he knows his stuff. Everyone: "Nothing I studied was on the test!" Speaking of nothing I studied...it's time to head over to pharm.

Cannot contact server. Try again later.

...No post last night. No time to wait and kick it. Nothing to say but the usual pre-exam rant. Took too much time off this weekend. Not ready for the exam. But I'm so dragged-out.... Today: Infectious Diseases in Pathology. I've seen most of it before in Microbiology. Oh, please, great gods of familiarity and not-having-Dr.-Smith-questions, save me....

Quizness.

What Final Fantasy summon are you?
brought to you by Quizilla And everyone says...."Carbuncle? That's the most useless summon there is!" Gosh, thanks, guys.
What's your sexual appeal?
brought to you by Quizilla That suits. Far too well.
Which Personality Disorder Do You Have?
brought to you by Quizilla As does that, if you ask anyone who's listened to me ranting about how things ought to be and aren't in this apartment. I can't wait until I can go through and organise all the DVD's, RP'ing books, and stuff - and have them stay that way. At least until the next binge of studying.
What kind of faerie are you?
brought to you by Quizilla Okay, firstly I'd like to complain that this quiz-maker needs to LEARN TO PUNCTUATE. Sample:

"Your a gothic faerie--you don't like to associate with people if you can help it, you also seem to do better with a very few number of friends and don't always need to be around people you do well by yourself in the dark, the darkness is a sense of comfort b/c you see all the monsters when your in the light. monsters being all the jackasses who give you shit for the way you choose to live your life."

The preceding does not even approach grammatic accuracy, let alone form a comprehensible sentence. A simple spelling and grammar check would have transformed it into something that was at least legible. That aside, I agree with Piccolo...the faerie seems a bit weird. As far as the Office Space quiz...I haven't seen the movie, so that's a nyet. And then...then there's the question that goes: "You witness box with six kittens and their mom inside being hit and smashed in the middle of the road one day and afterwards the road is a bloody mess. You..." I require counselling just from reading that question.
How Emotional Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla And the last one before I post something real...
Which female sex symbol are you?
brought to you by Quizilla I am a BOMBSHELL. Flavour text: "You're kitten-like and sexy. You don't need expensive rocks, you're so classy you overpower your gems. You tend to put glamour before comfort, but it doesn't take much for you to look glamourous anyhow. Men beg for a chance with you, and you can take your pick because, frankly, you're too good for almost all of them." Damn, does that just feel good or what? Too bad it's most likely not true. Glam is so not my thing. As for a real entry, tonight is story time.

Elvis.

I knew Elvis for a week. We met on the railing of the footbridge at Camp Alexander Mack, when I was crossing toward the beach and he was crossing toward the dining hall. I was watching my toes, and I suppose he was too, so when a set of steel-toed boots entered my visual field it was too late to do anything but try to fall off the railing of the footbridge on the bridge side and not the water side. We laughed. And we started talking. And after about a quarter-hour, he said "Oh, hi, by the way. I'm Elvis." "Hi. I'm Nykki," I answered. And Elvis says that that was when he knew we were going to be friends - because I didn't question whether Elvis was really his name. It never occurred to me to ask. We were not "an item", although everyone seemed to think we were. We were friends, because Elvis needed a friend. He was tall and sturdy and blond and he had the sweetest smile. He introduced me to Creedence Clearwater Revival, playing it for me on a little Walkman (after he got over having apoplexy that I didn't know who CCR was). He loaned me his oversized Army-surplus camouflage jacket when it was cold out, and despite the fact that he had short sleeves on, he didn't shiver a bit. We talked. A lot. He needed a friend. I needed a friend, someone who didn't care that I was the weird one, the flirt, the introvert. I needed a friend who would listen to me no matter what I said, who would let me vent my feelings without judging me. And someone who needed me back. We talked, Elvis and I, and it was healing. Especially at night. And we walked out to the Living Cross one night. And you have to understand that ever since seventh grade, ever since the dark morning when some lost soul thought that he'd get his kicks from hauling a hapless seventh-grade girl into an alleyway and fondling her, ever since then I have been...terrified of the night. I'm twenty-three years old now. Twenty-three. And you can ask any of my friends; they've seen me go quiet and pale and start doing everything to make sure my back is against the wall, so nothing can come up behind me. I've learned, over the years, to suppress it, to control it, particularly when I'm not suddenly startled. But then...then it was raw and fresh. And I walked out to the Living Cross with Elvis late one dark evening because I was too embarrassed, too ashamed, to tell him that I was afraid to. Even Elvis. And we were there, sitting on the ground, looking up at the cross shadowed against the moonglow of the lake. It was beautiful, it was romantic, it was sublimely pleasant to be there with Elvis, who didn't touch me, didn't flirt with me - as much as you who know me will find this to be a difficult concept to grasp, I was terrified of people flirting with me at the time; convinced that they were setting me up to take a heavy fall, that nobody I hadn't known for years could be seriously nice to me. We sat. We watched the stars and the moon and the cross. We talked about what it was like to be a ship lost in the night. And then I felt them. It's a sensation like eyes, like a silent audience in the trees and the bushes, eyes watching me, unblinking. An impression of yellow-glowing, and then of the minds behind the eyes, minds filled with menace, with hatred and condemnation. And that sensation, that condemnation, becomes a feeling of filth, a worm of doubt, a sudden conviction that the menace behind those eyes is not empty. And then they part, they clear, they make way for him. There's an impression of a man, classically black-garbed and hidden of visage, his robes flowing around him, coming through the woods. It's an impression of supreme desolation - I do not know what dark part of my mind he inhabits; he has long been condemned there, barred and locked away - but then, then I knew what that presence foretold. I have never stood long enough to face him, to find out what happens if he reaches me. This time was no different. I felt the change, and before I knew it I was running - running blindly, so hard, so fast, that Elvis was hard-pressed to catch me. He did, though. He caught up to me near where the observation deck is now. For those of you who know Camp Mack...that's a pretty good run to make in the dark, without looking. He caught up to me as the inevitable happened, and I tripped. He didn't touch me. Watson...when I panicked once, Watson tackled me. I fought him, even though he probably saved me from winding up in the river. I'm not sure I even recognised him, then. Elvis didn't touch me. He called my name, he stayed back, he waited until I knew it was him, and who he was, and then he let me talk. I'll never forget that, the way he stood back, where I could see him, patiently, over and over. "Nykki. It's Elvis. You're all right. It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you." As if he knew, somehow, what was in my mind. And finally I calmed down. And he gave me his jacket again (I never had a jacket with me, even though it was regularly in the low 50's on down) and walked me back to my cabin. And he didn't touch me, and he didn't ever pin me in - he left me room to walk, room to breathe, room to feel that I had a way out. He never laughed or scoffed at what I told him - he was the first person I'd ever felt safe telling about the eyes, and the black man, and Rayla who lived in my head and had a hand all twisted and scarred from the black man's doings in that dark place in my head. He listened, and he accepted, and he knew what to do. I don't know what happened to Elvis. I never saw him after that week of camp. I wrote him one letter and never got an answer. But I'll never forget him. I never could.

