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
-- Click Here To Take The Test --

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."

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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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The following is an e-card for all of you: Click here. Thank you.

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.

...If I only had a brain....

Pharmacology exam. Brain hurts. Lots of questions with lists of drugs, just what I was fearing. But I think I did all right. I hope I did all right. The best he's seen come back from it was 91/125, he says. And I only have to place in the 15th percentile or better to pass. 85% of the persons who take the exam pass. USMLE Step I registration is $420. I have to pay four hundred dollars to spend eight hours in front of a computer, staring at test questions and praying that I do well enough to pass the National Boards. And that's just to keep going in med school. (Deadline to have taken them: June 9) There's an additional ass-reaming after fourth year, with the Step II ($420), and then the Step III ($590) sometime in my first or second post-grad year, after I have my MD. Pluuuus.... They're introducing a Clinical Skills Exam. With luck, I'm going to miss that and its $950 (plus transportation) fee. Coming in in mid-2004 at the earliest, but it's probably going to be delayed a year. I hope so. I really hope so. Then, I can be a real doctor. I want to be a real doctor. I really, truly do. I don't want medical school to make me cynical and tired like this. I'm going to go home and play Final Fantasy. I'm so tired.

A very merry unbirthday...to you! To me? To you!

Note: This will be irrelevant to most people. Hence the link Nykki's Birthday And Christmas List Also: Nykkit and Matt's Apartment, from before it was quite all done.

Postcards from the edge

Sitting in Tempus Tech, at the table that apparently never gets used, taking a brief post-lunch break from my studies to do something besides stare at drug names and mechanisms of action. This is the most fascinating place...it really is. Two townhouse apartments connected by a wooden door, computers and boxes scatttered everywhere. Everyone's very nice though, sweet. Matt's in the other room pacing back and forth on his headset phone. I'm thinking about anything but the pharm exam tomorrow. I don't want to take a pharm exam. I don't ever want to look at pharmacology again. Especially not after the way this semester of pharm beat me and abused me savagely. Bleah, bleah, bleah! Evil thing. Even with a statewide exam - because I know I'm going to come out of the beast totally drained, feeling like there's nothing left of me. And I hate that feeling. It always takes days to get back in the right mood for studying afterwards. In other news: we bought an armoire to put where the oldcouch is now. Said oldcouch is going to the trash; it's got a broken arm that isn't worth fixing, since the springs are completely shot. Might save the cushions for the library, even though Angel hates that. I like couch cushions on the floor. Plan is for Thursday night to take the couch out for trash pickup, and then Friday I can put the armoire together. And then I'm moving the plates and glasses into it, damnit. I'm tired of having to kneel every time I want a drink. And, there's room on the top to put the Nativity set. There's probably room for me to put the clay one I bought in France, if I ever find it, but I know where the olive wood one we got for a wedding present is, and that's good enough for me. I don't want to study. I don't want to do anything of the sort. But I know I have to. Thursday afternoon I can read the B-Movie rulebook through again, and work on crafting character sheets (Do I still have mine from last time I ran? That would be nice.) and cutting out the relevant portions of the book for people to do character gen for the one-nighter I want to run after we go see Nemesis. Mmmm....Patrick Stuart. Ahh, well. Saving this entry for when I get home and can connect up the network again. Renee just came in, saying "Tell me if I'm an idiot?" The woman has 18 payments. She's been making double payments. In July, she had 10 left. Now...she says she should only have 3 left. Despite the fact that she's been making double payments the whole time.

Booyah.

Lindy asked me about Pharm, just to make sure I was doing all right. Because everyone knew I was having trouble. And she was appropriately happy for my 85%, even though Lindy aced it. A perfect score. Congratulations, Lin. She's the sweetest girl in the world, Lindy is. Meeta's crying in the hallway. Biostats grades are back. Apparently...she didn't do too well. What to do? I never know. It's hard to contain my own ebullience when I know someone else is unhappy. :( Lowene has the printout of the email. She's writing them on little pieces of paper, hands mine to me. "Very nice." I look.

