Thoughts

Cutscene from the Lord of the Rings - credits as posted in the Livejournal cut. It's the Ringwraith conference. Mark reminded me about the Stealthware (TM). Picked up some cheap glass tableware for the Christmas Dinner Party last Friday. Washed it in the dishwasher. And it came out very clear. So clear, in fact, that when one was looking down at the table, it was difficult to see the glassware. People didn't believe me. They still don't. But everyone came over and looked at the Stealth Glassware. And it was really scary. It looked like the table was set with forks, knives, spoons, napkins, and nothing else. I love the Stealthware.

The 13th Annual Z'wad Gaming convention and New Year's Party, night 1

The night went well, so to speak. I've now ingested enough Mountain Dew to send me into a wildly spiralling migraine headache...and it hasn't hit yet. This frightens me. I'm blurry-eyed and I haven't found my brush yet, so my slightly deranged braid of the morning is going to remain that way for a while. Nicole was in Indian garb. Apparently she's at circus school in San Francisco, for contortionism and trapeze. She amused us all with a demonstration of the former, which was really rather disturbing. However, I did get to wear her head scarf all night, since she didn't need it. It's heavily adorned with coins, so I jingled. Oodles of fun, to say the least. We didn't have enough people to run all four sessions at once, so I got Robby in my first session and Z in my third, as Robby got too tired to run a second after just one of his. Doesn't surprise me - Robby's RP style is incredibly draining, and he'd been up since the wee hours of the morning. Hence, I was the only GM of the four who ran all three sessions, and what sessions they were! B-Movie - "El Fantastico Contra Dracula" - a Mexican professional wrestler scenario involving all the good stuff - werewolves, Aztec mummy robots, vampires, scantily clad bloodthirsty women, and lots of "I piledrive him!" and "I spike him!"....and many, many, many quotes. It was generally agreed from the beginning that the B-movie session, set in Mexico, was dubbed over (and, optionally, subtitled in Spanish). This engendered several quotes in itself. Robby has my set from the first session. The following are compiled from second and third-session notes. Session Two:

• Can we speak in subtitles?
• As the werewolf comes leaping into the ring: This guy is incredibly hairy! (Over his shoulder) Mr. Z! Get in here, we need a cameo!
• Note that "El Fantastico" himself is clad in gold Spandex and a sparkly gold cape... Stoned student: Whooooah...the hairy guy is running toward the sparkly guy...this could be interesting... Shortly after: Oh, look. Those nachos I dropped. I stare at them for a while.
• (To the two Spandex-clad Mexican professional Wrestlers - who have somehow managed not to Overcome their Cowardice scores of 3 and 4 (on 2d6) - and are standing staring at the werewolf-pro wrestler wrestling match in panic and terror): Because you are shatting in your total lack pants, these items (various folding chairs, baseball bats, wrenches, etc...) are useless to you.
• (After Z's little brother, for the tenth time, used an allusion to Z's well-known pacing to describe his character's actions): Look, the idea of having Eric at this event just...disturbs me.
• (On finding the remains of an arrow in the trash can):Give me that arrow. It's not an arrow, there's no tip. It's just a shaft. Okay, fine. Just give me the shaft.
• This is a visual joke - I'm not sure how well it will translate, but it sent us into hysterics for a very long time, so I felt the need to include it. It begins with the Mexican wrestling referee counting out "Uno! Dos! Tres! You're out!" at the end of each match. A series of events culminated in someone getting hit in the face with a pant leg. He collapsed out of his chair onto the floor. Someone picks up the plastic chair and upends it, pro-wrestling style, over the wounded party. In unison, all the players: Uno! Dos! Tres! You're out!
• Doctor (lifting up the stoner's eyelids and peering into his eyes): Are you okay? Do you need assistance? Stoner: Uhhh....I can't blink...
• Doctor (a la pulp Westerns): There's a mad scientist; we must go to him! We ride, we ride, we ride!
• (Following a discussion about Mexican transportation in which the players completely fail to note that I've given several of them cars on their Goodies lists...) So, I'm on his mule?
• (There were a lot of Catholic jokes. Our hosts - two of which were playing the priests in their respective sessions - are Catholics.) The priest: I like riding with little boys.
• (To the doctor): You can do that next round. It takes some time to fill your needle with tequila.
• Are you going to set the mummy (injected with the aforementioned tequila) on fire? No, we'll kill him wiith alcohol poisoning. Just have to run around for a couple of hours.
• Priest: Okay, I give the robot last rites.
• (Somehow, "the size of a microwave oven" became "It must be a microwave"...): I want to throw my microwave at the mummy, dangerously close to her (the journalist's) head.
• There are seven bloodthirsty, beautiful, scantily clad women lunging at you. What do you do? I submit!

Session 3, which began at 1 AM and finished at 6 AM, due to the incredible ineptness of the DM's monsters in combat...

• (In a fit of quirkiness, I gave one of the professional wrestlers six fingers on his right hand. His player attempted to make rude gestures toward his opponent, provoking the following observation): This (raising third and fourth fingers) is me giving him the finger. I don't know which one is my middle. Well, having six fingers on one hand would make it difficult how to give someone the finger...
• Anyone ever see a werewolf in a full Nelson?
• I'm the head of the church of Jesus Christ the Professional Wrestler!
• It's Mexican professional wrestling - much like Mexican soccer. Journalist: Gosh. Four hundred and twelve people killed in vicious wrestling riot....
• Dude! What is it with stoners and Count Chocula?
• (Priest, to stoner): You're going to grope him (El Fantastico) and they're all going to blame me.
• It's open-mic night at the wrestling arena!
• (The stoner, after everyone else has completely failed to catch the attention of the near-panicked crowd): I'm going to pick up the microphone and fart into it. (GM, after she makes her roll): You have their attention. What are you going to say? (Stoner, realising she doesn't speak Spanish): Uhh....move...su asses....out la puerta....a hora! (Mexican professional wrestler): What? (GM): Wait for the subtitles....
• Wow....Padre been sniffing the holy dust....
• (The constable tells the assembled VC's that "he's going to take him down to the station and book him", referring to the now-defeated werewolf. Apparently, someone misunderstood. Pro wrestler: What? GM: Take him down to the station and book him. What did you think I said? Wrestler: ...Take him down and poke him.... Priest: No, Padre gets first rights on that! Someone else: Only if they dress him in a cassock first....
• Another fit of creativity named the journalist "Maria Olestra" - if you've heard Robin Williams speak on Olestra, this will be at its maximum funniness. Apparently, there's a warning on products containing Olestra: "May cause anal leakage".... What kind of journalist are you? Journalist: One with anal leakage... Stop that! Journalist: I can't - that's the problem. (GM, getting up in mad giggles): Okay, now I have to pee.
• (While interrogating the werewolf, now back in human form, the pro wrestler threatens to shave him bald. Werewolf: Shave away - I will not speak! Wrestler: Have you ever seen a bald werewolf?
• (Villain, regarding being hired by Dracula): He gave me a fortune in Aztec gold coins. Stoner: But he didn't give you any Count Chocula? What a cheap bastard!
• How many valleys are there near Mexico City?
• Man, you got gold, but you don't have cable or cereal? Sounds like you're getting fucked.
• (As the stoner picks up a rock): The stoner is going for the stones...
• (GM): And Count Dracula - (Players, in unison): Chocula! (GM, waving the arrow shaft in their general direction): Plus one Misfortune! No more Chocula!
• (El Fantastico, the Golden-Masked Man, the Heavyweight Champion of All Mexico, due to being under the GM's control and thus subject to the laws of Evil Dice (TM), spends most of the gaming session flat on his butt, failing to grapple, hit, or otherwise contact anyone he attempts to attack - or flat-out unconscious. In summation: He's not much of a wrestler...
• (Randomly, as the players made an effort to use the expressions listed under their "favourite sayings" category on the character sheets): Newt cripes!
• If they had milk, it would be coming out of their noses. But they don't have any. (Pause) Milk, that is. They have noses.
• (The priest, at ringside, made the error of shaking his hot dog hand rather than his walking stick hand at the werewolf. The hot dog consequently flew out and landed in the ring. Later on, the dice and a Very Evil Mastermind decided that he would slip on it and fall on his butt. After a while, around 3 or 4 AM, the session started to slide into the gutter, engendering the following at various moments: He's described as Friar Tuck-esque in build - he gets out of breath going down stairs! What's there to be attracted to? More to love! If you can trip on your hot dog, it's good enough for me...
• Can you put your hot dog between your buns?
• He gets his walking stick and his hot dog confused? Man, that must really hurt when you're hiking.
• Right now, I need to be guarded from behind...
• (Regarding the "Friar Tuck-esque" description): Oh, just call me "Friar Fuck..."
• (They encounter a steam shovel digging holes in the side of a hill. It is worth noting that there are instructions that anyone who wants to see inside the steam shovel has to Overcome Clumsiness or take 12 Lumps from being beaten on by the Steam Shovel. And that every party goes through at least three characters getting knocked unconscious before discovering that there is a "blinking, flashing, whirling metal box about the size of a microwave oven" operating the Steam Shovel. This is the "microwave oven" of note.) It (The steam shovel) is being run by the microwave. Don't you think that's a bit odd? (Ignorance-7 Professional Wrestler:) Hmmm...I'm going to see if this is odd or not. (Rolls dice) Yes, that is odd.
• (The professional wrestler attempts to manoeuvre his car so that the headlights shine down a tunnel, and fails, wedging the car sideways in the narrow valley): Well, that microwave is not going anywhere, now.
• (The priest, in attempting to decide which of four tunnels to go down, spins his crucifix on the ground to use as a sort of random pointer, yielding the following comments): It's a Ouija-fix! Catholic party games: Spin the crucifix!
• (On finding a row of coffins): Let's see if there's dead people!
• (The Priest attempts to sprinkle holy water on a mummy. GM, in response): Now you have a moist mummy.
• Friar Fuck and the Moist Mummy...sounds like a bad porno.
• (Priest): I can get the dead wet...
• He (El Fantastico) has teeth marks on his butt now. (Stoner, wailing): And they're not mine!
• (In conclusion): We've had doorstops more productive than El Fantastico...

