Please note (extended RP rant post):

The following information is in my character bio on Ansible. All of it can be read by anyone who wishes to type 'pinfo Teryn' and read it. IC Information: --Full name: Teryn Alexander Celestin --Age: 6 --Place of Birth: Kissimee, FL --Personality: Impulsive, impatient, inconsistent and inconsiderate in his personal relations, Teryn has a hard time making friends and an even harder time keeping them. As far as leadership goes, the boy has less than no ability at all. When confronted with a desk, he is capable of absorbing himself so completely in working on it that everything around him seems to disappear; a stark contrast to the rest of the time, when he can't even sit still for more than a few moments. It seems he's most comfortable conversing, relating, and existing behind the comfort of the screen. --Teryn is male. --Background: There is a difference between honesty and tactlessness; a fine line between spontaneity and outright impulsivity; a delicate balance between witty retort and caustic comment. Teryn is blissfully unaware of each. Impatient, impulsive, inconsistent and inconsiderate were the words that come to mind in the adults who watched him and monitored his behaviour. The other children didn't have the vocabulary or the inclination to come up with expansive descriptions. Teryn was a loser, a nerd, a geek and a brat, the last being the epithet so often applied to him by his elder sister that it doubled as a second name. And then he entered kindergarten, and she used it there. Brat. It stuck, and the children picked it up like a triumphant refrain. From the second day of kindergarten forward, he was called nothing else, any time the teachers weren't listening. It was bewildering at best, as he did not comprehend how everything he did seemed to turn against him, and infuriating at worst. Never the kind to settle challenges using his fists, Teryn turned to his desk, the silent, understanding, patient, comprehensible desk. He found in coding and cracking the endless intricacies of complexity and novelty that he had lacked in interpersonal relationships. And he found something else: behind the console, he could be anyone, anything. He could take the time to compose each reply to something someone said, think over it, discard his initial impulsive responses and hone them to a razor's edge. And nobody knew him as 'brat'. If he made a mistake, he could throw away the identity and start all over again. And thus, a curious dichotomy sprang up: as Teryn-the-brat became ever more sullen and withdrawn under the taunts of the other children, as his teachers despaired that a child so bright could do so poorly, Teryn-the-hacker began to soar. He took his revenge on his tormenters in subtle ways, altering files rather than deleting them, diverting desk messages, and sabotaging their work at every opportunity. And the IF noticed. The boy's skill in picking apart the tiniest details of code; his ability to spend hours upon hours focussed on the threads of a possible security hole despite the fact that he couldn't sit still for more than a few minutes at a time; his frightening gift for picking just the right time and place to make his attacks brought him to their attention. Dislikable? Absolutely. Impossibly frustrating? Positively. But he had the potential to be a strategic genius, and his creativity and talent were precisely what they needed. The shuttle came, and Teryn boarded, leaving the school and the long-hated title of 'brat' far behind. Hopefully forever. --Teryn is a Launchie. It's eloquent, it's well-written, if I do say so myself, and it says all you need to know about the kid,and then some. So when today, the following took place: Launchie_X comes in not looking at anything at all as he walks in his daze. He finds a seat in the corner of the mess hall and he sits and doesn't eat anything he just sits in his own fashion. He sits and pulls out his desk and does some work on it. The whole time not speaking or looking at anyone. Teryn is already buried in his own desk, doing something that has his entire attention - even to the exclusion of his meal, it seems. Launchie_X puts his desk down a second and pulls out a small pen that has a small cartoon reaper on it. He writes something down on a piece of paper with the pen and puts it away in a hurry. He picks up his desk and hurrys to the door and goes off towards his barracks. Launchie_X leaves. >>> Launchie_X tells you "I have a small plot that I am working with morrigan to do I am about to start my rping that is hacking but I need people that im alowed to do it with. So I ask you if you will plz let me hack you of course its fack but I need your permissoin to rp it on you." Is it any surprise that I then responded with: >>> You tell Launchie_X, "Have you read Teryn's pinfo?" >>> Launchie_X replies, "hold on I will right now" Will right now? How about you read the character information before engaging in the World's Shortest RP with me and then asking if I'll let you hack me? >>> Launchie_X replies, "you got a point not a good target I will pick a differnt person thanks for the warning oh and the reaper pen will make sense later bye." >>> To Launchie_X: Teryn nods. "I didn't think we were allowed to have things like pens. You check that with staff?" :) >>> Launchie_X replies, "I snuck it in if the staffs find it it will be taken so don't worry the man thing is the small reaper on it not the pen its self." >>> You tell Launchie_X, "Okay, cool." >>> Launchie_X replies, "oh and you don't name and we meet :)" >>> Launchie_X replies, "I mean never meet" >>> You tell Launchie_X, "Of course :)" Now mind, I am not averse to someone hacking into Teryn's system. I even know how his double-redundant stealth security works, and what he logs. And I don't expect it to be foolproof. He is six, after all, no matter how smart of a six-year-old he might be, and he has a lot to learn. But for heaven's sake, would you read the pinfo so you have an idea of what you'd be getting into? Augh. Edit: I forgot to mention the IC mail that he sent to some people I know...one of whom was kind enough to show it to me. From: Launchie_X To: (Names Withheld) Subject: [IC] !Hello! THIS MESSAGE IS FROM REAPER (As the message is opened the screen of the desk goes black and is lit up by what looks like a stage light in the middle of the screen. A small little cartoon reaper comes onto the desk screen and steps into the light and bows to the screen.The little reaper moves its mouth and the message comes out of a word bubble from this small reaper.) Hello there nice to meet you I am Reaper and I will be in the news soon. I just thought your army deserved a personal hello from me. I happen to like your army the most and will also talk to you mabe the most but I say I will not do anything to anyone in your army. If anything I may help you. (The small reaper winks one of its empty eyes and sends a small star at the screen when he does this before he starts to talk again.) One more thing I must say I can not be reached by mailing this small boy on the address I just sent my mail from his address as it would be easyer to do this then have my own address I could be tracked to easy that way. I just wanted to say hello to you and hope you and I can have a nice little word mabe later. (The small reaper starts to walk off the screen but stops and runs back in a quick movement. He waves and then walks off screen as he does his face crackes a grin. The screen of the desk flashs and returns to normal.) Right. At least Teryn creates a fake identity to send his messages from. Oh, and...Spellcheck.

A few random notes...

Today, in my spam, the following picture: Now that I'm done laughing... Who would pose for that picture? Would you? You can't really see his face. What if you were clearly identifiable? Does it make a difference if you're male or female? Overheard at Curves: I don't see why they have to show us pictures of women in their underwear to sell us feminine products. What, do they think we believe we'll look like that if we wear them? The bathrooms are clean, hallelu. Now on to doing something else productive, or maybe just flopping down and playing video games.

Two random things:

Random thing #1: quotes from Treasure Planet. Incidentally, it was really a pretty good movie...

• Jim? I'm starting to see my life passing before my eyes. At least I think it's my life. WAS I EVER DANCING WITH AN ANDROID NAMED LUPE?"
• Captain Flint? In the flesh...well, devoid of skin or tendons or anything resembling flesh...
• Excuse me, brutish pirate? I have a question. Is it that your body is too massive for your teeny tiny head, or is your head too tiny for your big fat body?
• Silver, you gave up... It's a life-long obsession, kid. I'll get over it.

Random thing #2: A Matrix quiz. I am pleased with my results.
You are Morpheus, from "The Matrix." You
have strong faith in yourself and those around
you. A true leader, you are relentless in your
persuit.

What Matrix Persona Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla And now, instead of sitting around bare-ass naked until 2 PM today, I'm going to go take Treasure Planet back to Blockbuster and work out before doing something productive here at home. That way I don't feel quite like so much of a slacker.

I'm a little tea-pot...

Slept in today. Dreamed strange dreams. Like the one in which I screamed at James for tickling me, then proceeded to curl up on the parking lot to sleep while waiting for something - only to be awakened by him ejaculating all over me while he jerked off, apparently just to be a bitch. In that typical dream way, I was covered head to toe in the stuff, which is a bit unrealistic, not to mention that then his outrage when I told him I'd never go anywhere with him again was sort of un-Jameslike. "It was just a little jizz. What's wrong with you, can't you handle a little jizz?" Everyone else was laughing at me too. And the one where and I were going to a John Mayer concert, even though I've never actually listened to his music. And she had a giant black sign with "I love you Johnny!" on it in huge neon green letters, and the paint was dripping so that as we carried it, we were slowly getting covered in green and black paint. Or the one where BigScott was taking the Boards and I got to watch as they enclosed him in ice so he couldn't finish on time. No dreams about you this time, Lily, although you and Jefe were in the one about James...dressed in bondage gear and laughing at me with the rest. I went home and changed clothes before the movie (I think that's where we were going) started, but I didn't shower, so I had this giant translucent white cap over my head that kept dripping. And everyone around me reached out to catch the drips and eat them, like some kind of ice cream cone. That was the dream that convinced me I should get out of bed and stop dreaming. Now I'm going to go to Curves - there's one in Leo, it seems, as well as Pine Valley and East State. I'm going for the East State one. I just need to get my lazy ass working out.