91%.

Oh, hell, yes. It's one of those things where I feel bad for feeling good...but all the same, it's a relief to know that's out of the way. Medicine exam: I went through all the questions twice. I was still done in ...10 minutes. Just like undergrad. Lowene's eyebrows go up as I hand it to her. "I read fast." "I guess you do." I do read fast. Plus, there were only a few questions on there I didn't know to begin with, and those I could guess fairly easily. I love tests like that. Taking the rest of the afternoon off, before gearing up for two days of quality study time in the Auburn Public Library with Angel nearby. Figure I'll go up there, see his place of work and all, and be separated from the distractions of home. Plus, Kent says they have comfy chairs to read in. Yay.

Ugh.

Didn't write last night, as somehow I managed to spend just enough time playing Final Fantasy (damn that Playstation 2 that I wrapped up studying for Biostatistics at 12:30, and was then too tired to do anything else. 34 questions. Marked 3 I didn't know and 2 I wasn't certain on. Not too bad, for a day's work. Now if it weren't so damned tedious that I have no energy for anything else... Medicine exam is this afternoon. Breakdown:

• Physical Medicine (4 points of 350) : 6 multiple choice questions. In my notes I have 5 "Probable Test Questions" that he went over in class. Right down to telling us: "The answer to this one is 'D: B and C are both correct." That's an 83% right there, even without knowing what question 6 is. Which is 3 points out of 4.
• Medicine and Law (2 points): 2 multiple choice and one true/false. He promised straightforward questions, and we all know the true/false will be over noncompetition agreements (yes, they can be enforced). Nice guy.
• Nutrition (2 points): 50 True/false questions. FIFTY true/false questions. For two freakin' points. Lowene promises they're easy ones. And anyway, if you get half of them right (which, in theory, you can do by answering them randomly), you get one of two points. Shee.
• Health Care Oeconomics: cancelled. No questions have magically appeared in Lowene's mailbox, so none will be on the exam. Good. He was boring.

Medicine, in case you haven't noticed, is a strange class. We have about thirty different subjects that we have little mini-lecture-series events on, then a test over them. What this is supposed to accomplish, precisely, I'm not sure. The lecturing physicians write the questions and submit them. Some of them go to great lengths to come up with board-quality questions, but most of them realise that we have other things to do with our time. Guys are joking around over the Nutrition section, by way of review. This shit is ridiculous. FIFTY questions, for two points. Gah.

Once upon a midnight dreary....

