::massive warm happy fuzziness::
yay for DDR with 'Nanda and Daf, and yay for AIM with Glenn all the way from Albany.
-Laurel
11.29.2003
So hi. My dad is getting a bit better, though still popping all sorts of pain medication. Went to a hockey game last night with my family and Erik (it was his only night off of work this whole break), which we won easily. We then adjourned to B-Dubs, where Erik won twenty-one cents from my brother by consuming six of the establishment's hottest chicken wings.
Erik called me around noon today, talking to me as he went about drilling holes in the two dimes and the penny so as to be able to string them onto a necklace. Drilling without goggles or gloves or any form of safety precaution, of course. This amused my mother, mainly because Erik is not her kid; I cannot imagine what her reaction would have been if my brother (or, indeed, I) had attempted such a thing.
I wonder if it will be as snowy back at school as it is here.
Oh, and vive Perpetual Motion. If by some chance you have not seen this link, you need to see it right now. Do not let it play in Internet Explorer; make it go through Windows Media Player or whatever else you have handy. It's just better that way.
By the time you next hear from me, I will more than likely be at school.
-Laurel
Erik called me around noon today, talking to me as he went about drilling holes in the two dimes and the penny so as to be able to string them onto a necklace. Drilling without goggles or gloves or any form of safety precaution, of course. This amused my mother, mainly because Erik is not her kid; I cannot imagine what her reaction would have been if my brother (or, indeed, I) had attempted such a thing.
I wonder if it will be as snowy back at school as it is here.
Oh, and vive Perpetual Motion. If by some chance you have not seen this link, you need to see it right now. Do not let it play in Internet Explorer; make it go through Windows Media Player or whatever else you have handy. It's just better that way.
By the time you next hear from me, I will more than likely be at school.
-Laurel
11.27.2003
Okay, right, so I was going to do a makeup entry as a sort of apology for the overwhelming negativity of the last one, a nice benevolent hey-here's-Thanksgiving, but that got a little delayed when my dad had to go to the hospital for x-rays.
From playing football in the mud.
As much as I'm going to take a rather sardonic tone about the fact that my father bruised ribs and strained several muscle groups from a quarterback roll-left play, it really was startling. Well, for my mom and brother. I was asleep for the whole thing, and that was the scary part right there, 'cause suddenly I wake up and I hear that my dad may have broken ribs and he's okay now but he hadn't been breathing for a minute there. And I'd slept right through.
Anyway, I came along to the hospital--my brother stayed with Lily and family. I like hospitals, mainly because I've never spent lots of time in one myself, and mainly because I've never seen anyone there with anything deadly going on. It's not even 'cause of all the M*A*S*H I've watched--all my life I've liked the whole medical community pretty well, always seen hospitals as kind of cool and medicine as noble and exciting. I'm not squeamish by nature--I didn't even flinch the few times my dad did, when they felt around on his ribs and back to find the painful spots. I don't know how I could watch him flinch trying to get up or lie down and not do the same; I don't know what it says about me. It's not like I didn't feel bad, but somehow I knew he was going to be okay all in all, and that made it okay watching.
The only thing that made me flinch was when I went out into the hall, looked down a corridor, and saw a sign on the other side reading Outpatient Oncology. Oncology--cancer. Like Lance Armstrong, that's where I learned the word, from It's Not About the Bike, that one's about life...
...but cancer, that does scare me, that to me is what smacks of mortality.
God love Glenn and Erik, who--may they forgive me for making the references--know so much more about hospitals than I do.
But after lots of waiting, which didn't really bother me, and an amusing incident where I tried to figure out what was in the weird hospital pillow, assured my mom, "Don't worry, I won't mess anything up," and promptly pulled the tag right off as if on cue, we were all done.
There was a lot of information-taking that happened before it even started, though. My dad hadn't been to this particular hospital since he was 18--my age--and still they had him on file in the computer, but after so long everything had to be done over. I learned that "tympanic" temperature means it was taken in your ear, and I learned that hospitals measure things in military time, like when the fall occurred (approximately 1600 hours). It was a quiet night, comparatively, but the hospital was short-staffed for the holiday, so it still took a few hours.
...He's in a lot of pain, my dad--the double-dosage that the doctor's assistant gave him of whatever medication he's supposed to be on isn't really working. I hope the ibuprofen he's on along with it will. I missed my dosage of medication this morning, actually, 'cause we were out the door to go visit my grandmother, also in a hospital. So after being in a hospital this morning, I was in a different one tonight. My grandmother looks awfully pale and sickish to Lily and me, but to our mothers, who were there earlier this week when she was sick all the time, she's lots better, talking and eating even though she isn't hungry.
My shoulder muscles are sore and I don't know why for sure, but it's probably from sleeping in such a crappy position this afternoon. But ooh, it felt good.
I have yet to decide whether coconut cream really does beat out apple as the best-ever pie. More experimentation is necessary for comparison.
More about everything tomorrow. Or the next day.
-Laurel
From playing football in the mud.
As much as I'm going to take a rather sardonic tone about the fact that my father bruised ribs and strained several muscle groups from a quarterback roll-left play, it really was startling. Well, for my mom and brother. I was asleep for the whole thing, and that was the scary part right there, 'cause suddenly I wake up and I hear that my dad may have broken ribs and he's okay now but he hadn't been breathing for a minute there. And I'd slept right through.
Anyway, I came along to the hospital--my brother stayed with Lily and family. I like hospitals, mainly because I've never spent lots of time in one myself, and mainly because I've never seen anyone there with anything deadly going on. It's not even 'cause of all the M*A*S*H I've watched--all my life I've liked the whole medical community pretty well, always seen hospitals as kind of cool and medicine as noble and exciting. I'm not squeamish by nature--I didn't even flinch the few times my dad did, when they felt around on his ribs and back to find the painful spots. I don't know how I could watch him flinch trying to get up or lie down and not do the same; I don't know what it says about me. It's not like I didn't feel bad, but somehow I knew he was going to be okay all in all, and that made it okay watching.
The only thing that made me flinch was when I went out into the hall, looked down a corridor, and saw a sign on the other side reading Outpatient Oncology. Oncology--cancer. Like Lance Armstrong, that's where I learned the word, from It's Not About the Bike, that one's about life...
...but cancer, that does scare me, that to me is what smacks of mortality.
God love Glenn and Erik, who--may they forgive me for making the references--know so much more about hospitals than I do.
But after lots of waiting, which didn't really bother me, and an amusing incident where I tried to figure out what was in the weird hospital pillow, assured my mom, "Don't worry, I won't mess anything up," and promptly pulled the tag right off as if on cue, we were all done.
There was a lot of information-taking that happened before it even started, though. My dad hadn't been to this particular hospital since he was 18--my age--and still they had him on file in the computer, but after so long everything had to be done over. I learned that "tympanic" temperature means it was taken in your ear, and I learned that hospitals measure things in military time, like when the fall occurred (approximately 1600 hours). It was a quiet night, comparatively, but the hospital was short-staffed for the holiday, so it still took a few hours.