Anyone have any suggestions for what I should do for dinner?

A foggy day...

Beginning to feel inspired regarding Doubly Dead. Now if tomorrow goes well, perhaps I'll write it. Part of my problem is, though, that I don't know where the story will go. I've never successfully planned a story in my life. The closest I've ever come to it is in the stories I dreamed. I just know that it wants to be written. Went to Raja tonight for dinner (thank you, M, for introducing us) and had yummy Indian food. I need to learn to make Naan. Then went to Video Stop to rent a movie. No luck. So we went to Blockbuster and picked up the original Ocean's 11. This movie, I assure you, suffers from an excess of character development. Mind, it's a classic, in true 60's style - which means that the first half of it was character development. And the second half was plot. And the other second half was plot twists. The denouement was longer than the buildup, and trying to make 12 different main characters memorable through long conversational scenes is...well, a bit overwhelming. However, it was good in its way. I like the new one better, except that hearing Sammy Davis, Jr. sing "E-O Eleven" was yummy. Wish I knew what it meant.. Am now feeling relaxed, if itchy for some odd reason. And I think it's time for bed soon.

To share a list...

The BBC published their list of 100 best books according to British readers. Boldface are the ones I've read. No commentary included this time. The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho Alice's Adventures In Wonderland, Lewis Carroll Animal Farm, George Orwell Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy Anne Of Green Gables, LM Montgomery Artemis Fowl, Eoin Colfer The BFG, Roald Dahl Birdsong, Sebastian Faulks Black Beauty, Anna Sewell Bleak House, Charles Dickens Brave New World, Aldous Huxley Brideshead Revisited, Evelyn Waugh Bridget Jones's Diary, Helen Fielding Captain Corelli's Mandolin, Louis de Bernieres Catch 22, Joseph Heller The Catcher In The Rye, JD Salinger Charlie And The Chocolate Factory, Roald Dahl A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens The Clan Of The Cave Bear, Jean M Auel Cold Comfort Farm, Stella Gibbons The Colour Of Magic, Terry Pratchett The Count Of Monte Cristo, Alexandre Dumas Crime And Punishment, Fyodor Dostoyevsky David Copperfield, Charles Dickens Double Act, Jacqueline Wilson Dune, Frank Herbert Emma, Jane Austen Far From The Madding Crowd, Thomas Hardy Girls In Love, Jacqueline Wilson The God Of Small Things, Arundhati Roy The Godfather, Mario Puzo Gone With The Wind, Margaret Mitchell Good Omens, Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman Goodnight Mister Tom, Michelle Magorian Gormenghast, Mervyn Peake The Grapes Of Wrath, John Steinbeck Great Expectations, Charles Dickens The Great Gatsby, F Scott Fitzgerald Guards! Guards!, Terry Pratchett Harry Potter And The Chamber Of Secrets, JK Rowling Harry Potter And The Goblet Of Fire, JK Rowling Harry Potter And The Philosopher's Stone, JK Rowling Harry Potter And The Prisoner Of Azkaban, JK Rowling His Dark Materials, Philip Pullman The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy, Douglas Adams The Hobbit, JRR Tolkien Holes, Louis Sachar I Capture The Castle, Dodie Smith Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë Kane And Abel, Jeffrey Archer Katherine, Anya Seton The Lion, The Witch And The Wardrobe, CS Lewis Little Women, Louisa May Alcott Lord Of The Flies, William Golding The Lord Of The Rings, JRR Tolkien Love In The Time Of Cholera, Gabriel García Márquez The Magic Faraway Tree, Enid Blyton Magician, Raymond E Feist The Magus, John Fowles Matilda, Roald Dahl Memoirs Of A Geisha, Arthur Golden Middlemarch, George Eliot Midnight's Children, Salman Rushdie Mort, Terry Pratchett Night Watch, Terry Pratchett Nineteen-Eighty-Four, George Orwell Noughts And Crosses, Malorie Blackman Of Mice And Men, John Steinbeck On The Road, Jack Kerouac One Hundred Years Of Solitude, Gabriel García Márquez Perfume, Patrick Süskind Persuasion, Jane Austen The Pillars Of The Earth, Ken Follett A Prayer For Owen Meany, John Irving Pride And Prejudice, Jane Austen The Princess Diaries, Meg Cabot The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists, Robert Tressell Rebecca, Daphne Du Maurier The Secret Garden, Frances Hodgson Burnett The Secret History, Donna Tartt The Shell Seekers, Rosamunde Pilcher The Stand, Stephen King The Story Of Tracy Beaker, Jacqueline Wilson A Suitable Boy, Vikram Seth Swallows And Amazons, Arthur Ransome A Tale Of Two Cities, Charles Dickens Tess Of The D'urbervilles, Thomas Hardy The Thorn Birds, Colleen McCollough To Kill A Mockingbird, Harper Lee A Town Like Alice, Nevil Shute Treasure Island, Robert Louis Stevenson The Twits, Roald Dahl Ulysses, James Joyce Vicky Angel, Jacqueline Wilson War And Peace, Leo Tolstoy Watership Down, Richard Adams The Wind In The Willows, Kenneth Grahame Winnie-the-Pooh, AA Milne The Woman In White, Wilkie Collins Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë There are several more I've read excerpts from or started and decided I just couldn't stand the style. Dickens comes to mind. But not so bad - and my to-read list has some of these on it as well.

Credo in unum deum.

Thanks to all for all the good thoughts this morning. Arrived 0810, after wandering around the student centre, forgetting that it wasn't Kettler. Welcome staff were friendly and smiling. It was as good a welcome as I could have expected. Had trouble with the dry-erase markers; I went through at least 6. 1200: Broke for lunch after 4 sections. 1530: Finished exam and exited. It was rough, no denying that. There were 2 moderately easy blocks, 2 extremely tough blocks, and 3 blocks in the middle. It jumped around, so the second-to-last block was the second-easiest; the last was hard. Quotient of Things I'd Never Seen: low. Quotient of "oh, shit, I don't remember that": moderate. Best estimate: I would say probably better than half of the questions, I knew the answer to with an 80-95% certainty. Of the remainder, I can anticipate getting half of them right if I was guessing at all accurately. That would pass me. That would be really nice. I'll tell you all as soon as I know. But it's over with; I'm done. IUSM has a 95% pass rate. Our centre has almos 100%. I should be fine. No more worries, no more studying. Although Barth did mention that my doc I'll be working with did a fellowship in diabetes, so I should probably brush up on it. Hmm.

Dear God:

I've studied. I've tried. I've finally, with a lot of work and a lot of prayer, got this concentration thing down. Tomorrow is the exam that determines the direction of my life. I have to pass it to continue in school, to keep my scholarships from defaulting, to be allowed to work in the position I so desperately want. I just have to pass. I've studied, I have. I've tried. All I need now is a little bit of help. Help me to remember the things I've worked so hard at learning. Help me not to lose my cool. Help me to dredge from the forgotten corners of my mind the facts that have enabled me to pass everything thus far. And dear God...help me to make it through. 8:30 AM. IPFW, Kettler Hall. Confirmed. Bag packed. Notecards, review books in the bag for lunchtime scanning.

AMDG: Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam, for the greater glory of God.

Roleplaying!

Your Ultimate Roleplaying Purity Score
Category	Your Score	Average
Hacklust	42.45% Will kill for XP	52.3%
Sensitive Roleplaying	29.11% All the game's your stage	50%
GM Experience	42.03% Puts the players through the wringer	66.3%
Systems Knowledge	91.1% Played in a couple of campaigns	88.7%
Livin' La Vida Dorka	55.17% Has interesting conversations in public	59.4%
You are 55.82% pure Average Score: 66.1%
Take The Ultimate Roleplaying Purity Test and see how you match up!

Now...now back to my books. Tomorrow's the day.

One day more....

Took the 150 NBME official released questions today. Average score: 72%. Much better than the 56 on the Kaplan ones. Tomorrow: Review high-yield study materials in the Buzzwords and First Aid books. Make a list of important things to know so I can refresh my memory over lunch. Learn the freakin' sympathomimetics until I stop confusing the things. Mom B says I'll be fine. Josh says if I did okay on the Path and Medicine finals (I beat the mean for every centre but FW in Path) I'll be in good shape. Everyone says FW prepares us well.

Dear God: I'm terrified.

Quiz: Heinlein

You belong in Time Enough For Love. You are older
than you look. Your wit and wisdom are prized
by others. People throw themselves on you,
begging to be with you.

Which Heinlein Book Should You Have Been A Character In?
brought to you by Quizilla I need to read more Heinlein....

A little bit less than fluff.

