commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (Default)
I hate feeling stuck. Like I'm not being allowed to make any decisions for myself.

Roommate just backtracked on possibly getting rid of the cat we have that doesn't get along with anybody else. Like, no discussion.

She decides we don't get rid of the mean one that shits in the bathtub, she decides we have to get rid of my kittens, she decided I still can't put my treadmill in the garage because she was "eventually going to put [her] car in there" even though that's been her reason for three years and she's never done it, she decided she was going to spur of the moment get a dog (and then not train it for shit -- seriously, everything this dog knows is because of me; if it were up to her, she'd just let it hang around like a house ornament or something idk), and she decided I don't get to go home on my fucking vacation because I have to stay home and watch her animals.

I'm really tempted to just drive home as soon as my break starts. I'll take my kittens, maybe even the two grownup!kittens that I love to death (but that are still hers), and she can just deal. Figure it out herself.

I'm fucking tired of being told what to do.
commotiocordis: (XG)
HAHAHAHAHA, and when it rains.

It turns out I'm not going home this weekend because Dad's surgery got postponed because he apparently (for the first time ever even getting a slightly funny result) failed the chemical cardiac stress test.

Right around the same time that my mother failed a mammogram. (Which, you know, significantly less worrying, but she is around that age.)

So tomorrow, instead of surgery, Mom's got to get a spot compression mammogram and Dad's going to a cardiologist to see if he can get cleared; otherwise (and chances are) he's going to have to go on blood thinners (hahahahaha) to prevent throwing a clot (hahahahaha) and then the surgery is postponed indefinitely and they'll have to just go ahead with the chemo first.

I mean, I guess it's super good that they caught whatever (idk, probably just arterial blockage) before he was symptomatic, because his mom had her first stroke at 50 and he's what, like 56 now, but this is just kind of a lot right now.


In kitten news, this means [personal profile] sixgunsound's mom is coming down instead to pick up the kids and take them to get checked out. I guess it's going to be just see if they can hear a murmur and then maybe consider more imaging from there, because it's fucking expensive. I find that I SUPER DO NOT WANT to let them go anywhere without me right now in that bereaved parent sort of way. Also, dear self: if you could manage to not start crying again every 10 minutes, that'd be good. That headache you get from crying is a bitch.
commotiocordis: (butterfly)
AGH and this is an irregular installment in I-generally-only-write-in-here-when-bad-things-happen.

TL;DR -- kitten died; I am le sad. )
commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (sadMerlin)
Had been putting the cats in my brother's room when I went to bed, but he was asleep, so I decided to leave them out without supervision for the first time.

MISTAKE.

I'd brought my lizards home in a big plastic shoebox-style container because we were flea-bombing the house in Springfield. Cats can apparently get into those.

Found both of them, and Fifteen doesn't look like there's anything particularly wrong with him (but internally, idk). But somebody got a hold of Steve McQueen--minor toothy/clawy-looking abrasions, but there's some kind of prolapsed rectum thing going on now, which suggests he got squeezed.

CHOICES:
1. Wait and put him in this isotonic solution thing the internet suggests and watch. Hope it goes down by itself, but probably he dies anyway from whatever squeezing caused that to happen.
2. Try and sort of reduce it by hand (for which there are no instructions on the internet, fucking backwater herp breeders who don't share their knowledge). Chance actually killing him faster, and he still probably dies anyway from whatever squeezing caused that to happen.
3. Ignore everything and not ever look at the box again to pretend it's not happening.

I really really really want three to actually work.
----------

Continued.

Tried isotonic thing. Tried sort of reducing it by hand. Nothing. He's still moving around and stuff, but called two four animal hospitals that have herp vets only to be told that nobody is in today, fuck.

Also, frugal!me can't stomach taking him to the vet especially if all they'll do is put him down, because that's going to cost a fuckton of money. Even though I'm pretty sure Mom's going to cover it (she's doing all the calling and stuff because I keep crying like I'm PMSing a week and a half early, idefk), I feel guilty.

And I know that trying to fix it is going to be ridiculously expensive, because anesthesia + suture + possibly also needling the bubble and/or cutting his vent open a bit more is definitely considered surgery, no matter how pretty much minor. But, I mean, jfc. If I had a way to knock him out, I'd so give it a try myself, because I've got a reptile surgery textbook, LOL, and I know the theory probably better than a non-herp vet would. I don't have the sutures, though, nor a decent sterilized blade here if I needed to cut his vent open. Could drain the bubble with just a syringe, but I don't have the antibiotics I'd need to give him after to make sure it doesn't turn into peritonitis. This happens all the time to lizards, just not usually from trauma, so any herp vet who's been in business more than two weeks has probably fixed twelve of them.
----------

Continued continued.

So. Pushing 9 hours after I finally found them. Steve's still doing okay, I still haven't slept and keep being inappropriately torn up about this (I mean, jfc, I wasn't this bad when my dog died--but I suppose I just came home and found out he was dead after a day of being sort of sick, rather than this agonizing knowing what's wrong and not being able to fix it for hours and hours on no sleep and a really shitty weekend to begin with), and I've called every recommended herp vet on every list I can find and several animal hospitals just to ask if they had one and nobody's in until Monday morning.