Wherever you are, Elvis: I remember.

What kind of dog are you?
brought to you by Quizilla And, as far as the second...
Which Ultimate Beautiful Woman are You?
brought to you by Quizilla Reading through the results page, I see several I think suit me more, but who am I to argue with the results? Sleepy. Accidentally started an argument this morning. My need to have everything explained and accounted for seems to translate in far too many cases to everyone thinking I'm criticising them. I'm not - I just want to know why the blankets always fall off the bed. I don't mind it; I think it's cute.

Allelu

Sirach is one of the books of the Apocrypha - not accepted as canon by Protestant readers. Too bad. This passage has always been one of my favourites.

1: Honor the physician with the honor due him, according to your need of him, for the Lord created him; 2: for healing comes from the Most High, and he will receive a gift from the king. 3: The skill of the physician lifts up his head, and in the presence of great men he is admired. 4: The Lord created medicines from the earth, and a sensible man will not despise them. 5: Was not water made sweet with a tree in order that his power might be known? 6: And he gave skill to men that he might be glorified in his marvelous works. 7: By them he heals and takes away pain; 8: the pharmacist makes of them a compound. His works will never be finished; and from him health is upon the face of the earth. 9: My son, when you are sick do not be negligent, but pray to the Lord, and he will heal you. 10: Give up your faults and direct your hands aright, and cleanse your heart from all sin. 11: Offer a sweet-smelling sacrifice, and a memorial portion of fine flour, and pour oil on your offering, as much as you can afford. 12: And give the physician his place, for the Lord created him; let him not leave you, for there is need of him. 13: There is a time when success lies in the hands of physicians, 14: for they too will pray to the Lord that he should grant them success in diagnosis and in healing, for the sake of preserving life. 15: He who sins before his Maker, may he fall into the care of a physician.

The other translation I have marks verse 15 as "He who sins before his Maker will be defiant toward the physician", which is a little cooler. But my favourite part:

"There is a time when success lies in the hands of physicians, for they too will pray to the Lord that he should grant them success in diagnosis and in healing, for the sake of preserving life."

If I ever forget that - if I ever start believing that I have succeeded in life and at my art by any power other than the grace and the gift of God - someone, anyone, remind me. For I can do all things through the power of God - but without it, I am empty, hollow, nothing.

World: 2, Nykkit: 2

World: 1) Got rear-ended pulling out of school today. I stop a little past the stop sign, just to be legal, even though there was no oncoming traffic, and wham. Quite a jolt, at that. So I shut the car off, get out, check my range of movement in my neck, no pain, no stiffness, no tenderness, and go back to see what kind of damage has been done. The girl was...well, the girl was cute who rear-ended me, driving a car the same size as mine. We look at our bumpers, I ask if she's okay, she asks if I am, we both are, and there's no damage to the cars. Whew. So we shake hands and go on our ways. Nykkit: 1) I stopped at the flower shop on the way home, and they have the yellow roses with the red tips, the ones that approximate the rose colour known as "Peace". And so I got a dozen for my Angel, who has been so incredibly supportive - at the cost of his own free time even. Cost an arm and a leg, but they're so beautiful and so hard to find. And I got the vase and all home without destroying them. Go me. World: 2) Coming up Harrison, crossing Jefferson. There are two lanes: a left-turn-only lane, and a straight/right turn lane. The left lane is in a direct line with the straight ahead lane on the other side of the street, while the straight lane, if you don't veer leftish, runs you into parked cars. Follow? So the bitch in her grey Cadillac who's in the left-turn lane decides she wants to go straight. I'm trying to juggle flowers and stick shift and accelerating, and all of a sudden I'm stuck between a Cadillac and a parked minivan. I hit the brakes, veer around into the lane behind her, and honk my horn. Bitch looks over her shoulder and gives me a dirty look, then goes on talking to her poofy-haired friend in the passenger seat. She had an Allen County license plate. And it's not like there isn't a giant left turn arrow right there. While I'm on the topic: People who, when I am in the right lane, pull up in the left lane and edge out into the intersection during a red light, so I can no longer see oncoming traffic to make a right turn on red, piss me off. Same for people who think that they need to be in front of me at a T intersection, if I'm turning right and they're turning left. Look: I am in the right lane. If the light turns green, we both get to go. Otherwise, I will be able to turn either before or at the same time as you, no matter when your lane clears, because I need one clear lane of traffic, and you need two. So let me see, and when I go, you know that the near lane of traffic is clear and can check the far. Not difficult. Nykkit: 2) Pharmacology exam scores are in:

Class average: 81%, +/- 9. Me: 81%!

This brings my average in the class up to a 76%. Which is one point better than passing. This is also the first Pharm exam this year that I've passed on my own merits (i.e. before a curve is applied). *dances* Now I'm going to go eat my chicken noodle soup and be happy.

Suck.

Pharm exam...well, hell. 38 questions, 2 wild cards. After wild-carding, there were 8 I was unsure of and a lot more I wasn't certain on. And so help me, if he lied about sodium stilbogluconate and Leishmaniasis...*checks* Phew. There's two I know I got right, and one of the omits I would have gotten wrong, although in retrospect I should have known that answer. I do know that answer. But I just get so flustered... *Checks another answer* Don't you hate it when you can't remember if you second-guessed yourself? My instinct about chloramphenicol was right, and I think I changed it. But I successfully resisted the urge to change the Amantadine-Ribavirin-Influenza question, so that one's good. ...damn. Vanco isn't absorbed. On a quick scan, I see four I missed. And cutoff is seven. *crosses fingers* Ragatz said he made minor changes to Iwona's suggested questions; his idea of minor and my idea of minor are clearly two different things. I hate anti-cancer drugs. That's why we have oncologist referrals. Ick. On the good side: Scott is now the third person to come in and say "Oh, my God, that exam was fucking impossible." Here I thought I was the only one. Now for a chance to go home, eat lunch, and start studying again. As soon as I finish showing the first-years how to do file sharing on the CD-burning computer.