Friday: Matrix 2, previously discussed briefly. Went to bed, left Angel to chat with Lily and Jefe. Got up Saturday morning, after sleeping in and forgetting that I was supposed to go to Curves to weigh-in. I think...I think I'm just going to have to start on Thursday after Boards. I get so much more done when I go to work with Angel and sit there and work. Which means I'd have to go work out at 6:30, and I just never seem to think about it. So Thursday, after Boards, it is. Today I've learned the glycolysis cycle and will shortly start in on gluconeogenesis, TCA, and the Urea cycle thanks to the very clear review book I finally opened. And somehow I'll find my Pharm review book, which seems to have been lost. I need it; nothing else makes sense. Stupid drugs. Stupid sick people. Stupid Boards. Oh, and stupid OpenMG Jukebox that keeps crashing while writing to the minidisc player. On the good side, I'm clean now, and I did get something done.

Study report:

Final average on the Kaplan thing: 56%. Score breakdown by category: Anatomy/Embryology 49% Behavioural Science/Biostats 60% Biochemistry 52% Immunology 35% Microbiology 61% Pathology 69% Pharmacology 36% Physiology 68% Did some Buzzwords review on Beh. Sci this evening. Will go over Biochem and Pharm tomorrow. I need to know mainly side effects and main indications for pharm; Glycolysis/Gluconeogenesis and the Urea cycle for Biochem. That would've helped a lot. I'm worried now, which means I'm fighting off avoidant mode. Dinner, though. Food. Fries. Chicken Nuggets. *scampers*

Quiz, spam, and all that jazz..

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Pictures...

I'll type more once I finish my Kaplan stuff, but I did promise pictures. Now I put the camera on large size and then switched to low quality, so they're grainy and I'm sorry. I need my own damn digital camera. But here they are:

Me, of course :) The gayboys :) Me, to James: Black eyeshadow or regular? James: Ask Eric. He's the queen. Eric: Black. And I am not a queen. I'm just a better gayboy than you. James (sniffling): I'm a bad faggot... I love you guys. Jefe Lily, our very own Woman in Red. And the two of them together, in a picture that narrowly missed being "the floating head of Lily haunts Jefe's shoulder"

For some reason, I missed getting a picture of Angel. Probably because he was cooking dinner. Plus, getting far enough away from him to take a picture means I'm too far away :) I'll get one next time. I'll get lots next time. I'll even get them on a decent res. And now to Kaplan.

Bed.

Matrix verdict: Distinctly mediocre. In summary: Some excellent scenes, many extraneous scenes, too much T&A, and not enough of the subtle question-reality plot I loved in the first. More to come on that, with probable spoilers. Also have pictures of everyone (and the boots, Just For Piccy, although the picture is dark). Will post rest later. Now, sleep. Running average on Kaplan simulated USMLE: 59% after 4 sections. I suck at pharmacology. Three more to go tomorrow. Time will not be a problem.

Random. Completely Random.

Heard while accidentally watching a strange cooking show in Discovery Channel: Apart from Harvey Wallbangers, this is the only known use for Galliano. A true story: We had a teacher in high school who was Russian. He taught Chemistry. Apparently, the FBI had a dial-a-spy hotline where you could call in and report someone you suspected of spy-like activities. You would call a toll-free number and leave your information on their machine. They used to call Dr. Goldfeld in all the time. And then one day Shane called him in, and somehow he noticed that the FBI's answering machine was the same brand as the one he had. Funny coincidence, that. So (being a Gifted and Talented student) he tried punching in the default security code that would let one change the message on the machine. And it worked. So he changed it. And then they had Yuri come in and change it to say obscene things in Russian. And then a couple of days later, the FBI called the Academy. They'd traced the numbers. Shane pointed out that they shouldn't have left the answering machine with its default codes, and they acknowledged that he was right. But he still got his 'phone taken away for the rest of the year, and had to write a letter of apology. The rest of us just laughed our butts off.

All work and no play...

11 AM. 25 pages of Micro down, 20 pages of Micro to go. And the eternal dilemma: Do l go over the Big Book Of Boards or do l call it a day on the first Ai d and go over something like Buzzwords, and review Path tomorrow? l want to do well. For my own sense of pride, I want to do well ... Matrix reviews are mixed. I'm expecting, from what I hear, to see lots of ass- kicking but less of the deep philosophy that made the first one so intriguing. No Spoilers; I don't see it 'till tomorrow night. Prudence dictates my actions - it's time to go back to work and learn viruses.

Rejection. How sad.

I went to the Red Cross with Angel. They said "Are you donating too?" Sure. Why not? And then they asked my blood type, and I looked down at the little sheet they gave me, and I said: B-negative. And they got very excited. And asked if I wanted to donate double red cells. They need my blood. Too bad I couldn't pass the pulse test. I don't know why I can't get my pulse under 100. I think it's the caffeine and the sugar and the stress and the extra 80 pounds or so I'm carrying around. I can cut out the caffeine and the sugar. I can try to lower the stress, and, well, there's Curves on those 80 pounds. But will cutting out the caffeine and sugar lower it enough so I can give tomorrow? If they're asking me to give double reds, they need my blood type. And I want to donate. Dammit. Have found a charming little purple lingerie jacket to go with my black clothing and the boots. Am attempting to decide whether I should leave it as is, put a couple of chain-and-ring hookups on the front, or if I should scrap it and go with the denim jacket. Anyone? Also acquired a full-length trench coat in professional-looking cloth for half-off. Exceedingly good day. Tomorrow: Biochemistry. Yucch.

Your Ultimate Purity Score Is...
Category	Your Score	Average
Self-Lovin'	35% When I think about you - or anyone - I touch myself	62.8%
Shamelessness	50% It takes a couple of drinks	77.8%
Sex Drive	57.9% A fool for love, but not always	76.1%
Straightness	7.1% Knows the other body type like a map	41.9%
Gayness	28.6% At least one weekend of ecstacy	80.9%
Fucking Sick	76.1% Refreshingly normal	88.7%
You are 43.48% pure Average Score: 70.7%
Take The Ultimate Purity Test and see how you match up!

[GMs] Vita> James, I just outscored you. [GMs] Jorath> go figure....your bi [GMs] Vita scored 76.1 on the Fucking sick section. :P [GMs] Jorath> Yeah..you have more bondage experience. Point. Point. I am so disturbed.

Newsflash!

Story from MoneyFactory.com: They're making the $20 bill a little bit prettier. Finally. I'm so tired of having the most boring money in the world. How much prettier? Well, a little bit. It has a "metallic green eagle" and a "faint blue eagle" and Andrew Jackson looks like someone forgot to comb his hair in the morning, doesn't he?

Doesn't he?

The best-made plans of mice and men...

Got to school. Polycoms have been cancelled. Bastards. Not worth 5 hours of my time to drive to Indy for the Pharm one. It's just not. So it is now 2 PM and I have accomplished nothing. But I did get the "Buzzwords for the Boards" book in the mail today, and Dr. Merkle contributed a copy of another review book with test questions on CD, so can go in and use it at school; which makes more material to test myself with. Always a plus. Angel's going to help me with Buzzwords, although he doesn't know it yet, since it's much nicer than my notecards are (I wouldn't wish having to use my notecards to review me on anyone, but I do it to him regularly) and maybe, just maybe, I'll make it through this. But for now...Well, Princeton Review has 60 pages of Neurology and Neuroanatomy, and that sounds like a good idea to me. Off we go.

What a waste of a morning...

Woke up at 8, after rolling over every time Angel smacked the alarm for an hour. This is doing better than my usual record. By 8:50, I was on my way out to Curves. There's a new woman working there; we chatted about my arm, and I did my rounds. Worked pretty well, although the bicep-tricep machine on the third round started to hurt my wrist a bit. I'm driving with the splint on, since the last thing I need to do is twist my wrist wrong and go into spasms of pain on the road, so by the time I got home it was only a little sore still. The Curves I'm a member at is out on Getz, so it's 20 minutes there and back, plus 50 minutes at the club, since I do my warmups and cooldowns as stretches and that takes time. Home at 10:30ish. Then I had to take a shower, and eat lunch, and dick around a little, and now it's almost noon and I haven't opened a book yet. There's a Polycom lecture on Neuro over at school today, and I'm planning on going. I did get through the Anatomy section of First Aid, but there are a few things I'm going to want to go over again. Tomorrow biochem, Thursday morning is the Polycom on Pharmacology (yum, more Pharm. I suck at it, though, so I'd best go.) and more biochem in the afternoon. Friday (Matrix night!) and Saturday I have Micro scheduled, Sunday I'm reviewing Path, and Monday-Tuesday I'll be scrambling. I need to find my Kaplan CD and take a practise test Sunday night, so as to know what to review on Monday-Tuesday. And I got a travel pass from Curves, will try to find the one in Georgetown. I have a feeling that would work a little better. Or I could get up earlier. But for now, I'm done with my raviolis, so I think it's time to go to school and study like a Good Girl.

Quizzes: X-Men in Europe!

o_O Another fancier of the old. Good for you I guess. Charles is seen as a fatherly-type of person, and is one you can open up to. He is known to be amiable and very dependable. His genius is only surpassed by his love and understanding of other people. He makes for a great companion with much affection, plus, the baldness *is* kinda sexy. Who Is Your Ideal X-Men 2 Mate? (ladies only) brought to you by Quizilla Mmmm....Professor X. Patrick Stuart being the sexiest bald man I know... Which X2 Character Are You? Could've done worse. I like Jean. Llongyfarchiadau! You are Welsh. You are the coolest, and you don't even know it. Find your inner European Part Two brought to you by Quizilla Actually, of all the things I am, Welsh isn't part of it as far as I know.