He'll probably make it that long, but by then it'll most likely be too late to fix anything if the bowel is ischemic, so I feel like it's kind of not worth putting him through it. It doesn't look like he's in distress, but how the fuck do you tell with a lizard, you know?

I want to just leave both lizards here and let my parents take care of it, either take him someplace on Monday or just do whatever. More me feeling like a wimp, because I'm 20 years old and can't handle a dying lizard for fuck's sake, and more me feeling guilty but I don't think I can bring just one of them back with me. I'm in that "I'd rather not have any animals if it means I have to go through this again" stage, and the one who's (hopefully--for all I know, she's actually hurt worse and just not showing it) not hurt is the one who's pushing the average lifespan of a gecko anyway.

But even then, I have to walk around the house for the rest of the day today and tomorrow in this same sympathetic agony because he's running around in a box on the table probably in immense pain. I'd almost rather it have a resolution today so maybe I could chill the fuck out, but also very much do not want, because if I just hear about it when I'm back in Springfield, the acute pain is lessened.

I don't understand why I'm being this torn up about it other than it's just been a really really crappy break/week/semester and this is it all finally breaking through. I want to be able to just go to sleep and forget about it all, but minus significant quantities of alcohol (which do not have, as I'm at home), I'm not seeing that happening--it's 12:40pm and I didn't get to sleep at all last night and only got a few hours of sleep the night before (since my room is in the basement and I get woken up every time somebody walks through the front room, which means definitely by 6am when people start getting ready for school) and yet the only symptom of "tired" I have is this ridiculous weepyness.
commotiocordis: (XG)
So much to do. Doing none of it.

Quiz in molecular cell biology in 9ish hours (yes, it's 5am). Homework for computer class due by midnight tonight, paper for health law class due midnight Sunday (though I actually started that one today, OMG). Molecular cell biology test on Monday. Organic lab writeup due Tuesday, as well as pre-lab and actually, you know, doing the lab on Tuesday. Not to mention I didn't go to volunteer at the hospital at all this week--I only need 10 more hours and I have all of April to get them, and it's not like they actually need me around anyway, but I feel bad because technically I'm supposed to be there twice a week, and I've been trying to make it at least once--so that's 6 hours gone on Tuesday and probably no sleep the night before because I leave so early. Then, molecular cell biology lab book I haven't been keeping (no one has, and the teacher knows it, but I'm fairly sure he's a massive dick) due Wednesday. And at 8:30 on Wednesday, an organic chem test that's cumulative over the material I didn't learn for the last test because that's right around when Dad was going in for surgery, the material I didn't retain from the first exam, and the material from the massive amount of classes I haven't made it to these past few weeks because of this sleep failure I've been having.

Like I said, it's now 5:15 and I'm awake. I'm pretty much one of those people who needs to tip over and lie down on the spot when I feel tired or the tiredness passes. My circadian rhythm is still a 30ish hour cycle if left alone, so if I got a solid 6 or 8 hours of sleep (rare, but it happens), it's about 24 hours from the time I woke up that I'm really tired again.

Also, I'm just starting my period, which makes me ruminative and mopey and depression!exhausted, and much more prone to mope and consider suicide than study. Somehow my organic chem teacher has for two semesters now managed to schedule every one of his tests while I'm on my period just to make my life miserable. I should really find drugs for that, especially because I think I might be able to blame hormone stuff for the weird shift in my acne (it's worse, as well as on my back in crazy amounts for the first time ever) and incessant weight gain (yes, I will never stop harping about that because I'm about 5 pounds from officially being "overweight" again even though I've tried everything short of full-blown <400kcal/day uberlow diet to not even lose weight [though by this point, I want to] but just stop gaining it) but me and birth control did not mix well (morning sickness and weight gain).

So idk. Mope. I swore I was going to finish this health law paper tonight and probably do some of my lab too, but nope. I got mopey, and then I trolled LJ to cease aforementioned mopey, and then I updated my extended info and made a playlist on Facebook, and now I'm considering not going to orgo again today and trying to go to sleep now instead. But I'm afraid that because I didn't go to sleep until noonish yesterday, there's no chance I'd get to sleep before the quiz in molecular cell bio at 2 and I'd just be wasting time by trying--unless I'm going on 36h without sleep, it takes a good long while of lying down quietly for me to get to sleep, which majorly eats in to my productive time when I've got this much work to do. Plus, when I'm trying to sleep before some kind of appointment (like aforementioned quiz), I autonomously wake up every 15 minutes to see if it's time to go yet.

Basically, I fail. It doesn't help that I've been very *wants to write fics* lately even if they're not coming out of my head fully formed enough to do anything with, because that's another distraction and one that doesn't come along that often, so I hate to waste these spats of desire to be fannish.

Graaargh. Must pee, but navigating kitten barriers and trying to stop mama!cat from running out of the bathroom as soon as you open the door and then navigating kittens themselves once in the bathroom is a hassle, so I keep putting it off until I have to dance over aforementioned kitten barriers holding my crotch like a 3 year old. Excuse to quit whinging, I think so.