...He's in a lot of pain, my dad--the double-dosage that the doctor's assistant gave him of whatever medication he's supposed to be on isn't really working. I hope the ibuprofen he's on along with it will. I missed my dosage of medication this morning, actually, 'cause we were out the door to go visit my grandmother, also in a hospital. So after being in a hospital this morning, I was in a different one tonight. My grandmother looks awfully pale and sickish to Lily and me, but to our mothers, who were there earlier this week when she was sick all the time, she's lots better, talking and eating even though she isn't hungry.
My shoulder muscles are sore and I don't know why for sure, but it's probably from sleeping in such a crappy position this afternoon. But ooh, it felt good.
I have yet to decide whether coconut cream really does beat out apple as the best-ever pie. More experimentation is necessary for comparison.
More about everything tomorrow. Or the next day.
-Laurel
Sum of today's appointments: I need to floss and I have zits.
Tell me things I don't know.
...'kay, so in my defense, Brown--the guy who saw me for skin this morning--is a total massively aggressive psychopath. This is the man who thought that he could eradicate my warts by spraying them with liquid nitrogen for sixty seconds several times (and anyone who's had anything sprayed for fifteen seconds once will understand why this makes him a psychopath). End result: warts spread, worse than ever, and a year of laser treatments and chemical creams later, it was finally the mostly-natural hippie-type stuff that I was so skeptical about (see past entry, long ago) that ended up curing me.
So this Brown guy informs me today that people are supposed to be done with zits in their "mid-teens", and therefore I am several years behind after having started several years early (about the fifth grade). I would like to put forth the humble, laypersonal opinion that this is total crap, inasmuch as many people I know never broke out in the first place until the tenth ruddy grade, and I actually told him that most people I know didn't break out until the tenth grade (read: age 16), but he would have absolutely none of that and told me that I should think about going on Accutane.
I knew I was in trouble when he started by telling me that Accutane has gotten some bad press, but newspapers like to sensationalize things (though I'd like to also state that dermatologists' offices, and I've been to two or three, like to understate things). See, Accutane is this massive vitamin-A-and-other-orally-ingested-randomness treatment that's been linked in rare cases to depression; a senator's son committed suicide on it and it got some media.
He told my dad and me that it's been used here in America for 30 years and in England for closer to 45, and the number of abnormal reactions has been very small. ...Okay, so again I'd like to point out that yeah, 30 to 45 years ago, America was also up on lead paint, asbestos, and DDT, but I suppose they're different enough not to count. He told us that Tylenol is a dangerous drug, and people take it like candy. He told us that his two teenage daughters (thought: oh gracious, there are young females who have to *live* with this man?) have both been on Accutane with no ill effects and total improvement, which actually does comfort me slightly, but that does not mean he treated them equally to how he would me (you think I'm paranoid? You have not met this man--Englert, she's the one with sanity, she's the one who cleaned up Brown's wart mess; I am getting her opinion first).
The truth is, though, that it's not the depression factor that scares the crap out of me, but the reproductive factor. This stuff is unmitigated havoc on fetuses, and while it's safe to say I'm not about to become pregnant anytime in the near-slash-remote future, and while it's true that the risk to babies disappears once you've been off it for two months, I'm also a little concerned about screwing my body up any further. 'Cause as it is, I've been on more medications, topical and oral, than I can remember, since the seventh grade, maybe the eighth; I get switched from one to the next about once a year, sometimes more frequent, and they all of them work better for a while, and then...
...and then I screw it up, I guess. If they're antibiotics, the problem is partly with me; it's just that I didn't know what I was doing. I'm not good at regularity with oral medication; I do fine for a couple of weeks and then I start missing whole weekends--or whole weeks--at a time. This means that I've killed off the main strains of bacteria making my face worse, but when I stop, I'm leaving the hardier ones behind. These're the ones that divide, and now I've got it worse, and I have to change to kill those.
This is what's been happening for over five years of my life now, and nobody ever told me why I was supposed to get it right, why I was supposed to take these things at the same time. Nobody told me that, at higher dosages, some of these medications are forms of birth control (and, again, not like that's important in the main sense, but in certain other senses it kind of is). I learn all this stuff from microbiology. And then the dermatologists can't figure out why I'm still speckled. And I sit in class, wondering what I've been putting into myself.
And now they want to intensify it, five months of this Accutane stuff, on the premise that 70% of people get cured of acne forever, and the other 30% improve significantly. Those are good numbers, enough to sell my dad. But my dad's a guy, and the guy information ('cause I read both sides of the pamphlet) doesn't have warnings every page. To him, this's one big shot, but the rewards are worth it.
But my dad has been, for at least two years now, so much more concerned with my own face than I am. To me, this whole zit thing is ancient news. I've had them for so long that I can't imagine my face without them--and there're times when I wonder if I'd look even plainer with clear skin. They've not affected how I make friends; they've not interfered with even my getting a boyfriend (unless that explains Bryan, but I'm not thinking so), for the love of decency. I am not scarred. After eight years of poking, picking, breaking all the rules, he is doubly terrified now of my getting scars than when my face was worse. 'Cause that's the thing--I'm getting better. I've known times much worse than this, much worse. I've been very very good about medication these few weeks, but still the dermatologist's assistant took my face in her hands and went, "Is this a bad day, honey? This looks bad to me."
"I was in the play," I said. "I was in pancake makeup a week and a half ago. That's the only thing I can think of, 'cause everything else I've done right." For once. Please, have mercy, just leave me alone...
So for now, I am on switched medications. One of the topical is the same. One is different. The oral has been changed. I don't remember the dosages anymore; I'll read the bottles, read the boxes. Brown told me to consider the Accutane. Dad tells me that, too. Mom tells me what I say myself--that I've read the information, the pictures they're showing are for people with faces three, four times worse than mine. Mine are worse than average, considerably worse by college standards, and the fact that makeup doesn't help my cause makes it all the more obvious to most people.
...But wouldn't it have been a more obvious problem if I needed this stuff? I thought John was crazy when, early in our friendship, he told me he thought they were just freckles--but then Anna said it, too, and she hadn't been talking to John. To me, right now I look pretty good. And my skin is worse than my dad's, but even my dad wasn't over his oral crap until he was 20 anyway, is what he told me before I started college.
Look, I don't like having to start getting ready for bed at 11:30 if I want to be in it by midnight, which is what I have to do to get all the pajama-ing/brushing/flossing/fluoriding/topical-ing/oral-ing/contact-removing done that I have to do; thank God I'm off the wart topical, 'cause 'til this summer, there was that, too. But by this time, goodness knows I've messed with myself enough. I know it could end it forever. But what's the cost going to be? I don't exactly feel, enough of the time, like a healthy person. I'm thin and always with half a cold and I can't even give blood, not because I'm scared of needles but because it doesn't work, I get dizzy. Some of the questions these people ask me, I'm not sure how to answer--I don't know what's supposed to be normal, I don't know if I'm blurring the line. I don't want to do this. I don't think it's worth it. I would love to be pretty above the shoulders, but it's not worth it to me. My dad tells me that if I get scars, I'll pay for it for the rest of my life. Well, what happens if I pay for this from the inside out?
::sighs:: The dentist people are much more benevolent; the worst they did to me was stick me with my first-ever periodontal instrument and tell me I had mild gingivitis and had to floss more. Which I knew in the first place.