Nothing like a good case of mistaken identity...

Moo A is Ansible, where my character was formerly Shandahr. She was a commander. She graduated. I relaunched as Teryn. Dakota is a long-time acquaintance of mine, whom I thought I had told about my new character name. Launchie_A is someone I'm trying to give a hand to, and it's not working well. Moo B is Arcana, where I am Vita and she is Piccolo. Comments are colour-coded. This log involves two things: the base stupidity to which Piccolo refers later, and what happens when you forget to tell people who you are. I've colour-coded by moo and interposed them in actual chronological order. It's not too bad. * Launchie_A has connected. [Launchie] Launchie_A> How come I have'nt been promoted into an army, I took the test and passed like a week ago... [Launchie] Launchie_A> Is anyone on the launchie channel? [Launchie] * Teryn is. [Launchie] Launchie_A> Oh hey Teryn [Launchie] Teryn> Did you look at '@req me' to see if you have everything? (OOC) Teryn> Hi. (Launch B Barracks) (OOC) Launchie_A> Whoa I did'nt know about that stuff... (OOC) * Teryn grins. [Launchie] Launchie_A> Can someone check off description and pinfo on my @rq list? His description: This child is nondescript. He is wearing a light blue uniform with a patch indicating his launch group. In other words, he hasn't done it. (OOC) Teryn> You don't -have- a description... (OOC) Launchie_A> all my description (IC) is set (OOC) Teryn> When I look at you, all I see is 'this child is nondescript'... >>> You tell Dakota, "You around?" (OOC) Launchie_A> I set it all (OOC) Teryn> You can't do description with set, tho. Type 'look me' and you'll see. Launchie_A says, "look me'" Launchie_A says, "look me' " (OOC) Launchie_A> Doesnt work (OOC) Launchie_A> Oh there (OOC) Launchie_A> There I did it... (OOC) Launchie_A> I need to make a waaaay better description (OOC) Launchie_A> Oh well His description now reads: A little crazy at times and when I get started on something I'll start with a vengeance and never follow through. Which is the least descriptive description I've seen in a while. (OOC) Teryn> They mean physical description there in @desc...what the character looks like. At this point I looked up his pinfo information. It claims he's 12 and lives in Canada. So the next conversation that takes place is...well, odd. (OOC) Launchie_A> How come your idle? (OOC) Teryn> I'm supposed be studying. (OOC) Launchie_A> Oh, sorry.. (OOC) * Teryn grins. Is okay. (OOC) Launchie_A> What are you studying? (OOC) Launchie_A> I missed all my classes... (OOC) Teryn> Today? Cardiac physiology. I have to take my first licensing exam on May 21st. (OOC) Launchie_A> In real life or in the game? (OOC) Teryn> IRL. I'm studying to be a doctor. (OOC) Launchie_A> Thank god, you scared me there, thought I'd have to do that in the game... (OOC) Teryn> Oh, havens no :) (OOC) Launchie_A> A little bit of advice, if bieng a doctor ever fails you and you cant find a job, try out Real Estate Investing (OOC) Teryn> Oh? (OOC) Launchie_A> My mom gave me 1000 dollars to buy a house, fix it up and sell it for more, I've already made over 80k and its in a bond (OOC) Launchie_A> in one year (OOC) * Teryn has never been much interested in making money. But I'll keep that in mind. (OOC) Launchie_A> I'm not interested either really but you need it to live (OOC) Launchie_A> thats why its all in bonds, because I dont want it in a bank where it can be taken by the government (OOC) Launchie_A> and I dont care much about it so I'll save it for my retirement His description now reads: Short for his age with blue eyes and jet black hair. Big feet with long toes and long fingers on his hands. At least it's a description. You will note, still no answer from Dakota. And I just sort of refused to talk to him after that... Meanwhile, on Arcana: [Public] Ashyn wants /boys/. Mmhm. [Public] Vita passes Ashyn the moron boy on Ansible she's talking to. [Public] Miralys> Oh dear, which one? [Public] Vita> Name of Launchie_A? [Public] Miralys> Must be a new one. [Public] Vita> Pinfo says he's 12 IRL. He's telling me about how he earned $80K in one year from the $1000 his mom gave him to buy a house and fix it up. And it's all in bonds. [Public] Miralys> .... [Public] Jorath> rofl [Public] Vita> Just a tip for me, in case being a Dr doesn't work out and I can't find a job. [Public] Miralys chuckles. [Public] Jorath> Whats the kid do sell heroin? [Public] Vita> no, he buys houses and fizes them up. In Canada, if his pinfo is correct. [Public] Piccolo> Hmm, well I guess he deserves a bit of credit for being 12 and knowing what a bond is....kinda? [Public] Vita> Piccy, nudge on over there and tell him his pinfo and desc need work? :) [Public] Piccolo grins, "I've no authority on that moo anymore...and besides, if I unidle Teryn will see and I'll blow my "I'm idle and hence didn't see your paging me' cover." [Public] Miralys chuckles. [Public] Vita> What's wrong with Teryn? >>> To Dakota: Teryn sobs! You dun love me! [Public] Piccolo blinks, "Oh wait....GAH!" [Public] Vita> I swear I tooooold you! [Public] Piccolo cries, misread your post on launch and thought you were some retarded newbie kid. [Public] Piccolo giggles, "Nooooo, didn't tell me!" [Public] Piccolo huggles Teryn, loooove. >>> To Dakota: Teryn shows off desc and pinfo. "Some retarded newbie kid indeed." >>> Dakota whimpers, sorries. >>> Dakota giggles, "Yea, I typed pinfo and was just like, "Ah crap." Done with the Princeton Review cardio section. Next up: renal.

Link whorage, study update.

Accomplished today. Have been through entire high-yield section of USMLE First Aid Physiology, will go try and tackle the nasty bits (heart and kidneys) in the Princeton Review this afternoon. Resolved: to get up in the morning, bright and early, and go over to Curves. Working out first thing in the morning sounds like a very good idea. Besides, it'll get my lazy ass out of bed. A Good Thing. A collection of images to delight and disgust: Ebaum's World (Warning! Some items contain overly adult content)

Inspiration and perspiration: The doubly dead

It's not done; I can't take the time right now to do the 99% perspiration of the tale. But this is the 1% inspiration. Source texts are here: The Raven and Lenore, by Edgar Allan Poe.

The doubly dead

The room was perfect, from the leather-bound bookshelves with their faint aroma of ancient knowledge, to the writing-desk, to the pale marble bust of Athena with, curiously, a stuffed raven perched on it (why is a raven like a writing-desk?) above the chamber door. Perfect and silent and empty, so very very empty; the sort of hollow vacancy that comes when a place has known the rigors of use and abuse, now forgotten and left alone. It touched a chord in me, that abandoned, waiting sort of decay, and I was barely conscious of the soft tracks my bare feet should have left in the dust that sifted the floor. It was a waiting room, silent, undisturbed, as if the room, like I, was sure that its master and its purpose would return apace, to fill it with reason and life and to chase away the stuffiness, the cobwebs, the dust. I looked up to the pale marble bust of Athena (wisest of the virgin goddesses, Athena, can even you offer me advice now?) and wondered at the raven. Change takes all things; it had taken me most certainly, but why should he have chosen to place a raven on that bust? Long I stood there, staring at the incongruous bird, so long that it seemed I fell once more into the timeless trance that overtook me at every lost opportunity, forgetting this thing and all things in the undiscovered, empty room. So it was that when the wings stirred and the beak opened to croak "Nevermore" in a voice that had haunted my dreamless emptiness, I would have screamed, had I had voice. What living thing, bird or beast or man, could still have survived the passing of the years? It was not possible. It could not be.

Six degrees...

From Jefe:

LiveJournal Connect! Enter your username in the left box, someone else's username (or a * for a random one) in the right box, and press the button! -> Quiet Mutual 2 chains No 1-hop Coded by sachmet

Six degrees of LJ separation? It's kind of fun to play with the random linkage, and see what sort of things you come up on. But right now...I think I need to brush my hair and get dressed. It's cold in here.

And one more thing...

Letters in the mail today:

• Congratulations on passing Pathology! (signed) Dr. Smith.
• A bill from ONE for my copay on my broken arm. Thank God for insurance.
• A letter from the Family Practise clerkship department. You've been assigned to Fort Wayne for your family practise clerkship. Hallelu.

I got it. The only one there was any question of me getting, and I got it. Now to e-mail Carolyn and remind her that she was going to put me someplace rural. After I sleep. Oh, and Mike? All the little cuttings are in their little pots. Except the succulents, because I'm not supposed to pot them until tomorrow, right? They look so cute.

Weekend Update...

Went to Chicago.

