Thirty-First Post

I'm never sure whether there should be a hyphen in numbers like "thirty first". So I put one in this time. 

I would like to say that my summer was not too horribly boring, in spite of my blog title. I hung out with friends, read way too many books, ordered and rekindled my hate for overpriced textbooks, developed a passion for designing knit and crochet scarves and bags, got my wisdom teeth out and a crown in, and learned how to shoot various and sundry firearms. 

Really, it was a great summer, other than the fact that my arm is really, really sore today. It was totally worth it; I love guns now. I mean, I still flinch every time one goes off, but I like the feeling of holding something that powerful in my hand(s). I have terrible aim, and I also learned that I need to be doing waaaaay more pushups in the morning, but it was great! I can load guns, I can be safe around guns, I can fire guns... I'm totally getting a concealed weapons permit as soon as I'm legal and looking into a handgun with a nice safety that I can keep in my purse, possibly in a knit or crochet bag-thing. (It will need a good safety because I'm now paranoid about guns that don't have safeties, and I want it not to discharge in my purse. I can picture it now... *Me walking along/being at work/being at the doctor's office/you get the picture* *BAM!* *Screams from surrounding people* "Oh, sorry, that was my gun." "Your WHAT?!" "My gun. I keep it in my purse or pocket at all times. You know, like mace... but a gun." *Screams of horror* *Me being arrested/losing job/causing heart attack/losing gun permit/you get the picture*)

Anyway. 

I also mentioned that I got my wisdom teeth out. Now, my friend had his wisdom teeth out a while ago, but he was told that recovery was better with topical anaesthesia and laughing gas. I was told that as well, but I have a hard enough time dealing with cleanings, so I ruled out being conscious as a method of extraction. I've never been under general anaesthesia, so I was rather excited. My friend apparently hasn't either, or he wouldn't have told me to email him whilst incoherent (he was abroad at the time, so I couldn't text him). My incoherence consisted entirely of being unconscious. 

It was really cool, going under... I'm sitting there, busily not looking at the freaking needle in my freaking hand (because my elbow vein is too skinny for needles lately), waiting for the anaesthesia to hit. The nurses or whatever they are are busy ignoring me, putting creepy metal tools on my chest, and waiting for the oral surgeon. He comes in, finally, and informs me that he's putting medicine in my drip, as if I couldn't figure out what "anaesthesia" means. At this point, he stabs the IV bag thing with a syringe. Then he tells me that I will feel like I'm floating, and that it's normal for the ceiling to move. 

I'm totally on board with this whole unconsciousness thing. I get dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour, all so I can go get put back to sleep. Cool! In any case, my arms started floating, which reminded me of my former roommate on NyQuil, and then I realised that the chair was gone, which reminded me of being on a roller coaster at the bottom of the drops, when your feet won't stay on the floor of the car, and I kind of panicked, but then I started laughing, and then they woke me up. 

I was not pleased to be woken up. I wanted to keep sleeping. I had gauze packets in my mouth, top and bottom, and I could hardly stand, and I was sleepy. FYI, those chairs are quite comfortable. 

I got home without falling asleep, then promptly fell asleep on the couch. 

When I woke up, I discovered that my shirt had been inside out the whole time. Then I took hydrocodone and vomited up the meager contents of my stomach immediately. As it turned out, I'm allergic to hydrocodone, which meant that I staved off massive amounts of pain with acetaminophen. Joy!

It was only supposed to take two sets of gauze packet things to stop the bleeding. It took all the gauze we had, plus about four sets of earl gray teabags because my mom was totally out of english breakfast. I hate the taste of earl gray at the best of times; it doesn't improve with blood. I still had to spit the blood into a bowl because I was bleeding that much. 

But now I'm better, other than a weird zit-like thing with lots of lovely blood and pus on one of the sockets caused, according to my dentist, by the gum healing faster than the bone, but that cleared up pretty quickly. I do have a superpower, though, and that's that spicy food doesn't bother me any more. 

Spicy food has been the bane of my existence as a vegetarian. Half the vegetarian food in the world is overly spicy, and the other half is overly bland. The other, other half is about right, but I have trouble finding it. Now, however, I can eat whatever the heck I want. 