Look, from family experience I know that doctors tend to know more than patients do. Two of my aunts are making themselves terrors with the hospital people watching over my grandmother, simply because they don't like the answers they get. I'm not trying to do that. But this frightens me, and what frightens me more is how completely inevitable it looks that everybody else's patience will run out and I'll be stuck on it anyway.
...It just wasn't the morning I was looking for.
But I saw Master and Commander tonight with my brother, and that was really great. The more love I have for a book, the more annoyed I am with any deviance from it, which's why Two Towers bothered me so much and whatever they may have changed in this movie from the book didn't bother me at all; I liked the book but didn't love it. I really like what they did with the surgeon's character there, and it was nice to see the occasional shot of Billy Boyd.
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Maybe even coconut cream pie, if Aunt Jan found the time to make it after the apple, pumpkin, and cherry, not to mention the turkey and stuffing itself (it's at her house).
Friday is hockey game with Erik, if that works out; Saturday, if it works out, is everybody else. Though it would have been nice if I'd made any of these arrangements tonight. I didn't: my afternoon was spent sleeping, my night at the movie. But I will call when I get back, if it's not too late.
Sunday I go back to school. Whee. Que vacaciones.
-Laurel
Tell me things I don't know.
...'kay, so in my defense, Brown--the guy who saw me for skin this morning--is a total massively aggressive psychopath. This is the man who thought that he could eradicate my warts by spraying them with liquid nitrogen for sixty seconds several times (and anyone who's had anything sprayed for fifteen seconds once will understand why this makes him a psychopath). End result: warts spread, worse than ever, and a year of laser treatments and chemical creams later, it was finally the mostly-natural hippie-type stuff that I was so skeptical about (see past entry, long ago) that ended up curing me.
So this Brown guy informs me today that people are supposed to be done with zits in their "mid-teens", and therefore I am several years behind after having started several years early (about the fifth grade). I would like to put forth the humble, laypersonal opinion that this is total crap, inasmuch as many people I know never broke out in the first place until the tenth ruddy grade, and I actually told him that most people I know didn't break out until the tenth grade (read: age 16), but he would have absolutely none of that and told me that I should think about going on Accutane.
I knew I was in trouble when he started by telling me that Accutane has gotten some bad press, but newspapers like to sensationalize things (though I'd like to also state that dermatologists' offices, and I've been to two or three, like to understate things). See, Accutane is this massive vitamin-A-and-other-orally-ingested-randomness treatment that's been linked in rare cases to depression; a senator's son committed suicide on it and it got some media.
He told my dad and me that it's been used here in America for 30 years and in England for closer to 45, and the number of abnormal reactions has been very small. ...Okay, so again I'd like to point out that yeah, 30 to 45 years ago, America was also up on lead paint, asbestos, and DDT, but I suppose they're different enough not to count. He told us that Tylenol is a dangerous drug, and people take it like candy. He told us that his two teenage daughters (thought: oh gracious, there are young females who have to *live* with this man?) have both been on Accutane with no ill effects and total improvement, which actually does comfort me slightly, but that does not mean he treated them equally to how he would me (you think I'm paranoid? You have not met this man--Englert, she's the one with sanity, she's the one who cleaned up Brown's wart mess; I am getting her opinion first).
The truth is, though, that it's not the depression factor that scares the crap out of me, but the reproductive factor. This stuff is unmitigated havoc on fetuses, and while it's safe to say I'm not about to become pregnant anytime in the near-slash-remote future, and while it's true that the risk to babies disappears once you've been off it for two months, I'm also a little concerned about screwing my body up any further. 'Cause as it is, I've been on more medications, topical and oral, than I can remember, since the seventh grade, maybe the eighth; I get switched from one to the next about once a year, sometimes more frequent, and they all of them work better for a while, and then...
...and then I screw it up, I guess. If they're antibiotics, the problem is partly with me; it's just that I didn't know what I was doing. I'm not good at regularity with oral medication; I do fine for a couple of weeks and then I start missing whole weekends--or whole weeks--at a time. This means that I've killed off the main strains of bacteria making my face worse, but when I stop, I'm leaving the hardier ones behind. These're the ones that divide, and now I've got it worse, and I have to change to kill those.
This is what's been happening for over five years of my life now, and nobody ever told me why I was supposed to get it right, why I was supposed to take these things at the same time. Nobody told me that, at higher dosages, some of these medications are forms of birth control (and, again, not like that's important in the main sense, but in certain other senses it kind of is). I learn all this stuff from microbiology. And then the dermatologists can't figure out why I'm still speckled. And I sit in class, wondering what I've been putting into myself.
And now they want to intensify it, five months of this Accutane stuff, on the premise that 70% of people get cured of acne forever, and the other 30% improve significantly. Those are good numbers, enough to sell my dad. But my dad's a guy, and the guy information ('cause I read both sides of the pamphlet) doesn't have warnings every page. To him, this's one big shot, but the rewards are worth it.
But my dad has been, for at least two years now, so much more concerned with my own face than I am. To me, this whole zit thing is ancient news. I've had them for so long that I can't imagine my face without them--and there're times when I wonder if I'd look even plainer with clear skin. They've not affected how I make friends; they've not interfered with even my getting a boyfriend (unless that explains Bryan, but I'm not thinking so), for the love of decency. I am not scarred. After eight years of poking, picking, breaking all the rules, he is doubly terrified now of my getting scars than when my face was worse. 'Cause that's the thing--I'm getting better. I've known times much worse than this, much worse. I've been very very good about medication these few weeks, but still the dermatologist's assistant took my face in her hands and went, "Is this a bad day, honey? This looks bad to me."
"I was in the play," I said. "I was in pancake makeup a week and a half ago. That's the only thing I can think of, 'cause everything else I've done right." For once. Please, have mercy, just leave me alone...
So for now, I am on switched medications. One of the topical is the same. One is different. The oral has been changed. I don't remember the dosages anymore; I'll read the bottles, read the boxes. Brown told me to consider the Accutane. Dad tells me that, too. Mom tells me what I say myself--that I've read the information, the pictures they're showing are for people with faces three, four times worse than mine. Mine are worse than average, considerably worse by college standards, and the fact that makeup doesn't help my cause makes it all the more obvious to most people.
...But wouldn't it have been a more obvious problem if I needed this stuff? I thought John was crazy when, early in our friendship, he told me he thought they were just freckles--but then Anna said it, too, and she hadn't been talking to John. To me, right now I look pretty good. And my skin is worse than my dad's, but even my dad wasn't over his oral crap until he was 20 anyway, is what he told me before I started college.
Look, I don't like having to start getting ready for bed at 11:30 if I want to be in it by midnight, which is what I have to do to get all the pajama-ing/brushing/flossing/fluoriding/topical-ing/oral-ing/contact-removing done that I have to do; thank God I'm off the wart topical, 'cause 'til this summer, there was that, too. But by this time, goodness knows I've messed with myself enough. I know it could end it forever. But what's the cost going to be? I don't exactly feel, enough of the time, like a healthy person. I'm thin and always with half a cold and I can't even give blood, not because I'm scared of needles but because it doesn't work, I get dizzy. Some of the questions these people ask me, I'm not sure how to answer--I don't know what's supposed to be normal, I don't know if I'm blurring the line. I don't want to do this. I don't think it's worth it. I would love to be pretty above the shoulders, but it's not worth it to me. My dad tells me that if I get scars, I'll pay for it for the rest of my life. Well, what happens if I pay for this from the inside out?
