Hmmmm...

From the deep recesses of my mind and the world of Harry Potter, I have brought myself here to fill you in on what is going on in my world. I am really getting obsessed with Harry Potter. I need to find a hobby, Siriusly. Hmm, how to sum-up what's been going on...well, I saw the Da Vinci Code again - still as good as it was the first time. My Grandma, who is visiting right now, hadn't seen it, so I watched that movie with her while my younger siblings watched X-Men 3:The Last Stand, lucky bastards that they are. Hopefully, I'll get to see it soon, but the only movie that I really care about seing this summer is Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest. I was in the kitchen the other night taking care of the dishes when I heard an eerie child's voice singing "Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me." The song got to the first "ho" before I came at a full sprint (more like a gallop) from the kitchen to watch the 45-second Johnny Depp feast. And speaking of yummy things, I actually watched Sharpe's Rifles on BBC America. Sean Bean, with his semi-native accent, as a good guy, as the main character, in a semi-romantic lead, with a barely-hidden soft heart - stop it, stop it, I'm drooling. But siriusly kids, I loved every minute of the movie - Sean Bean in tight pants, walking through cold water (giggle giggle, wink wink). I really am so very superficial!

I've been immersed in Harry Potter lore (did I mention that already?). I don't know what is so alluring to me about Harry Potter and a world of magic, but sometimes I feel that I would rather live in JK Rowling's world than my own. But hey, who wouldn't? Anyway, I've been busy reading the books over again, for my own purposes obviously, as the next movie and book will not be out until next year. There have been rumors that the seventh HP book will be released on-are you ready for this?-07/07/07! Some nutty fan (not me) has even gone to the trouble of highlighting all of the reasons why JKR should release the seventh book on that day. It is not a short list.

I have so much to say, but my brain seems so full that every thought keeps getting muddled up with the next. I try to say something, and before I can even finish the sentence, I've forgotten what I was going to say as I jump several thoughts ahead. I haven't been doing alot - but I have been thinking alot, maybe that is what is doing it. How about I use this blog to blow some steam. Boy, is it Steam's lucky night. Here goes; these are a few of the things that are annoying me:
*People who let everyone know that they have diarrhea, every time that they have it, AND leave the evidence on the toilet seat, which I have to clean up later (and I have to think about that person sleeping in MY bed!).
*People who cannot respect the fact that picking favorites is not fair in the least, to the un-favorite and to the favorite, and as a favorite myself, I resent what I see as behavior that ignores or passes over my siblings in favor of me - it's not right, so stop it!
*People who cannot seem to let on that they know you are nineteen, or at least past age five, judging by the way they act towards you and what they say.
*People who cannot stop talking no matter what, who have to add their own dollar (way past two cents) to everything, even if that dollar is completely off the wall.
*People who make you wish everyone had a 'delete', 'edit', 'volume', and 'off' button everytime they open their mouth.
*People who nod and smile when you talk, and then have no idea what you said because they weren't listening.
(I have been dealing with this person since last Thursday - God! Was it only last Thursday?) So, you can tell me if I am being intolerant, childish, bitchy, or any other negative adjective, or you can tell me that I am justified in being disgusted, annoyed, and frazzled. Either way, just say something!

On a more positive note, I was given something to look forward to today. I can't wait until the 14th of October when my big brother marries the best future-sister-in-law in the world! Nothing can stop me from being at this wedding - nothing! With that, I shall read for a bit, crawl into the bed that I am sharing with my sister, and try and sleep. Good night!

KOOBAH!!

My Grandmother is visiting for my brother's graduation; she arrived last night. My younger brother and sister went to bed before ten, but Mom, Dad, Grandma Betty, and I stayed up talking much later. Mom related an anecdote about how at Walmart the other day, we ran into my sister-in-law (married to my oldest brother TJ) Lesley. She wasn't looking too good - she looked as if she was under a lot of stress, and she hadn't dyed her hair in a while, so she was liberally streaked with grey (although she is only 31). The reason that she has greys, and has had greys since she was 16, is because she has Indian (Native American, si vous preferiz) blood in her. It turns out that anyone who is descended from Native Americans is genetically predisposed to get grey hair early in life. Well Rob, who knows that we kids are descended from the Choctaw Indians, said that must be why my Mom has so many greys. My Mom was bewildered - she doesn't have any Indian blood in her, not by any means. So we asked for his reasoning, which was that because he had it, she must also. But no, we get our Choctaw heritage from my Dad's side of the family, and Mom, as she jokingly said, does not get it from Dad. But anyway, this anecdote led my Grandma Betty to start a discussion on her side of the Family (which would be my Mother's side of the family). Apparently, her mother (my great-grandmother, Nana) came from Puerto Rico. My Great-Grandfather, Nana's husban, was from Cuba, which I have the uncanny proclivity to pronounce "Koo-bah." I don't know his name, but he was second-generation Cuban, as I found out. His parents were born in Cuba, to parents that had immigrated to Cuba from Spain, specifically Galicia (pronouced "Ga-li-thia"). Galicia is the region of Spain on the northern coast, primarily known for fishing. The interesting thing about Galicia is that the Gallegos (residents of Galicia) do not speak Spanish, they speak something else which is like Portuguese (which is logical because they are very near Portugal), but the language is even more like Gaelic, which may give some reason for the name Galicia. Gaelic is from Scotland and Ireland, and I think it is the language of the Celts, who did settle Spain way back in the 6th century B.C. That is SO COOL! A little while ago, I began to take an interest in Gaelic, because the series of books that I was reading had quite a bit of Gaelic in it. Coincidence that my ancestors spoke Gaelic, and that I should take a sudden interest in it? But the celtic ancestry does explain the fair skin on my Grandmother's side of the family, and my fair(-ish) skin, with a good bit of freckling, and my Mom's, my sister's, and my green eyes. This is so cool! This means that I am descended from Ireland and Scotland from three of my four Grandparents. Grandma Betty's husband, my Grandpa Bob who passed away a little while ago, was of Irish descent (Forsythe - sound's Irish, right?) My other grandfather, who I never met as he was killed long before I was ever born, was also of Irish and Scottish descent. In fact, we looked up the name "Cumbie" in a Scottish Clan book, and found that the Combies were part of the Macintosh clan at Inverness, in Scotland. Scotland and Ireland have always held a special place in my heart. I want to go there someday, maybe even live there. And now I have a reason - to see if I can find relatives! This is so very exciting! But the weird thing is that I was incapable of pronouncing Cuba any other way that Koobah, but I really have no Cuban blood in me. My great grandfather who was Cuban by citizenship married a woman from the Canary Islands (of the northwestern coast of Africa). But what the hell, I'll say Koobah as much as I want, and no one can stop me. Koobah!!