And, as this is one heck of a post, I'm just going to end it there. 

Thirtieth Post: Solstice Special!

It is now Summer.

Summer is boring.

However, at this point the days will start getting shorter again.

Thank God for the solstice.

Unfortunately, it also means that I have three months left of "summer", with only two of them not involving school.

I almost-but-not-quite envy my cousin, and my friends at quarter schools. They actually follow the seasons. School starts at the end of September (start of fall) and ends in the middle of June (beginning of summer).

It just makes sense.

But it also makes sense to get back from school before the quarter school students, and snap up any jobs one can find.

Which, admittedly, isn't much. But we still get there first, by golly.

Suckers.

Twenty Ninth Post

Hey, y'all.

It's my summer! Has been for a week now, but that's not the point. You thought you were getting up-to-date, first-glimpse news? Well, think again.

Anyhow, it's summer.

Yep.

I'm mostly sitting around my house waiting for my job to start.

And... Yeah.

Don't expect much.

Twenty Eighth Post

Ahoy!
I did not get enough sleep last night. It was a long night.
I am not really that coherent, but "eighth" is a really weird word.
Also, hypogynous flowers have the petals below the ovary. Epigynous flowers have the petals above. Perigynous means the petals are around the middle of the ovary.
I have random shoots of knowledge in my head now. I remember bits and pieces of everything, but not really enough to say I have a good grasp on anything.
I got to do calculus yesterday- well, today, but before I slept- because my friend couldn't do it and asked me for help. I miss calculus.
This, see, is how boring I am. I think calculus is fun. Fun! FUN!
At least I'm better than the kid who hasn't slept in 72 hours. He stole my seat in biology. I was not happy. But he didn't notice my glare since he was trying to stay awake. He "sees" the shadows moving.
I was going to nap after the biology exam, but I wasn't tired anymore... so I'm just going to keep going until my karate final, at which point I will be on such an adrenaline rush that IT WON'T MATTER.
Then I'll be done with class.
Until September.
I'm just going to go hide under my bed now.

Twenty Seventh Post

I may or may not have mentioned this, but I'm in an english class. It's for a gen-ed that I need to graduate, or I would not be in it. Actually, I'm glad that I am, because I learned that I like science better and that I really don't want to have to deal with the humanities more than I have to.

The class is called "Women Writers". It is taught by a poet (I went to her poetry reading for her new book- she's not bad). Poets- real ones, not "people who have a life and also write some poems"- are not scientists.

I like scientists. I like working through physics problems more than I like dealing with people problems; I prefer mathematical formulas to crowds of people. Biology is my one exception to that, but I'm really more into the cellular and molecular levels. Things that I cannot see with my naked eye but can find scientifically or mathematically...

It's funny, really. I look at the world in a totally new light now, after a year of college. I see the light outside my window- with current I and resistance R- blocking my view of the pine trees- gymnosperms, with three generations in each seed- that sit in the parking lot. I can tell you about the chemical reactions of the batteries in my drawer, and about the effectiveness of the bleach wipes against bacteria. I can move in such a way that, if my hands and feet encountered a person, that person could die. I see all this as a product of the efforts of countless women before me.

I am really not a feminist. The word has extremely negative connotations for me, evoking images of anti-men, bra-burning crazies. I am a very conservative person. I like it when boys open the door for me, and I fully intend to get married someday to a nice man who will safeguard me because that's what men are supposed to do. It's how they're made.

At the same time, I am realising that my being able to go to college and take courses in maths and sciences is the direct result of some crazy women. It's the radicals who make things happen. Were I born in another era, changes would not happen because of me. I have come to respect the radicals, even if I don't agree with their ideas or methods. That's not the point. I have a grudging respect for the fact that because of them, I am able to wear jeans and a t-shirt whenever I want. No skirt if I don't want it. I don't have to take courses that are deemed appropriate for women. I can take any course I want, be anything I want to be when I grow up.

This respect for the radicals is the result of my english class. It's shocking, I know, but the diversity credit really did end up broadening my view of the world.