::sighs:: The dentist people are much more benevolent; the worst they did to me was stick me with my first-ever periodontal instrument and tell me I had mild gingivitis and had to floss more. Which I knew in the first place.
Look, from family experience I know that doctors tend to know more than patients do. Two of my aunts are making themselves terrors with the hospital people watching over my grandmother, simply because they don't like the answers they get. I'm not trying to do that. But this frightens me, and what frightens me more is how completely inevitable it looks that everybody else's patience will run out and I'll be stuck on it anyway.
...It just wasn't the morning I was looking for.
But I saw Master and Commander tonight with my brother, and that was really great. The more love I have for a book, the more annoyed I am with any deviance from it, which's why Two Towers bothered me so much and whatever they may have changed in this movie from the book didn't bother me at all; I liked the book but didn't love it. I really like what they did with the surgeon's character there, and it was nice to see the occasional shot of Billy Boyd.
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Maybe even coconut cream pie, if Aunt Jan found the time to make it after the apple, pumpkin, and cherry, not to mention the turkey and stuffing itself (it's at her house).
Friday is hockey game with Erik, if that works out; Saturday, if it works out, is everybody else. Though it would have been nice if I'd made any of these arrangements tonight. I didn't: my afternoon was spent sleeping, my night at the movie. But I will call when I get back, if it's not too late.
Sunday I go back to school. Whee. Que vacaciones.
-Laurel
11.25.2003
Well, I am home again. For not quite a week; I leave Sunday because classes resume Monday.
Cleaning didn't happen as quickly as it might have; I needed to clean the dorm before I left to avoid a $15 charge, so Lily and I did that, but I didn't get fully on the road until about 1:30, which put me in school for SFE at 3:25, almost over. I missed Bethie entirely, and with 'Nanda and Daffy it was kinda 'kayhikaybye. Gladly would I have stayed, especially to see Glenn, who was in singing practice, but my brother was bent on getting home to eat before his volleyball thing, so that was that.
I do not get to see Glenn at all this vacation; I called him and we talked for an hour, after which point he left for Albany to spend Thanksgiving there, from which he will not get back until Sunday afternoon, which is when I leave to go back to school. So it's been over three weeks since I've seen him, and it will be about three more until Christmas break, which will mean six weeks from one visit to another ('cause one glance of him in singing practice does not count, especially because he didn't see me and couldn't glance back), the longest separation we have ever had, and that thought makes me realize all the more sharply that that's a long darn time. But I get a month once Christmas break begins. It will be worth the wait.
Right now I should go to sleep, because I have a dentist appointment at eight-thirty in the ruddy morning what the he-e-e-e-eck?! Thanks a lot to my early-rising dad (who does not, and most likely will never, read this blog). :-P Oh, well, I can nap.
I remembered my clock this time. This means I can know what time it is when I am in my room.
Oh yeah, I wanted to watch Strong Bad before I went to bed. It hasn't been working on my computer at school; the network has been crappy in new and exciting ways for the past week and a half, and now Strong Bad loads so slowly that it, like, times out in the middle or something.
And note to self: Five-minute oral report on Loren Eiseley due one week from tomorrow = necessity to actually read a couple of Eiseley's essays.
'night, all.
-Laurel
Cleaning didn't happen as quickly as it might have; I needed to clean the dorm before I left to avoid a $15 charge, so Lily and I did that, but I didn't get fully on the road until about 1:30, which put me in school for SFE at 3:25, almost over. I missed Bethie entirely, and with 'Nanda and Daffy it was kinda 'kayhikaybye. Gladly would I have stayed, especially to see Glenn, who was in singing practice, but my brother was bent on getting home to eat before his volleyball thing, so that was that.
I do not get to see Glenn at all this vacation; I called him and we talked for an hour, after which point he left for Albany to spend Thanksgiving there, from which he will not get back until Sunday afternoon, which is when I leave to go back to school. So it's been over three weeks since I've seen him, and it will be about three more until Christmas break, which will mean six weeks from one visit to another ('cause one glance of him in singing practice does not count, especially because he didn't see me and couldn't glance back), the longest separation we have ever had, and that thought makes me realize all the more sharply that that's a long darn time. But I get a month once Christmas break begins. It will be worth the wait.
Right now I should go to sleep, because I have a dentist appointment at eight-thirty in the ruddy morning what the he-e-e-e-eck?! Thanks a lot to my early-rising dad (who does not, and most likely will never, read this blog). :-P Oh, well, I can nap.
I remembered my clock this time. This means I can know what time it is when I am in my room.
Oh yeah, I wanted to watch Strong Bad before I went to bed. It hasn't been working on my computer at school; the network has been crappy in new and exciting ways for the past week and a half, and now Strong Bad loads so slowly that it, like, times out in the middle or something.
And note to self: Five-minute oral report on Loren Eiseley due one week from tomorrow = necessity to actually read a couple of Eiseley's essays.
'night, all.
-Laurel
11.23.2003
Well, then. ::can only laugh::
Tonight's fun fact: back when I first knew the twins, I made the wrong guess as to which of them had been in Envirothon. It was Tim; I've been convinced it was Tom. Now I can tell them apart and will know better. Found this out when the three of us talked about Envirothon states tonight--their school was the one we met on the way last year, the group that hadn't even made their poster yet but still got third in the presentations. ...That wasn't Tim, though; he did it the year before I did.
We had another French dinner tonight, this one at a country club. I felt a lot better than the last ones, so that was good. The people were a little farther into the wine this time (or at least that one guy who tried to conduct us was, telling us about how the Italians hate the French and whatever nonsense), but they tipped well. And Bert sang "Michelle" this time with Theresa, they did this cool bit with taking this fedora from each other--I know that sounds weird or confusing or dumb, but it looked really cool.
And we girls finally got to sing with the guys on "Vive L'Amour", but yeah, Kristin and I had it a little harder than we planned, 'cause we were trying to look on with Tim for the music. Bass part? Sure, no problem! Ri-i-i-ight...
But yeah, my head kinda hurts, and I've got lots to do tomorrow, so I should sleep.
-Laurel
Tonight's fun fact: back when I first knew the twins, I made the wrong guess as to which of them had been in Envirothon. It was Tim; I've been convinced it was Tom. Now I can tell them apart and will know better. Found this out when the three of us talked about Envirothon states tonight--their school was the one we met on the way last year, the group that hadn't even made their poster yet but still got third in the presentations. ...That wasn't Tim, though; he did it the year before I did.
We had another French dinner tonight, this one at a country club. I felt a lot better than the last ones, so that was good. The people were a little farther into the wine this time (or at least that one guy who tried to conduct us was, telling us about how the Italians hate the French and whatever nonsense), but they tipped well. And Bert sang "Michelle" this time with Theresa, they did this cool bit with taking this fedora from each other--I know that sounds weird or confusing or dumb, but it looked really cool.
And we girls finally got to sing with the guys on "Vive L'Amour", but yeah, Kristin and I had it a little harder than we planned, 'cause we were trying to look on with Tim for the music. Bass part? Sure, no problem! Ri-i-i-ight...