BBC America

I love BBC America! I love it, love it, love it!!! The other night, my family and I were watching "Whose line is it anyway?" on the BBC America channel. The host Clive Anderson is a refreshing break from Drew Carey and the stupid games that have been created since the show's transferral to the States. Plus it is interesting to see Colin with more hair. Anyway, as you might guess, the commercials on the BBC America channel are all for British shows, like Footballers' Wives and such. Well, a preview of a movie was airing and I happened to turn my head to see it, and I thought that I recognized the main guy. After a millisecond, it hit me: SEAN BEAN!!! In a starring role, no less, as some British Navy guy in the early 1800's called Sharpe who goes on all of these dangerous missions - he's like the precursor to 007 or MacGyver. He's done about thirteen in the Sharpe series, and they are all called "Sharpe's honour," "Sharpe's Revenge," "Sharpe's Rifles," or some other creative title along those lines. Anyway, for the entire telly spot, my eyes were glued to the screen. It is sooooo exhilerating to see him in a starring role! I don't plan on watcing the movie - If I do, it will be by chance - because I have no idea when it is coming on plus it will probably be on during the time my family watches TV at night, and Sean Bean for two hours is never going to be on their agenda. Me, on the other hand, I would watch him in anything (once), even if he were the gay ex-lover of B.D. Wong. I have watched him in alot of things: Golden Eye, Patriot Games, Tom and Thomas, just to name a few, and I anticipate watching other movies just to see him. Right now, my list has the following: Flightplan, Silent Hill, Carivaggio, A Woman's Guide to Adultery (I anticipate enjoying that one), Lady Chatterly's Lover, Clarissa, and all of the Sharpe series. What would really make my day is if Sean Bean were to play a major role in a Harry Potter movie that ties in with Arthurian Legend. Well, to be realistic, I'd settle for Sean Bean in Harry Potter. He could be a bad guy, but I'd like him to be good. No matter what, I'd worship his character forever and ever afterward. Too bad that he couldn't play Sirius Black - I love Sirius's character. But Gary Oldman (who does play Sirius Black) is on my hottie list, so no worries.

Speaking of Harry Potter, I have been immersed in Harry Potter trivia, lore, and rumours, not to mention the books themselves for the past couple of days. I love Harry Potter! (The novel, not the kid). I resolved today to read the entire series again this summer. I can't wait for the seventh novel (seven - a powerful magical number, right?), and yet at the same time I dread it, for it will bring about the end of my most favorite story ever. I wonder what is going to happen. I hear that Harry's parentage will play a large part of the novel, especially his resemblance to Lily Potter- her eyes, most specifically. Also, Neville and Snape will feature a lot more in this installation. I have some puzzlers for you to puzzle over: JK Rowling has said that when Voldemort gave Lily the choice to step away from her son and live or to die protecting him, he meant it. She really would have been allowed to live had she stepped away. But why? And, JKR also said that Snape was loved by someone - and her manner of stating this made it sound as if she meant the love did not come from a relative. So, who was it? Also, who is R.A.B.? I think that it is Regulus Black. I'll tell you my reasoning later. What about Dumbledore, what do you think his status is? I personally think it is exactly like it is stated at the end of the sixth novel, but what do you think? I anticipate your thoughts!

Update

I thought that I'd take a break from my busy (that's code for "nonexistent") life to update everyone on what's been going on in my world. Wow, not that much, come to think of it. Let's see, I gave my dog a bath on Saturday (she didn't like it). Bonnie didn't care much for baths, but she never put up as much fight as Scrappy does. Scrappy doesn't let anyone touch her for any other purpose than to pet her. So, as she has a bit of mange or some other form of mites, and as she has fleas, we have to reguarly persuade her to let us rub some mange medicine and flea powder/spray into her skin. By persuade, I mean we have to tie her with a short piece of rope to a sturdy, immovable object, like a large tree. That is, of course, assuming you can catch her, for when you come out the door, she'll get up, tail wagging, ears all perked up, and then she'll see the rope or spray bottle in your hands and she'll run, and you'll be hard-pressed to find her for the next few hours. One of the last times I put the mange medicine on her, I came out of the door with my latex gloves (I can't let the medicine touch my skin), and she bolted. I found her under my Dad's van and I had to literally crawl under it and drag her out. She's a smallish dog, maybe forty pounds - so it's not a difficult business to carry her, which I have to do every time that I have to retrieve her from under the van or some other clandestine hiding place. Anyway, last Saturday, she didn't want a bath, but I was so careful not to let her see the soap, the rope, or the brush. I came after her when everything was in place. She wagged her tail, but refused to come to me. I tried to be nice and called her and petted her and invited her to come with me, but she refused to budge, so, I had to pick her up (she hates that, by the way) and carry her squirming body to the other side of the house. I tied her up (it's so much better now that she wears a collar) and gave her the bath. She didn't like it, but she looks so pretty now! And everybody loves to pet her! Maybe she'll remember that when it comes time to give her another bath. Hmm.

Leo, our gargantuan cat also received a bath. I usually get stuck giving him the baths, so he has learned to avoid me and only me everytime he hears the bath water running. My routine is this: I get the flea soap, a large cup, and some smelly-good soap (gardenia this time) and place it all next to the tub along with a large towell. Then, I get the water running at a comfortable temperature. And then I go on the hunt, looking for Leo. I found him easily this time, but as soon as I picked him up and walked two feet, he started his yowling. Yowling is like a very mournful, low, pitiful meow. I never pay it any heed (hee hee hee), so I just walked into the bathroom, closed the door, pried his claws out of my skin, and plopped him in the tub. He too did not like his bath, but he was so pretty and smelled so nice afterward. I always feel sorry for him right after the bath because, in my Dad's words, he looks like a drowned rat. Anyway, that ends my tales of animal bathing.

In other news, I have poison ivy. I have no idea how I got it. Let me rephrase: I know how I got it, I'm just confused as to the when. I picked dewberries with my Dad last week, in many a poison ivy and poison sumac infested area, but my poison ivy didn't make an appearance until Sunday night. Anyway, we went berry picking again yesterday, and have come to the conclusion that someone knows of our berry picking place because the place was devoid of the plethora of berries we normally find. But we picked our few and then searched along the road and found some more - in areas abundant, ridiculously abundant in poison ivy and sumac. But I don't think I got anymore, whew! But my Dad had a free sample of this wash that is supposed to prevent poison ivy from developing if you come into contact with the plant and is supposed to drastically reduce the itching and length of time of the rash if you apply the wash after the fact. You know what; it really works! I don't itch, and I think the rash is going down already. If only they had had it when I was a kid!

I went to my optometrist's this morning for a routine eye exam. Everything is normal. My vision has only changed a slight bit over the past two and a half years - nothing to warrant a change in my perscription, which is very good. However, now I am sitting here with my sunglasses on because the Doctor had to dilate my pupils, so my eyes are now extremely sensitive to light. My eyes look really weird - one pupil is huge, the other is really small. I have 20/40 vision in my right eye, 20/60 vision in my left, which basically means that what a person with normal vision sees 40 or 60 feet away is what I see 20 feet away (what they see at a farther distance is what my near vision is - if that makes any sense, not that it matters).

I apologise for any misspellings, puntuation errors, or gramatical mistakes. I can't see very well right now, so I'll come back later and fix everything. Till then; toodles!