Saturday:

Woke up, packed, realised I couldn't find my boots. I still can't find my boots. Yelled at Angel about it. Recovered and apologised. It's not like he lost them. Went to the bank to deposit checks. Discovered a Payless next door. Bought a pair of big clunky shoes with like four-inch-thick rubber soles, and little black flipflop-style toe straps to hold them on. Well, at least I had shoes to wear with the club pants and the little black top. I was going to feel so uberstupid putting my ratty hiking boots on with that. (Gods, that sounds shallow.) Intended to study flash cards on Pharmacology while driving up, Angel could read them to me. Spent hour 1 singing Jesus Christ Superstar before remembering that all play and no work makes kittens fail the National Board Exam. Angel, my darling, was not feeling well. I am not always a slavedriving bitch. Sometimes I say "It's okay, really, I don't have to study, I'll catch up later." And we spend the whole ride singing Sondheim and enjoying each other's company. And then there was the Skyway. And the one-lane traffic with giant concrete dividers on either side of it. And while Mom's driving fear is ice, mine is having nowhere to go. I get all creeped out. So instead of admiring the view from the Skyway, I kept my hands on the wheel, and explained to Angel in great detail why concrete dividers are evil incarnate. They are. Survived Chicago traffic unscathed. Go me. Found the apartment. Go me, again. Correction: I found a parking space near the apartment, Angel found the apartment. I even had the courage to ring the little buzzer to the apartment. This is saying a lot. Went out for lunch with Mike and Erica. To this little hamburger stand that looked like a shithole, but had incredibly good burgers. We threw fries at the pigeons and pegged them with ice cubes and had a good time. Then Mike took me shopping for boots. Boots being, of course, what I originally had desired to wear with the pants. We went to The Alley. Which is extremely huge, very excitingly cool, and had two pairs of boots I liked. One in exclusively size 5.5, and the other at an exclusive sale price of $150. That's a negative. So we went down to Northalstead, alternatively titled "Boys' Town" for the creatively minded. Note that the street is lined by giant, vaguely phallic pillars with little rainbows on them. This should be your first clue. And if you had any lingering naïveté about the nature of the beast, the first store we went into would have disabused you of it. Now mind, I had a marvelous conversation about necklaces with the shop attendant who was helping me look for jewellery. And I know a certain firebird who would have been in orgasmic esctasies over the clothing on display. And I was sorely tempted to buy the little rainbow bracelet, or the rubber one that said SEX in big silver letters. Or the hematite rosary (cancelled because I just can't stand the idea of Jesus's face in my cleavage). But I settled for a cross with tasteful rhinestones on it, and we went to find the boots. At which point I turned to Mike and said "How about something a little bit less drag queen?" Reeeeally. Got in line to buy my cross behind a group of gayboys discussing the outfit one had gotten, hose, garters and all, and how s/he wasn't sure s/he wanted to go meet this guy. Much enlightenment was had in those few brief moments. And then I bought my cross from the counter boy with the I ♥ Lesbians t-shirt. And went on. Stopped into 99th floor (no website) and poked at the racks of boots they had. Man in a cowboy hat and guy with 3 left ear rings and a nose ring conversed with me, helped me try on the boots I loved. I have fat calves; no fit. "No worry," says cowboy-hat. "Try something with a lace up front, you can adjust it." So he found a pair I liked until I looked at the $178 price tag. Too much. Try these; $64 instead. We found the size I needed, tried them on, got them laced, and I made everyone sick by stretching in them to test ankle motion. I love 'em. Knee-high black pseudoleather, full lace-up fronts and a zipper for easy removal. Huge soles and clunky heels. They're a bit more butch than I had been looking for, but they are indeed beautiful boots. I was pleased. Then I found the chainmail choker drape. Four-rings informs me that it comes with earrings. I am in heaven. Back to the apartment. Dinner after the show, we decide, and Erica and I squeeze into clothing. Mike tries leather pants, then the zipper gives out, so it's the pants whose ankles I can (and do) zip together. Pictures of us here, and them here. Hitch the bus to Concrete Blonde. At the bus stop, we meet a couple of lost French tourists. I whip out my French, and they ask if I'm English. Good enough. We get them straightened out, between my French and their limited English, get lots of stares from everyone on the bus. The concert was good, marred only by the fact that my feet and the new boots weren't sure that they should be stood on for 4 hours. Music was...well, I could feel the bass in my bones, tremoloing through my body. It was beautiful to feel, and the lead singer has a fantastic voice, even if she was so obviously drunk and stoned that she couldn't talk straight. She could sing. And then we went to IHOP, where we were stared at by more patrons. And we had dinner. And the waiter, who was quite tall and brought Erica and I three litres of water, which we drank all of, told us that there was a tornado watch out. If there are tornadoes, I'd rather be here on the ground than in a third-story apartment. He laughed. Went back to the apartment, played Cosmic Encounter and read a tarot for Erica. Then collapsed.

I wish I were perfect too.

I don't know what's going on, but I hope you're happy that you can still make me cry with one well-aimed comment. I hope that that accomplished the goals of venting your frustration, of making you feel a little goddamned better for having poured spite out upon the world. I hope it helped. Because I wanted to talk to you and tell you aboutmy weekend, I wanted to share all the things that were fun and interesting about it. I wanted to talk to my friend. I'm beginning to wonder if I ever can again, because you seem to think it's all frivolous. That anything that doesn't suit your standards of benig worthwhile deserves to be brushed aside with a cynical comment and a 'grow up'. That fun is something you no longer want anyone to have, unless it meets your particular requirements. I'm beginning to wonder. I'm almost afraid to talk to you; I don't know how you'll respond to anything that isn't serious enough, or grown-up enough. I'm almost afraid to relax and have fun around one of the only people I've never had to be guarded against. And it hurts. What's wrong? How can you be so wounded and so strange, so changed from the person I've always believed I knew? I don't understand, and I don't know what to do, how to help, whether to give more or give up. What do I do?

Quotes for tonight: 09 May

• James: You could tie the drow to a rope and have them all levitate, and pull them along. Angel: And then I could swing the rope! Jefe: Drow on a rope? Is that like soap on a rope? Me: Just...don't drop your drow in the shower.
• James: I'm sorry...did I just piss in your straw?
• GM: You know, she was in that one movie...with what's-is-face? (beat) Oh, could I be more vague? (Long pause) Good Will Hunting? Jefe: There was a woman in Good Will Hunting? GM: Besides Ben Affleck? Yes.
• Angel: If you displace yourself, and look to the left, do you see yourself?
• GM: If a displacer beast displaces itself, could it lick its own ass?
• Me: I've just discovered the secret to fixing earrings! If you wait long enough, they go out of vogue...
• Me: And then Mom TP'd... Angel: TP'd? Me: Yeah, Mom's playing D&D with Chicken on.
• GM: And the unborn child, which, for its sake, had better be born a girl. Jefe: Ewww, it's got a penis, kill it. Lily: It has extra parts. Can I send it back?
• Jefe: We found out Sekkyro' has a little bit of a gay streak... Me: Sekkyro' is NOT GAY! Lily: Is someone in denial?
• Jefe (reading the PHB): Holy God! Angel: Usually.
• GM: And sometime during the night, a fog rolls in. And you (pointing at Lily) see little lights off in the distance. Me: They're calling your name. Angel (mock-passion): Oh, yes! Ohhh, yes! Me: A little pink light, and a little blue light...and two little purple lights off in the corner together... GM: (stares helplessly, then bangs head on door)
• GM: ...Two points of damage. Angel: Ow. I proceed to beat the shit out of it. Is there a pencil?
• GM: You attack the wight. Angel: But it's black. GM: It's easy to see. Because it's a wight, and it's black out. Angel: I'm just going to attack it.
• GM: You send the lackeys out instead of going yourself? How noble. Jefe (Casually): I have to watch the drow. GM: The drow could beat the shit out of you. Jefe: I could scare the shit out of them. Lily: Michael Flatley? Jefe: Michael Flatley. I have Permanent Image now.
• GM (triumphantly): It's not...re-dead, yet!
• GM: While you weren't looking, one of the little lights floated up to you and went 'ZOT!' Me: Little-light-little-light-little-light-AIEE!
• Me: 18 damage to the wight. Angel: How much to the wong?
Jefe: The wight turns black? Or red? GM: Black and blue...
• GM: But it's 10 points in a different way, because this was 6 and 4 and the last was 5 and 5. Angel: Oooh, it stings...slightly differently.
• GM: You get five wight ears. One's a bit yellow. Angel: And one wong. Me: Three wight, one wong, one yellow? Angel: No, the wong one was yellow...
• GM: Morning breaks. Angel: Good. It stays dark. GM: You head on your way. Me: Oh. Head on your way. For some reason, I heard "Hit on your wang," and I was like "no, he doesn't do that either." GM: No...no wang-hitting!
• Jefe: My wang is prehensile.
• Angel: Is it tattooed too? Me: Yeah, with two serpents. GM: It's pierced. Me: Little chains for the tongues. Bri (cringing): The sun elf climbs a tree. And stays very far away from him.
• GM: Conveniently at dusk, you reach whats-is-twat's castle. Me: Keep going. It's too convenient to not be a trap. Someone: He has a twat?
• GM: You can attack at night, or wait until morning. Me: Morning! No, wait, I'm drow. Night.
• GM: He's sitting in the throne room, all enthroned...reading the paper. Angel: Reading the paper? GM: He's on the throne... Me: I'm not writing that one down.
• GM: I like Mage Hand. Angel: Who doesn't?
• GM: I'll provide breakfast for you... Me: Hash browns? GM: Of course Lily (under her breath): Scattered, smothered, covered...
• Jefe: You know, you can't really cast a spell subtly as a bard... GM: No, you can't.... Me (singing and strumming a fake guitar): I'm not casting a spell....I'm just singing...about the fireball that might coincidentally come out of nowhere... GM (mimicking): Wouldn't that be funny...ha, ha, ha, ha.... Continue, until we're all on the floor, laughing: GM: You find me scary...boo, boo, boo! Me: Grr, hiss! Angel (rolling dice): I critically threaten myself.
• Angel: We move the immovable rods. GM: Only because you pushed the button.
• Me: So, wait. It's hallway-hallway-hallway-oops?
• Jefe: I have rope. I have rope knowledge. Me: The bard knows rope.
• So. You have two fifty-foot lengths of rope, five immovable rods, and a 200-foot shaft, straight up, with reversed gravity on it. How do you get to the top? Or is it the bottom?
• GM: Weren't you like from the 44th noble house or something? Me: Yeah, but we live out in the boondocks. Jefe: So you're like redneck drow... James: Trailer-trash drow. Angel: I would so hate to walk in on that Jerry Springer show.
• GM: You have two corpses. James: I animate them. GM: Okay, you have two small zombie electrical...no, they're just little zombie lizards (mimes) Grrowr....grrrrowr.
• Jefe: Healing circle. The bard got you into a little circle and led you all in a rousing chorus of Kum-ba-yah. And now you feel better.
• GM: No, the pebble falls up, to the ceiling. Which is the floor of the shaft. You've got something crawling on your boobs. (It was a bug.)
• Angel: Do I recognise her? GM: Have you seen a picture of the goddess? Me: Actually, she has the collectible cards. Swimsuit edition.
• Angel: I say something in Celestial that probably isn't said very often in Celestial. James: You just lost your cleric levels.
• Me: It's part of being a girl. We bitch about things to each other. Jefe: I need someone to bitch at. Me: Guys don't get bitch-buddies. Jefe: No, we have fuck-buddies who get us in trouble.
• James: I suppose it would be a bad idea to kill the high priestess of a goddess right in front of her? GM: Um, yes. Bad idea to try.