But yeah, my head kinda hurts, and I've got lots to do tomorrow, so I should sleep.
-Laurel
11.21.2003
Well, honors presentation went pretty well, really. ::laughs:: Certainly better than John's, poor boy--he put his entire presentation to a song and then left his lyrics in the choir room and had to go without them. Turned into an oral report pretty quickly, it did, and when he mentioned that pears came from Turkey, "somewhere around the Himalayas, I guess", I was of course the one there after class to mop his broken ego off the floor ('cause yeah, the Himalayas? Definitely in India somewhere...).
It's so weird to see John acting like me. He's been doing the same thing I used to do here--taking one bad event and having it mentally make a ripple-effect of doom over his whole life. Like, one bad presentation in honors turned into, mentally, him failing the project and the whole honors class thinking him a total idiot, especially Susan. I used to do that with honors, I'd say something and they'd just kind of stare at me, and I'd totally panic mentally, and after class John would be calming me down--and now I'm fine, I'm the one consoling him. This's like the third week I've ended up doing this.
He got that way about chorus, too; I teased him when Luanne made a comment about the tenors, and I didn't mean it as anything but sic transit gloria--he's so good, and we all know it, that I tease him when he messes something up because it's just so unlike him. Just that usually it's for forgetting his music, not messing up the song itself, so he really took it hard, really kinda lit into me about it later. Which's fine--we're good friends enough, and step on each other's toes emotionally often enough, that there've been times when I've lit into him in the same way. It's just that it's happened so often lately...in a way I'm glad, like I've said, to see him so human. ...In a way it kind of worries me. We've been here about three months. He wasn't like this for two-and-a-quarter of them.
...incidentally, yeah, sic transit gloria means thus passeth glory; I got it from Cyrano.
But all my friends have had so much happen to them lately; I feel so strange to have had November so easy. Well, in the beginning it kind of wasn't, for complicated reasons, but--but everyone seems to have fallen just as I've found my feet. Which's just as well, I'd much rather hear them talk about it and be able to listen. But...everyone, everyone, even my friends who're always happy.
...six o'clock in the mornin', you're the last to hear the warnin'--you're tryin' to throw your arms around the world...
Ah, well. Thanksgiving is coming. I don't get off 'til Tuesday at the earliest; Wednesday if I have choir on Tuesday night.
Mmph, I should get off my lazy bum and do some microbio. I have 'til 6 pm tomorrow to take the test, it turns out, but it would be cool if I learned some definitions and stuff.
-Laurel
It's so weird to see John acting like me. He's been doing the same thing I used to do here--taking one bad event and having it mentally make a ripple-effect of doom over his whole life. Like, one bad presentation in honors turned into, mentally, him failing the project and the whole honors class thinking him a total idiot, especially Susan. I used to do that with honors, I'd say something and they'd just kind of stare at me, and I'd totally panic mentally, and after class John would be calming me down--and now I'm fine, I'm the one consoling him. This's like the third week I've ended up doing this.
He got that way about chorus, too; I teased him when Luanne made a comment about the tenors, and I didn't mean it as anything but sic transit gloria--he's so good, and we all know it, that I tease him when he messes something up because it's just so unlike him. Just that usually it's for forgetting his music, not messing up the song itself, so he really took it hard, really kinda lit into me about it later. Which's fine--we're good friends enough, and step on each other's toes emotionally often enough, that there've been times when I've lit into him in the same way. It's just that it's happened so often lately...in a way I'm glad, like I've said, to see him so human. ...In a way it kind of worries me. We've been here about three months. He wasn't like this for two-and-a-quarter of them.
...incidentally, yeah, sic transit gloria means thus passeth glory; I got it from Cyrano.
But all my friends have had so much happen to them lately; I feel so strange to have had November so easy. Well, in the beginning it kind of wasn't, for complicated reasons, but--but everyone seems to have fallen just as I've found my feet. Which's just as well, I'd much rather hear them talk about it and be able to listen. But...everyone, everyone, even my friends who're always happy.
...six o'clock in the mornin', you're the last to hear the warnin'--you're tryin' to throw your arms around the world...
Ah, well. Thanksgiving is coming. I don't get off 'til Tuesday at the earliest; Wednesday if I have choir on Tuesday night.
Mmph, I should get off my lazy bum and do some microbio. I have 'til 6 pm tomorrow to take the test, it turns out, but it would be cool if I learned some definitions and stuff.
-Laurel
11.19.2003
Mm. Another short posting, for I am tired and have a microbio test tomorrow for which I am in no way prepared. Also a presentation for honors under the same heading.
Have been lounging these nights, playing video games and talking online. I thought that maybe the end of the play would be the end of my procrastination, but in fact this is not so: I'm as bad as ever.
I'm still wiped out completely these days; I wonder if I'll ever wake up rested. ::laughs a bit::
Cheerio. 'night.
-Laurel
Have been lounging these nights, playing video games and talking online. I thought that maybe the end of the play would be the end of my procrastination, but in fact this is not so: I'm as bad as ever.
I'm still wiped out completely these days; I wonder if I'll ever wake up rested. ::laughs a bit::
Cheerio. 'night.
-Laurel
11.17.2003
My inner child is ten years old!
The adult world is pretty irrelevant to me. Whether
I'm off on my bicycle (or pony) exploring, lost
in a good book, or giggling with my best
friend, I live in a world apart, one full of
adventure and wonder and other stuff adults
don't understand.
How Old is Your Inner Child?
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::giggles:: You know, that really kind of fits.
-Laurel
Dude, Zinni's gonna go see Colin and Brad next weekend! :)
Anyway, has been a good weekend. Erik came up last night to see the last performance of the play, which gave me an excellent excuse to skip out on the cast party, which was going to be a massive drinking-drugs-makeout thing. We were only allowed guests if they were significant others, and I didn't feel like pretending anyway. So we hung round instead, which was fun.
And a scheduling update: courses for next semester, planned, are Acting I, Survey of American Lit (or a course in Irish lit, depending on which I can get into), Basic Linguistics, honors seminar, and choir (not chorus this time, like I think I mentioned before). 16 credits, two more than this semester, all things I enjoy. I'm not doing much in the way of requirement-fulfulling, but that's okay, I was ahead on that anyway 'cause of all those transfer credits. :) I decided that Psych Methods/Statistics can wait, 'cause linguistics is only done once a year, and meth/stat's every semester.
Next semester I'm going to be pledging for APO, doing 16 credits, and being in the musical. I am such a ruddy freak all the time. ::laughs helplessly::
But in two weeks I get a week off for Thanksgiving break. :)
I'm trying to research Loren Eiseley for essay class, but unfortunately, Mrs. W may've been wrong, 'cause she told me when I saw her to pick him, and at the moment I'm a little bit bored, and rather wishing I'd asked if I could do something on Steve Martin's written pieces instead. Oh, well, I've barely scratched the surface with Eiseley's writings, so I shouldn't try to switch just yet.
Finding free time now that the play is over, tonight I knocked off and played Mario 64 and drank a smoothie and ate Goldfish crackers. And took a long lovely shower. Unfortunately, I missed the supposedly-mandatory hall meeting for said shower, completely forgot about it (eep!). So we'll see if I catch any heat for that. I doubt it.