The Da Vinci Code

Well, everything did go according to plan: I saw the Da Vinci Code earlier today. Overall, I liked it. I'm easy to please, but really think this is a good movie. It sticks quite close to the book, until the end (although it has been awhile since I read it). The plot flowed smoothly - from the Louvre to some other un-pronouncable places in France, to merry olde England, and then back to the Louvre. I liked the characters, especially Sir Leigh Teabing. When English coppers try to detain him for a while, he refuses and says that they will have to shoot him, but to start with his valet first (who happens to be standing beside him). And I don't see the problem with Tom Hanks's hair - I think it looks just fine, pretty darn fine. I wish I had paid more attention to the score, but from what I remember, I think it was excellently suited to the movie. The casting was superb. Although I would have preferred to look at Russell Crowe for two and a half hours, Tom Hanks was a capable and believable Robert Langdon. Newcomer Audrey Tautou brought Sophie Neveu to life. Paul Bettany played a very sinister and a very blind (in his followings) albino Monk. I especially liked his speaking Latin into a cell phone - it seemed so right at the time, but if anyone else had tried to speak latin, much less into a cell phone, it would have seemed terribly phony and out of time. His self flagellation and that whatchamacallit around his leg made me cringe - I have no idea how they act that out without hurting him. Jean Reno played the Bezu Fache that I imagined when I read the book; and Alfed Molina was the perfect Bishop Aringarosa. Above all, Sir Ian McKellan's Sir Leigh Teabing was my favorite character - because of his dry humor and quick thinking, and just because I like Sir Ian McKellan. Unfortunately, a painfully full bladder made me take a temporary absence from the film, and I missed some of the story. I guess I'll have to go see it again - anyone want to take me? I loved the graphics - how they could show the present and the past all in one shot, or how you could see the faint glimmer of people or symbols in the mist, or the grainy flashbacks, and especially the seen that showed Sir Isaac Newton's funeral as Langdon and Neveu puzzled over a riddle. I also really liked Silas' creepiness and his speed as he darted out from the shadows to throttle a stunned Langdon or hold hostage Neveu. I liked this movie; I would go see it again. I can't see what the big deal is with so many people protesting this film. I personally like to see that all religions (this may be a very broad generalization) are a hodge-podge of other, older religions. It's like the piece mil nature of science - everything new and modern builds on everything from the past. And so what if the Holy Grail was a ... you know what (I'm refraining from revealing too much), so what if Jesus Christ had a... you know what, and it was ... you know who - it doesn't take anything away from the foundations of Christianity, not in my opinion. And what type of society are we if we believe everything that is written - even a book that is blatantly fiction? Why don't we just have worldwide book bonfires - send us back to the dark ages! "We can't tolerate this fiction that besmirches the root of christianity - what's next? Evolution taught instead of creationism?" My advice: grow up and evolve some critical thinking and tolerance, and go see this film.

I See The Stork Ha' Been Wi' Tha

Of all the thoughts and interpretations of spring, nothing is more true than this: spring is the season that brings new life. Grey, desolate trees begin to sprout new buds. Those buds then open up, revealing soft billowy blossoms of pure color. After the blossoms fade, the world becomes a vision of green. The grass becomes green in patches, as if artists in the heavens are launching paint balloons in random fashion. The days become warmer, the skies bluer, the clouds whiter and larger, and the days longer. And then you can see the other kind of new life: animal life. Just the other day, I found a puppy by the road with no owner or tags, just the cutest, friendliest, most precocios little ball of fur there ever was. My friend Callie and her brothers found a little kitten. My own dog, the scourge of Buddy's nest, found a baby rabbit (although the baby rabbit served as repast and not as a companion). The thrushes in our gardenia shrub hatched a bunch of little thrushes. And the chickens that were setting have now hatched eight beautiful chicks, pictured here. Aren't they cute! I went out their this morning and took some pictures and videos of them, and they truly are so very cute! I know that word gets used over-much, but I can't think of a more fitting term; they really are quite cute. They are so fluffy and make so much noise. It is fun just to watch them do exactly as their mothers do and then wonder if nature or nurture is responsible for their actions.

In other news, the DaVinci Code came out yesterday, and I will (if everything goes according to plan) be seeing it tomorrow at the matinee. Has anyone seen it yet? If so, I'd like to know what you thought of it. The reviews have been terrible, and I really am quite put out. I hope the reviewers all woke up on the wrong side of the bed or ran out of coffee or something else that would put them in a foul temper to make them want to give the DaVinci code a bad review. Anyhow, I plan on posting my thoughts on the movie as soon as I see it. 'Til then, adieu.

How Very Disappointing

On a semi-spur-of-the-moment decision, I decided to buy the movie "The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe." Once I made that decision, I had to look for an opportunity to get myself to Walmart to purchase said movie. As luck would have it, the opportunity came shortly after I made my decision. My Dad and I had decided to make a dewberry crisp with all of the berries we picked yesterday, but as I went about getting the ingredients, I found that we were out of brown sugar. A quest for brown sugar is not noble enough to warrant an expedition to the commissary, Walmart was chosen as our brown-sugar location, and I inserted myself into this quest with alacrity. We made it to walmart, got the sugar, and then I made my way to the back to get the DVD. I circled and browsed for a while until I found it, and when I did, this is what I saw: "The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe; Full Screen." There were at least fifteen DVDs, so I ducked down and went through each one; full screen, full screen, full screen....all full screens! I don't get it! The whole world is making the transition to wide screen and walmart is still stuck in the twilight zone of full screen! I was angered and frustrated, and I refused to buy full screen, so I went home with my brown sugar, and that was that. Yet another disappointment from Walmart.

A Narrative

I have something to relate of a foul nature, although along with the foul, I must admit that there is an equal amount of the humorous. I shall start from the beginning. For the past several years, my family has been graced by the presence of one Branta Canadienses - a Canada Goose, dubbed "Buddikins Dimitri," but fondly referred to as "Buddy." It is a tricky business determining the sex of a Canada Goose. The adults of both genders in my experience are indistinguishable from eachother in their general appearance and mannerisms. Therefore, it came to pass that we randomly referred to Buddy as a male goose rather than a female. This assumption seemed to fit for a time, up until one month ago. During that insightful time, I was called to the front porch to see something that Buddy was doing. I walked onto the front porch and found my family congregated about the railing just to the right of the stairs, all looking down into the flower bed. I made my way over to them, looked down, and what to my wondering eyes should appear but Buddy - making a nest. This implanted a very convincing doubt about our assumption of Buddy's sex, which was later confirmed by the presence of five largish eggs layed by Buddy. We could not deny it any longer: Buddy was a girl! Well, another pair of Canada Geese had decided to domicile at our pond, and I thought that given Buddy's single state, should her eggs turn out to hatch, it would be evidence to show that not all monogamous relationships are strictly "monogamous." As a belated attempt to make a long story short, I will simpy say that the other two geese decided to nest in the woods somewhere, and Buddy became a fierce mother, guarding her eggs against all creatures; humans included. And then something strange happened: Buddy's eggs started disappearing. One-by-one, the eggs were just gone. My sister soon discovered the culprit: my own sweet but devious pooch, Scrappy. Well, we decided to let nature take its course after reprimanding Scrappy with several sharp slaps to her nasal area, but yet it came to be that Buddy had only one egg remaining. And now comes the meat of my anecdote. Yesterday morning I was told that Buddy's last egg was taken by my beloved dog. But to add insult to injury, after taking and eating the egg, Scrappy decided to defecate in Buddy's nest, in the fashion of a true juevenile prankster. My Dad was called outside by Buddy's furious honking to discover this deed. He removed the canine excrement with a rather long stick and discovered there to be no more eggs left in the nest. Poor Buddy! But I must say that she has recovered with commendable haste and is now back to her regular self, although I think she is a bit confused about where Bonnie has gone to. Alas, if only we could explain such things as death to animals! But I dare say that Buddy will recover, as will Scrappy, in time. Time shall heal all wounds. And thus ends my narrative; I do hope that you were somewhat diverted.

Dewberries and Huckleberries

Whilst I and my Dad neared the end of our morning constitutional, we came upon a few small groves of dewberries. Now what, you may ask, is a dewberry? A dewberry is almost exactly like a blackberry, and I cannot even tell the difference between the two. Their looks are identical, their tastes are identical - I can't detect a difference, save that dewberries bloom and ripen before blackberries. Any how, we found several small patches of the delicious afore-mentioned fruit and picked a handful each. And boy were they good! A little sweet, and a bit tart, and thoroughly sun-warmed. I hope more ripen soon - that way we can pick a gallon or two and make some pastry delights or just eat them as they are.

