So I will remain jobless this summer, even after hunting down half the businesses in the Orlando area with "help wanted" signs in the window.
C'est la vie.
In other news, a few weeks ago I managed to sprain my back. It's really embarrassing too - I was over at a friend's house and we were playing with his cat. His mattress is on the floor, and we were sitting against it, and the cat was running around us and we were throwing her mouse for her, pulling strings across the floor...my back started to hurt so I stood up and POP!
...I mean really, if I had to sprain my back, couldn't I do it saving a small child from being run over, or something similarly heroic?
So after two weeks of intense pain, I went to my doctor yesterday and she poked around, hit my legs a couple times, and decided I had probably pulled a muscle, and prescribed muscle relaxants. However, if my back still hurts in August when I go back for my "feminine health" exam (the new politically correct name for a PAP smear) she will send me off for x-rays.
I really hope it doesn't still hurt in August - not wanting a severe back injury aside, I can only imagine being in this much pain for five more weeks.
I was iffy about getting the medicine she prescribed because I read the information on the sample bottle that she gave me, and apparently the major side effect with this drug is seizures.
I kid you not. A muscle relaxant that causes seizures.
So, I am taking a half-pill every morning, and another one every evening, and praying that the lower dose will keep me safe. Not to mention you absolutely can't drink alcohol while taking this (boo!!) so there goes my partying.
But the intense pain I was in this morning decided me. I can party when I go back to UF - right now I need to fix my back!
So remember kids, when you play with cats, switch positions often, do not lean against low-lying mattresses, and be very careful standing up!
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Long time, no post.
Due to a variety of reasons, I haven't had the heart to post in awhile. One of the biggest is that my love people/hate people balance has tipped alarmingly to the "hate people" side and is only now leveling back off.
Mostly because when I'm online and people instant message me, they can't talk about anything interesting, relaxing, or fun. No, they have to be aggressively annoying and bug me about "why you don't have a job yet", offering millions of stupid suggestions and possible explanations. I don't want to think about it! I have been dying for an SLR for months now, and if I don't get a job, I can't afford one. Period.
People, don't stress out your already stressed-out friends. They will retaliate in kind as soon as they get an opportunity.
Two nice things: I bought Albert Camus' "The Stranger", and Agatha Christie's "The Murder of Roger Akroyd" a few days ago and will settle down to read them sometime soon. They're two books I've been longing to add to my (small) collection for months now. I am also going to order Rafaella Barker's "Summertime" off Amazon, and then call it quits...that "no job" thing getting in the way once more.
My room is near completion, but at a total standstill.
I need to get my portrait framed and hung before I can hang my bulletin board - and yet the picture is mysteriously "missing".
I need my bookcase mended so that it can be moved in and filled with my books, which are currently being kicked around the living room floor - but there is no time for that, even though there is plenty of time to lounge in the pool with a beer.
I need assistance to hang my mirror - but everyone is busy when I bring the matter up.
I need a screw placed in my ceiling so that my lantern can be hung from it - but it is never the right time to put a screw in the ceiling!
I should also like a shoe-rack to hold my 26 pairs of shoes that now sit all around my bed, and one of those square-shelved "bookcases" to keep my magazines in, as well as a computer chair so that I can sit at my desk without intense back pain from being at the wrong height...but everyone disappears when I mention a trip to Target or Ikea.
Funny, isn't it?
Ah. Apparently now is the time to go prepare the fish for dinner! I can only wonder when the time to prepare my room for completion will come...
Mostly because when I'm online and people instant message me, they can't talk about anything interesting, relaxing, or fun. No, they have to be aggressively annoying and bug me about "why you don't have a job yet", offering millions of stupid suggestions and possible explanations. I don't want to think about it! I have been dying for an SLR for months now, and if I don't get a job, I can't afford one. Period.
People, don't stress out your already stressed-out friends. They will retaliate in kind as soon as they get an opportunity.