I've only been awake for like 12 hours; how ridiculous is that?
-Laurel
Anyway, has been a good weekend. Erik came up last night to see the last performance of the play, which gave me an excellent excuse to skip out on the cast party, which was going to be a massive drinking-drugs-makeout thing. We were only allowed guests if they were significant others, and I didn't feel like pretending anyway. So we hung round instead, which was fun.
And a scheduling update: courses for next semester, planned, are Acting I, Survey of American Lit (or a course in Irish lit, depending on which I can get into), Basic Linguistics, honors seminar, and choir (not chorus this time, like I think I mentioned before). 16 credits, two more than this semester, all things I enjoy. I'm not doing much in the way of requirement-fulfulling, but that's okay, I was ahead on that anyway 'cause of all those transfer credits. :) I decided that Psych Methods/Statistics can wait, 'cause linguistics is only done once a year, and meth/stat's every semester.
Next semester I'm going to be pledging for APO, doing 16 credits, and being in the musical. I am such a ruddy freak all the time. ::laughs helplessly::
But in two weeks I get a week off for Thanksgiving break. :)
I'm trying to research Loren Eiseley for essay class, but unfortunately, Mrs. W may've been wrong, 'cause she told me when I saw her to pick him, and at the moment I'm a little bit bored, and rather wishing I'd asked if I could do something on Steve Martin's written pieces instead. Oh, well, I've barely scratched the surface with Eiseley's writings, so I shouldn't try to switch just yet.
Finding free time now that the play is over, tonight I knocked off and played Mario 64 and drank a smoothie and ate Goldfish crackers. And took a long lovely shower. Unfortunately, I missed the supposedly-mandatory hall meeting for said shower, completely forgot about it (eep!). So we'll see if I catch any heat for that. I doubt it.
I've only been awake for like 12 hours; how ridiculous is that?
-Laurel
11.13.2003
11.12.2003
So, right, I've never seen Rent, so it was just this afternoon, scribbling some long division in microbio instead of paying attention to the last bit of the lesson, that I realized that 525,600 minutes is equivalent to one year.
That's it, only that many minutes in a year? So you haven't even lived a million minutes 'til you're, like, almost two. We should have one-million-minute birthday parties.
...it's Bryan's birthday; goodness knows why I still remember that.
It is also a Math League day. :)
I need to do some homework now.
-Laurel
That's it, only that many minutes in a year? So you haven't even lived a million minutes 'til you're, like, almost two. We should have one-million-minute birthday parties.
...it's Bryan's birthday; goodness knows why I still remember that.
It is also a Math League day. :)
I need to do some homework now.
-Laurel
Okay, so I should have realized it was a bad sign that John hadn't ever told me before that he'd remembered me from PlayFair.
...'kay right, PlayFair is this thing from the first night of college where you got to meet a bunch of people for five seconds, and I don't remember meeting John there, so I've always considered play tryouts several days later to be the first time we met.
So John told me tonight during notes for the play, out of absolutely ruddy nowhere, that he remembered me from PlayFair.
"Really? From what part?"
That was a bad question, right there.
'Cause here was his reply: "Well, I wasn't sure if you were a girl or a guy."
...I am keeping in mind the idea that, last May, before everything started, Glenn told me once that I could pass for a guy. But...it wasn't a good thing for John to say. I had sucked entirely on everything that night I did, and anyway, that's a bad, bad thing to tell me. Terra, when she was in the play, actually flashed me one night back when I was in my old role, flashed me on the premise that, playing a constable, my character must be lesbian anyway. I have gotten far more of this crap than I care to--figure skaters don't get this; why do I get it when I cut my hair last year like one?
And then he says something else later, a bit too complicated for context, but suffice to say, somebody I thought was too nice to say something about me? Said something about me. Not to me, either, but to John.
And other crap, and it just wasn't cool, and John kept trying to help but he kinda just made it worse a lot of the time. Not all the time, but a lot.
::laughs:: Tom was unintentionally sweet, though. I asked him tonight why Tim randomly started talking to me--it's not like I had a problem with it, as I said before, but I was curious.
"It's Tim's Pretty-Girl Syndrome," he told me.
"What?"
"No, seriously. He sees me talking to any pretty girl, and he's like, 'ooh' and he gets jealous."
I paused, taken aback. Kinda looked down.
"I am?"
"Yeah."
Tom is one of those people so naturally friendly that he calls people pretty and he means it but he means nothing by it. ...It was kind. And after John's randomness, very appreciated.
On another note, got iTunes today, 'cause I wanted QuickTime and I like the idea that Lily and I can listen to each other's music via the network. Plus anyone else in the dorm with it.
Right, going to bed or something. I've got homework to finish tomorrow. Of course.
-Laurel
...'kay right, PlayFair is this thing from the first night of college where you got to meet a bunch of people for five seconds, and I don't remember meeting John there, so I've always considered play tryouts several days later to be the first time we met.
So John told me tonight during notes for the play, out of absolutely ruddy nowhere, that he remembered me from PlayFair.
"Really? From what part?"
That was a bad question, right there.
'Cause here was his reply: "Well, I wasn't sure if you were a girl or a guy."
...I am keeping in mind the idea that, last May, before everything started, Glenn told me once that I could pass for a guy. But...it wasn't a good thing for John to say. I had sucked entirely on everything that night I did, and anyway, that's a bad, bad thing to tell me. Terra, when she was in the play, actually flashed me one night back when I was in my old role, flashed me on the premise that, playing a constable, my character must be lesbian anyway. I have gotten far more of this crap than I care to--figure skaters don't get this; why do I get it when I cut my hair last year like one?
And then he says something else later, a bit too complicated for context, but suffice to say, somebody I thought was too nice to say something about me? Said something about me. Not to me, either, but to John.
And other crap, and it just wasn't cool, and John kept trying to help but he kinda just made it worse a lot of the time. Not all the time, but a lot.
::laughs:: Tom was unintentionally sweet, though. I asked him tonight why Tim randomly started talking to me--it's not like I had a problem with it, as I said before, but I was curious.
"It's Tim's Pretty-Girl Syndrome," he told me.
"What?"
"No, seriously. He sees me talking to any pretty girl, and he's like, 'ooh' and he gets jealous."
I paused, taken aback. Kinda looked down.
"I am?"
"Yeah."
Tom is one of those people so naturally friendly that he calls people pretty and he means it but he means nothing by it. ...It was kind. And after John's randomness, very appreciated.
On another note, got iTunes today, 'cause I wanted QuickTime and I like the idea that Lily and I can listen to each other's music via the network. Plus anyone else in the dorm with it.
Right, going to bed or something. I've got homework to finish tomorrow. Of course.
-Laurel
11.11.2003
I'm boring
why is YOUR livejournal annoying?
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::laughs:: That's funny. That sentence is a little like mine. Anyway, it's a much more accurate result than the first response, which was you post those short weird messages no one understands. Not too very many of these're all that short.
There's this part in the play where Marya, this one hyper girly character, goes, "I'm so excited, I don't know what to do!" Laura, who plays her, has been saying this in such a wonderful way that we crack up at the total randomness of the statement and use it ourselves. Said that tonight, 'cause I'm so close to well now that I can eat just about whatever I want and only get a little stomachache now if I get one at all. This meant that I got to have milk with dinner(!), not to mention that I had ice cream for the first time since I got here (amazing but true)--that vanilla tasted darn good, lemme tell you.