I forgot to mention that the campsite we stayed at last weekend was walled in on the back by several huckleberry bushes. I have never seen so many huckleberries! At the most, I have only been able to pick maybe ten berries at a time, but here, I had a handful each morning and evening. Huckleberries are a bit more tart than dewberries, and that is perfectly fine by me. I hope we go back soon so that we can pick the other huckleberries that ripen in our absence - there is bound to be quite a few. In short, I am in berry heaven, and I wish a bit of berry goodness on you all.

This Morning

This morning, my Dad inducted me into his daily excercise regime - a 3-4 mile walk down the road, across the street, down another road, turn, turn again, and then a long overgrown gravel path, and then turn around and go back. It wasn't bad. But something peculiar happened on our return trip. We had just made it back onto Robert's Road, my street, and we were passing some bottomland/swampland when we heard a dog barking - in a pitchy, whiny sort of way. My Dad and I both thought that it sounded like it came from the woods, but we walked on, until there was a large disturbance in the undergrowth - as if some creature were walking through the underbrush. Dad and I stared, and then ... a puppy walked out! He (it was definintely a he) was a small - no more than a foot and some inches long, with dark, short fur on his head and back, and his paws and face had some tannish coloring. He was stocky, and had the look of a puppy someone might have bought from and pet shop. We thought he was probably a rottweiler or a labrador. Anyway, we stopped at the first house on the street and knocked, but nobody answered. We talked to our neighbor, and she didn't know anyone on the street that had gotten a puppy recently - for the puppy wasn't very old at all. We took him home for a bit, and my dog Scrappy wasn't too thrilled - but she just sniffed him over and kept her eye on him. We all thought he was cute as hell - and he was. But we would not keep him - not a rottweiler or a lab - especially not a rottweiler. Our dealings with rottweilers have left us bereft of our two dear goats, our neighbor's cat, and almost our neighbor himself (had he not had his weed-eater to keep the rottweilers at bay). And labradors, in my experience, have been hard to control. Both breeds are large and potentially dangerous. So, although the little tyke was so cute (sooooo cute!!), we could not keep him. We took him to the animal shelter and they took him. And that was that. Scrappy is happy now - now that she is queen of the property once more, and hopefully the owners of the puppy will come and claim him. So many things have happened and I haven't yet been home a week! This time last week, I was watching Signs with Callie and Andrew, while I packed things away, and now this week, I am writing here when I should be doing the dishes or something else useful. Well, the kitchen beckons.

A weekend in my life

I haven't posted in a few days, so I thought that I would let y'all know how life's been going. I got my last grade on Friday - and A+ in Spanish. That means I have a 4.0 GPA still. (Yay?)

We went camping this past weekend at the cliffs of the Neuse state park. We had a good time. Dad and I went earlier and set up camp before Mom, Becca, and Rob got there. We had a nice campfire going and roasted some sausage dogs. Some got a little crispy and dark, but we just called them done. After that, we had some marshmallows and if we were feeling adventurous, we made some smores. They were gooooooood! Then it was dark and cold; really cold! My sister and I shared a tent and we were both freezing, huddled up in our respective sleeping backs. I couldn't fall asleep because every position I tried left something exposed - my nose would go numb just as I was dropping off, or my hand, or my face. I eventually did succeed in succumbing to sleep, and I woke up at the ripe hour of nine. I then made an expedition to the bath house and took a shower. When entering the bath house, the first thing I do is to hunch my neck and look all around for bugs and especially spiders- I HATE spiders! I found a huge one in front of one shower stall - I say huge, but who can really say given it's state of decomposition. I inspected all the stalls and found one that I could tolerate for a few minutes and began a hasty wash down. Emerging all fresh and clean and rosy-faced, I made it back through the wilderness to camp and tucked in to some delicious grits, fried eggs, bacon, biscuits, strawberries, and Sunny Delight. After that superb breakfast cooked by my Dad, we gathered our fishing poles (myself excluded - I grabbed a camp chair and a book) and headed down to the river to find our favorite billabong. Going down a cliff is a risky business, but we succeeded well enough. We didn't rappel down the side or anything - we took the long, long, long series of earthen stairs and then took the path flanked on both sides by copious amounts of poison ivy. I have never seen so much poison ivy! Well, that's not saying much because I have a terrible inability to identify poison ivy, no matter how many times someone points it out to me. I have adopted a policy of 'if it's green, I don't touch it.' Growing up, I have come to realize that I have absolutely no immunity whatsoever to poison ivy. I had poison ivy every summer, multiple times, until my waist and hips got larger than my wish to explore our woodlands. Thankfully, I haven't gotten poison ivy yet this weekend, and I have my fingers crossed. Anyway, we made it to the fishing spot, which is along the mouth of a large creek that feeds into the Neuse river. Mom, Dad, and Rob had been fishing already that morning, and I had already seen the the four fish that Dad caught - all brim and yellow gill about the size of my hand. Now, it was time for Mom, Rob, and Becca to catch some fish. We stayed down there for a few hours, and all together caught five keepable fish - we threw back two and almost - almost caught the biggest catfish. Mom had set her pole on a cypress knee and we were all watching her bobber, when it went down -way down. Dad was standing with his back to it, getting a hook out of a fish, so I dived for the pole, half-eaten banana in my hand. I can feel the fish putting up a mighty struggle, and so I realize that it's a big fish. Then Becca takes the pole out of my hands and tries to pull it up. We got a fleeting glimpse of a gray, whiskered, big fish, before it slips off the hook and got away. That was the highlight of our fishing expedition. We left and made it up the many, many, many steps to get back to camp. I thought my thighs were going to fall off! We had lunch, and then nothing would satisfy everyone else but that we go for a walk. So, we went for a walk, and walked, and walked. We walked for two hours, exploring the lake area, and then all of the nature trails. We were almost back at the campsite when my parents decided they wanted to do one more trail, so us kids waited on the little stage while they went on their walk down those same dastardly stairs. We kids played movie title charades for a while, and then went back to camp. Dad cooked dinner- fried fish, hush puppies, and pork and beans. I roasted several sausage dogs, and we all were satisfied. Then came smores, and then came bed time. Becca and I have a ritual of shining our flashlight all around the inside of the tent looking for various creepy crawlies. I am so very paranoid when it comes to spiders and bugs - I had a very bad experience once that I do not intend to repeat. (once at FFA camp, I was getting ready to bed down when the arbitrary desire to rearrange my bedding gripped me, and so I pulled up my blanket, exposing a huge, hairy, black spider crawing across my sheet. I have never been the same since) So, we checked every surface of the tent - the floor, corners, sides, and roof. We checked inside the sleeping bags, and I checked inside my pillow case; it would surprise you how devious those little buggers can be. After that, we settled in for a decidedly more comfortable night, only to be awoken by the fear of an impending severe thunderstorm. So I made haste to get to the bath house and get back, and pack almost everything up to protect it from the storm, and then we sat underneath a tarp on the picnic table and watched the storm. I love thunderstorms, and I always wish that they were more intense, with possible tornadoes. No such luck - a few strikes and some big booming thunder, but no fierce intensity. Then it was time for breakfast- pancakes and bacon, mmmm. Then we went for a walk - only an hour this time, and then we packed up everything and loaded it up, had some watermelon, and came home. We unpacked everything, and then I took a blessed shower, free from the threat of spiders and other unmentionables. And now here I am. I hope everyone had a great weekend - I sure did.