Hello and Goodbye...

Ethics class. Got into a discussion - got involved, got tearful, wish I didn't every time I get involved. Wasn't upset - just passionate about the issue. And then got frustrated, which just made me more tearful. Wish Ethics class weren't right before the Pharm exam. Feel like I should'a skipped, even. But I didn't, I went through notecards and sorted things out a little better. Got to do parasitics, antivirals, cancer and GI, then review. I hate this. I hate knowing that I'm going to fail - or at best, barely pass the exam tomorrow. I hate wondering if there's any end to this shit. I hate working and working for nothing, not being able to enjoy an ethics discussion. I hate people who drive grey cars in the rain and don't turn on their headlights, so I can't hardly see them. I hate macho Hispanic men in handicapped plates who drive 15 miles an hour under the speed limit so I have to wait for every single red light. I hate pharmacology exams. I hate all the bloody antibiotics that all sound the same (where are my micro notes when I need them?) I hate Plasmodium vivax, malariae, falciparium, and ovale, not to mention Taenia anything, Treponema pallidum, trematodes, schistosomes, and anything involving the letters vir, mycin, or cillin. To borrow from Clarabear (who does not play in trash):

Rawr.

And now back to studying.

Whack-an-aussie

Crocodile hunter on the TV. He's lured a tree kangaroo down with a banana on a stick. And every time he looks at her, the little beast goes "Rowr!" and bonks him on the head. I almost died laughing. "I don't think she liked me lookin' at her little girly bits, there, but she's got a pouch." "Cranky little bugger..." And so on. Until this tree kangaroo goes nutso, "Rowr!" And -both- paws bonk him on the head. Laughing so hard I can hardly study.

Pre-napness

The medical store people came today. Ordered myself some more white coats, nametags, and a doctor bag. These are all things that people can buy me for Christmas, retroactively, if they like - but the prices through the Medical Store for me as a student are significantly cheaper than they would be for anyone else. Say...on the order of $15 less for the coats, $25 for the bag, etc, etc. Hence the retroactive purchasing. Got the trade-in form for the PanOptic. It's even less than I thought: Only $275, $295 if I get the cobalt filter. I'm so excited. I am so excited. Talked with Koritnik over exams today - he gave me some hints for the next one, and I think I know what I need to study...but it's going to be a pain. Going to go through antibiotics this afternoon and figure out how to group them somehow. Maybe the Lippincott book will help with that. I'm so glad I bought the friggin' thing. Tried to make coffee when I got home. The grinder works - I didn't know such a small handful of beans would make so much coffee dust! But I didn't know how much dust to put in the coffee maker, so I got a cup of weak American coffee, icky. Angel says he'll show me when he gets home. I feel like such a flake. Now it's naptime, then to work with my notes and my summaries.

Stream of consciousness

"God" is my angel, logging in from work. Vita> God...when you get in the shower...can you try not to take the outer curtain in with you? :) God (THP) hmms... Ok. Although I didn't think I had been. ;) Vita> Every morning when I go to take my shower, the corner is tucked into the tub :) God (THP)> And every morning when I get in the shower its tucked in too. And I pull it out. Apparently the house has gremlins. Or nisseman, which is more likely. Long day today. Medicine class is meeting in the afternoon again. Ethics, from 1 to 4. Mrph. I'd rather be working on my studying than listening to another lecture, how sad is that? Path lab exam score: 77%. Not as well as I'd wanted, but above passing. Good enough, considering my state of burnt-out-ness when I took the blasted thing. A few pages to go before I have all the pharm notes done for the exam Friday. Think tonight...tonight I'm going to organise the antibiotics (Viva la Revolution!)... From a review from the Step 1 Medical Boards review book:

Reviewer: A reader from UCSF San Francisco CA Sorry to say it but med school and residencies are all about the numbers. Yeah we like to talk about personal skills and the importance of dr-patient relationships and such, but in the end if you don't got a 240 then forget about radiology and if you can't get a 250 then forget about ortho and if you can post a 260 then plastics isn't for you, you will just have to be content making 90K a year as a pediatrician. So if you to just be a pediatrician or internist then go ahead and study for step 1 with First Aid. Just remember that every other uptight med student is memorizing it also. If you want to get into a competitive residency (ie if you want to be making the Benjamins once you are done) then you better not use this book as a primary review. You will be smoked by the competition. Peace Out!

I went into medical school to help people. I went into medical school because I want to heal. I went into medical school to serve, to uplift, to inspire. I want to be a doctor because doctors make a difference, because doctors are people who are respected - not for their wealth and their power, but for their achievements, because doctors make people well. I am not working my ass off "for the benjamins". I am content to make a "mere 90K a year". Hell...I'm content to make half that - all I want is enough to support my family. It's assholes like that reviewer who have given doctors such a bad name - who have tainted this profession with cynicism and coldness - who have built a wall between physician and patient so high that the only bridge to be seen is one of lawsuits and hostility - whose relentless pursuit of their green-paper gods, their Mercedes-Benzes, their expensive habits and surrealistic vacations when and wherever they want has blighted their healing and ours. It's assholes like that reviewer who have helped to drive malpractise insurance costs so high that in Las Vegas, premiums as high as $200,000 per year drove every orthopedic surgeon in town out of business. In Texas, there are 101 counties with no obstetrician at all (out of 254), probably more by now. 8.1 percent of the nearly a thousand babies born in Texas each day have received little to no prenatal care. Because OB/Gyn practicioners have some of the highest malpractise insurance rates of all. Because patients don't know how to communicate their anger, their fear, their frustration to a doctor whose so-called colleagues have helped to create a golden pedestal and surround it with a wall of distance. Because it's all about the benjamins. Because nobody wants to just be a pediatrician. Or just be an internist. God forbid that the focus of medicine should be healing. God forbid we should live up to the Hippocratic oath... I swear by Apollo Physician and Asclepius and Hygieia and Panaceia and all the gods and goddesses, making them my witnesses, that I will fulfil according to my ability and judgment this oath and this covenant: To hold him who has taught me this art as equal to my parents and to live my life in partnership with him, and if he is in need of money to give him a share of mine, and to regard his offspring as equal to my brothers in male lineage and to teach them this art - if they desire to learn it - without fee and covenant; to give a share of precepts and oral instruction and all the other learning to my sons and to the sons of him who has instructed me and to pupils who have signed the covenant and have taken an oath according to the medical law, but no one else. I will apply dietetic measures for the benefit of the sick according to my ability and judgment; I will keep them from harm and injustice. I will neither give a deadly drug to anybody who asked for it, nor will I make a suggestion to this effect. Similarly I will not give to a woman an abortive remedy. In purity and holiness I will guard my life and my art. I will not use the knife, not even on sufferers from stone, but will withdraw in favor of such men as are engaged in this work. Whatever houses I may visit, I will come for the benefit of the sick, remaining free of all intentional injustice, of all mischief and in particular of sexual relations with both female and male persons, be they free or slaves. What I may see or hear in the course of the treatment or even outside of the treatment in regard to the life of men, which on no account one must spread abroad, I will keep to myself, holding such things shameful to be spoken about. If I fulfil this oath and do not violate it, may it be granted to me to enjoy life and art, being honored with fame among all men for all time to come; if I transgress it and swear falsely, may the opposite of all this be my lot. Dear Mr. Reader from UCSF San Francisco CA: Fuck you. Get out of my profession.