But now that class is almost over, and all I have to do now is come up with a presentation, write a five-page paper, and read a poem out loud.

There is one thing that I hate more than people, and it's reading my own poems out loud (I am one of those "people who have a life and also write some poems", or would be if I had a life). This may very well be the hardest final of my life.

Okay, so that wasn't a horribly boring post. But my first year of college will be over soon, and I am looking back on it with some nostalgia already.

Twenty Sixth Post

Ah, the joys of a university with a semester system. I get out of school before my high school's prom, for crying out loud.

It's weird.

Granted, I'm just a freshman, but I'm also 16 days away from my last final.

This is a good thing. It signals the last physics final of my life, possibly the last time I ever have to read a poem out loud in front of 25 other people, most of whom I don't really know, and the first of many chemistry finals. I have no doubt that my situation will not improve in the chemistry department, but it really can't get any better than not reading poems out loud and not taking physics.

Scratch that, it can. I could not be in a class with stupid people.

Have I posted about stupid people? I might have. I shan't rant for too long.

But seriously, have you (i.e., the amorphous cloud of readers that doesn't exist, other than some brazilian agency checking to see if my site is "up or down". I think they might have interns, personally. Really, really bored interns.) ever had a class with a stupid person? They are the ones who ask the questions that everyone else quietly answers in their head or by looking in the book. Or that would be answered within ten minutes even if they had not asked. At the 100-level classes, the professors don't actually assume that you know everything. They assume you read the material, which may or may not be true, but they do not assume you are a clairvoyant genius. That, I believe, comes later. For guys, it might come when you get married.

Ahem.

Also, sorry about that parenthetical paragraph in the middle of my sentence. But it's after 23:00 on a tuesday night, and this week is only going to get longer. Deal with it.

Speaking of longer week, a leadership class containing a close friend from church and school who now goes here is running an awareness/money raising event for Haiti. "Goats and Magic and Get Hungry For Haiti!" or something to that effect. I am participating in the two-day fast (Get Hungry) and going to the magic show because I don't actually do anything on Friday nights. The fast is from Wednesday lunch- if it cuts me off before my english toffee latte and raspberry scone, there will be consequences- to Friday dinner. Nothing from the dining hall, the cafe, or the coffee shop. Luckily, I have been stocking up on orange juice. I can live on it for limited amounts of time. And they're giving us rice.

Very civil of them, really. If they're going to take away meal plans, the least they can do is give me rice. I am decidedly fond of rice, especially with properly-done stir fry or in decent fried rice. But plain rice will suffice in lieu of food.

Likewise, they're giving us Starbucks ®, ™, ©, or whatever should follow a company branding. Not really sure, but I don't want them to sue me. I have no money. But I suspect that its just black coffee, which, I may have stated on a previous post, gives me a hangover. No need to get into that.

Really, what I need to get into is writing a paper that is due in a week and a half, doing a research project that is due in a week, or preparing for any number of classes in the morning. (For the record, I already did and gave up on physics homework)

With that in mind, I will cease typing my heart out to the cold, uncaring internet.

Cheers.

Twenty Fifth Post

The last semester of this year is nearly half way done. I'm a little bewildered by this, since friends at other schools are on quarters and shan't be out until mid to late June. I, on the other hand, will be out in mid May. Wow.

This of course means that I have to actually finish things up earlier than my other-school counterparts. I plan to convince my parents to invest in scone-making ingredients, since scones are my favourite breakfast foods. I think I'll have a harder time convincing them to get an espresso machine so that I can have my white chocolate mochas and raspberry lattes, though.

(cue heavy sigh)

It will be nice to be home, away from the girl-drama that has overtaken my hall. I myself am caught up in a bit of it, with an irritating boy who refuses to leave me alone dogging my footsteps. I use dogging here as an insult; a look at my profile will reveal my profile picture to be a cat. That is because I love cats and hate dogs.

In any case, I'm conflicted about the whole going home thing. I will definitely miss my friends and the pre-paid coffee and scones, but I will not miss the current misery bug that seems to be going around.

To all you quarter students, I pity you. And almost envy you, since you're done with quarters at breaks. However, I have class in 9 hours and must get some rest. Abschied.