In other news...

I have some good news! Although I didn't save a bunch of money on car insurance by switching to Geico, I did get most of my grades. The grades for four of my classes are as follows: Forensic Anthropology A+; Organic Chemistry A+, Zoology A+, and Physics A+. At least I'm consistent! I have no idea where the physics grade came from, I guess my professor gave us one hell of a curve. All I am waiting on now is Spanish, and I have no real worries in that class, but I'd still like to know. I'll keep you posted!

From here on out

If you read the last two posts, you'd know that it was a very depressing day yesterday. We had a funeral service and buried Bonnie with Lou and Buffy on the hill, and we will plant an althea plant over her later on. Suprisingly, we've moved on already. It's going to be weird asking if Becca has fed the dog, instead of the dogs, or saying that we need someone to look after the dog and cat. I can't remember a time when we only had one dog - I can remember getting my older brother's tempermental dalmation, Loulabelle, which means that at anytime before that, we only had one dog - our basset hound buffy. But I don't remember when it was just buffy. Anyhow, I don't feel so rotten and depressed, even though I have one hell of a crying-hangover. Life is going to get better from here on out.

I thought I'd relate some funny anecdotes about all the dogs I can remember.

Buffy was a short little basset hound - she wasn't thin or little - she was kind of stocky - but her little legs weren't but a few inches long. One day, we had company over and we were eating some sort of grilled meat at the picnic table that we had placed in the front yard between the house and the pond. I think we had Lou at the time, and someone held up a bone really high up - perhaps five or more feet off the ground - to tease Lou and to see if she would jump for it. And then without warning, this stocky body goes flying through the air and Buffy's jaws locked around the bone! We didn't know Buffy had it in her to jump that high, and I don't think we ever saw her jump that high again.

Lou was the most tempermental dog you ever saw. When we used to douse the dogs in a flea dip solution, she would suffer through the dipping process, and then she'd go roll in the dirt - the real dirt, not the ground - just to spite us. When we'd go on vacation to my Grandma's in Florida for a week, she be so excited when we came back, but five minutes later she would refuse to have anything to do with us. She turned her back on us and would not look at us, wouldn't let us pet her. When Darren went away to college, every time he came home and tried to pet her, she'd walk away from him and then sit down ten feet away with her back to him. Then he would walk up to her, and she'd get up, walk ten feet, and sit down with her back to him. Apparently she did this for the longest time before she let Darren pet her. She was also terrified of loud noises, especially thunderstorms. Every single thunderstorm, we'd hear her scratching on the doors, whining to be let in. She tore all of our porch screen doors to shreds trying to get on the porch. She even jumped up on the air conditioning unit and tore the window screen to shreds. She also hated being confined. When we first got her, we put her in Darren's bathroom while we took her former owner's on a tour of the property. When we got back, she had ripped up every shred of carpet and carpet padding in the bathroom, and she had nearly torn the door to shreds. When she was accidentally locked in the shed, she tore those doors to pieces as well. One time a misguided kid stole her and locked her in someone else's house, and while there, she tore their blinds to ribbons trying to get out.

Bonnie is by far the best dog we have ever had. She was the best-snake killer ever. We don't know why she hated snakes with such a vengeance, but my Dad seems to think it has something to do with her breed - she was part Golden Retriever, part Labrador (which explained her need to go swimming in the pond almost every summer day!). But anytime we found a snake, all we had to do was to call her name and point at the ground. Bonnie would come running at full speed, her body on full alert as she sniffed around with cold determination for the dastardly snake. When she found it, she'd circle it, barking at it, and circle it some more, just to confuse it, and then quick-as-lightning, she'd strike, latching her jaws around it's body somewhere and then she'd snap her head back an forth with enough force that you could hear the snake's body breaking. And then, as if that wasn't enough, Bonnie would grab the snake with her front paws, holding it to the ground, and she'd then use her teeth to rip the snake to shreds. She didn't stop until the snake was in pieces smaller than cheerios. She got bit several times - once by a copperhead and once by a cottonmouth. She survived both times, even though she gave us a bit of a scare. She was hit by a car once - we could tell something bad had happened because She and Lou had gone running off into the woods and then Lou came back alone all guilty-looking. Dad took Rob, Becca, and me to drive around to find her, and we found her in the middle of a bunch of people parked alongside the road. We must have been a sight! My dad in his mud boots and big farmer's hat, us kids in our play clothes, all of us liberally sprinkled with mud from whatever yardwork we had been playing in. Surprisingly, Bonnie was still alive, and Dad told me later that he was going to give her some lead and let that be the end of it (i.e. lead bullet). But the people around her were not exactly country-folk and they started calling out the names of local vets that would be open. Either they were very convincing, or the presence of us kids had something to do with it, but Dad took her to the vet and the vet estimated how much it would cost to patch her back up - one of her hips was broken and she had some abrasions. When the vet said how much, my dad told him that a bullet for a 30.06 didn't cost more than a dollar, the vet real quick-like cut the cost and patched her up. Actually, the people who had given Bonnie to us came over that same day just after we brought Bonnie back from the scene of the accident, and recommended a vet. I don't think they would have understood the phrase "putting her out of her misery." That's probably why Dad took her to get fixed up. Bonnie was always the most loving dog - she always wanted you attention, and she got it by jumping on you. She'd sit when you told her, lay when you told her, stay when you told her, and she'd shake when you told her. We will miss her so much.

This weekend, we are going camping at the Cliff's of the Neuse state park. I don't know if we are going to celebrate Mother's day there or not, but we'll leave on Friday and get back on Sunday. If we are lucky, the wild blackberries will be ripe and abundant and we'll have a great dessert. If not, then we only have to wait a bit for the dew berries (which are exactly like blackberries) to ripen down the road. Last year we must have picked several gallons of them, and then we had several huge dew berry cobblers. Mmmm.

In Memory

Our faithful dog Bonnie passed away just a few minutes ago, on this day the 9th of May, 2006. She'll be missed so very much.

Life goes on

It's my first day home. My chem final yesterday wasn't bad at all - I made a 98, and an A+ in the class. I moved out of my dorm room yesterday with the help of my Dad, Callie, and her boyfriend Andrew. And then my Dad took me for a drive so we could kill some time - my RA would come and check me out at 7pm, the only time slot that I could get. We drove around for a bit and I had no idea where we were. My dad said we were just taking a drive, and then we ended up at the Olive Garden! He had planned to take me there all along and I never suspected anything! We both had fettucini alfredo, me with chicken and he with shrimp. And then I checked out and then we went home.

And there is where the good news ends. My family has two dogs - Bonnie, a golden retriever/labrador mix and Scrappy - a Chow/Blue heeler mix. Bonnie is 14 years old, and Dad told me yesterday that he thought she wouldn't live out the day. I had been expecting news of that nature to come for a while, but I must admit it caught me off guard. But Bonnie did live out the night, and she is still with us now, but I know it's not for long. I went and visited her this morning and I could tell that she's already halfway on her way to the happy hunting grounds. She can't see anything - we think she's basically out of her mind. She can barely move at all - not even to lift her head. She keeps barking and howling and we can't tell if it's because she's in pain or because she's out of her mind. It's really very sad to see her like this and it's taking it's toll on me. We're just waiting right now. I had a good cry this morning after I visited her, and I haven't stopped yet. I don't know how the others are handling it. I'm glad I got to see her, but now I wish that it was over. I know she's in some pain and I don't want her to suffer anymore. I hope we don't have to wait for very much longer. This ones for you, Bonnie.