::blinks:: Dang it. I do sound like that livejournal thingy. I'm talking about my food, and I am boring.
But I don't care.
Bwah-ha-ha-ha-haaaaaaaaaaaa.
-Laurel
11.09.2003
Ichi - "That one with wisdom"
Sponsored by www.life-blood.cjb.net
What would your Japanese name be? (female)
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::smiles:: Cool. Only stay away from the site, unless the whole Dracula thing appeals to you. ::shrugs::
So am feeling pretty good right now after feeling awful for most of the day. Sickness seems to have left as abruptly as it arrived. ...Which's good, 'cause Jaimie told me at tech rehearsal that if it was the thing she'd gotten, I'd be throwing up later today.
So tech rehearsal wasn't as bad as everyone said it would be--got done in a little under four hours, which makes it better than a regular rehearsal. I still felt pretty bad at that point, so I didn't join in the lasagna dinner Becky'd made for everyone--I ate applesauce all day, as one of the patented Easily-Digestible Foods (my breakfast: wheat toast and banana). 16 ounces got me through most of the day.
...I don't like the way most of the theater kids talk about Simon, though, our lead. I've been referring to him as Troubadour-Simon; he's the one who's always playing guitar and singing and having people sing with him. The theater seniors hate him, think he's creepy and awful, and Kara was a perfect snot to him when he came into the green room today, asking him why his sweatshirts're always several sizes too small.
I call John a theater snot, but I mean it in different, more benign ways.
French dinner was much more fun tonight: we knew our words better and our audience was just generally in a good mood, so lots of fun stuff happened. Lots more encores tonight, and we could take our time 'cause play practice was already over. Bet we made a lot more this time. Crud, Betsy and Shaminda could prolly get halfway to Peru on the tips they'll have made--they sang practically the whole night; it looked like they only stopped long enough to catch their breath, Betsy especially.
::blinks:: So I do know how to tell Tim and Tom apart, really I do, but I'm still bewildered as to when Tim decided to start talking to me on a regular basis. 'Cause it was just Tom before, and then all of a sudden over the past couple of nights Tim's been coming over and telling funny stories and stuff. Don't get me wrong, I like it, it just makes me uneasy, makes me wonder how long he's been doing this with me thinking he was Tom, if I have been. It's certainly possible I've been mistaking one for the other; I can tell them apart by whose face is thinner (Tim's), but that's harder to do when there's only one of them there.
And Krystal and I're massively jealous of all the "Dirait'on" people--we'd better take that song on tour so we can do it; I remember 'Nanda and Daf singing it, and Krystal's heard it elsewhere, too, and Tim and Tom and Kristin and Jaimie and John got to sing it, and we want to, too, so there.
What is it with these alliterative friends I have? Tim and Tom, Krystal and Kristin, Jodi and Jaimie and John. Evan and Erin, too, come to think of it, though Erin's to a lesser degree 'cause I don't know her as well 'cause she's always working. Though I don't know who'd pair with Mandie...if you take her full name, it could be Amanda and Anna, but...
...but I'm devoting too much brainpower to this. (That'd be assonance, not alliteration, in any case. ::grin::)
Anyway, I got back from the dinner and was actually hungry(!), so I made myself some pasta-out-of-a-packet (yay Lipton), butter-and-herb or whatever, and ate some of that and a couple of lollipops and had a bunch of water while watching M*A*S*H, which I have not done since I got here, so you'd think I'dve missed it more after almost-three-months' hiatus. 'Course, goodness knows how long it's been since I've watched Whose Line.
It was nice to have M*A*S*H back again, though. :)
'kay, so right, I really should go to bed.
-Laurel
11.08.2003
'kay, sorry for the lack of updatage, but things've been crazy round here as always. At this moment, I feel very much like crap: thought at first I'd gotten some very mild food poisoning from the crab bisque at lunch, but that would have gone away by now, 'cause it's been almost twelve hours, so I'm thinking I've caught one of those random day-or-two sicknesses that everyone's been getting. Not eating made me feel bad; eating has made me feel equally bad, just in different ways. John stuck a hand to my forehead and said I was burning up, but I can't feel it...
::feels forehead::
ooh. maybe I can.
So tonight was the first French dinner for choir and play rehearsal 'til going for midnight; tomorrow (well, all right, today) is tech rehearsal (oh nooooooo) and French Dinner Part Deux.
I feel tired just thinking about that. Perhaps I will go to bed.
-Laurel
::feels forehead::
ooh. maybe I can.
So tonight was the first French dinner for choir and play rehearsal 'til going for midnight; tomorrow (well, all right, today) is tech rehearsal (oh nooooooo) and French Dinner Part Deux.
I feel tired just thinking about that. Perhaps I will go to bed.
-Laurel
11.04.2003
And then there's linguistics, which I just found, and which looks absolutely kick-butt, and which's taught by Vicky, this professor I know from knowing Yung-Mei, and which I really could fit into my schedule, wonder of wonders...but do I really want to take four classes plus honors plus choir? I know I need to stop slacking off, but this is ridiculous...
::sighs:: Bedtime.
-Laurel
::sighs:: Bedtime.
-Laurel
Okay, so the course schedule for next semester is up, so Lily and I've been planning our schedules (registration is this Friday!), and I have hit several major reality checks.
Subtitle: You Can't Do it All, Even if You Want To.
Primary reality check: I have to choose between Acting I and Survey of American Lit. And I feel like a major dork because I know acting is going to win. I am an English major, and I need that goshdarn survey course to get into advanced lit, and I have this awful feeling that it won't be offered until second semester of next year if I don't take it this year...but dang it, I have been waiting all semester to get into Acting I and learn what the heck I am doing onstage and be able to write something in the "acting class experience" blank when I try out for plays. I will do well in it because I've been learning bits via Inspector General, and it will be fun, despite the fact that, since Becky has changed the time, I will be goshdarn hungry for most of it.
Oh, Becky, Becky, Becky, you simply love to complicate my schedule, be it now, be it later. ::can't help laughing::
Honors loves it, too. Should I get the one I want, I can stick with choir, but it will cut me out of chorus completely. Which is okay mostly, since I like choir much better anyway, but I may end up just going Wednesdays instead of Mondays (as a privileged choir child, I'm only required for one of the two). I don't know.
Spanish IV is out of the question, also because of Becky, Becky, Becky. But I'm actually glad of that; I know I should go on with it since I plan to keep studying, but I was looking for a good excuse not to.
And Psych Methods/Statistics is at 9:20 in the morning hi, to cop off 'Nanda and merani. Math that early? They offer that darn course every semester; if I can find a decent lower-level one, I should think about taking that instead, doing meth/stat next year.
Then again, I could take a nap on some of those days, and those that I couldn't, I'd at least have 50 minutes before acting.
Final decisions to be posted next week, on the assumption that my readers care.
-Laurel
Subtitle: You Can't Do it All, Even if You Want To.