Mom called this morning while we were out shopping, to ask me what a "Ghetto limo" was (see post from last night). It goes like this: Friday night, for the Tempus Tech Christmas Dinner, we were to be picked up by limo. You should have seen the scene before the limo got there, with me demanding that Lily come over and make my hair beautiful. She says it always is, lovely Lily. Limo driver calls Matt, lost. A block over the wrong way. Silly limo driver. And when he did show up, he didn't even open the door for us. I don't think he got out of the car. So we didn't get a good look at him until he got out to ring the doorbell at Beth and David's. This eighteen-year-old-ish-looking kid, black, in a wool cap, jeans, and a long black trenchcoat. And he sits (as we saw when he came to pick us up after dinner) so that he can barely see over the steering wheel. And it was sort of unnerving, the six of us in a six-person limo that could comfortably hold four, with this guy tearing along down the streets behind the privacy panel (limos are dark at night, inside). And then David started playing with the buttons, and after that, the hoses under my seat were the only things venting warm air. All the ashtrays turned into tiny air conditioners, blowing cold air out of them. And we were just waiting for the guy to turn on some good bass music. Instead, David got the weather radio, by accident. It was an ice-breaker, if nothing else. I got off a few good one-liners that I've now completely forgotten. Reminded Matt and I of the limo at our wedding. Which was super-cool. It was red, with a black top, and then the driver was this burly Italian-looking man (boy, I'm stereotype-city, tonight) in an open-collar shirt with gold chains and a hairy chest...and he was on his cell phone the whole freakin' time we were in the limo, I swear. Every time we saw him, he was on the cell phone. So I've had two limo rides in my life - one in the Mafia limo with Ryken (Lily said he said to tell me he was crying when he left; she said at least teary-eyed. I told him I'd cry...he said he'd have to make it short, then. He did. I still cried, although he didn't see. I miss him. You get used to having someone around...) and Jo and Angel; and the other in the Ghetto limo with David and Beth and Jeremy and Sara(h?) - both of which were a great deal of fun, neither of which were what I expected. And then dinner. Dinner was at Catablu, which is a restaurant built in a renovated movie theatre (a Blue Theatre, if I recall correctly; I remember seeing the signs for "Theatre Blue" when I was a child). Merkle took us there for his annual Take-the-Sophomores-to-eat lunch. It was yummy then. For dinner, with Kent accompanying every menu with an "Order anything you want. Order everything you want," it was fan-fucking-tastic. I exclaimed that they had Riesling on the wine list, and Renee next to me said "What's Riesling?" Next thing I know, everyone wants to try the Riesling that Nykki says is so good, so Kent ordered a bottle. We passed around appetizers. There was this spinach and cheese bread dip stuff that was to die for. Mmm, spinach dip. We had another bottle of Riesling with dinner, although Matt and I drank far less than most of the others there. I'm used to sipping my wine slowly, making one glass last a meal. That's just how it's done. I had salmon. Macademia nut salmon with garlic sauce, Mt. Fuji stir-fried vegetables and a rice cake underneath. It was beautiful, it fell apart when I put my fork to it, and it was positively scrumptious. Salmon. I love salmon. And I love macademia nuts. And I love...Mmmm, it was heaven on a plate. Which was then followed by christmas-present-giving (nuts, and peanut brittle, and Best Buy gift cards from the management) and dessert (Crème Brulée, oh divine). And then the ghetto-limo-ride back. And today, we got up and went shopping for Christmas presents. Mmph. I hate the mall around Christmas. But we're almost done! Even got something for Bri. After I finished having "Eee! Is cute!" fits over it for like ten minutes. Muahahaha. Speaking of, I need to put together my Christmas list for everyone. Angel and Mark are talking about things behind my back, I can't look at the computer screen and all that. Very top-secret. Danielle e-mailed me back to remind me that Chavaling's moving, and that's why I haven't heard from her in days. She warned me. Weight off my chest; I was about to call her. I'm such a worrywart. Don't hear from someone for a couple of days, and I start getting paranoid fantasies about all sorts of horrible things happening to them. Chavaling, you'll be gratified to know that you had reached the "lying in a pool of blood, undiscovered, with all of your family, the victim of a random serial slasher" stage. Which is relatively advanced. Hurry up and come back, so I can quit being all paranoid. Too bad, I have to study tomorrow :( Biostatistics. Remind me to whine about the Medicine exam on Monday, and how stupid it's going to be. But for now...to bed. Good night, Clarabear. I love you.

Kidney Transplantation

Got up this morning to clean out my mailbox, and was struck by the following: Mail from jerome@makenetmoney.com, sent to freeebooks@getresponse.com, recieved by rose_dehaven@hotmail.com, excerpted:

Our closest friend JEFF WEST needs a KIDNEY DONOR NOW! .... Jeff West, one of Brian Garvin's Marketing Directors and a dear friend to Bill, Kathy, Brian, Jerome and many more of us, has a hereditary illness that as of a year and a half ago has killed both of Jeff's Kidneys. This is not uncommon to the West Family as Jeff's Father, Brother's and other close Male relatives also have had problems with their kidneys. ..... Unknown to 99.99% of you, Jeff had been going to the Dyalisis Treatment Center in Virginia every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a very long time and now the doctors are saying it could be another 2 years waiting for a donor kidney match to come available. In short, Jeff's health is starting to deteriorate and if we cannot find a donor FAST he will continue to get worse, which will in turn pull him off of the transplant list permanently. He cannot afford to wait and we all can help by getting this letter to every person on every list you have, if you do not have a list then send this to your friends and family. We need your help to get this letter around the whole world. .... WE KNOW THERE IS AT LEAST ONE PERSON OUT THERE IN OUR INTERNET FAMILY THAT IS WILLING TO PART WITH ONE OF THEIR OWN KIDNEY'S TO HELP JEFF LIVE AND LEAD A NORMAL HEALTHY LIFE. ..... Jeff is only 25 Years Old and really needs your help: whether it be in prayer or in Blasting this eMail to your entire data-base or even just an encourageing word to this eMail box: [email omitted] Any or all of these things would be greatly appreciated.

The letter goes on to explain that it is possible to donate one kidney and live a normal life (which is true), that the operation takes only a few hours, and that most donors are back on their feet in "a short period of time" (3-6 weeks before resuming normal activity level, according to most information). The operation, it claims, is free (Also technically true; the recipient's insurance will pay for the entire operation if it covers anything at all). They suggest that you have the following qualifications: Blood type Rh-negative, O-positive, or O-negative (From this I would infer that "Jeff West" is a type O-negative recipient...), and that if you are, you go see your doctor to be tested. It then provides phone numbers to contact Jeff and two of his friends. One of these phone numbers does, in fact, reverse-lookup to someone with the right last name. His number is in the eastern part of Virginia (consistent with the e-mail), and the other two are in the western part of Kentucky (which I found curious) An e-mail address is also provided (through AOL). The letter concludes as follows:

P.S. Please donate just ONE HOUR of your time and send this ad out to all your ezines, leads, newsletters, safelists, downlines friends, family and associates everywhere. To stop further mailings or to change your details, click on this link: [link to getresponse.com's unsubscribe page]

All in all, there's nothing on the face of the letter to suggest it's a hoax. Recent statistics suggest that 1/4 of Americans would consider donating a kidney to a stranger. Nonetheless, I am profoundly disturbed.

1. The mailing list it was sent to was a free E-books list that I have never gotten e-mail from before, which means they bought my address from someone.
2. I find this entire setup both suspicious and counter-productive, akin to stuffing mailboxes in a city halfway across the country with flyers. Jeff, the e-mail claims, is a dear friend to many people. Have they all been tested for donation?
3. Curious that all of his "close male relatives" have been excepted (because they've had problems with their kidneys), but the letter says nothing about any female relatives. The most likely donor match for a kidney is, after all, a blood relative, and I refuse to believe that Jeff doesn't have any healthy female relatives.
4. Forgive my cynicism, but a letter that plays on the heartstrings like this - purporting to be regarding a marketing director of a company and sent under that company's ausipices - with no website to go visit and see the facts, no specific information about his disease, prognosis, or possible treatment options, and nothing but a name and a phone number to base your trust on...raises serious questions in my mind.

Perhaps it's real. I'm not saying it can't be real. What I am saying is that there's something seriously disturbing about this setup. It feels like a cross between a chain letter and someone's idea of a sick joke. There are just too many missing pieces...

Giddy.

Ghetto limo. Tempus Tech. Christmas dinner, at Catableu, with the Macademia nut salmon. Remind me to tell you these things. For the moment, I'm going to go lounge on the couch with my husband and watch movies. I'm so full.

Revelations:

I am a computer geek.