Rain, rain, go away...

It's storming out. Like it's stormed every night for the last few days. Maybe that's what's affecting my mood. A little cranky, a little off-beat, a lot unwilling to do anything but sleep. This is not good.

Always thought that I'd be an apostle....

A brief break since I managed to catch up to where I was supposed to be at the end of today, before I go and start working on tomorrow's scheduled tasks, since the new First Aid has a whole nother Pharm sectiony-bit. I'm almost through 500 mini-notecards on Pharmacology. So glad most of the other sections will go faster; this has to be one of my weakest subjects. Despite the fact that I failed Anatomy, I'm not that bad at it when it's tested by a sane person instead of Vilensky. I love Amazon.com. I opted not to take the free shipping on the 2003 First-Aid and Cracking the Boards books I ordered (the one I had was from 1999, and I'm sure that there are advances we'll be tested on since then) and instead took the 3-5 day $5 shipping. I ordered on Wednesday. They were here this morning. I was duly impressed. Thank you, Amazon.com. Today's study session was markedly shortened by one appointment with Dr. Hamlet (as hot as ever, mind. Some men were so born to wear suits) to get my cast removed. X-rays looked positively beautiful. No stepping in the joint at all, fracture line is totally healed - there's just the markings of bone restructuring around it. Hallelu! And the best thing of all: I have no restrictions. He says I'm good to do anything I want, and showed me all the little range-of-motion tricks to do for the next month while I stretch out these tendons. It's sore. Wow, is it sore. I also have a splint to wear, optionally, when I want to. I think I'll take it to Chicago and wear it to the concert, because it's definitely a possibility of jarring my arm there. Ed Debevic's doesn't take reservations. Why does that not surprise me?

Today's linkage:

Something Positive, a webcomic with chocolate sprinkles. Warning: if you don't like boneless cats, senseless violence, and lots of jokes that may or may not be in good taste, don't go. I love it. Also: Tiny Windows Games. Ever wanted to play Tetris when it's the size of your pinky finger? I'm enthralled. Also noted: Kazaa lite lets you limit upstream bandwidth as you're installing it. And they have none of Kazaa's icky spywareness. And they have MLP episodes. *beams* Now to see about that "Miscellaneous Pharmacology" bit...

Would you give candy to Jesus?

[MOO] * Sieg dressed up as Jesus for Halloween. [MOO] * Lasko blinks at Sieg. [MOO] Teryn> There's got to be something wrong with that. [MOO] * Kailea isn't terribly sure she would give candy to someone dressed as Jesus. [MOO] Sieg> I went with someone dressed as the devil. [MOO] Pulse> Hey, you're Jesus. Make your own candy. [MOO] * Claud blinks, just blinks. [MOO] Kailea> Yeah. No candy for you or your friend. [MOO] * Lasko would go to a church. [MOO] Sieg> at school, someone stole my shoes and told me to go barefoot, cause it would be more in character.

I just...there's something wrong with this. Something seriously odd about it.

AUGH! The coolest quiz ever!

You are FIREFLY! An adventuerous little pony with a
"Take no crap" additude. You
trademark move is the double inside out loop,
and your just an all around awesome little
pony!

What old skool my little pony are you?
brought to you by Quizilla *dances excitedly* Firefly is my absolute very favourite ever My Little Pony! Now if they'd just come out with the DVD, like Care Bears.

Whoooops.

Got caught staring at a cute girl in the mall today. She turned around and sort of did this little wave, like 'do I know you?' and I was compelled to say something, so I told her (honestly, mind) that I loved her shirt, it was gorgeous. And she said thank you, and kept walking after a minute. And I felt like I was supposed to say something else, but I didn't. The shirt was what drew my attention after all. All floaty black gauzy, with the many-scarves look to her knees, and flowy sleeves. It was gorgeous. And then I noticed she was cute. And then she noticed me staring at her. I'm still blushing. Angel's still laughing.

Fragment: In the morning

It's in my folder; I must have written it. From the sound of it, I must've written it in France. But I don't remember it...did I share it with anyone before?

In the Morning

It is the emptiness that is worst now; the feeling I get when I wake up and roll over, finding nothing at all to stop me. It is the coolness of the sheets when I crawl into bed, the way I curl up into a tiny ball, conserving my own heat until the blankets finally warm up. It is these things, the tiny, gentle things, that I notice most of all—the moments in the morning when I an not quite awake, when my mind operates on silence and sound, when I expect to hear the breath of another in the early hours. It brings a melancholy to my wakings, and I turn over, again and again, falling back into the restless oblivion of sleep. I miss the warmth of another, crawling close in the cold of the night, miss the caress of breath on my cheek, miss the feeling of arms wrapped around my body. It is all these things and more that bring everything back to me, and when at last I can no longer deny the day, the chill of the morning air is like a bitter memory washing over me, taking the last comfortless fragments of my dreams and pulling them away with rough hands. I stand there naked for a moment, the thin fabric of my night-gown chilling instantly to the temperature of the air around me, affording no protection at all. I pretend there is no bed behind me, no comforting blankets and liquid heat to lull me back into sleep—for their allure is undeniable and irresistible. It is these things that I must overcome every morning, the voices of loneliness, of emptiness that call to me. It is these things that I must shed with my night-gown, and these things that I leave on the floor of my bedroom, discarded with the morning and the light that streams around my windows. Every morning I stand in the chill air of my bedroom, unwilling to leave behind the emptiness that is my constant companion; and every morning, I peel oft my night-clothes unwillingly, standing naked in the cool drafts of my room, letting the morning blow the last cobwebs from my mind. The day cannot begin with these shadows, and I choose my clothes carefully, deciding which most suits the day, dressing like a doll, stripping away layers of loneliness and heartache with each layer I put on. I dress for winter, here, and it is forbidden to dress lightly if the morning weighs heavy on me. It is not the day that matters, after all. It is the morning, and once I have stepped beyond the morning, I know I will survive the day that follows. So I dress for the morning, do my hair with care and precision, for the routine is comforting and the methods I follow are familiar, always solitary. It puts space in the day, a time where even when I am not alone, I am alone. The brush flows, curls, twists, and pulls the night out of my hair as the wind has blown it from my flesh. The mirror is low, and I kneel to see in it, and that simple act brings back—every morning—a flood of memories, of the type that mothers and fathers prefer I not have. But they are there, flocking to my brain like scavengers, wild and raucous, and they drive away a little more of the lethargic melancholy that threatens to keep me in bed all the day and night. I welcome them, embrace them, and sometimes I tremble with the force of their assault, and my flesh remembers the coolness of earth instead of the rough carpet that supports my knees. There is that moment, every morning, when all that I am missing is not gone, is present indeed in mind and body. I wake for that moment, and I continue moving beyond it, propelled by the flood of energy it brings. It is not the day that matters, I remember, it is only the morning. I have lost many mornings in the night before, waking late and later, but it is still a morning, even if the sun is past its height. It is the morning that clings to me, keeps me warm, and it is the morning that I must shake off and leave on the floor behind me, for the breezes to devour at their daily leisure. I do, every morning or afternoon, like a discarded husk in the shape of a baby-blue night-gown lying across the foot of my bed, and I pull on clothing made of tougher stuff, like my soul, leaving the fragility of my heart behind and wrapping myself in fabric to block the chill, cut through the wind that cuts through me. It is in the mornings alone that the feeling is the worst, that I cannot bear to bear it alone, and when I have dressed and brushed my hair, tidied the clutter of the previous night, I think then that I may know how to survive the day. When I pull on shoes with thick soles and high sides, feel my toes grow warm with trapped heat, feel my flesh forget the cloying, commanding sensation of the bed, I know I can walk out the door without feeling the pain too much. It is then, the morning beside me, that I believe in all the things I have left behind in the miasma of dreams; but it is not until the air outside the apartment doors hits my face that I know for certain that I have survived them.