La última noche

Well, I've made it. This is my last night here on NC State campus in my lovely-no-more-but-I-love-it-anyway room. Tomorrow, I will be heading home for the summer after I take my organic chemistry final tomorrow. I woke abruptly out of a heavy sleep at 11:30 this morning and I couldn't go back to sleep because fears and doubts about organic chem kept invading my mind, refusing to allow me anymore sleep. I've been studying ever since, and I am finished. I have called it quits. I have taken nine practice exams and been through my notes on thirty-eight lectures. I'm ready to call it quits. Tomorrow, after my exam, I'll take apart my computer and pack it up and then pack my bedding and the few bits of neccesities that I left unpacked, and then I'll wait patiently for my Dad to come at 3pm. I'm so sad to be leaving! I almost don't want to go home. I'm going to miss so much - my roommate, my room, my campus cinema, my internet - the list goes on. I will especially miss my T-1 internet connection because I am trading it for dial up. Maybe I will finally convice my parents to get DSL or some other form of high speed internet this summer, or I will go crazy! But that's enough for tonight. I'll post one more time before I leave tomorrow, and then I will be posting very rarely from home. I can't believe I've had this blog for one whole semester already- it feels like a part of me, and I can't imagine what I'd do without it. It is such a great tool for focusing my thoughts and letting loose.

One last note before I sign off for the night: My brother's getting married!!!! I found out last weekend and I've been excited ever since! I'm so glad that he and Kim are finally tying the knot - my family and I have been hoping for a while now that they would. It was funny when I found out because I called home to talk for a bit last weekend and my Dad answered the phone and told me to call back as he was on the phone with Darren. So, I called back an hour later and Dad was still on the phone with Darren. When I talked to Dad, nothing seemed suspicious, but then Darren called me later that night, and I was psyched because I get maybe one call every two weeks on my cell phone. I told him that I had heard he had talked to Dad earlier that day, and then Darren got real quiet, and then he asked, "Did he tell you?" It didn't even register to me to ask, "Tell me what?" I just said "no" and then Darren came right out with it. I think I squealed with glee the second it hit me. I'm getting a great new Sister-in-law - great doesn't even begin to describe Kim, and I can't wait to see them get married. I've decided that I'm cutting class no matter what to be at their wedding. I can't wait! Congratulations Darren and Kim! And now, Goodnight!

I did something today that I have never done before-I actually made an honest effort to study more that a day in advance for an exam-and I succeeded. I know, I know, go find the balance you lost when the world stop spinning. Ok, seriously, I did study for almost two hours, which is a record for me. But then again, I love organic chemistry. It's like one big puzzle that I can solve if I understand all of the concepts. You might say that about any class, but it fits perfectly for organic chem. It's like math without numbers. Enough of praising organic chem - I think I am only praising it because it was my favorite class this past semester. I love my professor - she is the best professor I have ever had, and I have had some good ones. The material is not hard, and it has some very practical applications. But the thing that gives organic chemistry the most appeal is that it has very little to do with la pesta negra and physics, the two classes I hated the most this semester. Although, I am a bit scared of this final. It's a lot of material and I don't know how the final exam is going to be structured. That poses a particular problem for me because I fear the unknown to a crippling degree. So, I won't think about it until I wake up this afternoon.

I am currently watching (listening while I type) The Mummy Returns with it's heavenly bit of eye candy, Oded Fehr. I spent the entire day - the time that I didn't spend studying - packing up my room. I have accumulated a lot of stuff. It's amazing how much crap my drawers can hold. That last sentence was for Callie, who I have teased unmercifully every time she said the same thing. Anyway, I have spent two semesters making my room a veritable oasis of color and comfort and a shrine to the gorgeous male-forms of many a man. As I survey my blank walls and shelves, I understand why I made such an effort to cover them up. The room is so starkly barren now it's beyond depressing. I feel as if I've been admitted to some seedy asylum, with cold cinder-block walls covered in peeling paint, set off by cheezy and chipped wooden paneling and a dirty mirror. Can you tell that I am not so happy right now? I am so glad that my roommate covered her wall in various posters and pictures- I don't think that I would have survived with those barren walls. I don't know why - other people do just fine. But I have to have color and art and beauty all around in my space, I just have to.

I've been in this room for two years now, and I am coming back next year. It's grown on me - like my home away from home. I love this room (said defects aside). It has an excellent view and it is positioned to give great ease to the daily commute to class and the dining hall. Plus, it is on the second floor, right next to a staircase, which makes for great ease in taking my stuff in and out. And it's amazing how domesticated I have seen myself become while in this room. Periodically, I have found myself sitting in this very chair with needle and thread sewing something together or mending a tear. I sewed myself a headboard complete with padding while I listened to the superbowl last January. I've taken apart and repaired my vacuum cleaner with these two hands and a Phillips screw driver. I used the same screw driver to fix the dresser drawers on my roommates side of the room by prying a few pieces of wood out from the back allowing all the drawers to sit flush with the frame of the dresser. I have baked cookies in my toaster oven using a Chinese food tray and some cookie dough I bought in the C-store. I have dusted and vacuumed and done laundry and dishes with relish while procrastinating for various exams and assignments. Basically, I have become very domestic.

But it is now time to give that up, as I will be at home for the summer in less than 48 hours time. I miss the room and school and my roommate already. But I'll see them all again in August!

Update

So I took my zoology exam this morning after an extremely restless night. Does anyone else get insomnia before big exams or other big events? I don't know why, but I do. It seems so counterintuitive, because you would think that I'd be studied out and completely depleted of all my reserves because I'd been studying ever since I got back from my last exam, but no, my mind was wired and so I just lied there with my mind running every which direction. I finally fell asleep after singing an Edwin McCaine song, "I'll be," to myself in my head, because that's the last thing I remember before my alarm went off.

Pues, yo tomé el examen final de la pesta negra y ahora, no tengo miedo de ese. El examen fue muy corto y muy fácil...¿qué pensaba mi profesor cuando él escribió el exam? No sé, pero, no sé nada de mi profesor y no quiero saber nada de mi professor. No me gustó esa clase ... odié esa clase verdaderamente y ¡estoy muy contenta por que la clase está terminada! Nada palabra no puede describir mi felicidad de eso. Completé el examen en menos de treinta minutos y después, yo vendió el libro por cuarenta y siete dolares. Fue muy temprano entonces, muy temprano, pero no me acosté. Me duché y miré a la televisión. Mi compañera de cuarto se fue al mediodía, y he estado a solas desde entonces.

With my book money, I went an bought a pizza at Gumby's (Ha! What's in a name?) I'm never going back. The building is nasty, the people are nasty and not too friendly and a little creepy. And the pizza was way too greasy. I don't care how cheap they are, I am not going back.

I haven't done much since then, but I did redo this blog. You're probably saying what...it looks the same to you...but I did change it. I evened everything out so that the sections match up. I would like to know if anyone knows a function that can make a color, say..FFF...become transparent, so that it floats on top of the background and you can see the background through it. If you do know how, please tell me...It would save me sooooo much effort.

If you want a translation of that bit in Spanish, go to Language Tools
It should translate direcly, but be warned that Spanish uses double negatives and a different sentence structure, so some rearrangement and deletion may be needed to understand what I said.