Random, from my note margins:

• I would like to prepounce El Villiano, please.
• Are you taking notes (on the wrestling match) for your journal article? Journalist: Oh, yeah. Stuff happens, people fall down, it was pretty cool.
• Player, OOC'ly, to EM): May I ask what happened to the werewolf? (EM):Yes. (Player, turning to the others): What happened to the werewolf? (Note that it changed back into a man Before Their Eyes, and is now lying in front of him in the ring.)
• Knocked senseless -- -- Eaten senseless.
• (Priest, in the werewolf battle): I throw holy water at it. EM: You have a wet werewolf.
• ...the wet werewolf, mind you.
• Female pro-wrestlers: No brains, all bra.
• Doctor: We'll just go to the nearest valley. EM: Rather than asking the prisoner for directions? Someone else: Yeah, screw that.
• The last thing you need to know is whether he stuffs those Spandex briefs.
• You could make a wet vampire! A wampire?
• Those wascally wampires...
• Be wery wery qwiet...we're hunting wampires....
• These are not actually vampires. They're just blood-crazed women with fangs.
• I wake up the wrestler (El Fantastico)- we need some help. Why are you waking up the wrestler?
• Do something useful - don't attack!

They're watching Dirty Harry. "He's climbing a fence with two broken ribs?" - "Yeah. Very carefully." B: "This movie is all about bad lighting..." Z: Wow, we just panned across darkness. I'm so impressed.

Damn dog...

I went out this morning to let the dog in, because she was whining. In my bare feet, through the snow, to let her in. Instead of coming in, she decided to take off through the neighbourhood. I got shoes on when it was clear that she wasn't going to come when I called, and Angel and I slogged through the snow and ice to find her, four or five blocks away, just about to go up to someone's front door and make friends with a chihuahua. Damn dog. I had to carry her partway back, because she wouldn't pay attention to the choke chain.

Thoughts.

Brushing my teeth this morning, I am unaccountably reminded of the dentist who went with us to Nicaragua. One of the enterprising Manchester College students asked him which toothbrush and toothpaste he recommended one use. He looked around at the children with their rotting teeth, the adults who'd come in to have their chewing surface reduced from eight teeth to seven, the collection of forceps and needles that were the best instruments we had out there in the wilds, and said:

"Using one."

That sticks with me. On my way to Indianapolis for a few days, for the 13th annual Christmas party and Gaming Session. The laptop comes, but who knows how much connectivity I'll actually have...

What's Your Inner Anime Motto?
brought to you by Quizilla ...I've never Seen The Univers of the Four Gods. Anyone?

Twelve angels descended from Heaven, each
putting a piece of themselves into those
who would follow them....
Which Angel rests inside you?
Challenge their trial to find out.

A holy angel. That resembles some kind of fluffy animal with wings. Yannow, I can cope with that.

You're the lego Space Man! Strap on your helmet! You're the lego space man! You love technology, and look forward to the future. You're brave, active, and strangely attracted to shiny objects.

Take the "What Lego character are you?" test! by ctbx

Okay, the HTML code in this is ridiculously complex, but I see why it works. As far as Legos...(ooh, shiny!)

Which Video Game Console are you? brought to you byStan Ryker

Top five, in order: PS-2, X-box, GameCube, GBA, PS-1 Sweet. I'm newfangled and shit.
What Toy From The 80s Are You
brought to you by Quizilla Alphie....Wow. Alphie. How fascinating. Z's in the background. "I used to have an Alphie! I learned how to cheat on it!"

*dances* Terra's so beautiful!
Which Magical Order Are You In?
brought to you by Quizilla You are a Mentalist. Your magic depends on strength of will. You could be a memory-reading Mind-Mage, a lethally telekentic Force-Wizard, or a helpful Transmage for your abilities are a result of sheer stubborn will and intensely keen intellect. Your mind has been honed by learning and practice into the perfect tool for examining and dissecting reality and altering it to suit your needs. You are intelligent and scholarly with a tendency to distance yourself from others. Mmmm....mentalist. I always thought it might be terrifyingly interesting to read others' minds.

You are 48% geek

You are a geek liaison, which means you go both ways. You can hang out with normal people or you can hang out with geeks which means you often have geeks as friends and/or have a job where you have to mediate between geeks and normal people. This is an important role and one of which you should be proud. In fact, you can make a good deal of money as a translator. Normal: Tell our geek we need him to work this weekend. You [to Geek]: We need more than that, Scotty. You'll have to stay until you can squeeze more outta them engines! Geek [to You]: I'm givin' her all she's got, Captain, but we need more dilithium crystals! You [to Normal]: He wants to know if he gets overtime.

Take the Polygeek Quiz at Thudfactor.com

Cough, cough. Yeah, pretty much accurate.
Come take the Comprehensive DDR Personality Test!
Created by ptocheia If I knew more about DDR, might mean more. Every time I see "DDR" I think ....Double data rate?
Come get your fortune read!
Created by ptocheia ...Because it's coming...

take the nerd test.
and go to mewing.net. a nerd utopia. I'm so disappointed.

find YOUR drag persona
and go to mewing.net. where all the men wear skirts. *Shivers* Now I'm disturbed.

take the "are you thomas pynchon, goethe, or a brick wall?" test.
and go to mewing.net. weirder and weirder every day. How bizarre.
I'm a Wind Spiriti
Thought above feeling and mind over matter are your mottos. Others come to you for advice and guidance. Some see you as introverted and snobbish, but they are merely jealous of your common sense knack to think things through. Don't be afraid to listen to your heart though. Pretty, that.
*looks at the current world's population* You must have a lot of frustration then.

What pisses you off?
Created by ptocheia Not going to comment. Just...not going to comment.
...in strange and unusual positions! Baaaaaah

What's your sexual perversion?
Created by ptocheia ....Goats? Naaah, too smelly. That said. Went to see Spirited Away this afternoon at the Cinema Centre. A very good movie, incredible. Too bad rumour has it the DVD was fucked up in production and Disney/Miramax is being an ass about it. I want. Took a drink from the drinking fountain, got a mouthful of something semisolid. I spit it out, and look down. Ice. Partially frozen water pipes. And Jeff says my water is glacial. Bah. Bah, I say! Otherwise, still flopped out from last night's party and cleaning up therefrom. We have a whole ham left, and a lot of mashed potatoes. The word "Casserole" comes to mind. Tomorrow, more relatives. Monday, go to Indy and run B-movie. *flops* And I start school again in a week. Gah.

Who am I? Vingt-quatre-six-oh-un!

She pages, "If I need to go and pick up B from wherever he lands, call me so I know. OK? ;) See ya in the afternoon." [Public] Phloxin gets in the car to drive to Indy. "I'll be waiting for you" I used to wonder what made people want to stick around me and my friends. What, besides love, made Lily want to come back, Picc to consider flying back up here for a Christmas party on the spur of the moment..

If I didn't have work today I'd be packing for Indy right now, dangit. Guess that's what I get for not signing online for 2 days, though the idea probably wouldn't have come up until tonight anyways, oh well...another time. Amazing how the mention of brownies can nearly get me halfway across the country. All i needed was a flight a few hours later and I could have swung it, so now I get to play responsible and go to work, BLEH.

Zia to come back even though she and Ryk spent half the time with each others' hackles running the wrong way, B to buy tickets every leave he gets... I think I know. It's the completely selfless love that you guys show everyone who comes here. We have our moments - crass and cruel and biting and angsty just like anyone else - but there's so much more. And it's such a sweet feeling, knowing that the friends I have are such wonderful people.

I love you all.

A quiz.

What sort of M*er are you?
by KarmaBum
Power-Gaming Tendency: 2 Combat Addiction: -5 Tinysex Drive: -1 How useless are you: -6 Stupid Poet Bullshit Factor: 2

Oi, I'll admit that the first time I took this I came up with "Power-Gamer". And then I changed one answer and came up with this one. Because Power-Gamer...I've only been accused of being an all-out control freak by one or two players, anywhere I've ever MOO'd. And those particular players had issues of their own. And if I change one -more- answer, I get: I give up. Apparently, I'm just too damn wishy-washy. But I score consistently low on the combat bits. Anyone surprised?

Happy Birthday to me...

