Summing up nicely

I just bought another purse. Actually it's a clutch that's going to be my wallet because my old wallet has seen many, many, many better days. And I bought more clothes - business slacks and a shirt - which I'm sure will be needed sooner rather than later. And that's about it.

I have finished with all of my exams (I only had three). I have a portfolio due tomorrow (I'm starting on it tonight), and then after that, I'm free. I'm going to bring a lot of things home tomorrow - mine and Becca's stuff. Her last exam is on Tuesday, and then she's going home. I'll be driving up before then - either Monday or Sunday - to pick her up with the last of her stuff. I'm not exactly sure how that's going to work. I plan on staying at school until graduation after that, but I need a car to get around - mainly because the dining hall and every on-campus-eatery will be closed at that time, so I'll need someway to find a meal. And also because my Aunt Jean is flying in from LA to Raleigh on Thursday night, I think, and I need to pick her up from the air port. Maybe I'll just drive to Raleigh, pick Becca up, go home, and then drive back to Raleigh the next day.

Anyway, after I get situated in my room again, probably on Thursday, I'll probably take a lot of pictures of campus and the room, etc., for posterity's sake, and maybe I'll be able to update my story with a few new chapters! Maybe I can go visiting some friends - depending on who's still here at that time. Then it will be time for graduation early on Saturday morning, followed by the departmental ceremony at 3pm in Reynold's. I have to check out of my room by 5pm on Saturday, and then I will either be going home or I'll still be staying in Raleigh until my Aunt Jean takes the red-eye flight at 2am that morning. But then after that, I'll go home, and continue job hunting and helping out at home (because they need help at home!).

Actual Question

1. Higher-order mental functions encompass each of the following except:
A. memory
B. learning
C. reasoning
D. coughing

Seriously?

Etymological Derivations

Egad (By God/ A God). It's time for those dratted (May God Rot Them) final exams. Zounds (God's Wounds). Exams are so dreary (gloomy, depressing; related to the flow of blood). If they were physical entities, I'd take a swing (to flog, to beat) at them. As it is, I'll simply take them and bid them goodbye (God be with you).

So, I just bought a book on word origins, and those are some of them. See how much I hate studying? I've got a crap-load to do tomorrow, but I'm not too fussed. If I don't get to it all, I don't get to it all; what's the worst that could happen? Point-wise, without the final, I have a C in Anatomy. I need to get less than one-third of the final correct to make a B. See? Not fussed. Well, maybe a little. Maybe a little, infinitesimal part of me is beginning to get anxious, bordering on neurotically hysterical, about the impending final. But I'm going to beat that part down while I write another scene for my new story. What would life be without the pressure procrastination brings?

27 Dresses

Ah...finally, a good romantic comedy. I've just seen 27 Dresses, and I have to say that it was a breath of fresh air, a tall glass of cool water on a hot day, ...etc. It is so nice to see James Marsden get the girl in the end. He was in X-Men, and his competition for the girl was Hugh Jackman - I mean, c'mon, is that even a real contest, let alone a fair one? Then he was in The Notebook, and the one scene I've seen of that movie (I refuse point-blank to watch it, or read it, for that matter. Ryan Gosling? Puh-lease. Ick.) involved James Marsden losing Rachel McAdams to Ryan Gosling, which I still don't understand. James Marsden vs. Ryan Gosling...I don't see the competition, sorry, and it doesn't look good for Mr. Gosling. In Superman Returns, James Marsden loses the heart of his wife to Brandon Routh. To sum up, the characters Mr. Marsden portrays just don't seem to have luck on their side. But not in this film! I was pleasantly surprised. It was the perfect movie to be the last movie I ever watch at NCSU's Campus Cinema.

I went shopping earlier today, and bought a few things. I really wanted this wallet that Target sold - it was made of a beautiful red leather, and could double as a clutch, and it was gorgeous. I must have come back to it two or three times, but I didn't buy it because I couldn't justify paying fifteen dollars and change for it. Sorry; I'm cheap. I did by a Chris Daughtry CD (love it), and a new book - more etymological derivations of the English Language. Did you know that "Goodbye" is the shortened form of the parting salutation "God be with you"? I kinda did, but not really. That makes it funny when atheists bid you goodbye. The same translation carries over into Latin-based languages - Adieu in French (to God), Vaya con Dios (go with God) or Adios (to God) in Spanish - so it's no stretch that it's basically the same in English. Gah, I feel like a nerd. An English nerd. Oh well. It could be worse: at least it's not computers.