And this little piggy stayed home...

Recommend: The Life of Riley. Partly because his characters are beautifully drawn, and partly because it's just damn fun. Recommend (Note: page does not load in Mozilla, use IE): 's beautiful little sketches of her dream. The Tea Party, showing here. And the mad hatter is me. She's going to do a painting of it for me, stretch a new canvas and everything! Aren't they beautiful? I think the writing around the sketches actually really is what makes them so fascinating to me. Gave in and bought the First Aid for the Boards, and the Princeton Review for the Boards today. Crossing my fingers that they'll be here by Monday. I can always move my Boards back a little bit (48 hours notice), if I get really desperate, but I'm looking forward to 2.5 weeks of nothing to do. I don't know if I can do more than 2 weeks solid study in any case. Study Schedule for the next 14 days: 7-9 May: Pharmacology. 10 May: Pharmacology on the way up to Chicago in the morning. Concrete Blonde concert with Mike and . Cosmic Encounter thereafter. 11 May: Lunch at Ed's, I think. Leave Chicago in the afternoon. Study Biochemistry on the way home. 12 May: Biochemistry. 13-14 May: Microbiology. 15-16 May: Anatomy. Behavioural Sciences on the 16ht, because I'm pretty solid on that. 17 May: Physiology. 18 May: Pathology review. 19-20 May: Review and catch up. And now, I'm going to go finish up antibiotics. I hope.

Word of the day:

Brought to you by , in the community, and the famous ponderance: If "pro" is the opposite of "con", is "progress" the opposite of "congress"? concreate: a verb, used to describe the potentially offspring-getting activities of persons who, by all rights, should have been sterilised in utero just to be certain they never reproduced. See "procreate". And now, I'm going to go open my board review book and get started on going through it. Really.

A rose is a rose

Augh! Reading comments on Livejournal communities leads me on these little random jaunts where I read other people's journals. Tonight, linked from 's journal: The random website poetry generator! The Raven, regenerated... Edgar Allan Poe: The bust above my soul in 1845] Once upon the angels named Lenore For the grave and forget this soul in front of each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the beating of some unhappy master whom the whispered word, `he did outpour. Nothing more. Ah, nevermore! And stern decorum of yore Meant in 1845] Once upon the nightly shore Tell me see then, what this soul hath lent thee back into the raven, Edgar Allan Poe: The stillness broken by these angels named Lenore? Quaff, oh quaff this desert land enchanted On the only this, lost Lenore! Quaff, oh quaff oh quaff this I muttered, `tapping somewhat louder than muttered `tapping somewhat louder than before. ` On the lost Lenore Merely this and the lost Lenore Merely this grim, ungainly, fowl whose velvet violet lining with seeing bird or devil! Whether tempter sent, thee here for we cannot help agreeing that shadow that is on the velvet violet lining that darkness peering, long I surely said I, ` nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there is there and nothing further then the angels named Lenore? Quoth the seeming of bird above my sad fancy unto fancy, unto fancy, thinking what thy God hath lent thee by reply so plainly, Thouhg its ghost upon the floor. Shall clasp a feather then methought, the him streaming throws his shadow that is there stepped a flirt and this desert land enchanted On the pallid bust spoke only, That is I wheeled a midnight dreary, while I marvelled this and so faintly you came tapping, at the air grew stronger; hesitating then methought, the bust above my sad soul hath lent thee by angels he did outpour. I think, just maybe, there's really poetry in that. I'll have to look for it.

Open season on interpretation: "ineveque"

Silence
         still before the storm
     questions washed away
             rain that paints my form
        Thunder
hands of flame and air
                mark a lightning path
    love me if you dare            

Winter
       simmers cold and sweet
            love in frozen fields
    molten with our heat
Love me
        in the frosted air
                   lovely lay me down
     lovely take me there

Hands trace
        paths of ice and flame
    leaving joy behind
            sudden heat remains
Love me
         lovely let me know
                 hands trace
    touch and then they go.
NsB 06-May-2003 "ineveque"

I don't know if it's done, or if the stanzas are in the right order. Comments?

Chalk one up to finishing classroom years...

Preliminary grades are in for the Medicine final:

73.3% before the curve. Class average: 73.8%.

Translation: 73% was enough to pass me. I might even honours-pass. Good enough for me.

Quizcut!

You are Professor X! You are a very effective teacher, and you are very committed to those who learn from you. You put your all into everything you do, to some extent because you fear failure more than anything else. You are always seeking self-improvement, even in areas where there is nothing you can do to improve.

Which X-Men character are you most like?
brought to you by Quizilla Plus, I'm acted by Patrick Stuart, who is the sexiest bald man I know. Ohhhhyeah.

Truly trivial indeed...

Today in Trivial Pursuit: Jefe rolls, gets History. I pick up the card: "What Ugandan rugby player--" I collapse in giggles. We all do. For like 10 minutes. Jefe: "Forget it. Read the question, I'll never get it. What's this got to do with history anyway?" What Ugandan rugby player was described in 1964 as "bone from the neck up and needs things explained in words of one letter." ? The answer? Idi Amin.

All things.

And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose. Rom. 8:28 I repeat it and I believe it, with all my heart and mind and soul. God causes all things to work together for good. But it's so hard sometimes, the hardest thing of all. I remember crying in the lobby, in Michan's spare socks, crying and crying and unable to wrap my mind around it. All things. All things. Where was the good then? Will I ever know? And it comes back to me now, now in an hour as dark as any, on the same eve where I claim triumph. Where is the good? What great work can possibly be woven of this? God of grace and God of glory; comforter, shepherd, guide and guardian; redeemer of all things for Your good; for Your purpose: Shelter and guide her, comfort her and protect her. And please, in this time of all times, give at least a little glimpse of what possible purpose this end can achieve. It's so hard to believe, so hard to understand. It's dark; and I can hardly see, let alone offer any guidance. It's up to You.

Bing!

It rained last night. All night. What a beautiful sound to fall asleep to: soft thunder and lightning and the sound of falling rain. Medicine exam was quite a nasty trick on us. Lots of eeny-meenie-miney-moe and all that, by the people around me. 173 questions, 45 pages, mostly case scenarios. OB-GYN was all random facts we hadn't been taught, since we weren't down there. Ick, what a mess. But I'm sure it came out all right. Apparently our raw scores go down to Indy and get adjusted, usually the average being mid-70's and still some of the highest in the state. I won't know until tomorrow morning, when I call Lowene and find out. But on the good side, there was an error in the answer key for the path exam. Scores have been adjusted: now I have an 83.3%. Yay!

Mmmm, I feel better already.

I sent a note to all of my classmates here in Fort Wayne to make sure they'd seen the offending chatter. Either one of them was the one who'd talked to our mysterious e-mail sender and had a few choice words, or someone else knew how to get hold of them. Because when I got home from Dad's a few hours later, I found this in my inbox:

Dear 2nd years, I am very sorry for the e-mail that I sent out earlier today. I should have anticipated other students and faculty reading the e-mail. Let me please explain. First, my comment about "brainiacs" was completely uncalled for and I regretted that comment once I sent the e-mail out. What I wanted to do was dis-spell any idea that the grade disparity was due solely on intelligence. For example, if a group of Harvard medical students took the Path exam and all scored over a 90, my classmates and I would agree that they are probably far more superior in intelligence and experience. In reality, I think we are all probably of equal intelligence so the disparity is not do to that. Again, I wrote that comment not thinking that you would see that and I didn't want to make the e-mail any more long winded and explain what I meant. So please, take no offense to that, I am sure most of you are smarter than I am. Second, I realize that my e-mail may have suggested that you cheated. That is completely FALSE. That idea never even crossed my mind. The real reason I sent out the e-mail was because I feel that the Indy students should know that we are not receiving the same level of education as the other students. It was more of a knock on our own faculty than anything else. Also, I really wanted to make a statement that no one should fail the exam based soley on their final exam performance because it is obvious we were not prepared for it. Of course our teachers do not take the test for us, but I think you can see that they did not do their part in properly preparing us. I believe all of you would agree with me if you feared that you would have to repeat the year because the Path exam had nothing to do with what we were taught all year long. Almost every single student I talked to after the exam had that fear. Again, please accept my apology. I meant no harm towards any of you.