Two nice things: I bought Albert Camus' "The Stranger", and Agatha Christie's "The Murder of Roger Akroyd" a few days ago and will settle down to read them sometime soon. They're two books I've been longing to add to my (small) collection for months now. I am also going to order Rafaella Barker's "Summertime" off Amazon, and then call it quits...that "no job" thing getting in the way once more.
My room is near completion, but at a total standstill.
I need to get my portrait framed and hung before I can hang my bulletin board - and yet the picture is mysteriously "missing".
I need my bookcase mended so that it can be moved in and filled with my books, which are currently being kicked around the living room floor - but there is no time for that, even though there is plenty of time to lounge in the pool with a beer.
I need assistance to hang my mirror - but everyone is busy when I bring the matter up.
I need a screw placed in my ceiling so that my lantern can be hung from it - but it is never the right time to put a screw in the ceiling!
I should also like a shoe-rack to hold my 26 pairs of shoes that now sit all around my bed, and one of those square-shelved "bookcases" to keep my magazines in, as well as a computer chair so that I can sit at my desk without intense back pain from being at the wrong height...but everyone disappears when I mention a trip to Target or Ikea.
Funny, isn't it?
Ah. Apparently now is the time to go prepare the fish for dinner! I can only wonder when the time to prepare my room for completion will come...
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Friday, May 2, 2008
what happens now?
Raine Maida sings so eloquently, "And if I don't make it, know that I loved you all along - just like sunny days that we ignore because we're all dumb and jaded. And I hope to God I figure out what's wrong!"
Then so many people fall to their knees and bow their heads in shame and humility because it's exactly what they were so desperate to express and had no idea how to, because he gave them the release they longed for.
Yet...what happens when you've made it? What happens when the world threw you curve ball after curve ball and you fell down over and over, and you resorted to the bottles and the pills and believed you needed a Prozac world to come out on top, and held up your friends' heads as they vomited and forced water down their throats so they wouldn't die of dehydration and shook them when they were sober and told them this was not the way to be, and realized it yourself: and then the impossible happens - you make it.
You make it, you can drink and not get trashed four times out of five, you stop the pills, you make the good decisions, and you can breathe and laugh and love without the Prozac.
And the world is beautiful.
But even though you've made it, your friends haven't. The ones you love, the ones you would gladly sacrifice almost anything for. What if you're on top of the world and singing, and they're still on their knees with the beer bongs in their mouths and the ecstasy growing warm and sticky in their hands?
How do you stop them? How do you give them what you have? How do you tell them that Superman isn't dead?
How can you stop them from killing themselves - from dragging you back into the bottles in the process?
For no man - woman - is an island, and with five friends already buried I know that turning my back and letting my heart break as they're lowered into the ground would destroy everything that I've worked and fought and suffered for.
And yet - how do I make them want what I have? And what's worse - how do I tell them how to get it, when I shouldn't even be alive to have it?
How can I make them believe in something I don't want to remember?
Then so many people fall to their knees and bow their heads in shame and humility because it's exactly what they were so desperate to express and had no idea how to, because he gave them the release they longed for.
Yet...what happens when you've made it? What happens when the world threw you curve ball after curve ball and you fell down over and over, and you resorted to the bottles and the pills and believed you needed a Prozac world to come out on top, and held up your friends' heads as they vomited and forced water down their throats so they wouldn't die of dehydration and shook them when they were sober and told them this was not the way to be, and realized it yourself: and then the impossible happens - you make it.
You make it, you can drink and not get trashed four times out of five, you stop the pills, you make the good decisions, and you can breathe and laugh and love without the Prozac.
And the world is beautiful.
But even though you've made it, your friends haven't. The ones you love, the ones you would gladly sacrifice almost anything for. What if you're on top of the world and singing, and they're still on their knees with the beer bongs in their mouths and the ecstasy growing warm and sticky in their hands?
How do you stop them? How do you give them what you have? How do you tell them that Superman isn't dead?