And then to bed....and then to bed.

Love to everyone tonight. Because...well, because I love you all. I've seen so much support, such an outpouring of concern and thoughtfulness from you...and it's enough. It's enough to keep me going, to remind me why I want to do this, to renew my strength.

Have you not known? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary, his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength. Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint. Isaiah 40:28-31

You're all angels. Every last one of you. Thanks so much.

Angels....

...An addendum to my e-mail, Mike. Kept me a little bit better off all day. Job offer came in today for my Angel - a job offer that, magically, went from pretty decent to pretty good before we even had a chance to wonder if he should make a counteroffer. Yay! And now back to notes.

Have patience...have patience....

Mmmm....had a treat today, since I'm still kind of bleah. We got the bread machine down and made dough for baguettes, then baked them. They came out just yummy. Nice and blunt-weapon hard, but so soft on the insides. Yay! Go us! And I had ice cream, with caramel syrup on it tonight for a snack. And...we didn't have any movies on tonight, after Jefe and Lily left. It's been blessedly quiet. And I got all my pharm notes typed up, and the first unit worth of path notes too. Go me! Going to bed now, I think. Long Monday as always. 8:30 Path-9:30 Pharm-10:30 Medicine-12:30-4:30 lab. Please, Dr. Ranasinghe, show us the stuff we need to know because there are so many notes for the next path exam. Please.

Cliff Kindy, Harry Potter, and Koritnik, oh my.

Letters from Cliff Kindy in Iraq, for those who want to read more of his work, are compiled here. Went to see Harry Potter today. It was quite good. Better than the previous, most likely, although I'm not going to get into a great deal of fangirl ranting...seeing as how all of the really cute characters are so not legal for me to talk about. We got to the Rave at 1:00. Angel got in line, I went up to see about showings. Mind you: the schedule for Harry Potter at the Rave involved ten matinee showings, of which we were theoretically eligible for 1:30, 2:30, 3:15, 3:45, 4:45, and 5:45. There were also a 6:30, 7:30, 8:30, 9:30, 10:15, and 11:00 showing. At 1 PM, the 4:45 and 6:30-on showings were the only ones not sold out. So we bought tickets for 4:45. And went over to Hacienda and Wal-Mart to shop for several hours. Got into the theatre at 4 and got front-row, second-section seats, which in my opinion are the best ones in the whole Rave. Never allow me into a theatre with 45 minutes to spare before the show. There are 422 seats in your average-sized Rave theatre. Multiply that by 10 sold-out Harry Potter matinees at $5 a seat and 6 sold-out Harry Potter matinees at $7 a pop, you get approximately $40,000 coming into the theatre in one day, gross, from Harry Potter alone. This took a good 20 minutes to work out, with me running up and down the aisles and having Angel do mental math while I counted seats per row and multiplied by rows. Does anyone know what the cost-per-show of showing a movie is, counting manpower, rent, and utilities? Do you pay for the reel/cartridge per screen or per showing? The Rave has eighteen screens. That's a lot. They hid some of them back in little hallways off the back concession stands, and I never saw them until today.

As far as Friday goes:

I saw Koritnik last Monday and asked him to meet with me to go over exams. He suggested Friday, after Rachel finished her exam. Okay. Sounds great. Friday. I ask him during class what time-ish I can expect to meet with him. Note that we are done on Friday at 11:30 AM, so I'm sticking around just to speak with him. Totally done with classes. He has a teleconference from 1 to 2, but he should be free between 2 and 3. Great, I'll see you about 2, then. Great. See you then. 2 PM. I run into Rachel outside the second-year classroom. She tells me her story: at 11:30, after class, she showed up, asking him when she could take the exam. He says, "Well, you never got back to me about a time." She says "I said after class." He says "That could've been 5:00..." She keeps her mouth shut about "after class" being after class, and that he knows we get out of class at 11:30, because he teaches us from 11:30 to 12:30, some days, and that's when he always schedules exams, and asks when she can take it, at his convenience. "I'm going to lunch now." She asks when he'll be back from lunch. "I have a conference at 1 and something at 2, and something at 3." So what, he doesn't want her to take the exam? Snarl. Rachel puts on the good-girl face, and asks if Lowene or someone should give her the exam then. So. Everyone's at lunch, she finally gets Agnes as she's coming back from lunch, and between Agnes and Lowene gets the thing taken. We bitch and complain about the man until he comes around the corner at 2:20. I say "Hi, Dr. Koritnik. Got time to go over those exams now?" "Actually," he says, "I've got to leave for another appointment in ten minutes. Maybe sometime next week?" Next fucking week? We have an exam next fucking Friday. Not to mention that I have now waited around the med school for three fucking hours for this man, this professor whose job is supposed to be helping me become the best doctor I could possibly be, to brush me off. Gods, that asshole. Keep in mind that this is the man who's in charge of making sure we fulfill our competencies - our ethics, our professionalism, our communication skills, our life-long learning. This is the man who grossly misrepresented the whole class in the Jim affair - who accused him of sexual harrassment, on behalf of Iwona, who traded groups to make sure she was in Jim's physical diagnosis practise group. This is the man who... I'll tell the Jim story later. or I'll never go to bed. This is the man who is the least-liked professor (except, perhaps, Bader and a few guest lecturers) in the Fort Wayne CME.

I no longer wonder why.

E-cards, next round: Trigger (you go, girl!), Quinby, Piccolo (in memory of porn-watching-with-Wren), Kendra (feel better yet?) and Dave-from-Kansas. Anyone else read this that I've forgotten? One for everyone. Ryk just put on Monsters, Inc. The movie that "almost makes him cry" at the end because it's so sweet. Go, Wren! Be man enough to cry for Boo and Sully! I'm going to bed :)

One of those nights.