I ran into another of "my guys" at Blockbuster. I had a class with him four years ago, and he was in my discussion group, and that is literally the last time I spoke to him, if I even spoke to him then. He's in the Navy ROTC, which means he wears a uniform every Wednesday (yum), one of the best days of the week, in my opinion. Anyway, I see him around on campus a lot, and just like I recognize him, I can see that he recognizes me. But he's so short! Sorry, that's superficial of me. Bad, Jessica, bad!

My first exam is on Tuesday, so I'll start studying a little tomorrow. Maybe. I'm going down to Clayton for game night with Thomas and his friends. I'm flying solo because someone needs to "study," and simply can't come with me. Whatever. After that, maybe I'll start studying. Right now, I'm doing my laundry, and frantically working out the latest development in the plot of my new story. I just had this really cool idea earlier today that has the potential to unify and drive my story, and I have to get it all out and written before it vanishes.

Science Jokes!

Odd Happenings

So, as I was on my way out of the library this evening, just a few minutes ago, I walked out of the foyer and this guy comes up beside me and says hi. I thought he was talking to someone else, so I started down the steps, but then he again appeared beside me and said hi, so I said hello back to him. I've never seen him before in my life (or if I have, I don't remember). He then proceeds to say that I look really nice tonight, very pretty, and by the time we get to the bottom of the stairs, he says that maybe he could have my number...? How sweet is that?! Cautious me, though, said that I didn't know him well enough for that, but maybe I would see him around. I shook his hand and said my name was Jessica, and he said his was James, and then I wished him goodnight and left. That's never happened to me before in my life. Ever. Well, maybe once, but never at school. Anyway, maybe I'll see him around. He was very good-looking, and soft-spoken. Who knows?

Thus far, this is the oldest I've been.

So, Dead Week has arrived. Final Exams start next week, and end next week for me. Am I studying yet? Nope. Actually, I was busy working on a new story. I still working on Labyrinth, but my focus has waned temporarily in light of my new creation: I'm going to write a Pirates of the Caribbean story. I think it all started with me listening to the At World's End soundtrack on the way home on Friday. It was just me in the car, so I played it as loud as I pleased, and it felt like I was back in the theater with the awesomeness of surround sound. I really do love that soundtrack - it's perfect on so many levels. Anyway, I'd like to reprise the role of Commodore Norrington - I think he's the epitome of 'nice guys finish last' and I want to change that. He reminds me of John Rolfe in The New World - he just can't win. Anyway, the tale is still in the very early stages of development, and I might dive into the realm of Harry Potter while I'm at it, who knows?

Atonement

I just went and saw Atonement, again, and got to see the end, finally. It's perfect. It was perfect. It made me cry, and it didn't leave room for any ambiguity - compared to the novel, that is. Wonderful.

And I got to see the hot UAB/ticket checker/bouncer guy again. Score!

Revision: Ok, not a score. I just found said hot UAB guy's facebook profile. He's engaged to be married. Sucks for me.

Hmmm...

Here lies, all cold and hard,
The last damn dog that pooped in my yard.

Joyeaux Anniversaire

Happy Birthday to Sean Bean!!

How much does a thought about bricks weigh?

Random thought from a random mind. Life's been interesting this week, and by interesting I mean scariest-frigging-moment-of-my-life interesting. To make a long story short, I was in a minor car accident Monday night. I pulled out into a lane that I thought was empty, but wasn't. Nobody got hurt, no vehicles got damaged, except for some cracked plastic on our car's driver's side mirror. But...boy was I shell shocked. That's putting it mildly. Before I found out that there was no damage or injuries, I was terrified. My whole body was shaking, my eyes went and stayed wide...I didn't know what to do. After I talked with the other driver and then went back to school, I made it to the room and tried to call home several times. No one answered, but that was fine because by the time I got to the answering machine, I wasn't able to speak because I was crying so hard. I stopped before Becca got back from the library, but my nerves were still pretty frayed. The worst thing about it, I think, is that I can't say I'll be more careful when I drive now because I was being careful that night - I'm not sure if it's possible to be more careful. But anyway, like I said, life's been interesting this week.