*chooses icon that looks most like what I wish to be doing atm*
commotiocordis: (RDJude)
OKAY SO OMIGOD DREAM.

This was some weird shit.

It started with me somewhere public-ish. A mall, I think, but it was relatively deserted (not for any malicious reason, just that there happened to be only a few other people passing through that section of hall at that moment). But then all of a sudden, there were all these armed swat-team types around me. Huge guns, people shouting, and the impression that they were going to either kill or take me away and lock me up in some tiny little dungeon (a la UNIT and Toshiko Sato). I still have no idea what I did, but there's the general impression overall that it's a science-related/for-your-protection thing (like I was a scientist that they were going to need later in this war that hadn't broken out yet but they knew was going to, so I just ended up sitting around and being guarded. Idk, but it was definitely not that I was a bad guy, just more that they'd rather kill me than have me fall into the wrong hands. Look at me be all self-important in my dreams, LOL).

So they're surrounding me with guns and chaos, and I'm all "I DEMAND THAT YOU TAKE ME TO THE UNITED NATIONS IN ACCORDANCE WITH GENEVA CONVENTION ARTICLE 2-point-some random number!!one!" Because I want me some civil treatment, kthx.

And then they do. Or idk. There's a jump in the dream there. And then I'm in this room; it seems like a sort of hotel room, but very small and greyish walls. It's really just a giant bed with a giant TV on the wall at the foot of it, with the door on the right side of the little strip of open floor between the foot of the bed and the wall with the TV. Definitely not guys surrounding me with guns anymore, and the treatment improves from here on in, so I have to assume I'm with the good-er guys now.

And then we get to the even weirder part. CHRIS PINE COMES IN. No lie. Don't know if he was C-Fine the actor or a character in the dream who was just being played by him in my head (I have no idea why he was allowed in my cell thing; there is no logic in this dream), but I definitely identified him as Chris even while I was asleep. Okay. Then even weirder. We're together or some such, because then begins hetsecks. I KNOW, RIGHT? My second sex dream ever, and it's not even Jude Law, who I'm nurturing this epic crush on right now, but Chris Pine (who I sekritly sort of think is goofy looking, but was hot in my dream).

So right. That happens, even if it ended sort of . . . prematurely, iykwim. I mean, there wasn’t the feeling that I was disappointed or anything; it was like that’s what I expected to happen, but there wasn’t any actual, erm, sexing. It was more of . . . oh, fuck it. I was lying back, and he straddled my legs sitting up, and I jerked him off. There. TMI? Yeah, probably, but I’m trying to get everything I remember about this one down, because I’m still not sure where it came from.

As a side note, it’s really interesting to me that my subconscious hasn’t realized that I’m bisexual. Or, to be more accurate, sexually bisexual (if that makes sense). Two dreams something like 4-5 years apart isn’t exactly a scientific sample, but it’s interesting that though I have dreams where I’m cuddly or get the feeling that I’m in a relationship with women, I’ve never actually sexed one in a dream, and this is two guys now. (ETA: Three, if you count the weird short one I had during a nap the same day as the long one! What is with me today?!)

Anyway, so after that, Chris starts flipping through the TV’s movie menu—I’ve never used PPV TV in my life, but the menu setup here was sort of like “cover flow” on mp3 players, if that makes sense. Titles and prices were listed top to bottom, and you could sort of scroll like spinning a wheel, and the title in the center was expanded for the cover shot and synopsis and runtime and stuff. I don’t recall more than the few specific titles that were mentioned, but in retrospect, they were in weird order, because there were movie series where we passed by the first early and had to scroll much farther for the 2nd or 3rd. And the prices were freaking insane. We’re talking $5,738 for The Blind Side. Older movies were cheaper—there were $68 ones (still insane, but comparatively speaking, that’s nothing). I happened to see Galaxy Quest 3 scroll by, and I hadn’t seen that before (because, you know, it doesn’t exist), so he picks that for me. I found him quite gallant, XD! But something goes wrong, and a different movie starts playing--Beauty and the Beast. (I think this one may be because 2ish weeks ago, I found this B&tB kids’ computer game I played on DOS when I was a lot younger and finally managed to beat it. Both the finding and the beating were quite exciting—there’s one minigame in it that’s hard for a kids’ program; I was playing on easy and still lost and had to start all over the first time.)

Somehow, it turns out it’s my sister’s fault. This almost-14 year old girl somehow managed to switch the movie that was going to play in this hotel-cum-cell thing. She had picked the wrong one somehow--the menu was just a menu, and selecting a movie just sent the request out and then a person had to intervene to get it playing, apparently. There was a question as to whether she misclicked or thought that was the one I wanted, but was apologetic (in that 13 year old “Gah! I’m sorry” sort of way) when I told her that we had to pay for these (why she wouldn’t know that if she was “behind the curtain” so to speak is more evidence of logiclessness).