One of those nights where everyone's here, watching movies, and I don't want them to be. Was kind of enjoying the afternoon alone...with maybe Matt here. Once in a while, there's just too much, too many people. The introvert in me takes over. Socialising instead of RP, like they have every time, paying no attention and then complaining that they just 'can't get into it'. Talking so much that I couldn't follow what was going on. It's the only chance I get any more to exercise my creativity, to make something and someone real. Can hardly write any more - it's like the ideas are all drained out of my head, my heart, my soul - flat and empty. Too many movies, too much TV, too much studying. I feel so... unoriginal. Head full of other people's words, other people's ideas, other people's visions crowding out my own. Dry facts dessicating the fountains of words I had always thought were bottomless. The press and pace, the pounding rushes of words that have driven me to seek out more, to learn, to be...it's all gone, empty, dry. I tried to write a poem today. I drew a little flower on the top of the page and realised that my mind was empty. I could not come up with even a line, an inspiration, a single verse. I tried prose. I wrote two pages. Two pages that I don't think are the right style for the story I was trying to continue....but I can't even tell. Too much. I'm never alone, and when I am, I have to work. No more time to spend sitting, staring aimlessly out at the night and the world that once gave me words, fed the fires of passion within me. Too much. I'm lost and I'm silent, empty and bound. Concrete and steel, paper and ink and soulless facts without faces or forms, they have me tied up, tied tight so that I can hardly move. And this prison... Can you escape from such a thing once it has captivated you? I can't turn back, can't turn away. I must finish what I have begun, and that path requires that I submit to the will of words. Maybe next year, if I can survive that long, if this does not salt the fertile fields that I once was, maybe between the pain and the exhaustion and the endless learning of rote and relic, maybe I can find inspiration as I once did. Maybe then. Pain has always been my muse, suffering my fount. Why is it that now...now when I most need the catharsis of writing, there is nothing?

Well....that was a startlement.

I Am A: Chaotic Good Elf Bard Mage

Alignment:
Chaotic Good characters are independent types with a strong belief in the value of goodness. They have little use for governments and other forces of order, and will generally do their own things, without heed to such groups.

Race:
Elves are the eldest of all races, although they are generally a bit smaller than humans. They are generally well-cultured, artistic, easy-going, and because of their long lives, unconcerned with day-to-day activities that other races frequently concern themselves with. Elves are, effectively, immortal, although they can be killed. After a thousand years or so, they simply pass on to the next plane of existance.

Primary Class:
Bards are the entertainers. They sing, dance, and play instruments to make other people happy, and, frequently, make money. They also tend to dabble in magic a bit.

Secondary Class:
Mages harness the magical energies for their own use. Spells, spell books, and long hours in the library are their loves. While often not physically strong, their mental talents can make up for this.

Find out What D&D Character Are You?, courtesy ofNeppyMan (e-mail)

The Chaotic Good should surprise very few people, although I tend to be accused of being Neutral Good more often. The elf is nobody's surprise, although I prefer half-elves as a rule. Bard? Maybe. Mage? Hardly likely.

Much of a muchness

Angel has a job interview tomorrow! Foregoing my plans to go see Harry Potter opening night for Matt to have his interview and roleplaying. Will go to a matinee Saturday. I'll cope. Unlike some people (coughcoughcough). This company is too cool. Jeans and no-shoes and all. Sounds like just his kind of place. Random facts from the TV (Discovery channel):

• Always bring warm clothing - even on a day hike.
• Bears sprint as fast as a quarter horse over a quarter-mile. They can run at 20-30 miles an hour.
• Climbing a tree should only be done as a last resort. All bears can climb trees.
• Play dead only if the bear contacts you.
• If a bear attacks you at night, he is in fact trying to eat you.

This show must be subtitled How to go to a National Park and not die.

...Sure enough, it's called How to Survive. And commercial break just had an ad for...spam burgers. SPAM. *screams* The dog fighting for its life out in the cold does not say to itself "I will live so that I can produce puppies and have a nice life in a cedar basket by the fire"... I want a nice life in a cedar basket by the fire. But for now, I'll settle for going to bed.

Grrr. Frumple.

Skipped Pharmacology today because I had a vicious headache, felt like an hour nap would be better than listening to Koritnik babble. And then the nap turned into two hours, so I missed biostats too. Iwona was so cute. "Where were you? You never skip class!" But it was only biostats, and it's only the tenth time I've had stats, so it's not like I missed a whole hell of a lot. Mistwalker's lagging again, can't figure out why. When I killed the extraneous HTTPd processes, it seemed to kill the lag, so maybe that was part of it. Wish I had more time to keep up with server maintenance, so that I knew I was doing the right thing.

Mental notes

Ryken's pouting like mad because I didn't give him an E-card. I tried to explain that it's because he doesn't read my LJ, but he doesn't seem to approve of that. Likewise Lily wants one. Thus...ask and ye shall receive. But they'll have to read to get to it. Giving in to the allure of the moodicons that my angel found. They're so cute... Don't you hate it when you start the day with a headache? Going to be a long one...and the thermostat in here is set at seventy-five degrees. Gah.

Wake me up before you go-go...

Creative 404 not found messages: Found here. Courtesy of James. Darling James. By request: the cop at Jefferson Pointe. I'm there in my fuzzy black pants, and my fluffy black lace-up shirt (I love the quasi-goth that's in this winter; now if I were just better built to wear it) and my cloak with the hood up, and we're walking along in Jefferson Pointe, me and my Angel, and we see this cop. And he gets this sort of concerned look on his face, and then I smile, and he grins, and when we're level with each other, I say "Evening", and he says "You're certainly stylish," and we both chuckled, and he sort of waved and went on his way. And that's the story. Not all that exciting, but it was really kind of cute.

• There was a little girl in Paris when Ko and I were there, walking around, and she turned around as we passed, and I hear this piping voice whispering "C'est la p'tit chaperon rouge...vert..." [ translated, roughly: It's little Red Riding Hood...Green. ] We laughed so hard.
• And the little boy who passed me on the street in Strasbourg, and said in a softly awed voice, "Bonjour, m'sieur Obi-Wan Kenobi..." [ If you missed that, it's Hello, mister Obi-Wan Kenobi.... ] I heard a lot of that. "Jedi" was the most common allegation levelled at me.