Present count: the last two Lain DVD's and soundtracks to both LotR movies. I love my angel. Spent the day at work with him - but nothing amusing to tell today, since I slept and played Gameboy the whole time. Except that it's very snowy out. But we went out to dinner at Takaoka, which is the cook-it-in-front-of-you Japanese place in town where we go on very special occasions, and I wore my perilously short dress with my boots, and when we came out, there were people with a horse-and-carriage from one of the carriage-ride-places, and so we took a carriage ride because we had just barely enough cash between the two of us to pay for it. I was going to write a whole long paragraph about riding in the carriage in the crisp, cold black of the winter air. I was going to talk about the arrhythmic jingle of bells on the horse's harness, and the clip-clop of the hooves in staccato rhythm against the pavement. I was going to talk about the bite of the cold on cheeks and ears, the warmth of the lap blankets, the way Angel kept his arm around me the whole ride, nestled up close to him. I was going to tell you how I couldn't stop grinning, even once we got our frozen faces into the car. I was going to talk about it. But...I can't. I lose the words in the magic of the mo ment. It's been a lovely birthday, and the presents I got are nearly forgotten, swept away by the wonder of that carriage ride in the night, the magic of a half-lit room waiting to be seated at Takaoka. It's been...a lovely day.

Today, tomorrow, and the next day.

Expect a soapbox rant in the coming days, as soon as I find a reprint of Molly Ivins' column that was published in today's Journal-Gazette. She syndicates from a Texas newspaper, which reprints her columns online - it appears - so I'm hoping they'll put this one up. It made me cry. And without typing the whole thing in again, I can't explain why save to say that it's a superbly written commentary on the economic policy that afflicts our country today. I voted. I have the right to complain, to voice my opinion. And I must say in no uncertain terms that the direction this country's leadership seems to be taking terrifies me. But the rest...the rest will have to wait. Ms. Ivins said it far better than I can. That said, tears dried, nose blown, Christmas here at Mom's is going swimmingly. Carols and presents, ham and casserole even though the family is just the six of us. Mom called Michelly in France to say Joyeux Noël, and we chatted a bit. I miss Michelly. Food, from the smell of it, is on the table. Mark and David and Angel are planning to come home and play computer games. I'm going to work my thumbs raw on the Gameboy most likely, since they got me more Zelda. I now have Link's Awakening, A Link to the Past, and Oracle of Seasons. Just missing Oracle of Ages. Seeing as how I've never finished a Zelda game, this should be intriguing. Also in the list: money, of course, gift cards to Borders and Barnes & Noble, a beautiful wire sculpture of an angel holding a candle, a Christmas sock (Yes - one Christmas sock. This pleases me very much, and not in a Harry Potter way. It's because I haven't matched my socks, ever, in the last eight years.), pens, a book about Duct Tape, and an ornament. All in all, a good Christmas. I got to carol. Carolling is good. And now...is lunch. Dinner. Whatever, it's going to be yummy.

And it's still snowing.

Although it's been said, many times, many ways...

We opened presents yesterday, Angel and I, because today was going to be all-day-at-Mom's, with the Bever family, for Christmas. He and Mark got me a Gameboy Advance. I've already made my thumb sore playing Legend of Zelda: Oracle of Seasons and getting my ass beaten soundly by it. Also on the List of Stuff: A Stitch doll that matches my Lily's, pretty necklaces (a fairy and an amethyst), earrings that look like screws going through people's ears (which I think I'll wear today to freak out Mom), Super Mario Advance (I am so going to lose that tiny thing), and the whole Magic Knights Rayearth first season on DVD. Very much prettyness. I still out-presented Angel, though, and I found a "Forgiven" fish necklace with Japanese on the back, and a tie tack. Muaha. Mom called this morning as we were trying to get ourselves together to make it in time to have family Christmas before the Bevers all got there. Seems those five inches of snow mean that things will be postponed, but come over for presents and lunch anyway. Drive carefully. I hope it doesn't snow too much more; I don't want to have to get the snowblower out. That would involve moving a car, backing the van out, getting the snowblower out, and putting the van back in the garage when I was done, right smack snug up against the table at the back or else the door won't close. Ick. But the radio man promises two to four more inches, so maybe we'll just hermit for a few days. I'm so glad I got Michel-Ange's brakes fixed. Did I mention? Both back calipres and the front right calipre were rusted open. And a cracked CV boot, and there's a tiny oil leak in the engine, but I didn't want to pay $200+ to have it taken apart and found. But they took my power steering rack apart and put it back together for free, since the part wasn't broken, and it might not leak much now. And they tightened my parking brake or something, so it takes two hands to set now. Wow. It snowed. It...it's beautiful out, and everything's coming together for this crazy Christmas potluck with my friends that I'm trying to organise. James brought his alcohol over yesterday, and the liquor cabinet is now quite adamantly full. What fun. I'm glad we have the house to ourselves, since Z might be able to make it too, which would make thirteen or so. That, my friends, is an incredibly warming thought. For some reason I think to myself that I have no friends in Fort Wayne area...but around the holidays, it seems I'm wrong. Christmas potluck, Fourth of July fireworks extravaganza...what fun.

It snowed!

Ditty bop doobie...

nykki, you're Princess Leia Organa "This is some rescue. When you came in here, did you have a plan for getting out?" Technically you're a princess, but there's nothing dainty about you. When your royal blood runs hot, you speak your mind and tell it like it is. Only a true leader would have the courage to stand up to an enemy as ruthless as Darth Vader, and like Leia, your strength lies between your ears (although you're never afraid to go head-to-head with the boys). Read more about your Star Wars character... Try it here. (but you have to sign up for them first) Now that....I like. Very very much.

At the end of the day...

Opened up my e-mail this evening, once I got my computer back from Mark (I'm so glad I have a laptop too...) to find a message from Dr. Koritnik. Subject: Pharm Score And in a sudden surge of terror I stared at it for a long moment before clicking on the title to read it.

Nykki: Outstanding performance on the shelf exam !!!!!! You had a raw score of 74, which was the 75th percentile and the equivalent of an 88 on my test scale. Way to go out with a flair ! I am really impressed with your effort on this one. Have a happy holiday and a well deserved rest ! DRK

I cannot even begin to tell you how that makes me feel. It...There are no words for the sudden suspension of a barely-noticeable tension in the back of one's mind. There are no words for that subtle, complete release. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was certain that I had failed that final shelf exam after working so hard. Somewhere deep in my heart I knew that I was destined to flunk out of medical school. Ha, self-doubt and fear. Fuck you, anxiety and insecurity. I passed. I passed everything. I can do this.

Semester grades: Pathology - Pass Pharmacology - Pass Medicine - High Pass (to be modified by next semester) Genetics - High Pass Biostatistics - Honours Pass

God damn, but that feels good. I'm going to bed. Tomorrow's Christmas.

Hallelu! Pervy hobbit-fancying!

One: A parody of Two Towers, from someone else's LJ. Two: is back, with a new installment of the Very Secret Diaries. For those of you who haven't read them, they're worth looking at. Warning: Not everyone thinks they're funny. The world seems to be of two minds about it. Link to the first set (from Fellowship of the Ring) at http://diaries.diagon.org. Follow Cassieclaire's LJ for the more recent installments. Today was...a sleepy sort of day. I spent the morning running in circles, trying to get things done and make sure Daddy got off to his plane in time. It's like sending a little kid off, only he did all the packing himself. And I took Chelly's car up to get new tires (Apparently, the Probe's klunk noise was due to the fact that the right front axle is either seriously bent or actually broken. Whoops. I swear I didn't do anything to cause it.) ...While I was there, I hit the used book store. Whoops. I have the entire Spellsinger series in paperback, plus the Xanth books 4 and 5, plus The Black Unicorn, which I might already have but it was cheap. I love used bookstores. Also bought Christmas presents at Books Comics and Things, before we braved the mall this evening to hunt for something specific. Had a v. nice conversation with the pierced, spiked, and gelled boy (how he managed to still be hot I don't know. I think it was the incredibly beautiful brown eyes) at Hot Topic before raiding Suncoast. Christmas shopping done. Good. We open gifts tomorrow. Yay! Otherwise, played FFX all afternoon instead of cleaning like I planned to. However, I did remember to call Meg and ask her to schedule me for an ambulance ridealong on the 3rd of January. I love being a medical student. Speaking of FFX, did the game designers have to put the save points in the plot scenes? I'm frantically looking for a save point so I don't lose the last 30 minutes of play time and still manage to meet my Angel at the mall, and the plot people walk me right past one outside Bevelle, through a one-way door. Stupid....*snarls* Pulled into the mall parking lot and Mom calls me. Which is all good, I like Mom. Except she has exquisitely poor timing. I cannot shift gears, steer (note that Michel-Ange is still horribly misaligned), and talk to Mom. Doesn't happen. So I cut her off and hung up, called back later to explain. I also ran into Erin (my baby sister) in the mall. She couldn't decide what to get her boyfriend (whom she's moving to Oregon with on January 6th to go to college out there) for Christmas...and then she decided "No, I think I'll get him a porn DVD. We have all the other kinds of DVD's. " So I steered her toward Suncoast, since she apparently didn't know that Suncoast has a porn section. I have such a strange family.

Quotes....

Thank you much, Triggerdarling.