This thought occurred to me as I was sitting on the floor where Ryken's computer used to be, coiling up power cables like ebon serpents and securing them with twist-ties. I am the person my family calls when something goes wrong with their computers. Well, that's not entirely true. I, both of my stepbrothers, and my husband get called whenever something goes wrong with Mom's computer and Tom can't immediately figure it out. And when something goes wrong with Dad's computer, he usually calls me down to tell me why he loves his Mac so much. Even though, if Paul didn't download so much junk to the computer, it would work much better. I (and Angel, of course) am the person my dad calls when he can't get his e-mail, because we run the mail server that handles half his mail out of the Linux box downstairs. This started when his Comcast mail died, and now he complains when we take the server down for upgrades. I administer a Linux server, and I do it through the shell interface instead of the GUI. Mostly because I never bothered to install a GUI on the thing, but also because it's much easier to just secure-shell in than to walk all the way downstairs. And after all, we have a Cat-5 cable drop up to the apartment and a wireless hub for a reason, right? I know that running Linux mandates that I am a neophyte geek, since it's the most basic of *ix operating systems - or so everyone tells me. But it's better than running the old NT server that we only now got around to putting downstairs, which has been sitting here for ages. Before Ryken left, there were three people living here (plus, off and on, Lily, but she didn't bring a computer so she doesn't count). Three people. And seven computers, counting the laptop. Eight if you consider the server on the ground floor. We're down to two people and five/six, now that Angel took the old server and Ryken's computer downstairs. Which is why I'm coiling power cables and network cords and filing things in baskets. We have space again. I found a white envelope, bulky, and looked inside. MS-DOS 6.22, mouse, and CD-ROM drivers. I have a use for them; they supply the MS-DOS machine that Matt plays old DOS games on and I was trying to get connected to the network. Filed next to the box of old headphones and game pads, underneath the power-serpents, next to the basket with the yellow crossover cable, multiple network cards (you can come get yours, Dash; we don't need it) including a USB-adapter one that was on the old Compaq laptop until something ate its motherboard finally and it died. We tried to resurrect it for a month, before giving up and putting it in the box with the two floppy-drive-less laptops that we bought at Computer Renaissance - they were $10 and came with cases. Nice laptop cases. The most fun, though, was swapping hard drives from laptop to laptop until we had DOS installed on them and could then transfer files via the crossover cable. Since they didn't have floppy drives. Also in that box is the other Compaq laptop, the one I tried to install Linux on, since it was too slow to run Windows without a walker or other support device. Worked, but then the floppy failed...so I opened it up, and accidentally shorted something out while cleaning the wad of hair our of the floppy drive. In the box it went. What are we saving them for? I don't know. Does anyone want a Lexmark USB printer? It works great; we just got tired of the way it drank the $40 ink cartridges. Does colour or black and white. Now we have a Canon, with the individual ink tanks. I like it like that. It prints lovely photos when Michelly e-mails them from France. We save everything, computer-wise, it seems. We finally got rid of the three old cases that were sitting around gathering dust - after stripping them of everything down to the screws. We still have video cards downstairs that don't even fit in a modern motherboard. Speaking of saving...I have more work to do. And the thought occurred to me that I'm going to get feedback on this from my friends reminding me of all the times when I've had hysterics because I got confused or didn't know something.

I told you I was a neophyte.

Seen in a gas station:

If I do not try to Suggestive sell you A phone card or lottery ticket, I will cheerfully give you A free Candy Bar!

What the heck does 'Suggestive sell' mean? Sounds like I should be expecting fishnets and lipstick or something. Word came back right quick today, from the Pharmacology exam I took at 10:30 this morning and was so terribly worried about that I ceased to care about it:

85%!

Talk about going into finals week on a triumphantly high note. There isn't a single final this semester where I feel the panicky need to pass really well in order to avoid failing the class. Panic removed, now I can focus on doing well because I want to, not because I need to. There's such a difference in stress. Starting to reorganise and clean a bit, working on things around the apartment now that there's some extra space. Kind of fun, although it's going to look worse before it looks better, I fear. Tonight is the Tempus Technologies Christmas party, which includes limo rides and dinner at Catableu. How utterly cool is that? I even have several options of what-to-wear for it, yay! But for now...it's dusty-time.