Choir tonight, quartet practise after. I was -so- off my voice today. We had to go through this particular section like fifteen times before I got the F - E natural - D run correct. Gah. Nothing done today but a half-page of notes. I'm behind already. Ah, well. Brief debate over which LotR characters we'd most like to tumble. Me, I can't decide between Legolas and Arwen. Probably Legolas, as long as he had the wig on. I can't believe his actor has a mohawk. *sobs* Bed.

A hot topic:

The following is a letter from Cliff Kindy, a member of Christian Peacemaker Teams. He is currently in Iraq, the latest in a series of many places where he has worked to help bring peace and the message of non-violence. I know not all of you who read this share the (admittedly difficult and sometimes hard to stand by) pacifist views that I as a member of the Church of the Brethren was raised on. I know not all of you reading this believe that those views hold justification. I know not all of you consider yourself Christian - or even religious, and that to some, my religion is a crutch or a blinder. I also know that I believe with all my heart in the message of non-violence, of love for all, and of the potential for peaceful reconciliation that I have found in my church. I believe in the Christianity that has shaped my life, that has influenced my decisions each time that someone has returned to me with praise and thanks. And I believe in Cliff and his work...I believe that there is potential for change in this world, through the efforts of one person's hands, one person at a time. One heart changed at a time. That said, I'm going to tuck my soapbox back away now. I want you to read this...and I want to know what you think.

November 11, 2002 I am sitting at the window with the traffic slowing as the night advances. What do I see here that is so different from what the US administration or foreign diplomats see as they make plans to destroy this country? Why does their plan seem so totally implausible for me? Peggy and I just came back this evening from a packed church service at the Chaldean Catholic Church. It was in Arabic, but folks gathered around us afterwards to welcome us, learn who we were, and invite us up for tea and visiting. They provide a Friday school to 300 students who are in a very poor section of the city. A soccer coach there thought the US would not go to war. A friend joined us at supper. He was in school during the devastating Iran/Iraq War and was finishing his civil engineering degree when the Gulf War happened. He sounded like a conscientious objector to war. He has three young children who are oblivious to the war he sees as inevitable. That is good, I think. I look outside and realize that all these urban engineering feats have been achieved as this country moved from being a less-developed country just decades ago. And those years have included two major wars and the most extreme sanctions that have ever been applied to a country. I read that Iraq has had one of the best-educated peoples anywhere because of their emphasis on learning. The sanctions are changing that. Here there are taxi drivers and others who refuse to take my money because of our peacemaking work even though they are scraping to meet basic family living expenses. Two days in a row a person at the hospital walked me through the streets to the dentist so that I would find the way. He absolutely refused to accept my thank you tip. At a gathering last Sunday an Iraqi said, "This country is part of a long history of civilization." That history dwarfs our brief moment as the United States on the stage of empire, yet we make plans to re-write the story of the world with radiation and obliteration. Maybe the difference between me and the US administration is that I've been privileged to meet the people here. President Bush needs this chance to look in the eyes of the people of Iraq. It should be a requirement before anyone can start a war. I was riding down an elevator last week. A stranger asked me where I was from. When I explained that I was from the United States, he said, "So you are my enemy," as, with a smile, he reached out to shake my hand. Cliff Kindy

Picture This:

We go to Fort Wayne Neurology. We meet up with a patient - a multiple sclerosis patient - and chat with him about his disease, his drugs, and his life in a wheelchair. Nice guy. We do some reflex and strength testing, sensation tests, and then we're ushered into an exam room. Me, Asher, Lindy, and Rachel. With the instructions to "practise the neurological exam". How fun is that? We play with the reflex hammers and figure out how to get knee-jerk reflexes, I demonstrate the ankle-jerk reflexes that my family doctor taught me, we try wrists and elbows...I got a wrist jerk on Rachel once, but for the most part we just banged on our fingers until they went sore, and gave up. Gotta learn. Get out the cotton, the tuning forks, and the pins, poke, prod and bang until we've all demonstrated that we have intact senses and know how to test them. Pull out the nystagmus strip. This is a long blue-and-white striped strip that you wave back and forth in front of someone's eyes to see if they have nystagmus. Which is the spiffy jerking movements that your eyes make when you can't track fast enough. Watch someone's eyes when they're looking out the car window at trees going by to see it. So cool. Tracked ocular muscles with our fingers, then set to the really hard work: the funduscopic exam. Which was when we got to try out the PanOptic. This thing is so freakin' cool. For the very first time ever I got to see the back of someone's eye. Rachel's eye. After fiddling for like ten minutes. Then we tried the regular otoscope, the kind most doctors use. The difference was unbelievable.

I want.

Got to hit up the parents-in-law, who have the wherewithal to fund my medical school education, and see if they'll help me with the $600 student price tag (list at $1000) for it. Because this thing...I can actually see with it. Wow.

Hey, ho, nobody home...

Rachel's crying across the way. To borrow from Clarabear - Rawr at Koritnik for making Rachel cry. The man is outmoded, outdated, constantly claiming he's "too busy" to find out if drugs are on the market yet or even answer a simple e-mail asking a question about the upcoming exam for days after I send it. But he has time to make these stupid little animated icons for his webpage (which plays music, to boot) and for the useless powerpoint presentations. And when Rachel, who had to reschedule her exams because her grandmother died, e-mailed him a question about all the tedious little tiny drugs that he mentioned under antipsychotics but didn't really emphasize, he e-mails back: "I discussed them in class; you should know them."

Rawr.

Free time today; we got out of class at 11:05, and we don't have afternoon lab until 1:00, yay! Eating leftover lasagna and playing at the computer. Such is my enjoyment - especially now that Rachel's cheered up, and she's showed me the cutest little card...which has me momentarily enthralled with SmilePop, which is this charming little animation site. Playing happily with the make-your-own-devil right now. For once, there's not much going on. I should start studying heavily to stay caught up. But instead, for the following people: a video card, in no particular order, because it reminded me of you. Jefe, Kristi, Angel, Chavaling (1, 2, and 3, because you're extra-spiff), Mom, Jorath, Clarabear...and I'm out of time. Off to go play doctor.

Ahh, love...

Made lasagna tonight for my darlingMatthew. I can't believe we dated for four and a half years before I learned it was his favourite food. Ricotta cheese was on sale when I went shopping. So I picked some up, and then I picked up lasagna noodles. And then when I got home, realised we were short on mozzarella, so we went to the store and got some of that. And then we saw green bean casserole stuff on sale, and I was reminded of Chelly, and so we made green bean casserole and garlic cheese bread and had dinner, and it was so good. Even got a unit of notes done. And it's half an hour past bedtime.