Disorder	Rating
Paranoid:	Low
Schizoid:	Low
Schizotypal:	Moderate
Antisocial:	Low
Borderline:	Low
Histrionic:	High
Narcissistic:	Moderate
Avoidant:	Moderate
Dependent:	Moderate
Obsessive-Compulsive:	Moderate
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For those who don't know, Histrionic personality types are as follows: People with histrionic personality disorder are constant attention seekers. They need to be the center of attention all the time, often interrupting others in order to dominate the conversation. They use grandiose language to discribe everyday events and seek constant praise. They may dress provacatively or exaggerate illnesses in order to gain attention. They also tend to exaggerate friendships and relationships, believing that everyone loves them. They are often manipulative. ...I don't know about that... The purpose of the entry was, however, the following: Vessa> Has anyone else ever had those moments where you look at yourself in the mirror.. or you do something.. and you think to yourself, 'Man.. human kind really -is- evolved from apes.' How true. How very, very true.

Random thoughts:

...I went to pick up my prescription today, and the pharmacist had it out of the bin and was handing it to me before I said anything. "Boersma, right?" "Uhm...yes." That was a little freaky. We only come in once a month, and he has a lot of customers... Today's spam e-mail of the moment:

Don't be embarrassed by your small breast size any longer! Up to three cup sizes in as little as a month! You owe it to yourself, You Can Make this year the year you end your embarrassment

Anyone who knows me or has met me IRL. Can you think of anything I would desire less than three more cup sizes on my bra? I'm only wearing an F cup as it is, for fuck's sake. I hate my breasts. They seriously cut down on my fashion choices. Daddy leaves tomorrow for France. Everyone pray hard for him - it's a long flight. He's going to see my Michelly, the wunderkind, and spend Christmas with her. Yay! When I was in France, my Angel came to see me. And we went on a little tour of Europe, on trains and staying in hostels and cheap hotels. And on Christmas Day, in the wee hours of the morning, he asked me to marry him. Obviously, I said yes. And then, for those who haven't heard the story, I discovered that he'd intended to wait until Paris, until New Year's. Which is a whole 'nother tale. I should start posting extracts from my France-Journal here. But anyway. I made him ask again when we got to Paris. He put me up on one of the concrete posts at the end of the Champs-Elysées, in front of the whirligig and the Ferris wheel and the mini-carnival that was going on in the place there, and he got down on one knee in front of a bunch of French People and asked me again. And I said yes, and it was lovely. We had Christmas tonight, in honour of his going away. And I got new chopsticks and a Wolf Statue. And a new journal for my birthday. Daddy always gets me a new journal for my birthday, something unusual. This year, it had maps of New York for covers, which is ultra-cool. Lynda read my Christmas List, I can tell. Because she got me Miss Saigon and A Salmon of Doubt, which I mentioned by name. Both of which are uber-coolness. I can finally ditch the cassette-tape copy I made of it years ago. I love Miss Saigon. Today's humour: Santa taken custody by Border Patrol. Notes from the road: Seen on the back of a bus-stop bench, the following: Who's the Daddy? 1-800-R-U-MY-KID www.dnapaternitytest.com DNA testing for legal or peace of mind. I...don't know what to say about that one. $255 for an analysis, and a free sample collection kit... Seen, green sign, side of the road: Now entering a weed and seed community. This one...I don't know. Sounds like an open invitation for the DEA to come in and do some serious crop investigations. Two signs on a telephone pole:

Christian Theological Seminary ----> One Way <---

And I laughed at that one. Because, apparently, we're all going direct the other way. A row of identical black mailboxes, evenly spaced, which was odd enough until I looked up and saw that the houses were likewise identical - only changing insofar as they were mirror images of each other, in slightly different shades of grey or steel blue. That frightened me. Dinner with the family was excellent, at the Iron Skillet in Indy. Then we went back and opened presents at their place. I got my Pan-Optic *dances excitedly* and Matt got his guitar. Now we just have to get him lessons in it, so he can play something besides contemporary Christian music (and not that well, to boot). I find it fascinating that Angel's family seems to view the pacifism of the Church of the Brethren as something....quaint. I don't think they understand it really. And I don't think explaining it would change much. So I nod and smile a lot, chuckle, keep my mouth shut. His dad's in the Air Force reserves, after all. And he turned out okay. And then we came home and looped to the beginning of this entry.

Live from the land of wine and cheese...

Excerpted from Michelly's latest letter from Nancy:

On Tuesday, I was at the lycée preparing for my assistantship when the proviseur, which is like the principal, came in and said she had locked the doors and no one was coming in or leaving. Turns out the students were protesting in the street right outside of the lycée, with police cars and everything… I guess that now that the gov’t is right wing, the educators are fearing changes, and the government has proposed a new law that will take away a position called peons, or something like that… which are older students who watch in the cafeterias, etc., and make money to pay for their own education. Well, they started protesting, and were followed by the students, who just didn’t want to go to class. The teachers just shrugged and went back to their work. Ah, France. The rest of the week went quickly, and on Thursday night I made peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies for my Friday classes. That went over well. Very well. Even the peanut butter ones, which they swore they would hate. They ate them all. I knew they would. Yesterday I went to Freiburg, Germany with Tara and Deanna. It was a very American day, but fun, and much needed. I spoke the most German out of all of us, which isn’t to say much… I know some basic phrases… how to count… how to ask what things are… (I should know more, considering my heritage, but…) It was neat to find that the language I fell back on was French, and that the people in the markets assumed that was my language. Actually, they were surprised when I didn’t speak German, and for once, I blended in completely. Then we went driving around, and you will never guess what we found. A Wal-mart. Right next door to a Burger King. I admit with chagrin that we stopped at both. We couldn’t help it. It was amazing. Wal-mart here stocks all of these American brands and things that I haven’t seen for months. Wow.

It reminds me of my time in France, the strikes and protests for no apparent reason. "What do you mean, il n'y a pas de bus aujourd'hui?" "Un greve? Again?" And peanut butter cookies, and the sudden joy of finding American brands of things. I remember that. And, in the eternal words of the French, Ça me manque. Il me manque so many things that you just don't see here in the U.S. Buying a dozen bottles of wine at the grocery store, putting them in my backpack and a duffel I brought with me and carrying them home. Bicycles and patisseries, and the time Juliette bought me a Baba au rhum, which is about two shots of good strong rum disguised as a cute little cake. My canne chinois, which is French for bamboo, and being teased about how I was going to need a tiny panda to go with it. So many things...Even, believe it or not, the French. Thanks, Michelly. Now I'm all nostalgic.

Quizcut

What kind of Elf are u? (LotR, HP, TP)
brought to you by Quizilla Lord of the Rings... tall, blonde, sexy, smart and DEFINITELY good! You are an elf from Lord of the Rings...Like Legolas you are always ready to protect Middle Earth with your amazing skill with a bow and arrow... GO YOU! ....Okay, I hate quizzes where the right answer to get the result you want is so bloody obvious that you can't help but be influenced by it. I also hate quizzes where people cannot spell. But, on the other hand, I love being Legolas.

Quotage

And every now and then, Donald Rumsfeld comes out and says "I don't know when, I don't know where, but something awful's going to happen." ...What is it, the Central Intuitive Agency? ~Robin Williams

Following a discussion of Tarot readings after I did one for Lily - Matt, on the Ummim and Thurim (sp?): "It's the magic 8-ball of ancient Judaism."

Oh, Tannenbaum!

Dash, the darling, the sweet, the wonderful, the maaaaahvellous, took me out today to get a Christmas tree. They were all on sale, so I got one I liked. Which...now that I have it home, is probably a little too tall. The star will brush the ceiling, and I can't turn on the fan. Which of course led to much fan-dusting when I turned it off, realising how incredibly dusty the beast was. Turning off the fan isn't a bad thing. It's still plenty cosy in here. Trying to get the tree straight was an adventure in itself. Finally, I settled for tying it to the wall, and it's still not really straight, but it's good enough to put presents around. And I even had enough white cloth to make a tree skirt. So now there are presents under the tree, even if Angel won't let me

A cat and a ball of yarn...

Bought a roll of ribbon at Wal-Mart. Went to peel the glittery ribbon off the middle of the roll, only to discover that all SIX different ribbons were fastened down by ONE piece of double-stick tape. Didn't think to cut the tape between the ribbons. Just ripped it off. Mmmm...sorting out tangles of ribbon. Whee. I've made such a mess wrapping presents...but they look so byootiful. And still no tree. But we're going tomorrow.

Updates:

Lowene (I love you, Lowene!) found an error in the test key. I got a 76%, not a 74%. While that might not seem like a big deal, remember that ordinarily, a 75% is passing; the 70% cutoff is only on the finals. So we have a mental block in our heads: 75% is passing. And now...now I'm above passing.

I'm so ecstatic.

Dinner (at the House of Hunan) was wonderful. Dr. Smith started off his little speech, after receiving his Order of the Xanthomas polo shirt that we had embroidered for him (semi-inside-joke that I'll try to explain some other time), by congratulating us. We all passed the first semester. Yay! In other news, I never want to drive The Probe again. We're going to pick up Michel-Ange in a little bit, and I'll be so happy. Turns out they didn't have to replace the middle part of the steering rack, so it still leaks but I don't have to pay $200 for the part. And my brakes will work. Wrapping Christmas presents for Angel while he's away. We're going to go get a tree tonight.