The sister thing was apparently the segue into the fact that it turned out that we eventually (Chris was still with me) moved into my parents’ house somewhere (it wasn’t a room that actually existed, but the kitchen and back yard and stuff confirmed it as home). It was a time jump again, but control by the handler guys they had looking after us (it was obviously much more protection than anything else by now) had loosened, and I was allowed to go outside, and into my own backyard without supervision. It was an awesome day, weather-wise, and I played with our puppies. I thought about how I could pretty easily escape if I wanted to, but I’d only have at most an hour or two’s head start before they noticed I was gone because I was still under surveillance, and it was better to let them do what they wanted because it wasn’t a huge interference in my life by now anyway, and I’d rather keep it like it is than have it go back to the cellish place I was at the beginning. When I came back in, I puttered around in the kitchen and one of the handlers came up the stairs (which are right on the kitchen in my house) from the basement, thus revealing that in this latest dream!period of time, the current handlers had set up and were living in my basement.

Another time jump. Now, we’re in Springfield. There’s only one handler down there with C-Fine and I because it’s considered less of a target city (where in St. Louis, there were a bazillion and one on different shifts), but it’s time to go back up to St. Louis. We were in the airport in Springfield (which I’ve never seen, but judging as how it handles very little traffic, my brain made into a pretty cramped building with one ticket/customer service desk next to an escalator that led up to several boarding gates) trying to find out how much it would cost to get a ticket to St. Louis. Chris and I figured that we could convince the handlers that it was safer (less transit time along sometimes pretty deserted highways with only one handler/protector guy) and probably not too much more expensive. Because we figured why not try to get a flight out of this whole inconvenient deal.

And then I woke up. I’d set my alarm way earlier than I actually needed to, though, which sucked, because I would have loved to find out what happened next. I get good, memorable dreams so rarely that something like this is really awesome for me. I had another 40ish minutes I ended up trying to go back to sleep for, but only actually fell asleep for part of it and couldn’t get the dream pulled back up anyway, but I sort of expected as much.

ETA continued from above: BUT THEN. When I got back from class, I putzed around the computer and stuff, then took a nap before I had to go do my volunteerything at the hospital (apparently, my reactions to TB tests would like you to believe I’ve never so much as seen La Boheme—which I have, thankyouverymuch, but I’m so unreactive you can barely see a bit of redness where I was poked). And in said nap was ANOTHER DREAM. As this was a short nap, there was very little detail I gleamed and basically no events except for one and OMG IT WAS HORRIFYING. We were in Grimmauld Place (before we get too much further, let me admit that I’ve been reading almost exclusively Harry Potter fic in the last two or three weeks, so this one is in basic setting a bit more understandable) and I was Harry Potter. In the first, long one with Chris Pine, I was myself, so this was odd. Maybe I wasn’t him, because he was still him, but I was seeing things through his perspective (like when Harry!Nagini bit Arthur Weasley, yaknow?) or something? Whatevs. Then the weird part. I don’t remember much setup, but basically Harry got seduced by Voldemort.

And then they were kinda sexing. Or, rather, more of a prelude to it. Making out and grinding.

I KNOW, WHAT THE FUCK, RIGHT? A., I am not Harry Potter, nor (though it would be FUCKING AWESOME) are Harry Potter and I psychically connected a la Harry and Voldemort. B., Even if I were or were connected to Harry Potter, I hardly think I/he would be smexing up Voldemort. C., WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY BRAIN?

That is all.
commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (Default)
Here's a thrilling story of escape and capture.

Some doofus left the lizard cage partially open day before yesterday. Wasn't me.

Skinnylizard, also known as Chaaarlie and from now on, Steve McQueen, who spends much of his time climbing up the cage implements and trying to stretch high enough to reach the top of the cage, naturally took advantage of this.

The cage is on top of a cabinet on the far, erm, right side of the house (if you're outside looking at the front door). He made it 4 feet down off the cabinet onto the wood floor, across the entire front room, through the dining room, and almost all the way to the far left side of the house (and about 1/3 of the way toward the back of the house) to the refrigerator, where he was trying to sneak in between the cabinet and the fridge to get behind it when my parents happened to be walking in there and saw him.

Seriously, how lucky was that? If he'd gotten behind there, we'd never have known where to find him. Ditto if he went the only 10 feet or so in the other direction after he got down towards the not-really-used closet that's got tons of nooks and crannies because all kinds of crap is in there. I mean, if he'd decided he'd found a good hiding place anywhere before somebody spotted him, that would have been it.

Plus, how the hell did he manage the 4 feet down from the cabinet? I would have expected him to die from that, not be so uninjured as to be able to scurry 40 feet or so.

Course, looking at him today, he looks a little more blind than before (he's not blinking very much), so perhaps not entirely without consequence.

/story.
commotiocordis: (QPicard)
Picspam!