How can you stop them from killing themselves - from dragging you back into the bottles in the process?
For no man - woman - is an island, and with five friends already buried I know that turning my back and letting my heart break as they're lowered into the ground would destroy everything that I've worked and fought and suffered for.
And yet - how do I make them want what I have? And what's worse - how do I tell them how to get it, when I shouldn't even be alive to have it?
How can I make them believe in something I don't want to remember?
Monday, March 17, 2008
to do lists and checkout lines
I need to visit the Wizard of Oz. And get potions that will make me scholarly and inclined to study.
However, the closest I'm going to get is calling the advisory office tomorrow and making an appointment and throwing a hissy fit because I got bad information last time I went there. Thanks a lot adviser, you're really helping my cause.
Icky day. Hopefully, tomorrow will be better.
However, the closest I'm going to get is calling the advisory office tomorrow and making an appointment and throwing a hissy fit because I got bad information last time I went there. Thanks a lot adviser, you're really helping my cause.
Icky day. Hopefully, tomorrow will be better.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
chem-is-TRY, chem-is-TRY
I can't study anymore...my brain is about to implode...
Took my 5A/5B unknowns in chem lab today. It was so stressful, not only because of how difficult it was, but the TA's stand is right behind me so people are constantly lining up, brushing past me, bumping into me when I'm measuring out 6M HCl...
5A took me five minutes too long and I was really unhappy with it, but I got a sensible answer and the pH and the ions correlated, so I feel fairly...secure...about that one.
5B though...oh such a nightmare. First, my flame refused to change color, and when I dipped my wire in water to get more of the unknown on it, the unknown expanded alarmingly and glowed and turned into the shape of a fat round white sheep (Abby saw it so I have proof) and I was going to keep it, only it wasn't as solid as I fancied and shattered when I put the wire down.
Then there was no smell for the ammonia test, but one hairs-width sliver of the litmus turned blue so I redid the whole thing and it was scentless and pink this time so I gave up....and then freaked out when heating off the step 6 soluble solution gave off white smoke and smelled like ammonia! I decided there was none though. You can smell it for miles when you add NaOH and I couldn't smell a damn thing.
It didn't bubble and the pH was much too low to be consistent with a carbonate, so that did make me feel better.
The rest went fairly smoothly - especially the magnesium precipitate, it was this pretty moonstone colored goo - until I realized that I had 15 minutes left and some skank had stolen BOTH bottles of silver nitrate! Which I needed desperately to tell me if some ion was there or not, and I freaked out and did the second two anions then started scouring the lab until the TA asked what on earth I was doing and I replied that I needed the silver nitrate or I would strangle somebody. He immediately swept off and found some and respectfully request of Karma that he gets like, 5000 bonus karma points for that.
And after all that that ion wasn't present. But I knew for sure and it made me very happy.
I turned it in with 3 minutes to go, feeling very proud of myself that I recognized a pH equation from my labwork earlier and could explain why a mixture with Mg(OH)2 had a pH of 3.5 (you have to look at the aluminum ion) and I was reasonably assured that I'd done well.
I really have to start studying again.
...why am I a chemistry major when all I want to do is look Chemistry in the eye and say, "Yippie-kai-yay, motherfucker!"?
Took my 5A/5B unknowns in chem lab today. It was so stressful, not only because of how difficult it was, but the TA's stand is right behind me so people are constantly lining up, brushing past me, bumping into me when I'm measuring out 6M HCl...
5A took me five minutes too long and I was really unhappy with it, but I got a sensible answer and the pH and the ions correlated, so I feel fairly...secure...about that one.
5B though...oh such a nightmare. First, my flame refused to change color, and when I dipped my wire in water to get more of the unknown on it, the unknown expanded alarmingly and glowed and turned into the shape of a fat round white sheep (Abby saw it so I have proof) and I was going to keep it, only it wasn't as solid as I fancied and shattered when I put the wire down.