I get up this morning, and make a pretty decent shot at reviewing things between 6:45 and 8, when I realise that I'm not actually reading anything any more - I'm just staring at the pages, thinking I'm going to fail. I'm going to fail. Which is the point at which I started packing things up for school. Mind you, Michel-Ange is still in the shop (There's a giant list of things gone wrong, and I'm only having them fix the vital ones that cost less than $400 or so), so I get to drive The Probe. This is my little brother's car, for when he's allowed to drive by himself. It's sporty, it's red, and they put a kickass sound system in it that has too many buttons for me to even understand how to turn the radio on. And the driver's-side shoulder belt (one of those automatic doobies that should slide around the door and sort of automagically enclose you in nylon webbing) doesn't work, so it hangs in mid-air, obstructing part of my view. And the car goes klunk. Every time I turned right, or went over a bump with the right wheel, there it was: klunk. And it took me half the ride to school to figure out how to turn on the windshield wipers. This was not the way to soothe my nerves. But I made it. And then I hopped in to take my exam, and looked at the first question and said to myself, "I know that!" Finished the exam, ran a worst-case evaluation (Miss all the unsure questions + 1/2 of the not completely sure questions) and got a failing grade, but barely. Mostly due to the not-completely-sure questions, of which there were a lot. Thought to myself, "That's good enough." ...And ten minutes later, I went back to see Lowene (the marvellous, the wonderful, who bought us back massagers for Christmas. And she showed me my grades. Passing grade on the final is 70%, at least as far as I recall from all of our previous classes. And I pulled a 74%. Which makes my semester average a sufficiently-passing 78-point-something. I should have come in and gone over previous exams; there were a lot of repeats. And I second-guessed 3 questions, godsdamnit. I need to stop doing that. But it's over. It's over-over-over. And that's all I care about. Still waiting on Pharmacology, but I don't really care about that either. Mike: "A back massager....now all I need is to massage my hypothalamus."

INCREASE YOUR PENIS SIZE BY 1/4 INCH IN ONE WEEK Guaranteed!!!!!! OUR DOCTOR APPROVED TABLET WILL ENLARGE YOUR PENIS UP TO 3 INCHES. NO PRESCRIPTION NECESSARY! YOU CAN HAVE REALISTIC GAINS IN JUST A FEW WEEKS. Over 100,000 Satisfied Customers! Complete PENIS Enlargement System! Laboratory Tested, Doctor Approved! Do you want a bigger PENIS? Do you want to pleasure your partner every time? Do you want your PENIS to be HARD as a ROCK all the time? If you are serious about ENLARGING, strengthening and developing your PENIS, then you have finally found what you are looking for. With over 35 years of research behind our product, we can guarantee results. Our proprietary exercises when used with the DHG supplements will give you results! We guarantee it!

Hard as a rock...all the time? Wouldn't that get really inconvenient? Not to mention...I don't have a penis, nor do I want one. Exam is at 9 AM. Lunch to follow. I have 2.25 hours left to live, and I'm going to spend it studying. Dear god, I'm going to fail.

Once upon a midnight dreary...

So, near the end of FFX, the little computer-generated Tidus is running across the computer-generated background, and this little computer-generated spike of (ice? glass? I think it's ice) shoots up in front of him. And Angel steers the poor guy face-first into it, and the little computer-generated Tidus does a little backflip and falls on his CG ass. Why do I find that so funny? Done with the notes, first time through. Grand total: 415 pages, 28 sections. Now I just have to get through anything that has more than 4 questions a second time. Dear God: Please let me pass this exam.

And again...

Angel pauses, sighs, repeats "Hello?" into the phone several times, and then shakes his head. "...And there goes the T-1 line for the RAS server and phone lines 7 and 8 again. We're hosed." Just after he was finally getting someone connected. David: "Oh, watch the lights! Jason's roaming around checking the phone lines now....yep, we're hosed." Fortunately, this time it didn't last long. In world news: Apparently, according to the South African minister of health, AIDS was introduced by the Illuminati and the U.S. government in 1978 in an attempt to reduce the African population. Note the Illuminati mention. Fnord. And back to notes.

Grand Theft Video

"...The audit file is not covered in the manual for a reason. We only tell that to the owner, since there are some real sharp kids working in video stores these days..." Owner called up wondering why suddenly a bunch of customer histories are all blank. And videos are rented on deleted tickets, then checked in several days later. Hmmm.... Listening to them discuss all the changes to make for the next version of Spectrum, and how to make it faster and nicer. It's really kind of cool. Pages done: 368. Sections completed: 22. Next up: Genetics. 17 pages, 2 questions. Just wrapped up looking over parasitology. Ranasinghe's section - 42 pages, 2 questions. It's almost not worth it. I just skimmed over it, really. I'm so annoyed. I hope he asks about syphilis. I know all about syphilis. I don't know anything else, but I know about syphilis. Mom Boersma: "You'll never see a case of tertiary syphilis unless you...well, with what you want to do, maybe you will."

Went to get lunch. Got supremely distracted by the sale in the Christian Bookstore next to the Chinese place. Bought Christmas Presents for Angel. I think I'm going to make him carry the giant black trash bag containing one of them in, just to torment him. E-mail:

To: Girlfriend From: Chikatillo Subject: I love you ... :-) The content of the message is a single graphic with the text "Terrible Rapes - as hard as possible" and a weblink.

I'm so disgusted.

Lazy days...

So I spent the morning sleeping on the floor in the corner at Tempus. Too tired. It's one of those days, I can tell already. Internal E-mail on Matt's machine: "We've been really shafted by (Major Company) today. Most of the T-1's are down, and the Internet too. Please be patient while I bitch at them." Mind, this means that all their customers who are on RetailNet can't access the database servers for backups and corporate office control. It's not their Internet access that's the big deal, it's the fact that their customers (for a tiny little business with seven people, they have a huge customer base) rely on being able to access their backup servers. Plus, they're accustomed to using PC-Anywhere, Remote Desktop, and the like to help them troubleshoot and fix call-in problems, rather than trying to walk the customers blindly through a process. Likewise, updates and patches. What a world. Overheard: "Yeah, these telephone guys from (Major Company) just showed up today, to do work, without calling ahead, so the T-1's down." Beat. "Sure, give me your number, and I'll call you back." David starts hitting buttons for telepone lines. "Three's down too? And seven and eight? This is not getting better; it's getting worse." Apparently there's one older phone number that still has access, but the RAS is on the T-1 that's down. Stupid (Major Company). "And...do you have a window up that says Tempus? Oh, wait, you don't have the System Manager. We've been through this already. Hmm...I might be able to mail you a floppy. How soon do you need this stuff?" Someone's tiiiiiired :) Ideas for the help desk software: A "Pend until:" status, where you could have it basically removed from the queue for the day/week/month, depending on the customer's wishes. So you call the video store back. "Oh, Bob's the only one who's allowed to touch the server, and he's not in until Monday." So you pend the item until Monday, and then you don't have to keep looking at it and going "Oh, I should...oh, wait. There's a note to call him Monday." 11:54 - They think the RAS lines are up, at least, so they can communicate with the servers. ...And Jerry just walked in with a network cable, Just For Me.

Movie...

It's 3:30 AM, and I just got home from the 12:01 showing of Lord of the Rings. I have a list of things to talk about, but right now...Right now, it's most definitely bedtime. Note: I took my notes to the theatre. I got quite a surprising amount of studying done.

Sam will kill me if I try anything...

"Hello, yes, we advance-ordered two tickets for tonight's 12:01 showing of Two Towers?" "And...we'd like to buy tickets for the Saturday 11:00 showing." "How many? Twenty-four." I am J.R.R. Tolkein's bitch.

Good morning, Starshine....