I'll be dismantling my room this weekend and moving out on Monday after my final exam in organic chemistry. I have a lot of stuff, a hell of a lot of stuff, so I think that will be pretty time-consuming. I can't believe that I'll be through with two years of college come Monday evening. It's...I don't know, I need a wheel of adjectives. It hasn't been easy, but it has been fun. So, before I take this conversation into the dark realm of my future, I think I'll end it on a positive note.

In the wee small hours of the morning...

Well, maybe it's not that late, but without the bit of sugar coated-candy and the diet Dr. Pepper that I just ingested, I'd be lagging as if it was. I am beat. It's been almost a full week of nothing but back-to-back studying and cramming. I know that in 12 hours, I will be free of zoology, and that thought fills me with more joy than anything. I think I'll crash in my room afterward, and then later on go on a walk and investigate the shops on Hillsborough street, maybe go see a movie and then pick up some chinese for dinner...mmmm. Then I'll crash again with a good movie, maybe The Mummy Returns or Van Helsing or National Treasure, which just translates to Oded Fehr, Richard Roxburgh, or Sean Bean. If you've been reading my blog for some time, you'd realize that the only reason I watch movies now is to see the bit of eye candy they have to offer, unless I just like the movie. Anyway, la pestra negra en the morning, and then freedom for a day!

Eet ees not so bad...

I just finished my forensic anthropology exam...I think I did great. There were some questions that I was iffy on, but I didn't really care. And then I turned it in and I got the answer to the question that's been bothering me all week: Yes, my professor did receive my project and my extra credit assignment. I didn't even realize how much not knowing was hurting me...I feel as if a huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. Now, three down, two to go. I have my final in la clase de la pesta negra mañana...but I refuse to let it get to me. I will write out the answers to all of the 45 review questions that my professor posted for us online, and then I will look over the lectures that will be covered by the last exam, and then I will look over the three former tests, and then I'll look over the review questions again and call it quits. (I hope you've realized by now that I detail everything that I am going to do in hopes that it will calm my nerves). The exam tomorrow consists of two tests - the 4th partial exam and the final cumulative exam. Over the course of the semester, we will have 4 partial exams that cover all material since the last exam, and then the lowest one of those will be dropped. Thus, the 4th partial exam is optional...if you've taken all the other three partial exams and are satisfied with your scores, you need not take the 4th final. But the way my professor stated it, it was as if he was sneering at us, indicating that we all needed to take the 4th final because no one should be satisfied with the scores on their other three exams. (For further discussion on the oppression of the NC State Zoology department, I refer you to the blog of my esteemed colleague and roommate, "It's not about words" on the links section of the sidebar.) Well suh, I've taken all of the other three exams and I have a 99.16 test average right now. I don't think I can do much better than that, so I'm not taking that last partial exam, my professor and the whole zoology department be damned. During my insomnia last night, I calculated my current course grade (although my lab TA has yet to give us our final lab grades, so I'm just going to estimate), and here is what I came up with: Tests: 44.625, Problem Sets: 4.44, Lab: 23.5, Extra Credit: 2. All of that adds up to... 74.565...out of a possible 75 (w/o extra credit). My final is worth 25 points, so these are my calculations... If I bomb it and get 1/4 right, I'll make a 80.815 (B-). If I get 1/2 right, I'll make a 87.065 (B+). If I get 3/4 right, I'll make a 93.315 (A). I'm shooting for 3/4 right, which translates to a 75, which I have never made ever in any science based class. Physics..yes, Science...no. I'm a very good BS-er on paper, and I have good reasoning skills (not to brag). I'm trying to convince myself that I am not scared. I'm trying to say that I don't give a damn about my score tomorrow. But yet, I am still procrastinating, singing along to Phil Collins and Israel Kamakawiwo'ole. One more song, and then I'll get to studying. Wish me luck!

Almost there...

Tomorrow, I'll take my final for forensic anthropology after a hurried and frantic review of all of my notes when I wake up. And then, I'll commence the final study for my dreaded class...La pesta negra. I'm worried, but in a hollow sort of way...like I know that I have until tomorrow to worry about it. But come tomorrow, I will be frantic and I will be scared and I will be sorry that I didn't sacrifice the time I spent studying for other exams to this one. I'm already scared, but I am determined that I will not let that class get to me. If I fail the final, I fail the final. If I make a fifty on the final, I'll make a B in the class. If I make a 60 on the final, I'll get a B+. But looking back over everything, I realize that there is so much that I have to go over that I may have to settle for a 25 on the final, giving me a C in the class, just because there is so much to review and basically relearn. I hate this material...it does not interest me in the least so the only way I can make myself pass the test is to memorize all that I can. I'll review my old tests and then the review questions My professor posted, and then I'll pray and try not to cry. Seriously, I am already on the verge of tears, but I am rejoicing in the knowledge that it is almost over. After friday's exam, I'm going to start dismantling my room and then maybe order a pizza or some chinese with the money I got from selling back my physics book (yes, I sold it). And then come saturday and sunday, I will do my best to study hard for organic, because it looks like organic and spanish will be the only classes that I make A's in this semester. But, que será, será. I'll just have to live with the consequences. I don't think that I will be taking as heavy a load next semester...I'm already considering dropping spanish phonetics and just sticking with five classes instead of six. Anyway, I still have one chapter left to read for Forensics and then it's off to bed (with the TV on mindless programming). Wish me luck, or at least let me know that you all still love me even though I'm really bummed and scared about my exams.

Gay Day! (Again)

Hi again,

I couldn't resist letting you know about the one bit of real fun that I've had today. I had my physics exam bright and early this morning, and I feel really bad about the score, seriously bad. But, my compensation was going to be that I would get to sell my physics book back for maybe ten or more dollars later on today. Well, it is later on today, and the damn booth for selling back books ain't open yet! I want to get rid of this book ASAP, and they haven't even opened the booth! Well, to vent my frustration, I chose as guinea pig. my physics text book. I rescued the book of ill repute from its lowly place on my floor, and moved it into the center of the room. Once I had the book positioned on the center of my rug, I proceeded to kick off my flip flops and step onto the book. Once I had both feet on the book, I commenced jumping up and down while yelling profanities. My roommate thought it looked so fun that when I offered to let her have a go, she accepted with alacrity and began to pounce up and down on my textbook. After our bits of pouncing, we both pronounced ourselves to be much relieved and have both promised to repeat the experience with other, less-favored text books. I would recommend this procedure to any person suffering the want of a good class, a good teacher, and/or a good textbook. You really must try it. Hopefully, I will be able to sell my book back later today. If they do not want the book, and will not buy it back, I will simply apply the book toward one of these uses: a doorstop, fire kindling/tinder, a paper-airplane source, a projectile to be dropped onto unsuspecting freshmen, paper for covering a piñata, or a tent for the fish in my fishtank. If you can come up with any other uses, please let me know.

I also wanted to mention that I added a "Links" section onto the sidebar that you see to the left. In this section, you will find links to my new blog, "That which we call a rose," and my roommate's blog, "It's not about the words." I would advise checking in on both of them periodically. The former will provide you with a bit of beauty to start your day; the latter will make you question why you ever bothered to read my blog when you could read the much superior writings of my most-esteemed roommate. I believe that's all I had to say.. oh, wait, there is something else...