Then there was no smell for the ammonia test, but one hairs-width sliver of the litmus turned blue so I redid the whole thing and it was scentless and pink this time so I gave up....and then freaked out when heating off the step 6 soluble solution gave off white smoke and smelled like ammonia! I decided there was none though. You can smell it for miles when you add NaOH and I couldn't smell a damn thing.
It didn't bubble and the pH was much too low to be consistent with a carbonate, so that did make me feel better.
The rest went fairly smoothly - especially the magnesium precipitate, it was this pretty moonstone colored goo - until I realized that I had 15 minutes left and some skank had stolen BOTH bottles of silver nitrate! Which I needed desperately to tell me if some ion was there or not, and I freaked out and did the second two anions then started scouring the lab until the TA asked what on earth I was doing and I replied that I needed the silver nitrate or I would strangle somebody. He immediately swept off and found some and respectfully request of Karma that he gets like, 5000 bonus karma points for that.
And after all that that ion wasn't present. But I knew for sure and it made me very happy.
I turned it in with 3 minutes to go, feeling very proud of myself that I recognized a pH equation from my labwork earlier and could explain why a mixture with Mg(OH)2 had a pH of 3.5 (you have to look at the aluminum ion) and I was reasonably assured that I'd done well.
I really have to start studying again.
...why am I a chemistry major when all I want to do is look Chemistry in the eye and say, "Yippie-kai-yay, motherfucker!"?
Thursday, February 28, 2008
two a.m. litanies
As the clock winds down I start to dream again; dreams that never seem to flourish in daylight. Memories of the girl I once was, and wonderings about the girl I seem to be destined to become.
There is glamour in the offing: I watch myself type, neatly manicured fingernails betraying my fixation with outward appearances. Soft melodies play through my speakers, and brief flashes of inspiration flare, and die down as quickly.
My physical journal lies abandoned on the sill: after writing for four to six hours a day I am disinclined to write more, preferring to type here, which I can do quickly and without cramping.
Perhaps this spring break I can slowly ease back into the habit of writing daily.
Looking at my desk, I notice how the girlish and the masculine blend together seamlessly: a Vera Bradley calendar stands next to a black desk lamp festooned with strings and strings of Marti Gras beads; to my left wristbands from multiple shows as well as ticket stubs from all the Gator football home games and the Capital One Bowl are pinned to the corkboard, my Nikon on its stand nearby, and a small pink standing mirror is positioned so that I can see my hands as I type.
I look to my right and stop at my easel. The painting I worked on all yesterday has dried, but I haven't continued working on it yet: the urge to paint died last night and it hasn't yet returned.
It grows late and there is a freeze warning from midnight (two hours ago) til nine in the morning, so I will betake myself to bed and get some sleep. I cannot wait for summer and feeling warm at night once more.
Au revoir, mes amis.
There is glamour in the offing: I watch myself type, neatly manicured fingernails betraying my fixation with outward appearances. Soft melodies play through my speakers, and brief flashes of inspiration flare, and die down as quickly.
My physical journal lies abandoned on the sill: after writing for four to six hours a day I am disinclined to write more, preferring to type here, which I can do quickly and without cramping.
Perhaps this spring break I can slowly ease back into the habit of writing daily.
Looking at my desk, I notice how the girlish and the masculine blend together seamlessly: a Vera Bradley calendar stands next to a black desk lamp festooned with strings and strings of Marti Gras beads; to my left wristbands from multiple shows as well as ticket stubs from all the Gator football home games and the Capital One Bowl are pinned to the corkboard, my Nikon on its stand nearby, and a small pink standing mirror is positioned so that I can see my hands as I type.
I look to my right and stop at my easel. The painting I worked on all yesterday has dried, but I haven't continued working on it yet: the urge to paint died last night and it hasn't yet returned.
It grows late and there is a freeze warning from midnight (two hours ago) til nine in the morning, so I will betake myself to bed and get some sleep. I cannot wait for summer and feeling warm at night once more.
Au revoir, mes amis.
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