Stream of consciousness

I was going to take a nap over lunch. I've changed my mind. Not so tired now, despite the Benadryl I took to ward off my headache. It's not a migraine - I think, rather, it's a headache due to the fact that I forgot to take my vitamins for a few days...and now that I'm taking them again, my titres are off. Always get a headache when I go on or off vitamins, the first day. Haven't seen Chavaling since she called on Sunday night asking about the first-year girl I designed her for (Harry Potter fanfic - beware). This is unusual *frets*. Yes, I'm feeling better today. I wouldn't call it stellar, but I think I can dredge up the motivation to finish my notecards and go back through the notes again. Mechanisms and stuff, he says, for the exam. Damndamndamn. On a good note: Lab exams are graded already.

89%!

Hallelujah. Frighteningly enough, I'm still below the class average. On a bad note, I forgot to pack myself lunch. Which, I suppose, means I need to hike over to Kettler and buy something to eat. Or...and this is sounding appealing...I could just ignore lunch and wait until I get home. After all, I'm only staying out of politeness - so that there's a decent group for the Medicine lecture. Back to notes.

And then to bed...

Moody. Apathetic. Grumpy. I don't know what it is, tonight. But studying is turning into staring at my notes and sulking. So I'm going to bed. Tomorrow will be better. Right?

One-liners

Amused myself the other day while in line at Best Buy by turning on the V-chip settings on the display TV's and setting random passwords. Am I wicked? There's a series of stupid commercials on TV. Including another Mary-Kate and Ashley movie. Did a search on iMesh, on a whim. Apparently they haven't started making pornos yet (anyone else just waiting for it to happen?) but there are lots of clips from their movies of them walking around in bikinis. I miss their Full House days, when they pretended there was only one of them. I want a two-inch remote-controlled car! It's sad when I own two full shelves of DVD's, and still can't find anything to watch. Nothing on TV, no movies...how sad. Nothing that won't take my attention away from the work I'm so slowly doing. On unit 3, at least. ...And, due to hardware maintenance, I can't post. So this will just have to grow....or I can try backdating it, and save it.

Time and tide

DO YOU PERSONIFY DARKNESS OR LIGHT?
brought to you by Quizilla Somewhere inside you lies true evil. Darkness radiates through you like water flows through the great lakes. Choose wisely in all your life decisions , we all have means to change our path. Darkness. I feel like Aerial now. How charming is that? Of course, if there are only two alternatives... It's a little strange coming home to an apartment that is (1) empty and (2) warm. And quiet. So quiet. It's not unwelcome...but it is strange. Come home, sit down, check LiveJournal, check MOO's, discover that Angel's had a spare minute to log on from work, yay! Check mail. This is my idea of pretending I'm doing something. Discover that I'm someone else's friend suddenly on LJ and try to figure out who in heck it is...not that not knowing has ever prevented me from adding someone else as a friend (It's scary - I don't remember who half of the people on my friends list are, only that I must roleplay with them somewhere. At one point in my life, the idea of letting random strangers read my journal would have compelled me to make sure that it was interesting, that all of the bad and sad and angry parts were cut out. And I would have wanted to find a way to block my friends from reading it at all, for fear they'd discover too much about me. Names are power. Knowledge is power. And if I'm not good and right and clean, then Bad Things will happen. It's been a long time since I felt that way. It's been a long time, but I remember those feelings, those words, as if they had never left. But they did. Maybe I err on the side of egotism now, thinking that anyone wants to read this. Maybe I would be as well-suited to call these words out from the rooftop into the empty and unseeing night. Maybe all that's true. But maybe it isn't. And in the end, those who aren't interested don't have to see. I'll claim the right of egotism in my own mind. E-mail is all spam, as ever. I get the mail noise as I'm typing, and then realise it's the same "how to stop spam" email I got in my other two Hotmail accounts. Which, unbeknownst to Microsoft, are set up to catch spam. Particularly all the pornographic spam that appears mysteriously after I visit pages profferring free stuff to my e-mail address. Microwave's beeped. Mini raviolis, yum. I'm so glad I'm feeling better. But now...now I think it's time to migrate over to the couch and the books (and the laptop-with-wireless) to study. Kudos: Angel did the dishwasher for me this morning. I asked him to put away the clothes and empty and refill the dishwasher before he went to work. I expected he might get the clothes done. He got it all done. What a wonderful man.