Prepare yourself for some news of vile goings-on. Whilst I was studiously attending my physics notes yesterday at approximately 7:30 yesterday evening and my roommate was engaged in reviewing her Zoology lectures, we both heard an interesting noise emanating from somewhere in the suite. From inside our room, the noise sounded as if a bed were being bounced upon with some haste, accompanied by the sounds of creaking bed springs. You can well imagine our first thoughts as to the source of the noise. Upon hearing some loud comments in the room across the hall, we were obliged to open our door to communicate with our neighbors. The result of our discourse was that the noises came from the A room at the front of the suite, the noises were accompanied by moaning and other bodily noises, and that the noises have occured at regular frequencies throughout the semester. How very interesting. Well, you can be in no doubts as to what action those noises signified, and I can now only offer my amusement tempered with a good part of disgust, for college students who would shag eachother in a fully crowded suite so that everyone in the suite would have no choice but to listen to their amore. Bravo.

Yours truly,

Jessica

Gay Day!

Hi all!

When I was in Spanish III in high school, I had a lot of fun. I went by the name Carmen, although I'd have rather been called Esperañza, but that name was taken. My teacher was a bit cuckoo. Don't get me wrong - I loved her class, but she had a very prolific sense of humor and fun. She was from Venezuela originally, and so her accent made her all the more funny (in a good way). Every Friday, we'd have class for a bit, and then we'd do something fun, which is why she dubbed Friday "Gay Day." English isn't her first language, and thus the implications that we normally associate with the word "gay" should be suspended. Anyway, in remembrance of all the good "Gay Days" I had in high school Spanish, I have decided to name this day, the last day of studying for FLS 315: Culture and Civilization of the Iberian peninsula, accordingly. After all, both were Spanish classes and I enjoyed both of them immensely. My exam for FLS 315 is tomorrow, a las ocho en la mañana. I've studied a bit, but I'm not going to go loca on this exam. I've retained a great deal of the information that we've learned over the semester, and the review sheet she gave us has helped me to form some good answers to potential discussion questions. Overall, I feel really good about this exam. I hope that I feel really good about it after I take it tomorrow too.

After Spanish, I'll be studying Forensic Anthropology until thursday afternoon, and then I'll take that exam a la una de la tarde el jueves, and then I'll commence a rapid, frantic studying of the most dreaded class ever: Zoology, or as I shall now refer to it, La pesta negra. I can't convey how worried I am right now about those exams, but maybe the terms heart palpitations, hyperventilation, dreams of anti-anxiety medication, and insomnia can correctly convey my current condition. I have found that if I take a step back and breathe for a bit, and maybe focus on what I do know already, I can get through my exams. The exams aren't the bad part - the studying is the bad part. I can work myself into a nervous breakdown just by studying. That is why, when Friday comes, after 11 AM, I will be taking it easy for that whole day. I not going to do jack. I'm going to plop my wide butt down in my chair or on my bed and watch TV or movies or sleep or read for the rest of the day. Then I'm going to commence a nice, slow, leisurely perusall of all material related to my last final examination, that of organic chemistry on Monday in hopes that I will not be a ball of nerves come Monday morning's exam. In fact, I am only writing this post in order to dispel some of my nervous energy. It seems to be working, as long as I don't think more than a few hours into the future.

In other news, I'm moving out of my dorm room next Monday and Tuesday. Despite the crushing sadness I know such an action will no doubt bring, I am restless to get to those days, for that will mean that I am through with final examinations and can finally go home and cry in my little corner.

Oh, and I wanted to ask: no one is going to think ill or less of me if I don't have a 4.0 GPA for this semester, right? Because as of now, I don't think I can handle the stress of having a 4.0, especially the stress of trying to keep that 4.0. I know I must sound like a poor little smart girl, complaining about her test score because she only scored 101 out of 100, but I am serious. It is a tremendous strain to maintain that GPA, and I can't take it anymore. If I didn't already think that it was gone, I'd be tempted to blow it intentionally just to get rid of the stress so I could actually enjoy my classes instead of worrying about every score. So, will y'all still love me if I don't do so well this semester?

Yours truly,

Carmen

Study Study Study

Technically, it is day one of my study regime. I have five exams to take, one each day starting Tuesday and ending next Monday. My hardest exam will be this Friday, in my least favorite class...Zoology. I don't know what is up with the zoology department here at State, but they seem driven to make every one fail. It's as if their objective is to overwhelm you with information that you couldn't care two shillings about and then they expect you to spend all your time studying for their exam as if you don't have other exams of equal importance to worry about. Can you tell that I really don't like zoology? I might feel better about it if we had quizzes or assignments periodically to keep us up to date with all of the information, but no, all we have are three tests to use to refresh our memory. Anyway, I've done the math, and I need to make a 75 or better on my final to make an A in the class. Isn't that a bit ridiculous? So, I've decided that the big, boring bully is going to wait for my studying attention until Thursday, after my Forensic Anthropology exam.

Speaking of Forensic Anthropology, I'm starting to get worried about that class. I worked all last week on a project detailing the biological profile of a pile of bones. I think I worked hard on it, but when I went to turn it in, I couldn't find the box that I was supposed to turn it into. I searched, but I couldn't find it. So I went to another floor and put the assignment in my professor's mailbox and then sent her an email telling her of the location. My professor has been in Puerto Rico since Tuesday of last week, so I don't expect a reply back until tomorrow at the earliest...but I am kind of worried. I hope she is able to find it, because she does not accept late papers, and Friday was the cut off point. I may not get any slack on that area, and if that is the case, that's fifty points of my final grade (out of 400). So the highest I can get in the class would be a B. Her exams are easy, in my opinion. They are not cumulative, so what I learned for the first exam will not count towards my second exam. I spent one day studying for the exam last time, and I aced the exam with a 150 out of 150. I plan on spending one day to study for the second/final exam, and I hope I meet with similar scores.

Tomorrow, I have my final physics exam for Non-Calculus based Physics II. I'm taking a break from studying for it right now, and I'm feeling all right. Of course, I felt all right about the last exam in that class and I made an abysmal grade (75 if you must know). I felt that test was unfair and way too difficult, and it was so much different in difficulty level from his last tests. I understand if a professor wants you to know how to tackle difficult test questions, but at least make all the tests with similar difficulty levels, so that students will know how much they need to prepare. He didn't even teach us how to do some of the problems, and he wouldn't even say that. He acted as if we'd gone over them thousands of times. I felt betrayed - I was actually starting to like physics. So, anyway, for the final tomorrow, I have to go over 14 chapters of material (I've covered 4 so far), and then I'll go over my tests, and then I'll pray. I need to make at least an 80, so that I make an A-. He has told us that our grades will be bumped up one +/- grade if we have good, solid homework scores (which I do). He will also move the class up a little bit after the scores from the final are in. He explained that to us after we received our last test back, and just to let you know, I scored pretty damn well compared to the majority of the class. So, If I make an 80, or better, I may get out of physics with an A, possible an A+, but definitely and A-. After that, I'll be done with physics for the rest of my life - even though the section on lenses and how they apply to glasses really interested me. I determined that my far point for my left eye is 50cm away, while that for my right eye is 100cm/1m away. Basically, anything outside of those distances is blurry. I wouldn't have know how to calculate that without this physics class, so thank you, Dr. Hinkle.

After Physics, I have Spanish. It's basically a mix of history and culture, so all I have to do is go over my notes and do some self-quizzing. I should be fine there, for I need only a 80 to pass with an A.

And my last exam, which will be on Monday, is for Organic Chemistry, no doubt my favorite class this semester. My professor is one of the best professors that I have ever had in my life. I have to make a 91 in order to make an A+, but I do not think that will be any real difficulty. I have an entire weekend to study for the exam, and I plan on doing just that.

I actually feel somewhat better after writing this, so I'm going to go back into studying. Electricity and Magnetism, here I come!