Shoes. )

And I was trying to get pictures of the lizards because they're adorable, but it's daytime when I'm taking these, right, so they're asleep. But not for long. Curious Lizard is the one we adopted year before last or so, a month or two after the other lizard, who's either named 13 or 15 (I'd have to look to check--the siblings think the first two we got have stupid names like Liz and Rainbow, but one's head markings looked like a 15 and the other like a 13, so I thought that was a more concise way of identifying them. Like Borg. Or Cylons.) lost its partner to eating too much gravel. As a result, he (whose previous owner named him Chaaarlie, but I tend to refer to with various affectionate names like Buddy or Curious Lizard or Idiot) is much much smaller than the other one. He's also pretty blind and I think rather narcoleptic, so he's hilarious to watch. We bonded when the combination of these factors lead to him not getting enough to eat when we fed both of them together (also because he was used to eating just a few crickets every few days rather than a lot every few weeks like the older one is) and being really really really skinny, and I had to hand feed him for a bit to fatten him back up.

Some of the hilarity comes from the aforementioned fact that he was used to eating every few days. He looks for food all the time (also prolly because he's younger than the other one) and thus is much more entertaining. Except scary, because he tries to climb up the walls of the cage but can't and falls down, sometimes into painful-looking positions. That's the biggest reason I'm afraid to bring him down to Springfield with me, is that I've gotten rather attached and I don't want to see him break himself in half when he tries another leap for food and folds down behind some piece of tank apparatus. He already popped his ear membrane thing recently, I think (the lighting's not the best in the cage as it's not itself lit, but I'm pretty sure there was blood in one of his ears), and he scarfed up the top of his head sliding down past someplace so I had to put antibiotic ointment on the scab on the top of his head for a while.

But because he's younger, he's also rather more adaptable (except for this cage climbing thing). When I put some mealworms in a dish in the cage for them because I was still involved in operation Fatten Skinnylizard Up, the older one still always lunged for them like she had to strike at the crickets before they went away. He learned after just 2 or 3 that he could get his face way up close and just sort of grab it. Though this may also have to do with that he's sort of blind. They both come and look right at me adorably sometimes (when they're awake) when I'm sitting in the chair next to the tank, though, all "OMG, it's the big mass of reddish color. Maybe this means FOOD."

Anyway. Picspam. This camera is horrible. It doesn't focus, it takes 10 seconds to take a picture, etc. etc. It's decent for pictures at a certain distance when you don't have to hurry, but anything else (meaning the stuff I like to do) it doesn't work for. That's why it's good it's Kaci's. This is a series. They are blurry and annoying, but I thought Curious Lizard earned his name with this set too well for me to delete them.

Curious Lizard )
commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (Default)
Got an email from my Biomolecular Interactions professor telling everybody to sign up for the online class. . . idk, document repository and grade report thing. It's still got stuff from last year up, which I'm pulling off and looking at (from fall as well as spring, which leads me to hope that he leaves at least one of them up all year for studying purposes) and this guy looks pretty awesome. I'm excited. It's my major's department, the same one as the genetics class from last fall that I loved (though a lot of that was because I love genetics as a topic), and there seems to be quite a variance in teaching methods in the syllabus. Papers, quizzes, tests, articles to bring home and read, group work (blech on that one, if only because I tend to fail at. . . making friends), some thing entitled "service project," which really intrigues me.

--thought sidetrack ("That would have been hard last year; I'll have to have a car to do any kind of service anywhere.") I do not know what (if!) car I'm taking to Springfield. Except that it's not the van nor either of my parents' cars. Which means it's the red car, which, while I love it, cannot do highways for extended periods of time. I jog from one exit by the Walmart to the next by my house sometimes on the highway just so I don't have to deal with traffic lights, and it's not happy getting up to 60. Most of that drive to school is 70, and I'll be damned if it's going to take me 8385673 hours because I have to take backroads. Plus, no cruise control. Plus, (and this is the biggest plus) no air conditioning. And I can't exactly open the windows on the highway unless I want to get negative 48 mpg.

I was rather seriously looking into if it would go on the Cash for Clunkers barely-masked-extra-auto-industry-bailout thing that I'm paying $3 billion into, but no. Even though in practical driving (I've measured) it gets comparatively shitty gas mileage (for that little thing. I wonder if something's wrong, because Dad says he's gotten mid 30s when he was driving it when we first got it, but all I get is 22), it's not shitty enough according to their records. And because of this hugely popular car trade-in program, nobody'll give me anything for it for a good while until after the program's done. Oh, and plus it's not actually my car, so it's not like the parentals would let me keep any money I got from trading it in. Details.

--end thought sidetrack. *scrolls up to read what the hell she was actually talking about*
Oh yes. Besides the fact that the lab is back to back with my organic chemistry lab (fuck. me.) adding up to my 9 to 6 or 7 school day on Mondays, it looks interesting. I'm the kind of kid that's always been fine with the straight up lecture courses if you make me interested (meaning the plethora of amazing history teachers I've had), but the stuff I really retain? Let's look at the abnormal psych course that I got some 99% in this spring without buying the book much less reading it, all because I had fun in my AP psych class 3.5 years prior. A bit less so, but ditto to 2 years ago's AP economics that I remember much more than I ever would have expected (meaning. . . more than 0. I'm not good with it, but I can tell that it would take 15 seconds of refresher to bring it all back) considering that I couldn't give a flying fruitbat about econ and was only taking it because I'd pretty much exhausted the school's offerings and it was the only prerequisite-less AP course I hadn't yet taken.


As usual, this was a few days ago. New stuff.