Before I sleep:

Star Trek:TNG episode on, in which Picard gets stuck as Dixon Hill in 1941 on the Holodeck. And some random redshirt gets shot. And I don't know what the title is, but the point is:

Patrick Stuart looks positively delicious in a fedora.

That is all. I'm going to bed now.

To die laughing...

What if Lord of the Rings were writen by different authors...? See this thread! So I got up this morning and crawled out of bed (it's cold in this apartment, suddenly), and got ready to go to school to take my exam (I'm so frelling lazy, I haven't done a thing today about Pharm and here it is 8 PM). And got out to the car. Realised that my driving gloves that I bought a week ago were still up in the apartment where I put them when I bought them. Oh, well - already running late, so I didn't go back. And then - then, I had to break my car out of its shell of ice in order to get to my ice scraper (yay! New ice scraper!) and brush the snow off of the windows, then scrape the ice off of them, then climb into my car (yes, I left it running to warm up) and take off. Stopped, brushed the snow off the passenger side windows for a second time, then took off. One of these frigid mornings (9 degrees, Scott said), when my breath froze the inside of the car's windshield, so I was peering through a 6" square window that I had to keep rubbing free until I finally got warmed up enough to defrost it. A cold day. A very cold day. And now the heaters up here don't work yet. Dad wired the thermostat backwards, he thinks. So when we tried to turn the heaters on, the entire upstairs circuit blew. Whoops. We have a small space heater to bring the temperature up above freezing, and some blankets. Cuddle weather. A brief nap, now, before reading and studying.

Lyrics: Leonard Bernstein's "Mass"

A Mass, written by a Jewish man, for JFK. Lyrics that have always rung true: FIRST BLUES SINGER Well, I went to the holy man and I confessed... Look, I can beat my breast With the best. And I'll say almost anything that gets me blessed Upon request... It's easy to stay 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. SECOND ROCK SINGER I don't know where to start There are scars I could show If I opened my heart But how far, Lord, but how far can I go? I don't know. SECOND BLUES SINGER If you ask me to love you on a bed of spice Now that might be nice Once or twice But don't look for sacraments of sacrifice They're not worth the price It's easy to keep the flair in your affair Your body's always ready, but your soul's not there Don't be nonplussed Come love, come lust, It's so easy when you just don't care. THIRD ROCK SINGER What I need I don't have What I have I don't own What I own I don't want What I want, Lord, I don't know. THIRD BLUES SINGER If you ask me to sing you verse that's versatile I'll be glad to beguile you For a while But don't look for content beneath the style Sit back and smile It's easy to criticize and beat my jive But hard to deny how neatly I survive And what could give More positive Plain proof that living is easy when you're half alive. ALL THREE ROCK SINGERS If I could I'd confess... ALL THREE BLUES SINGERS Easy... ALL THREE ROCK SINGERS Good and laud, nice and slow... ALL THREE BLUES SINGERS Easy... CHOIR Beatem Mariam semper Virginem Beatum Michaelem Archangelum, beatum Joannem Baptistam, Sanctos Apostolos Petrum et Paulum, Omnes sanctos, et vos, frates, Orare pro me Ad Dominum Deum nostrum. ALL SIX SOLOISTS What I say I don't feel What I feel I don't show What I show isn't real What is real, Lord - I don't know, No, no, no - I don't know. FIRST ROCK SINGER Come on, Lord, if you're so great Show me how, where to go Show me now - I can't wait Maybe it's too late, Lord, I don't know... FIRST BLUES SINGER Confiteor.... CELEBRANT God forgive you. ALL God forgive us all. CELEBRANT God be with you. ALL And with your spirit. CELEBRANT Let us pray. If you haven't experienced "Mass", it's a piece to be experienced. Incredibly controversial. But so true.