Rereading the first e-mail, I don't feel that my initial reaction was unwarranted at all. What I read seems to be a slam on Fort Wayne campus - and I find that I still see that interpretation in light of the new e-mail. However, since the apology and clarification were issued with what is all apparent sincerity and humility, I will retract my own vitriol. Thanks to those of you who stood up.

And this time, the e-mail address didn't bounce.

Low test scores, low standards?

The following message came through the IUSM mailing list from an AOL address:

2nd Year Indy students, First of all, this e-mail is not intended to stir up any controversy or make any "attacks" on certain people. I just came across some information that I think everyone at the Indy campus should be entitled to hear. I was talking to a fellow 2nd year at a Center campus and mentioned that the Indy Path scores were pretty low, with the average just over 70 and only 1 or so student(s) receiving over a 90. This student became shocked that we did so poorly since about 6 out of their 16 students scored over a 90 including one student that they know of that only missed 2 questions. Do you find someone wrong with that picture? I mean, unless all their Path professors were trained by Gunderman and mentioned seeminlgy useless facts (like Bush tea), I just don't see how there is such a big disparity. Also, this is not a highly requested campus like Bloomington so these weren't exactly the brainiacs back in college. I just feel that this disparity is "multifactoral," (oh shoot, this ain't the Path lab exam so I don't need to use technical terms). I could go on with several theories why they kicked our ass but I won't do that. But, I think there is definitely something wrong. Lastly, I do not feel that anyone should fail Path based on their final exam performance. Thanks for reading this.

I tried to reply to the e-mail in person to confirm that it is indeed Fort Wayne s/he is discussing. Only to get AOL's response of "no such user". Guess who made a throwaway account just to send a message that implies we're cheating? 1) I am nearly 100% certain that the campus in question is us. 2) It's because we work our asses off, you son of a bitch. We don't have time to go out partying all the time, because we earn our grades. 3) Fort Wayne campus has a reputation for being hard. Really damn hard. We have the toughest first-year Anatomy course in the state, and it sets a precedent. That would not be consistent with us being "these weren't exactly the brainiacs back in college." Stupid people go to Indy, boys and girls, if there is such a thing as a stupid medical student. Smart kids know that the real learning is where they know your name. 4) Dr. Smith and his colleagues know their shit, and they make no pretense about letting us off easy. We're taught well, we're drilled on it, and Fort Wayne has the highest or one of the highest Pathology scores in the state every single year. Because we know our shit. 5) I have not gone through two years of hell just to have some coward in Indianapolis send an anonymous e-mail telling his or her colleagues that there's a "big disparity" when for two years now all we've heard from them is party invitations, intermurals, concerts and games. When they don't have to go to class or take notes - they have paid notetakers. When we study and they play, and we learn and they don't, that's the disparity. That's why we scored better - we've been pushed and challenged, chivvied and chided and told time and time again that our pain is going to make us stronger. I barely passed Pathology in Fort Wayne. I came into the final with a 75.4% average, when 75% is passing. I did not so much as look at a test-priming "review session"; we didn't have them offered. I picked up my BRS review books and I got to work and I reviewed the things I already knew. I reviewed the questions I knew would be on the exam because they were in the review books, because they were in previous exams. Because we were spared no pain. And I put in the time I should have put more of in all along. I barely passed Fort Wayne Pathology. I scored an 82.6% on the statewide final exam. This is not a disparity, boys and girls. This is the simple affirmation that we have heard for a year now, the words that we have come to live by. "If you put in your time, you will do just fine."

We put in our time. We earned our reward. And sir or madam, you anonymous coward, you did not. Live with it. Don't bitch. And don't display your ignorance and pettiness so that we all look bad.

I'm not done, but I'll stop. You can find the other inanities yourself.

Well, that's actually encouraging...

Registered on Thursday afternoon for the field trial of the NBME self-assessment practise exam for the Step I of the Boards. You know, that thing I keep freaking out about that will let me continue on for my MD? The administering body is testing a new online self-assessment system that will let you take little practise tests, and they needed some people to do a volume load test on it. I figured hey, a $45 practise exam from the people who write the boards, for free? Sign me up. I like practise exams - the more I know what to expect, the better. Signed up, waited until today (deadline was 19:00 today) to take it. Four sections of 50 questions with an hour for each yields 200 questions, 4 hours max. I didn't spend too much time on any of them, figuring that if I had to do a lot of thinking to work out a guess I'd need to study it anyway. So it only took me an hour or two. And the best part is that then they spit back a profile of how you did in each topic, and how you would have scored on the Boards. Sort of like the PSAT. Please note that I have not studied for the National Board Exams yet. I have not picked up a Pharmacology book in 5 months, nor a Physiology, Biochemistry, Microbiology, or Neurology book in a year. The only thing I have studied is Pathology for the final (and I'd better get my ass in gear on Medicine for Monday). That said, when my assessment score came back at 410, I was startled. "The score you received...ranges from 200 to 800. It is scaled to have a mean of 500 and a standard deviation of 100 in a reference group of USMLE first-takers from accredited US schools." Translation: I'm within 1 SD of the mean, even if just barely, unprepared. In the 30th percentile, in other words. And the things I haven't touched in 6 months to a year - histology, biochemistry, neurology, microbiology, and pharmacology - those things are where I scored low to borderline. I know exactly what I need to study, and I should be just fine. I have a Kaplan assessment to go through in a couple of weeks, after I've studied. And right now, I think I'm going to go remedy my issues with the heart, kidney, and gastointestinal system. For Monday.

Jefe says that there's three degrees of LJ-Porn...

By the third step of any random LJ link clicking, you wind up at pornography. Today brought to you by realising that "good porn" was a link in someone's interests, and clicking on it.

Your pussy is SWEET AS THE SMILE ON A LITTLE GIRL.

Which means you’re as innocent as can be. Or rather, you look it. Why, you’re practically a virgin. “Practically” because even Little Miss Innocent will one day grow up to be Little Miss Sex Kitten. You like to play the girl next door, and you’re rather good at it. But when push comes to fuck, you can get down with the best of them. And have, on more than one occasion.
But pat yourself on the back, Meryl Streep, for acting so well. You got everyone fooled. That’s an art! Is *Your* Pussy Sweet or Sour? More Great Quizzes from Quiz Diva

Which Unwanted Sexual Gesture Are You?

Made by the fine folks at daylighttwilight.com

Funny when you find things...

Was looking for my notes to do the Autopsy report (5/5, incidentally, which is 5% of my grade just to boost me further out of the danger zone) and found two handwritten pages on an old story about an Arcana character. The story never took place, it was just needless character development around a flashback to an incident that we'd made reference to IC'ly but never roleplayed, but I liked it enough to type it in. So here it is, linked from the community: Maigyn: Reminiscence

X2 tonight. Back to the grind in the morning.

One down, two to go....

I crossed myself before I walked into the Pathology final exam this morning. I'm not Catholic. I don't care. "Trust in the LORD with all thy heart, and lean not on thine own understanding." And I put in my time. I really did. So I opened the door and stepped in with the beginnings of a migraine (caffeine intake high, stress levels even higher) and a bottle of Benadryl in my bag. For after the exam, so I wouldn't zone out. Lowene handed out the exams. 150 choose-one-best multiple choice questions. There were pictures on the front page, and I almost quit right then. Pictures? I didn't study pictures. Deep breath. It's okay, there were pictures on the practise exams, and you did fine. These are even in colour. I didn't need the pictures. Crystal-clear clinical histories. Lab results. Answers that had to be both correct or both incorrect. I did the math. At 2/3 of a point per question, I could miss 30 and get an 80. An 80% on the final...would be better than I'd gotten on any Pathology lecture exam this semester. A pipe dream. Best shoot to pass, and count on my autopsy report to make it. I finished before anyone else. I went back through it, meticulously, just to make sure. When I was done the second time, so was half the class. I circled the questions I wasn't sure on. I counted them. 33. A 78%. Good enough to dredge my score up to passing for the semester. I just wanted a 75%. 78 would be wonderful. Turned it in. Went to the lab. Answered Scott's question. Hands shaking, stomach knotting. Went back to see. I stick my head in the door, around the little partition. Lowene looks up. "Nykki! I have to give you a hug..." My heart fell like a rock. A hug? Was it that bad? And before I could collapse, she went on. "...you nailed it."

82.6%

Not only did I pass, I had nothing to worry about with that pass. I can't stop smiling. I can't believe it. Hallelu.