Primary reality check: I have to choose between Acting I and Survey of American Lit. And I feel like a major dork because I know acting is going to win. I am an English major, and I need that goshdarn survey course to get into advanced lit, and I have this awful feeling that it won't be offered until second semester of next year if I don't take it this year...but dang it, I have been waiting all semester to get into Acting I and learn what the heck I am doing onstage and be able to write something in the "acting class experience" blank when I try out for plays. I will do well in it because I've been learning bits via Inspector General, and it will be fun, despite the fact that, since Becky has changed the time, I will be goshdarn hungry for most of it.
Oh, Becky, Becky, Becky, you simply love to complicate my schedule, be it now, be it later. ::can't help laughing::
Honors loves it, too. Should I get the one I want, I can stick with choir, but it will cut me out of chorus completely. Which is okay mostly, since I like choir much better anyway, but I may end up just going Wednesdays instead of Mondays (as a privileged choir child, I'm only required for one of the two). I don't know.
Spanish IV is out of the question, also because of Becky, Becky, Becky. But I'm actually glad of that; I know I should go on with it since I plan to keep studying, but I was looking for a good excuse not to.
And Psych Methods/Statistics is at 9:20 in the morning hi, to cop off 'Nanda and merani. Math that early? They offer that darn course every semester; if I can find a decent lower-level one, I should think about taking that instead, doing meth/stat next year.
Then again, I could take a nap on some of those days, and those that I couldn't, I'd at least have 50 minutes before acting.
Final decisions to be posted next week, on the assumption that my readers care.
-Laurel
A little cleanup here at QPQ; I've republished the archives and made it so that you can link to individual posts (for anyone unfamiliar with the proceduer: go to where it says the time and right-click, it's "copy shortcut", do that and then post it into an "a href=" tag).
Okay, so I'm a little excited about the prospect of the third LotR movie. :)
-Laurel
Okay, so I'm a little excited about the prospect of the third LotR movie. :)
-Laurel
11.03.2003
Aughhh I should be getting ready for Spanish instead of posting but I'm not so whatever.
Not that I was celebrating it, but yesterday was a lovely half-birthday, especially if you count that I began November 2nd with Glenn. Lily and I went to my house Saturday (the 1st), went to a hockey game that night with my family, Erik, and Glenn, and then we met Lily's friend Karyn at B-Dubs for chicken wings and trivia, and then we took Glenn home, which was a bit after midnight, so technically the 2nd. I am a hyper little child for caring about that, I know, but I do.
Eighteen and a half, woo.
So on Sunday morning we met Daf and 'Nanda for cafe-stuff, except that Jitters didn't bother to tell us that they didn't take Discover until after we'd ordered $10 worth of stuff, and the card was really all I had, so I owe Ananda an additional two bucks after whatever sponsorship-ness I still have to give her.
Came back here afterwards, had randomness until play practice, when I went and dressed up in my maid costume and paraded out with everyone else. It could be worse, the costume, but I find it odd that the costume people have no problem with my slip sticking out about two inches lower than my skirt, and even odder that they expect me to be able to grovel at Shaminda's feet without letting the whole world know what brand of underwear I've got on, considering how short the darn skirt-part is. The slip does not help me much.
On the other hand, I no longer have to say slut. ::laughs:: So I can just feel like one, right? 'Cause the top is a bit gappy in itself, and how John can liken my outfit to Mrs. Cleaver, I'm not sure. I have never seen the show, and therefore would not know the difference.
Rehearsal was long and I was starving for a lot of it (woo for not having enough dining dollars to get anything but candy!), but it went well-ish.
Food was forgotten after rehearsal, though, when the Random Foyer Singing Group met again. Not that that's our title, but it's troubadour-Simon with his acoustic guitar and whoever else decides to show up, singing Beatles songs in three parts, or whatever else Simon teaches us. Megan and I started out there with him, John came a bit later, and eventually it was Simon and John and me, serenading Lindsay and Chris, who started slow-dancing to our rendition of "This Boy" just to make us laugh (that's our best song).
I felt really appreciated last night: Simon said that he'd never sung with as good a pair as John and me (and I don't know how much singing he's done, but that was awesome, even though the real talent is John's)...and Lindsay recounted to Chris and Simon the story of me battling Luanne in choir on "Il Est Bel"...and later on, when John and I were talking as we came back, Tom came up to me and got all excited 'cause I'm joining APO, and said that even though he probably couldn't, he'd wanted to be my big for it (that's the mentor-person; you have to have one).
I just...it was so cool. What a night that was, even though it wasn't all the 2nd.
So now I'm gonna be late to Spanish again (surprise? I think not), and I don't know when I'm going to get the rest of my essay homework done, but I'm going to have to try.
Cheerio.
-Laurel
Not that I was celebrating it, but yesterday was a lovely half-birthday, especially if you count that I began November 2nd with Glenn. Lily and I went to my house Saturday (the 1st), went to a hockey game that night with my family, Erik, and Glenn, and then we met Lily's friend Karyn at B-Dubs for chicken wings and trivia, and then we took Glenn home, which was a bit after midnight, so technically the 2nd. I am a hyper little child for caring about that, I know, but I do.
Eighteen and a half, woo.
So on Sunday morning we met Daf and 'Nanda for cafe-stuff, except that Jitters didn't bother to tell us that they didn't take Discover until after we'd ordered $10 worth of stuff, and the card was really all I had, so I owe Ananda an additional two bucks after whatever sponsorship-ness I still have to give her.
Came back here afterwards, had randomness until play practice, when I went and dressed up in my maid costume and paraded out with everyone else. It could be worse, the costume, but I find it odd that the costume people have no problem with my slip sticking out about two inches lower than my skirt, and even odder that they expect me to be able to grovel at Shaminda's feet without letting the whole world know what brand of underwear I've got on, considering how short the darn skirt-part is. The slip does not help me much.
On the other hand, I no longer have to say slut. ::laughs:: So I can just feel like one, right? 'Cause the top is a bit gappy in itself, and how John can liken my outfit to Mrs. Cleaver, I'm not sure. I have never seen the show, and therefore would not know the difference.
Rehearsal was long and I was starving for a lot of it (woo for not having enough dining dollars to get anything but candy!), but it went well-ish.
Food was forgotten after rehearsal, though, when the Random Foyer Singing Group met again. Not that that's our title, but it's troubadour-Simon with his acoustic guitar and whoever else decides to show up, singing Beatles songs in three parts, or whatever else Simon teaches us. Megan and I started out there with him, John came a bit later, and eventually it was Simon and John and me, serenading Lindsay and Chris, who started slow-dancing to our rendition of "This Boy" just to make us laugh (that's our best song).
I felt really appreciated last night: Simon said that he'd never sung with as good a pair as John and me (and I don't know how much singing he's done, but that was awesome, even though the real talent is John's)...and Lindsay recounted to Chris and Simon the story of me battling Luanne in choir on "Il Est Bel"...and later on, when John and I were talking as we came back, Tom came up to me and got all excited 'cause I'm joining APO, and said that even though he probably couldn't, he'd wanted to be my big for it (that's the mentor-person; you have to have one).
I just...it was so cool. What a night that was, even though it wasn't all the 2nd.
So now I'm gonna be late to Spanish again (surprise? I think not), and I don't know when I'm going to get the rest of my essay homework done, but I'm going to have to try.
Cheerio.
-Laurel