I met Ianto!kitten and he is adorable. [livejournal.com profile] bleakone and my house is going to be a freaking menagerie. Yay for this.

I got some of the most awesome shoes ever today. AND THEY DON'T FIT. So pissed off, as that was the only size they had in the store and natch, my sister got one too and they fit her. Going to have to try to shop them around to the other branches (dad says the storelady said that there were three of the same stores within 15 miles, though he got them in the first place so I couldn't even tell you what store it was) and try to swap up. They're like Chucks or whatnot, that canvasy style, in black, BUT KNEE HIGH BOOTS. It's like 10th Doctor went through a sex change machine and all his clothes got changed as well, this is how awesome. And they're $80-something normally and he bought them for $30, which is way more than I would ever, ever spend on shoes, but Dad gets pissed off when I talk about returning things he bought for me because he thinks I don't like it rather than it's just me being obsessively cheap, so after he huffed for the first time I quickly made it seem that it was just because they didn't fit rather than because OMG$30SHOES and that they didn't fit, hence why I now have to look up where those other stores are. And hope he didn't pitch the receipt (like usual). Kind of hard to look up when I have no idea where, though, so that'll have to wait.

Also spent the better part of the last few days looking for cars on Craigslist. Emailed a couple of people, and here's a shoutout to the lady that was all honest-like and told me that the car she had wasn't for me (I mentioned that I was leaving in a few weeks) because though the part it needed replaced was a cheap replacement (which was all my googling had found me re: the problem the listing said it had), it was lodged between the engine and the transmission, so not an easy fix. I like that she told me that so much that I kind of want to show the listing+email to dad and ask him what he thinks--he fixes all of the cars everything by himself (plus the kids as his bitches, naturally), so it might not be impossible, and I think it was otherwise a decent car for like $700.

ETA: Oh, except that I deleted the email yesterday and it's not in my trash anymore. Oh well. Cheaper to just put a cruise control on the red car like I want to.

There was a millipede (or some such many-legged fellow) on my bed a moment ago. Such are the perils of living in the basement. So I caught it and stuck it in a plastic bag that was within arm's reach. And bit some air holes in the very top and set it down to show people in the morning. Only to realize a few minutes later that it turns out I didn't need the air holes anyway, as half of one side of the bag was split open. So now there's a millipede on my floor somewhere. If it crawls anywhere on my body, though, I cannot be responsible for what my reflexes do.
commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (Mommies)
Playing around with makeup like a little kid, LOL. I do it so rarely that I can never get it to work out how I want to without hours of messing with it on the day of. I always notice that my eyes look better the day after, though, so for a while now I've figured I'll do eyeliner and stuff now and sleep in it (I'll prolly go blind or something, but it's not like it's a more than twice a year thing) and it'll look decent with only a little touch up the day after.

Nail polish fail, though. The nail painting thing I do maybe twice a year also (more in the elementary years, less lately), and I bought some new black tonight (because that's usually one of the few I wear). The brush is def. in line for the worst engineering ever contest. You dip it and the paint doesn't funnel down to the brush, but hangs out on the stick and drips on your hand. Twice. But the polish is amazing, so even though I wiped it off immediately, there are still black streaks on my left palm and right pinky. Must find remover before we leave (in like 5 hours max). Also because I fail at application of nail polish (see above re: makeup), and it's all over my fingers anyway.

But, the recent upswing of nail polishing (it started with just once, but then that polish didn't chip away cleanly, so I just had Kaci redo it, and then I was Bellatrix, so she did it again because it fit, and then I was bored in her room waiting for a game to load, and then they were plain for a while until just now) and chewing gum being on sale at the grocery store means that just like this time last year when I'd had the gum transplant and was afraid to bite my nails in case I'd stick a finger in the wrong way and rip the thing off, I've actually got some nailage. That only lasted a couple of weeks into the school year last year (and I'd started probably two weeks later), so we'll see.

Something I found while Wikipedia jumping (looking up the type of cat that [livejournal.com profile] bleakone might be getting:
Myiasis (pronounced /ˈmaɪəsɨs/ or /maɪˈaɪəsɨs/) is an animal or human disease caused by parasitic dipterous fly larvae feeding on the host's necrotic or living tissue.
Click on the word. Look at the picture.

JESUS CHRIST I'M NEVER OPENING MY EYES OUTSIDE AGAIN.

And now, after somehow getting to talking animals on Wikipedia, I'm now watching Youtube vids of frolicking baby elephants. Yay.
commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (Default)
Re: Rick Warren. What's next, James Dobson to preform next year's Red Mass? Seriously. Sure, he's not going to be doing anything official in the administration (as far as we know), but this indicates that Warren's got more than a little influence over Obama, which is not a good thing when you consider that according to Wikipedia, this guy has stated that homosexuality is an intolerable, unnatural way of life and thus not a human right, denounced evolution, and compared atheists to Mao, Stalin and Pol Pot.