Pages completed: 124. Sections completed: 11. Maybe there aren't a thousand pages of notes in here. It seems like there can't possibly be a thousand pages of notes in here. I've gone through what looks like a third of them. Environmental Pathology, section 12, 19 pages: follows the section on Diabetes. Vital numbers: Fasting glucose > 126, casual or 2-hour OGTT >200. Pregnancy is lower: 110 and 140. How will I ever keep these straight? A habituated alcoholic can be functional at a BAC of 0.7 or better (where 0.1 = 100 mg/dL = the legal limit), whereas a BAC of 0.4 will kill the average person. Isn't that frightening? And...if anyone's interested, a blood test for marijuana can come up positive at a very low level for a nonsmoker who's been passively exposed. A urine test on a pot smoker peaks at 10 minutes after smoking (3 hours after ingestion) and can be positive for several weeks. Cocaine (used as a local anaesthetic by dentists) can be detected for 1-3 days in a casual user; up to 22 days in a chronic user. Apparently the hospital pathology lab gets calls from "curious persons" on a regular basis, wanting to know how long one has to be clean to clear a drug screen. Dr. Bustamante says "I always exaggerate a bit. Just to scare them." Rowr. Marquee default text is fuchsia. Why? Pages completed: 143. Secttions completed: 12. Up next: Urinalysis. Here's a fun fact for you: Everyone knows that urine is supposed to be pale yellow to colourless, right? Certain chemicals can alter that considerably. The following: Too many carrots or too much vitamin A can turn urine orange, as can the drugs Rifampin and Nitrofurantoin. Rhubarb can turn acidic urine yellow to brown. An infection by Pseudomonas aeruginosa can turn it green, and Clorets, in theory, will turn your urine blue-green. Note: Dr. Bustamante doesn't know how many Clorets this takes, but it's upwards of 5-10 packages in one day, as reported by a group of medical students several years ahead of us. So there's an issue that they haven't been able to resolve, despite hours and hours and hours of work they've put into it. And the only solution they can come up with is "Upgrade your NT4 server to something better." Somehow this led into a discussion of child abuse and corporal punishment, a la A Christmas Story. I love listening to techs. They're cleaning out a closet-cupboard-thingy under the...ow, fuck. Just put the chair down on my sock-clad toe. Score one for Ryken's constant demands that I wear shoes. Ow, ow, ow. Anyway...the townhouse reeks of cleaner. And the door's open to let the stink out, so it's cold in here. David's on the phone, narrating to someone how to find the hard drive inside their machine. "No, nothing there? Okay...now look at the back of the machine...Nothing? Empty? Okay, sounds like they made you a boot disk with just enough information to get to your network...which means you're kind of stuck." Ah, the joys of diskless machines. "You're going to have to get some new machines, I think." So the NT4 server person from above - who can't connect, even after he got a whole new machine...so he said. It turns out that he got a whole new machine - everything except the hard drive, which has the original installation of NT4 on it, so nothing's changed where all the configuration settings are, where it matters. All we wanted him to do was reinstall NT4, Angel says. Why can't he just install a better operating system instead of getting all new equipment and keeping the same stupid NT4? And why not tell them that it's the same hard drive instead of saying "all new equipment"? Pages completed: 224. Sections completed: 16. Next up: Clinical Enzymology, 13 pages, 3 questions. "Hello, this is Matt with Tempus Technologies. I'm returning a phone call from (Name Withheld). Is she available?" Pause. "Matt." Pause. "Tempus Technologies." Pause. "I'm with Spectrum Support." Pause. "Six o'clock? Okay, then, I'll try her again later." That was a lot of work to get a "she's not here." "I notice you don't have backups done. Do you have backup disks? Zip disks?" Pause. "Yeah, it's thicker than a normal disk...it goes in a drive that says 'Zip drive' on it?" Pause. "Butch...? Okay, yeah, I'll hold." Pause. "Do you leave this Spectrum RetailNet up at night? It goes off?" Pause. "I notice here you've never done a backup...if you leave the RetailNet screen up, it'll do a backup for you automatically..." Pause. And then he begins explaining to the customer the importance of backups, and how the system was shipped with seven labelled Zip disks for backups. And five minutes later... "Ahh, there it is. There it goes....You might want to think about lowering your security a bit, make it a little less tight, so you don't have to be standing there all the time....Yeah, it sounds like it's overkill." Pause. "Okay, when you do your closing...just walk away. And leave that screen up. Yes, and it'll do a backup for you." Backups. Backups are good. Checking on movie tickets for the massive Two Towers group we're picking up, to take the youth Saturday at 11 AM. And Angel says "Hey, there're still tickets available for the 12:01 showing." So...I guess we're going to a movie tonight. I probably shouldn't. But...hell, I don't get to go to 12:01 showings all that often, and it's Two Towers, and, and...

And I'm going, godsdamnit. Which means I need to pick up on the pace of these notes a bit, so I can be mostly done tonight. Incidentally, the missing 3 questions must be on coagulation.

"Oh, I don't want to hear about Laguna Beach winters. You were down to 50 last night? Oh, brr..."

Prose: "Riverbed"

Warning: the following is a LJ-cut for two reasons. (1) It's relatively long. (2) Its content is potentially offensive. So if you're easily offended (or underage), don't read it. It's also a draft...a very rough draft, copied more or less word for word from my midnight scrawlings. So if you do read it, I want feedback. I'm lying on the rocks - cold rocks, I can tell, my shirt pulled up to exposed my breasts and my back, my bra unfastened, denying me even that faint barrier between skin and rough, cold river-rock - I'm lying on the rocks like a sacrifice, however hastily prepared for the role, hair tumbling down to the river behind me, wetting the unbound tips. I'm lying on the rocks, knees spread, feet in their hiking boots close together - bound together by the bunched-up jeans he didn't bother to take off, as I didn't bother to take off my boots; why bother with the trouble of them? I am lying on the cold rocks in the cold autumn air, breeze tightening my nipples, pebbling my flesh, shivering me - or is that him? I lift my head with a tensing of night-washed muscles, look down at blond hair, fingers with chipped polish tangled in the short strands, his hands leaving warm spots on my thighs - the only part of me that is warm is the part his flesh covers, protecting from the heat-leaching air. He clutches at my thighs, his breathing harsher than mine, and I wonder in part of my mind, Why? Why this boy I do not love, but who nonetheless slowly heats my blood, this boy who did not hesitate to accept my selfish, loveless proposal? Is my frozen heart so craven as to take him and use him until, like a child's mobile, something else shiny and new catches my eye? Am I so cold as to take the warmth of hands and lips, no matter how indifferently desired, take them and sate myself on this offering of heat? Am I, as he so gallantly once said, am I broken? This is not the tool to fix me, not this boy of river-stones and moonlight, of the harsh white beams of streetlights only partially shaded by the overarching spans of the railroad bridge above us. This is not the tool, no. This is a misfit part, this boy, if I am indeed broken, a misfit part jury-rigged to keep me running, keep me from freezing completely through, until something better, warmer, more secure comes along. Until I can trust myself, warm myself, to love and be loved once again. He...No, I do not , could not love, him; what I feel is much the manner of affection one holds for a particularly charming dog, a bird that knows and can perform one flawless trick. And this is his trick, his training, his gift - his service to the broken I - if I am indeed broken - this is the single flame he gives me. He can do this one thing, and well, without asking for reciprocation. I am a sacrifice on these rocks: a sacrifice to self-indulgence, to pitiless, conscienceless hunger. I am a sacrifice to lust without love, as he kneels between wide-angle knees, paying his price of the bargain I named. And I - loveless, heartless, conscienceless I - I lean my head back; I close my eyes. I let the blind-eyed streetlamps, the pale and uncaring moon, the impossibly distant stars - I let them all bear witness to the contract we have rendered; I do not care. After all, as I raise one hand to muffle my cries, biting deeply, savouring the heat of my own mouth on ice-frozen fingers, the sharp sting of pain that reminds me I can still feel pain, after all - if I have purchased such a thing as this at the price of my frozen and undreaming soul, what do I care if all the angels must watch? The rocks are cold, as cold as the wind across my bared flesh, once he raises his head, watching me with hooded eyes. Boy's eyes. Dog's eyes, warm and hidden and all the things I do not desire. He does not ask me to reciprocate, to kneel myself before him; he knows he will find no such giving from my hands this night. He does not ask, does not even speak. He knows; he does not have the right. Why does that knowledge make me smile? And back to work.

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Botheration take it...

After doing a complicated little entry ranting about the amount of time I was going to have to spend on these blasted notes, I forgot to save the file before loading an old journal entry. So...poof. To recap: 22 pages of Inflammation and Repair notes. Started going through them: 1:53 PM Finish going through them: 3:18 PM. Gah. That's 3.86 minutes per page, which makes 1000 pages take 64 hours. That's 2.68 days, if I don't eat or sleep or do anything but study. It's now 3 PM on Monday. The exam is at 9 AM on Thursday. You do the math. Fortunately...those took longer than a normal section. Twenty-two pages of notes...for three fucking questions. Gah. But I didn't take any breaks in that section, except for changing which CD I was ripping. Go me. 74 questions on the exam. 71 of them I know the categories for. Those remaining 3 I think might involve the notes I just worked on, which don' t have a category in the question breakdown. It's all about priorities, you see: Child Abuse has only one question, likewise Medicolegal death. So I'll just scan over those.

Infectious Disease: 6; Paediatrics 3; Urinalysis 2; Environmental medicine 3; Body fluids 2; Transfusions 2; Nutrition 3; Genetics 2; Neoplasia 6; Diabetes 3; Enzymes 3; Cellular Growth and differentiation 1; Cell death and Injury 4; Immunology (how I loathe immunology) 6; Amyloidosis 1; Inflammation and repair 3; Adaptation and accumulation 2; Adrenal 5; Pituitary 4; Parathyroid 3; Thyroid 3; Haemodynamics and fluids 2; Medicolegal death 1; Child abuse 1; Unknown: 3.