A good night....

I Spy and Coldstone ice cream and black lipstick and no studyness at all. Exam, I think, went quite well. More on I spy after a good night's sleep. Why not top off a good evening with a good night. Things to talk about:

• Coldstone ice cream
• People who attempt to con me into driving like an idiot
• The charming policeman at Jefferson Pointe

And now to bed. And now to bed.

Change of plans

Seeing as how the retake on the exam is probably going to be over all the questions, not just what I missed. Seeing as how the one point isn't really going to do that much to my average. Seeing as how if I do really spectacularly on one exam, all my troubles would be over. Not going to retake the pharm exam. Meeting with him on Friday afternoon, after Rachel takes the exam, to go over my old exams and look for a defining trend - something that I've been missing or not doing well enough on, that I can improve in my studying. Mind you, I can't stand the man, but he's willing to work with me and that's something I'm unwilling to pass up. And maybe he'll see something. I'm so bad at picking up trends. So tonight - tonight, after the path lab exam I'm going to outline the antibiotics lecture and then go play. Dinner or something. Spend some time not fretting. I need it.

Special note: Today, according to Iwona, is Polish Independence Day.

Path lab exam in 45 minutes. *munches Spaghetti-o's* Notgonnafailnotgonnafailnotgonnafail... Oh, poo. I still think I'm going to fail. *gets out textbook to cram*

Mom comes through:

A Bernina is a very nice sewing machine - probably comparable to a Viking which your grandmother had. I think it's Scandinavian made.

Wendy's got my order right. Except I wish I could have butter too. There are only 15 glass slides and a few dozen Kodachromes on the exam. And two stations of enzymes, and 16 gross specimens. Really gross.

Andy: "Hey, look! This uterus resembles a pork chop!"

And I just have to type up notes on body fluids and everything he might ask questions on in the book. Lab exam average is 85%. I should be just fine. Not that that means I won't panic tomorrow, but oh, well. I'm going to make it. I'm going to make it. I'm going to make it.

Angel: I love you.

Things to think about:

We drive past a store every day on the way to church. It's one of many stores we pass - but this particular one, a quilting store, has a sign out front: "Make a sewer's dream come true - Buy her a Bernina" And every time I pass it, I misread the blasted thing and have visions of toilet bowls and lead pipes receiving gift-wrapped boxes. Whatever a Bernina is. Mom? Wendy's . Nice place. Worked there for a couple of years. But for some reason, Wendy's is involved in a conspiracy to ensure that I have no cheese on my cheeseburgers. In fact, it seems to be a conspiracy to ensure that I have no dairy products whatsoever. The last three times I've been to Wendy's, I have ordered the same thing - a single combo (#1) with cheese, substitute a sour cream and chive baked potato for the fries. The following:

• Time 1: I got the potato just fine. No cheese on the cheeseburger.
• Time 2: Forgot to tell Matt to get a potato instead of fries. He got caught up in remembering "no tomato, no onion, no mustard" and neglected to order cheese.
• Time 3: No cheese on the cheeseburger, after I heard Matt order it and saw the guy ring it up. No butter or sour cream with the baked potato. "Chives on the side" involved enough chives to season a Thanksgiving turkey.

Am I really that picky? We're going to Wendy's again today, on the way to drop me off at school to study. I intend to order the same thing. We'll see what happens.

Ah, angel. I'm so sorry...I wish I could say things so that they didn't hurt you. I wish I... I wish, I wish, I wish.

Not long ago, the writer of these lines,
In the mad pride of intellectuality,
Maintained "the power of words"--denied that ever
A thought arose within the human brain
Beyond the utterance of the human tongue:
And now, as if in mockery of that boast,
Two words--two foreign soft dissyllables-
Italian tones, made only to be murmured
By angels dreaming in the moonlit "dew
That hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill,"
Have stirred from out the abysses of his heart,
Unthought-like thoughts that are the souls of thought,
Richer, far wilder, far diviner visions
Than even seraph harper, Israfel,
(Who has "the sweetest voice of all God's creatures,")
Could hope to utter. And I! my spells are broken.
The pen falls powerless from my shivering hand.
With thy dear name as text, though bidden by thee,
I cannot write--I cannot speak or think-
Alas, I cannot feel; for 'tis not feeling,
This standing motionless upon the golden
Threshold of the wide-open gate of dreams.
Gazing, entranced, adown the gorgeous vista,
And thrilling as I see, upon the right,
Upon the left, and all the way along,
Amid empurpled vapors, far away
To where the prospect terminates--thee only.
              -Edgar Allen Poe, "To--"

To where the prospect terminates -- thee only. You've been my anchor and my angel, my love and my life. You've been everything to me - everything that is good, everything that is right, everything that gives me hope for the future and lets me let go of my past. You've held me when I cried. You've loved me and laughed with me, you've been there no matter what I do, no matter what happens to me. I've screamed at you - you've taken it. I've accused you and slighted you, spurned you and wounded you - and you have come back to hold me, knowing that I hurt you because I trust you more than life. I wish I didn't. I wish I wouldn't. I wish, I wish, I wish. I wish I lived up to the impossible standards of perfection I demand that I achieve. I wish that I were half as giving and forgiving as you have been to me. I wish...I wish I could hold the perfect moments in my hands for eternity, hold them up to a living sun and send crystal reflections of light all around forever. I wish...if everyone in the world had someone one-tenth as perfect for them as you are for me, there would be no more hurt anywhere. I wish - I hope- I try - to be something near to that... Which is why, when I fail, it hurts so much. And even more when, failing, I watch you crumple and weep, want to stop my words...but they beat and they press and they rage against my mind. And I say them. And I hate myself for it. I want to lift you up, to bear you even higher, angel. I want my words to be nothing but a reflection of the light you have brought to my life. I want my words to be hope and love and life...and I want them to inspire you and to fill your dreams, echo through your days. I want you to know, to never doubt, that I love you as you are, that I love everything that you have been and will become, that every thing you say and do is precious to me. Infinitely precious. Infinitely vital. The love that we have is amber and diamond, the heart of an unopened rose. And I wish that somehow, some way, I could keep this mortal world of cares and suffering from drawing its sullied hands across those reflections. I wish somehow...somehow I could keep it precious, sheltered, away from all that is rough and harsh and painful... But I know I can't. And I know that the very reason I want to protect it is the thing that ties us together: because love is precious, and love is real, and love is stronger than this filthy world. You knew me when you married me, and you didn't hesitate. You knew - I knew - that there would be pain, that laughter and tears alike are bound in the web of our hearts. And I want the whole godsdamned world, with its filth and its pain and the shit of everyday existence - this world of confusion and misdirection and questions without answers - I want this world to know:

I love you. I believe in you and the wonder of you. I make mistakes - we both do - we do and we will. But I love you and I have faith in you. And I always will.