Doctor update:

She says she'd agree with the food poisoning (bacterial gastroenteritis) except that there's a sudden rash of (apparently viral) gastroenteritis in Fort Wayne. 6 admissions to Parkview, 6 to Parkview North, all for acute dehydration due to vomiting and diarrhoea. I, on the other hand, am not dehydrated. Go me. Clear liquids and Gatorade for 10-12 hours, not too much at a time, then rice and toast and applesauce until I feel better. Should be okay tomorrow morning for the exam... I'm going to go nap, then study more.

Sick.

That was not the way I imagined my vacation to be extended by a day. Mental note: if someone says "We should use this ham before it goes bad..." Check to make sure that it hasn't already gone bad, which will ultimately result in you staying home and missing an exam due to not being able to leave the bathroom for long enough to drive to school. Fortunately for me - unfortunately for Scott's wife Suzy - Suzy is in the hospital today, so Lowene is going to give Scott the exam in the morning. Which means I didn't have to dredge myself into school, still sick, and miss going to the doctor only to fail the exam. I feel like...well, nobody wants to hear a graphic description of my supposed bacterial gastroenteritis, do they now? Going to the doctor, even though the worst of it is over, in hopes that she'll provide me with a way to stop the horrid cramping and diarrhoea. I have another day to study. If I can sit up to study.

A muse, sing?

Me, quoting from bash.org: Microsoft could shit in a box, and most people would buy it Asmo: No, most people would pirate it. Riotous laughter. Studying for the Pathology lab exam tomorrow afternoon. Not studying hard enough, I'm sure. I can't summon the energy to study that hard. But I have been through the notes, and I quizzed back and forth with Jim and Nick (thank you , boys, for coming up with the sort of crude mnemonics that I come up with myself to remember these slides, and thank you for going through them a second time), and then Asher (I could ID every slide within 10 seconds) and then Ryan (Went over them again, was reminded to study Dr. Smith's notes), so I've been through them 4 times. Going to do them once more in the morning. Made notes from the notes, realised that Dr. Smith's notes contain most of the important stuff for the parasite lectures, and didn't bother going over the chapter notes. I still have to go through two sets of pictures in Robbins - genetics (one question) and Infectious diseases (more parasites, yum), and then I'll have seen everything that could possibly be on the test. Now...if only we'd known two weeks ago that there would be no slides on the exam...it's so much nicer just having the Kodachromes, even if there are only 16 or 18 of them, which means <100 questions on the exam. Good thing it counts only 2/3 of the regualr exams. Sort of like the last lecture exam. My grades are flagging again; I'm so tired of studying. Exam Monday-Exam Friday. Path lab and Pharmacology.

Then finals:

Monday-Tuesday, Biostatistics and Medicine, super easy. Study Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday, Pharmacology on Friday. I have the High-Yield book for Pharmacology, and that's good. Even better, it's a statewide exam and I don't have to take a Koritnik final. Instead, we only have to do in the 15th percentile statewide to pass. Not too bad. All in all, a light week. Study for a week solid, hard. Really hard. All my hundreds of pages of Pathology notes. Because the 19th is the Pathology final exam. And the really suck bit: LotR comes out in theatres on the 18th, but I'm going to have to wait. The really sweet bit: Angel's waiting too. Just for me. After that, though...I have Christmas break, for several weeks. After that, I have a chance to breathe before second semester. Can you frellin' believe it? There are notes in my binder for next semester already. Cardiac pathology. At least it's McBride. The man is...well, for a teacher, he's damn cute. Nothing better than having a cute prof, hey? Okay, study break time - time I spent watching Angel play FFX on the pretty new TV with the pretty new component out cables for the PS2 - is over. Time to go through Robbins and look at pictures. Then notes. Then this, then that, then the other. Saw M today. Realised how much she energises me, how bright things are around her. I miss M and Mandy and those days. Even the pain. Too bad it was short, too bad it was because we came and rescued her and Jefe when her car decided that it was being stolen and shut itself down. I miss M. I miss a lot of things.

Asmo: "Being exploded into your component molecules is not good."