"In the extracellular space lysyl hydroxylysyl oxidation takes place, resulting in cross-linkage of alpha chains and yielding structural stability and tensile strength." Lysyl hydroxylysyl...how many freakin' combinations of l and y can be combined into a pronounceable word? It looks like some kind of Welsh sneeze. I hate biochemistry. From the notes on medicolegal death: "Incised wounds of the neck are rarely accidental." Oh, really? And annotated on the same packet of notes: "The four signs of death: Algor mortis (loss of heat), Rigor mortis (rigidity of death), Livor mortis (discolouration of skin), Decomposition. Note: We've had decomposing bodies intubated by paramedics, so this last is particularly important." I laughed. So hard. More sobering: "Battered child syndrome" became a medical term in 1961 - the first time that child abuse was recognised as a medical problem. 75% of fatal child abuse cases were known to authorities before the child's death. There are 2 million cases of physical abuse and neglect of children in the USA each year. Over 1/2 of those victims are less than one year old; over 3/4 less than 2. I'm done typing notes for a while; going to go read the notes I already typed. After I take a minute to go coo over Renee's niece, who's a very cute Small Elephant with a curiously short trunk. Mental note: see if anyone here wants to read The Story. She went to see Santa, but didn't tell him anything, because "If you don't tell Santa what you want, you still get toys." To which Renee responded, "But what do I get? You didn't tell him what I want!" After being prompted to tell Renee to 'send him an e-mail', Small Brunette Elephant responds: "Sell 'im a nemail." Just like that. Much cooing to be done. Its name is Olivia. And it's shy of me. I think they should make the Olivia-Elephant answer the tech support calls. Jerry says "Or at least record the phone tree messages." A brief correction: As I was opening the saved journal entry to burn it to my CD-RW (no floppy drive on the laptop!), I discovered that Semagic just doesn't parse anything with too many periods in the title properly. So my entry from this morning (which is now obsolete, since I covered most all of it again this afternoon) titled A day in the life... saved - but didn't save with the .slj extension, which means it didn't show up on my 'open files' filtering for *.slj. Good to know. Will most decidedly remember this. Anyway, to the CD now. ...Or it could refuse to read the CD-RW (incidentally, it took 4 seconds to burn the file and 1:30 to burn all the stuff that goes around the file), so I'll be reduced to posting that when I get home - or when Angel doesn't need his network connection for a bit. Thank goodness for saving entries. But at the moment, I'm listening to Angel patiently explain to a customer how to type a tilde (for the uninitiated: a tilde is the ~ character, that makes an n go all gooey in Spanish). And he had to do it three times. "Okay, and then the tilde. The squiggly-line, double-apostrophe-thingy, yes. A tilde. The squiggly line. At the top of your keyboard, to the left of your number 1, above the tab key. See that key? Hold down shift and press that key, and you'll get the funny squiggle." Beat. "To the left of your number 1. Hold down shift..." Followed closely by: "Type in backslash-SPECTRUM-backslash-PKUNZIP-space-...." After a bit: "No, wait. Did you use the backslash (\) or the normal slash (/)? No, no. You...yeah, you have to use the backslash there. Okay, good." "And then you typed two-zero-zero-two-one-two-squiggly line-five-period-Z-I-P, and then a space, right?" "Can't find two-zero-zero-two-one-two-tilde- err, I mean -squiggly line-five-period-Z-I-P?" And he wonders why these calls take multiple hours... "No, it's okay...I've had to talk to worse...you're fine. period-D-A-T, enter? Okay, good. It's working this time." What a marvellous conversation to hear.

All about Cars

Went to drop off Michel-Ange this morning (cold morning, so cold) and got there before Independent Honda opened. So, as ever, I pulled the car in, took my key off the ring, and wrote Scott a note letting him know everything that was wrong with poor poor Michel. I should have written it at home; it was so cold I could hardly keep my fingers wrapped around the pen to write.

• Brakes are extremely soft
• I've had to completely refil the power steering fluid at least once (which implies a leak)
• One taillight bulb is out (lazy me)
• There's still a funny hesitation in the engine now and again, especially on wet days
• He needs alignment badly

And then I put my phone number on it, wrapped it up around the key (and the Nikon camera memory card I found lying in the parking lot), and slipped it through the door slot. We grabbed the jar of ranch dip from my car, amid much "ewww"ing from Angel, until he realised that it wasn't open, so it wasn't like it was rotting, and took off for Tempus. Why do people completely disregard signs for their lanes? I present the following instructions for those who are confused about turn lanes: if you are in a Left Turn Only lane, and you change your mind, go around the block! Do not attempt to cut over to the right-hand lane and merge back into the unsuspecting traffic who are all thinking that you are going to Turn Left, since you're in the Left Turn Only Lane. That's why the gigantic sign with the leftward-pointing arrow is hanging next to the stoplight which you Obviously Saw, since you are stopped. That's why they painted a giant leftward-pointing arrow on the road, which you Presumably are Looking At. That's why there are Two Lanes on this side of the stoplight and One Lane on the other side - because you are in the Left Turn Only Lane.

Turn left, damn you.

Finals Week

Me, to my brain: Come on....let's just get through Pharmacology Brain: Okay, you got a deal. Studystudystudystudystudy... Testtesttesttest.... Me: Great job, brain! Now we've just got-- Brain: Fuck you. We made a deal. Gah.

Reading notes:

My pathology professor has a flair for the bizarre: "Dear Lord Above: Don't let the tumour necrosis factor get me. Dear Tumour Necrosis Factor: If you're more powerful than God, I'm sorry." So Quinby can connect just fine anywhere except the port Arcana's on. Which might have something to do with the fact that it's on the default port. Maybe I should have moved it, oh so long ago. It's a little late now, I suppose. But she's not the only one to have troubles with the default port. Interesting, that. *ponders* It's nearly 1 AM. I got 4 hours of sleep last night. Why am I not tired? So much to do tomorrow, so much to study. I'm so freakin' far behind. I can't concentrate, I can't think, I'm not motivated...all in all, it sucks. Blows goats. Plan holds for me being done with all my notes on Tuesday night/Wednesday morning. Then to spend Wednesday on a second go-round. I got maybe fifty pages done today. Maybe. Of a thousand-ish. Ahh, hell. I'm going to sleep.

Silence...

Trig... This entry's locked just to you. I don't really feel the need to have everyone reading it. I don't want to be part of the problem. I don't ever want you to feel like I'm part of the problem. I don't like seeing you so worn out by Ansible, and I don't know what to do - there's nothing I really can do, I suppose; I don't have the kind of power I have over Zia and moo administration everywhere else. And even if I did, tradition is set. And we suffer. I didn't mean to have things blow up about Quinby's trade. I should have told Colin and Storm to lay off you. I knew it was going to happen, and I shouldn't have been whining about it. Zia's timing fucking sucks, and she doesn't seem to realise it. Everything turns up to be one big mess. And you suffer. Trig... I care about you - a lot - and I don't like seeing you hurt. And the last thing I want to do is contribute to that hurt. And for that, for anything I've done that's made things harder on you, I'm so very sorry.

Evil Quiz

I retook this one. The first time I got "Aryan Bear", which flat-out revolted me.
Which Dysfunctional Care Bear Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla And here's an interesting set of "Anime Laws" - that is, the laws that govern Japanese Animation. There are some real truisms in it.

Quizzes, in re: Ronald and Piccy

What swear word are you?
brought to you by Quizilla your asshole. Gah. Grammar. Spelling. Punctuation. Capitalisation. Complete lack of any answer that remotely applies to me. Anyone want to find a better swear word for me? :P Note two: What the hell does 'your asshole' mean in relation to the quiz? Does it mean 'you're an asshole'? Bah. Is not a swear word, Nykkit!
What's Your Personality Type?
brought to you by Quizilla As opposed to all of my friends who seem to be funny Asian men. Why? And...why Alfred?
The Ultimate *Which Harry Potter Character are You?* Quiz
brought to you by Quizilla You know....I think...somehow, she fits me entirely too well. Now I'm frightened. What's your sexual fetish?
What's YOUR sexual fetish?
brought to you by Quizilla Grammar and innuendo in the answers was very nice. Does this result surprise anyone who knows me?
What Kind of FLIRT are you?
brought to you by Quizilla Again...does anyone find this one bizarre? (strokes ego, then mutters about needing to be as cute as I was in high school, when I didn't think I was cute at all).
What kind of Goth would you be?
brought to you by Quizilla Velvety-mopey Goth? The frell is that? *murmurs*
find your element at mutedfaith.com. <º> Innnnteresting, I suppose. I find the description complimentary in virtues and disturbing in vices. Am I like that?
Find your Role-Playing Stereotype, and visit mutedfaith.com. [Angel.] Aerial. Rowan. Aelei. Solaris...Did any of them play subservient? Mmmph. Childhood traumas galore, and a tendency to beat the party around until they bent to her will. Nyah!
Take the What Type of Friend are You? quiz, and visit mutedfaith.com. [Me.] Bah. I'd probably give over the $10 too. I'm such a sucker.

B-Movie:

Matt: (Japanese taxi driver) I have....small nuclear device in back of taxi. An addendum to Angel's B-Movie Quotage: Me: Do you have any idea how many Lumps a nuclear device dishes out? Matt: Hai! I have lots of Misfortune to begin with. Drive down road, hit bump, level town. Much funness, although starting after we got back from Nemesis was a bit late. Everyone was tired at the climax of the piece (hehehehehe....climax), but there was still much laughing and play. It went well. Speaking of Nemesis....(sniffle) I sniffled when Data died. A lot. It was sad, even though I saw it coming about halfway through the movie. I thought they might kill Picard too, but no such (whew). Very nicely done. I was a willing suspender of disbelief, undetectable cloaking ship, Data's flight through space, last-minute rescue and all. Yay! Because I like Star Trek, I've been affectionately labelled a "Real Nerd". Gee, thanks all.