Sean Connery, and other trivia....

Many critics and fans alike have said that the quality of his acting has only improved with age. Certainly his personal appeal has. In 1989, at almost 60 years of age he was voted People Magazine's "Sexiest Man Alive." When advised of the award, Sean seemed to be unaffected as he replied, "Well there aren't many sexy dead men, are there." (Credits) I thought that was so freakin' funny. Ryken's eating Cheesy Poofs with chopsticks. Stale Cheesy Poofs. This is the man who, until he came to live with us, swore he would never be able to use chopsticks. And now he's eating Cheesy Poofs with them. Online mage: As much fun as ever, and to boot...we all four voted for each other for the RP point at the end. Watching The Crow. Thinking about going to bed early, getting up early, going studying, etc. Because then I could do things, and spend the evening doing everything I forgot to do. I hate medical school. Monday and Tuesday, then I can take a night off. All the way off. And then I can bury myself in keeping up with all these fucking notes again. I'm so overwhelmed. I can't wait for Christmas break.

*Gasp sob drool*

From the IUPUI campus newsletter:

Date: Thu, 7 Nov 2002 13:57:39 -0500 Subject: Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. to speak at Atheneum Foundation Dinner Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. and other "wits" to speak at "A Gathering of Wits" Athenaeum Foundation celebration dinner The Athenaeum Foundation will host its 7th annual dinner to celebrate and recognize members of the 1894 Society of the Athenaeum Foundation with some of the greatest masters of wit. Kurt Vonnegut, an Indianapolis-native, notorious freethinker and icon of American literature whose classic writings include Slaughterhouse-Five and Cat's Cradle, will make a rare public appearance as keynote speaker and will be joined by Bob Weide, a Los Angeles-based writer, humorist and producer currently developing a documentary on the life of Kurt Vonnegut (titled "Kurt Vonnegut, American Made"), and Wil Shriner, a California-based director, comedian, actor, writer, producer and son of Hoosier humorist Herb Shriner. The event promises to be an evening of zany wit and laughter. When/Where: Saturday, November 16, 2002 The Athenaeum Reception, tours and open house - 6:00 p.m. Dinner - 7:00 p.m. Program - 8:00 p.m. Tickets for the reception, dinner and program are $100 per person and $800 for a table of eight.

-------------------------- I could not in a million years justify spending a hundred dollars on this. Let alone two hundred, which is what it'd take to put me and my Angel down there for the dinner. Not when we're this broke. But ohhh....it's on a weekend when I have no exam the following monday, and it's

Kurt Vonnegut! *resorts to fangirl ranting*

I'm such a nutbar sometimes. But I love Vonnegut. And I'm afraid he'll up and die like Douglas Adams (sniffle) did before I ever get to hear him speak. *sighs* There'll be a next time, right?

To lighten my day..

Ryken stirs his drink. It begins to foam over. And then...he tries to drink the foam off. Inhaling alcohol in the process. He's coughing and laughing and falling back on the couch. I laughed so hard. Matt: It's Caine. He's supposed to kick your ass. And the debate briefly flares up again, over who's the best James Bond.

1. Unanimously: Sean Connery is the penultimate Bond.
2. Our consensus is that Pierce Brosnan is the next-best...
3. Then Roger Moore
4. Then the others. And Timothy Dalton sucks.

And some people are trying to tell us that Roger Moore is far better than Brosnan, even though he hasn't even seen any of the Brosnan ones. Bah. Bah, I say.

If this fscking laptop dies one more time since it can't tell if the fscking battery is unplugged...

Always the instant before I save, shut down, or post. Godsdamn. ----- Original Message ----- Sent: Friday, 08 November, 2002 16:11 Subject: Pharm Grade > Nykki: > You almost made the cut, but missing 12 gave you a grade of 74 (after curving). You can retake the exam on Tuesday for a 75 if you better your performance. Sorry you didn't do better. Maybe you should stop by and we can go over the exam and see where you can better focus your study efforts. I want you to excell from here to the end ! Hang in there ! > DRK ------------ Okay....for the second time, I think I've stopped crying. One point. One godsdamned point, after a 4-point curve. All I have to do is get one more question right, and I'll have my 75% Exam average: 83, with a standard deviation of 11. That says something. Score range from 67 to 95 aftera four-point curve. If it weren't for the fact that my average in that class has just dropped from 75 to 74, which is sub-passing, I'd say "fuck it" and take the score. But I can't. And that's the part that fscking well sucks. I'm tired of having to dig and scrape for my grade in this class. Even in fscking pathology I'm passing with a little to spare. But pharm.... And he tries to be understanding. I'm apparently just stupid about drugs or something. Going to take him up on the retake (only the questions I missed, oh please God let it be only the questions I missed) and then settle down and talk to him, see if I can figure out what to do about the studying. If I spent any more time studying, I wouldn't eat.

Owwie...

There's nothing quite like going into an exam to find that the preparatory materials you have been given are nothing like the exam itself. After he told us to know the prototypes, he asked lots about the mechanisms of new drugs. Lots of (a) (b) (both) (none). Lots of (e) all of the above are correct statements - when the question asked which was incorrect. Those suck. It all sucked. Worse than anticipated. At least he'll e-mail my grade in a few hours and I'll know whether I have to retake it on Tuesday. Would suck less if I could remember any of the fardling questions. Would suck less if there had been anything I knew on the exam. But all the stuff I know seems to have gone by the wayside, apparently. Bottom of the class in Pharm. Barely passing, when the class average is in the high 80's. On the bright side, I got a little note in my mailbox today telling me that I High-passed medical genetics. Hallelujah. Also on the bright side, Pathology is mostly guest-lecturing for the rest of the semester, which is always a bonus. I do better when Smith doesn't write the questions. Second note in my mailbox confirmed that one more first-year has taken a Leave of Absence. That makes three. And we're still sixteen of us. Amazing. Lunch, wait for my pharm scores, then study pathology. Exam-Monday, Possible-Retake-Tuesday... Someone...anyone...tell me you love me. I feel so godsdamned worthless after these fucking exams.