Got home after exercising and spending hours between Big Lots (where I just took a while), Wal-Mart (where I stood in the express line for 20 minutes, because the cashier kept letting this guy try his denied credit card over and over and fiddling with the computer and such), and then Shop N Save. Got fat free hot dogs at the last, which I didn't realize I'd been missing until I was in [livejournal.com profile] bleakone's room last week and her roommate made a veggie dog and my stomach practically did backflips with the longing (as the fat free ones taste similar, prolly because their meat content has been cut down to "has been on the same refrigerated grocery shelf as meat" levels). Reason I went to the other two, though, was looking for an electric warming throw blanket thing for my mom for Christmas. Turns out that Dad had just checked for in-store availability and didn't see that it said that they weren't in stock at our local Wal-Mart, and so assumed that they were, when really it was just that the local one wasn't listed at all because they never carry it.

Grades come out Monday, as they're all due from the teachers before 5pm, I think, Saturday. Which is why a lot of them were pushing up the finals to the week before, as that's earlier than usual for them and they didn't think they could get them all graded that quickly, I suppose. I see it with some of the more populous classes (some kind of psych 101, or my gym class, even though that was all done electronically so there was no physical grading for the final), but my mythology teacher has what, 60 students total? 19 in my class, though that's an honors section, and her other two are more specialized, upper-division (I think one's graduate) courses, so I presume that it'd be the same or less. She only pushed one of hers up, but maybe that one required a more grading-intensive final than ours (which was in the second-to-last time slot of all the finals, I'm fairly sure) did; essays or something.

Anyway, that mythology final was bad. I'm fairly pissed about that. I'd thought (and others had agreed to the point of overtly encouraging me to stop working on the older Ovid stuff during breakfast right before and study Odysseus--LOL, all of a sudden I wonder if that was purposeful) that most of the final would be over the parts of The Odyssey we hadn't been tested over yet, with 50% at most of comprehensive material. Nope. This was the third test that contained Odyssey material (1 & 2 were all Ovid, 3 was half and half, and 4 was all Odyssey and Oresteia), and yet Ovid was easily 80, maybe 90% of it. The only bits of the Trojan War stories (Odyssey, Oresteia) were in a 10 or so question matching section at the bottom of the 4th page of the test, matching names to identities and one "identify the myth in this picture" thing. And Wednesday night, what did I do but finish the Odyssey instead of studying the Ovid myths. So I used to be able to say that I was getting an A in everything but gym. Fairly sure that's no longer the case, as this was a good 25% of my grade that I'd be surprised if I pulled a C on. It's hard, because I know I know most of the stories so if you just prompted me a bit, I would be all "Oh, and then [blah]". It's tough to do the matching then, too, because you can't tell if you recognize these two items as a pair because they go together, or because you just know both stories, or because one's a family member of the name that really fits with the story and that's why you're connecting the two (because everything's intertwined somehow in Ovid--the man's king of "Oh, and speaking of" transitions), etc., if that makes any sense.

Slight oddness tonight. More in my reaction of a perception of weirdness than the actual thing. Was hanging out in the kitchen, fixing one of my newly purchased hot dogs, when I heard my dad talking to Mom's rabbit. Okay. I'm not really a fan of that animal, but whatever. I look around the little island bit that separates the kitchen from the dining room (which is in turn connected to the living room, where the rabbit's cage is), and he's down there next to the cage petting it. It's not that my dad's an unnafectionate fellow, or dislikes animals or whatnot (he championed the original adoption of Rascal as well as probably every other animal we've had in the house save the rabbit), so I'm not sure if I was just projecting my dislike for the rabbit (I'm not sure where that comes from, whether it bit me a few too many times or what, but I'm just not a fan) onto him, but it surprised me. In a very pleasant-surprise sort of way, as it was quite. . . idk, touching. He was uber gentle (I spelled that "gentile" at first, and then went "LOL, Christmas"), and yet I suppose because of his size or whatnot, the rabbit was still scared (I feel like I've written about this situation almost exactly before because I felt the same way then--shall have to peruse my tags and see if I'm not just deja vu-ing). I don't know. It was touching, okay? Something about it being a rabbit, too; I'd see him petting Rascal with no such out-of-place feeling. Maybe it was the combination of rabbit + him having to squat way down to be anywhere near where he could reach the cage on the floor + talking to it (in not a crazy way) that sort of created this dichotomy of rabbit/giant human (saving my mild, occasional feelings of paternal intimidation for future exploration, LOL) that was cool to see.

Too much analysis, way too late at night. Without classes, I've evidently shifted back to my up-all-night cycle within all of two days. CIRCADIAN RHYTHM, WHY ARE YOU BATSHITCRAZY?
commotiocordis: (QPicard)
It's time for another exciting segment of DID YOU KNOW?

Capybara meat is permitted to be eaten during the Catholic season of Lent. Why? Early missionaries gave a poor description (sources vary on whether that was intentional, due to hardship finding acceptable food during the holy season, or a miscommunication) to the Vatican, which then ruled to declare it a fish. Since then, the time progressing up to Holy Week is unofficially capybara hunting season, due to the increased demand for the meat that "isn't" meat.