Megatokyo, on schoolgirl outfits. I should get one. Brakes are getting scary on poor Michel-Ange. Hence, he's going into the shop. I tried explaining to him that if he would just straighten up and fix them himself I wouldn't have to put him in the shop. He tried, he really did. But they're just not working right. Push the brake pedal in about halfway to get any braking at all. Monday appointment. I wish car insurance worked like medical insurance, with a copay for mechanics. Stopped by Office Depot today to pick up paper and printer ink (since I'll be printing the notes for Pathology out as soon as I can convince myself that I need to study for this fardling exam), and got a few other things too. Okay, $70 worth of other things. But they were useful other things that I was going to have to get anyway. Then went to check out.

Their credit card lines are broken.

The guy had to call up the credit card place and input everything touchtone, by hand. And the Mastercard line didn't work, so I grabbed a Visa instead. I have credit cards coming out my ears, and only ever use two of them. Go me. Can you imagine - the holiday season, and each credit card transaction takes at least 3 extra minutes? Gah.

Drill bits

I called Daddy wanting to know where the drill was, so I could drill holes to hang the DVD racks from. He told me. I found the drill bits, but no drill. I even went into the Evil Room(TM) looking for it, so now I'm all cold and freaked-out and feel dirty. I hate the Evil Room(TM). It has paint all over the walls with dead rock stars and pentagrams and stuff, and it's cold and I feel like someone's watching me in there. Someone dead. And that icky watched-feeling follows me upstairs when I leave. The rest of the house is very safe. Just the Evil Room(TM) is a Bad Place(TM). And I don't have the drill, so I can't hang DVD racks, so I guess I have to clean instead. Take my mind off things.

Growing up...

We bought an armoire - the kind you have to put together with a screwdriver. We threw out the old $5.00 Goodwill couch with the broken arm that had been occupying the space beside the couch and underneath Frodo (dreamy sigh. Froooodo...) today. Hauled it out to the alleyway. I kept the cushions. They're in the library, on the floor. And we put the armoire together and then spent like an hour putting things on it. Dishes, glasses, nativity sets (one from France, traditional sculpted clay figurines; the other from the Holy Land, olive wood) with no baby Jesus in them yet. And it looks so grown up! I was so proud of myself for it. Matt, sitting on the couch reading character gen rules for B-Movie. I go over to the bathroom and find that there's a Grill Brush sitting on the floor, in the middle of the doorway. Have you ever examined a full-fledged Grill Brush for its surprise-attack potential? It's got all these evil wire bristles and a gougy metal thingy on the end. Very high on the lethality scale. Particularly footward-directed. Furthermore, I have no fucking clue why there is a Grill Brush on the floor in the bathroom doorway. The following is approximately the conversation that ensued.

"Angel? There's a lethal hazard to the bathroom..." "Oh?" he says, not looking up. "Yes. There's a Grill Brush in the doorway." "I didn't put it there," he says, peering over to see if there is indeed a Grill Brush in the doorway. "Does that mean you won't pick it up?" Mind, I am calling to him from inside the bathroom, having successfully navigated the Grill Brush to achieve the toilet, which is why I was going to the bathroom in the first place. "No," he says, coming over to pick up the Grill Brush. "It means I'm not trying to kill you."

I'm so relieved. The following is excerpted from the ArcanaMOO public channel:

[Public] Chavaleh> My Vita has a first name... it's ... uh.. I dunno. [Public] Phloxin giggles. [Public] Chavaleh> Maybe my Vita's more like.. Cher.. or Madonna. [Public] Chavaleh> Or, like.. Jesus. [Public] Chavaleh> Well, wait. [Public] Chavaleh> Jesus Christ. [Public] Chavaleh> Darn. [Public] Vita> Jesus Vita? [Public] Phloxin> wow [Public] Chavaleh> Okay, but, like, that's not Jesus's real last name. So it's more like... Jesus. So then it's just like that. [Public] Chavaleh> No, more like.. Jesus. Vita. Cher. Madonna. Gallagher. [Public] Vita walks on water. [Public] Chavaleh calculates the necessary surface tension of the water for that to be possible. [Public] Chavaleh> I wonder if God had to calculate the surface tension real quick-like when Jesus walked on water. [Public] Phloxin> Nah, I think Jesus just did it him self. [Public] Chavaleh> I just got the weirdest mental image of my Physics teacher as Jesus. [Public] Phloxin chuckles. [Public] Chavaleh> If I were in the boat when Jesus was walking on water, I'd be like, "Jesus, how much surface tension you got goin' there?" And then Jesus and I would have this great intellectual conversation about Physics, and all the other guys' heads would explode except for that guy that had to walk on water and fall in.. and he'd be all like, 'Yes, I understand Physics.' But he really wouldn't because he'd be not cool like that. And Jesus and I would totally know he was lying.. and so when he fell in the water, I'd be like, 'Man, you are -all- -wet-.' And Jesus and I, oh, how we'd laugh. [Public] Phloxin> That's actually quite impressive. [Public] Chavaleh> And then Jesus would make a lame pun, and I'd go, 'Aw, Jesus!'. And then we'd laugh because it's almost blasphemy, but it's really just me talking to him. And it'd become this inside joke, right, so then I'd go with him on his travels, and every so often I'd say, 'Aw, Jesus!' to him.. and everybody would gasp and shock, but Jesus would just slap his knee and giggle. A holy giggle. [Public] Chavaleh> In shock.. [Public] Chavaleh> And we'd go visit his parents on, like, Passover and stuff. [Public] Chavaleh> And if someone asked me who I was visiting, I'd act all annoyed and go, "Jesus, Joseph, and Mary!" And they'd be like, "Watch yo' mouf, foo'!" And then when I told them what I meant, man, would they be embarrassed. [Public] Chavaleh> And at the end of all this, I'd totally write my own version of the New Testament all about the silly jokes that Jesus and I made during our lives. And there'd be a whole religion founded around it. They'd call themselves 'Hilarions' and they'd celebrate such holidays as Surface Tension Day, where they'd go to services and greet each other with, 'Happy Holy Giggle!'. And there'd be this special ceremony in which each person would try to walk across the baptism tub thing, and when they fell in, which they always would, the congregation must say, in unison, 'You're all wet!'. And thus ends my ramblings.

I laughed so fucking hard. And now...now that I've been spreading LiveJournal codes around the world (anyone else who knows me want one?) it's bedtime. Goodnight.

Christmas list addendum:

I want a hardcover copy of Zelazny's Donnerjack, Gibson's Neuromancer, Count Zero, and Mona Lisa Overdrive, and all of Piers Anthony's Incarnations of Immortality series, except for Bearing a Red Sword and With a Tangled Skein.

Intriguing...

Who is your Ideal Lord of the Rings (male) Mate?
brought to you by Quizilla Sigh. Drool. Did I ever mention I managed to do my Angel's hair like Legolas once and then didn't take any pictures? I think I'll have to do it again for the St. Vitus Dance this year. Ohhh, yes.
Take the Final Fantasy X personality test here! by I'm Auron. Intriguing.... Results, in order: Auron, Lulu, Yuna, Seymour, Kimahri, Tidus, Wakka, Rikku. At least I'm not the little Japanese-rebel-pop-star-girl. Rikku frightens me.
What Type of Villain are You?
mutedfaith.com / <º> A double agent. Mmmm.....Simon Templar. And Sean Ambrose. I'm happy now; in good company. And back to FFX.

Bad to the bone....

Talked to Iwona coming out of the test. She's sick, poor girl. Now she can take the night and sleep, though. Bought myself a box of mac and cheese as a reward for being done with Pharmacology...and then made a mutual Christmas present purchase with Angel to buy year-paid-accounts and have all the spiffy features to play with (there you go, Mom. Angel's username is 'lakos', so just change the 'ayradyss' to 'lakos' in the link). Abused the 'friends of friends' long enough to see if there was anyone out there that I might know by association. Added a name or two to my friends' list. Merry Christmas. So, if there's anyone out there who wants a code, we have a bunch between the two of us to play with. Got into Michel-ange (Michel-ange is my 1987 Honda Accord, whom I love dearly despite his 230,000 miles. It's French for Michelangelo (however you spell it), since when I bought the car my father insisted that a car with a stick shift must be a Boy Car, but he has purple tinted windows and a "Warning: Protected by Faeries" sticker on his window, so we think he's gay. Hence the artsy name. Before Michel-Ange I had a scab-coloured Honda whose name I've forgotten, sadly. But I ran her into the back of a minivan before I'd really had her all that long. And before that was Esmerelda, who was a 1977 Accord with less than 100,000 miles on her. And we sold her to this huge burly guy after a while. I loved Esmerelda too, because she was the car that Jo and I got to change the water pump on. But I digress.) Oh, and my mom's Honda is named Daria, but on Tuesdays and weekends she goes by Fred. I got into Michel-ange and turned on the radio, to hear the opening chords of "Bad to the Bone"...so I cranked it up but good to hear it on my really-quite-mediocre sound system. B-b-b-b-b-b-b-bad! Think I'm going to go play FFX now.