[Source]
commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (Default)
I think there may be some kind of animal making noises outside of my front door. But I'm wary to actually open it and find out, as it's late and probably is just the annoying grandson of my elderly neighbor who has moved in and is taking advantage of her.
commotiocordis: (carmen)
I have been knitting a hat. Sort of making it up as I go along, though. It's in this pretty yarn I got for free, though--all multicolored, though it sort of ends up all together purpleish if you look at it like a blur. I stopped, though, because I can't decide what to do next, whether to put in another little stitch-stripe thing or not.

This is big for me, though, as usually I just knit with no destination in mind, and more often than not just experiment and then rip it all out and play with the same yarn again (resulting in the outermost bunch on the ball of most of my yarns being all sort of untwistedlike). Though sometimes I turn what I've made into something (I've got a really pretty purse type thing I made with just plain knit stitch something like 3 or 4 years ago that I should take a picture of sometime), usually not. So I hope this works. (Though I think it may be too small for my head, as my needles aren't long enough to carry that many stitches, so I may end up giving it to my sister.)

ANDANDAND I found this "Where In Time is Carmen Sandiego" book from ages and ages ago in my basement. It's sort of a choose your own adventure type thing, but it's bits hard to play without the cards from the middle of the book that got ripped out and lost ages and ages ago, because you have to use the descriptions of the suspects that the people you talk to give you to pick the right person who stole whatever (because it's not always Carmen, as she has bitches to do whatever she doesn't want to do), and the dossiers of her V.I.L.E. Henchmen (I can't believe I remembered that that's what they're called) are on the cards. Still. CARMEN.

I had this Carmen Sandiego plotbunny a while ago that just popped back into my head. It was Carmen Sandiego/Jean Grey (from X-Men), and Carmen stole all the X-Men's powers, so Jean has to sex her to get her all vulnerable so she can steal them back. Because you know how in the show/games/books they always steal impossible stuff? It's like that. I think I must write that. I'll prolly have to enlist Katie in the caper, though, because she knows the X-Men universe, and though this isn't going to be close to/rely on/even look like it's ever gotten near canon, it's going to have to take place more or less in the X-Menverse, and I only remember about 1/3 of what she tells me about it and the people therein.

AND LJ COMMENTS ARE STILL GOING INTO MY INBOX SOMETIMES AND IT IS LE FRUSTRATING.

Edit: There is a raccoon or sommat on my freaking roof. It just bounced really hard on it. I shake my fist at you, random mammal, as you are loud and startling.
commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (Default)
A minute or two ago it thundered loudly enough to shake the entire house. Which is cool, normally, but when I'm out here alone and then I don't hear any more thunder for the next minute or so, I'm liable to work myself up into a panic attack speculating on what just blew up. That's my story.

One of our lizards isn't looking good, which is sad. They were fed less than a week ago, and it's skeletal. They've been at mum's school, so I hadn't seen them in a while, but she says that it wasn't like that even two weeks ago. Seriously, it's horrible; its spine sticks up above its back and the tail is all skinny and snake-like rather than the plump thing it used to be. I feel really bad for it, because it's got some odd abdomen thing going on that makes me think that perhaps it's egg bound or something, which we're not really going to be able to do anything about. It's having trouble staying warm, though, as I realized when I took it out a few days ago and set it on a notebook on my lap and it kept insisting on crawling into my hand (which was really cute, actually).
commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (Default)
Ran my first blatantly red light today. That was entertaining. I just about pulled over and called the cops on myself, I felt so bad. Didn't mean to at all, but I'd never been at that intersection before and I thought I could make it through. As persuant to my luck, it went red right as I crossed the line, thus forcing me to either stop in the middle of the intersection or keep going. Problem was that I was going relatively slowly, so it was a good two and a half seconds of red before the back of the van actually passed through the light, which was what made it so bad.

There are these tiny little bugs flitting around my monitor. I've smushed two of them already, and thus there are two spots of bug juice smearing up the screen. Annoying. They keep coming back, and I have no idea what they are.

Guilty pleasure of the day: Susan/Talia/John Babylon 5 fanfic. Namely, that by [livejournal.com profile] leyenn. Found her journal through someone else's icon that went with one of her stories, and turned to the S/T/J after reading all the (well, the one) Susan/Talia she had tagged. Quite enjoyable, though I'm not really a fan of John.

Now I'm really in a Babylon 5 mood.
commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (Default)
Story!

Yesterday, when we were getting back from church, I was walking up to my front door and all of a sudden this bird comes out of nowhere and flutters at the glass/screen bit of the door. Like a hummingbird, trufax. But it wasn't a hummingbird, it was some random perhaps robin type of bird. It was like it was trying to get in through the glass, it sort of smacked against it a bit. And then it looks at me, flies off to the tree maybe 10 feet from the door to a branch about 10 feet up, and immediately flies back and does it again, flutterpecksmacking at the window. Then it left, sadly, when it couldn't get in the second time. I mean, LOL! I wanted to catch it and cuddle it because it was a little one (I think one of the ones that just hatched this spring in our carport on the other side of the house) and cute and hummingbirdlike. Or just get a picture of it trying to get in, but it didn't return when I came back out with my camera and hung around for a while.

And that's my story. LOL.

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