On another, more pleasant (though not for me) note, my Graduation is coming up. To sum up my feelings on the matter, I don't want to go. I know I'm a valedictorian, and I know I'm graduating Summa Cum Laude, but - to put it bluntly - I didn't work hard to achieve either honor. I think I owe both honors equally to luck and to a profound ability to cram for exams. I guess what I'm saying is that: sure, I'm going to be honored, but I don't feel like I've earned either honor. Besides, I don't think it's worth it for almost my entire family to not only come to Raleigh to be at the graduation, but then to pay to stay in Raleigh, to buy a new outfit - and I am putting my foot down right now - there is no way in Hell that I will wear a dress or a skirt - If it's my effing graduation, then I'm wearing effing pants. Anyway, to sum up: I don't think it's worth it.

More Movies

So, last weekend I went and saw National Treasure II: Book of Secrets. I learned something: Helen Mirren has very large breasts, something I am quite qualified to judge based on how many times she almost fell out during the movie. That said, she's a beautiful woman and a remarkable actress, so I can hold my peace. As for the movie itself...eh...no. Can't say that I really liked it. It lacked something that the first one had...oh, what was it..? Oh, I remember: SEAN BEAN. And a decent plot. 'Nuff said.

Last night I went and saw Juno. I liked it, although the language really got to me. There's only so many groovy, quirky slurs on the English language than I can tolerate, and this movie pushed my limit. But it was funny, and it made me cry at the end, and, like I said...it's a good movie. Of greater interest was the fact that both of the hot Union Activities Board guys were there last night. One was selling tickets and one was checking them at the door. Sweet. The one at the door has this really intense, serious, piercing gaze that is both awesome and unsettling at the same time. I've seen him around campus a lot, and he always looks at me (and everyone else around at the time too) with that same look - and I have to say it exponentially increases his hot/mysterious factor. I'm tempted to go see Juno again tonight just to get another look at him, but I have other plans.

Those plans involve taking me, myself, I, and my Sweeney Todd soundtrack to the Cinema at North Hills to go see Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day. It's got Ciaran Hinds, and I think he's going to play the romantic lead, which is almost as awesome as Alan Rickman getting the girl in the end in Sense and Sensibility - both are distinguished actors, but both either end up getting killed in the end of a movie, or they live, but they're still the bad guys. This film will be a welcome relief.

My ENG 287 Short Story

Live and Let Live

Seamus Carpenter stands just over six feet tall, when he stands up straight, that is. His hair is of an unremarkable hue best described as brown, and the way he wears it does nothing to bring out the cerulean of his eyes. Seamus isn’t sure what cerulean means; his girlfriend once applied the unfamiliar adjective to his eyes while they shared a chocolate shake topped with two maraschino cherries at a retro diner one night, and Seamus has since concluded that it’s simply a pretty way of saying blue. A hand with fingernails cut down to the quick travels through Seamus’s shaggy mane, which is long and untamed enough to meet with scornful glares from most adults over the age of forty, like the portly woman who just passed by him with three new releases clutched in her overly-ringed hands. Seamus doesn’t mind. He thinks briefly that he wouldn’t wear so many rings if his fingers looked that much like sausages, but he casts the thought aside. The woman can wear as many rings as she likes, and he can wear his hair anyway he likes. Seamus’s motto is live and let live.

Colorful boxes with bold words and smiling people surround Seamus, their colors and images painstakingly chosen to cast a siren song to his generation, but Seamus passes them by. Aisle after aisle, the titles sulk quietly on their shelves. They do not call out to Seamus, nor does he pay them any regard. Seamus knows which movie he wants, and pauses. There before him, on the third row from the top, the second case from the left, lies the immortal genius that is Mel Brooks’s Robin Hood: Men in Tights. His hand does not tremble as he picks up the movie, although he knows his girlfriend, Amy, will be anything but pleased to see this film again. This particular film has sparked more rows than Seamus cares to remember, and Amy considers it one of Seamus’s biggest flaws that he has rented it twenty-seven times in the eight months that they’ve lived together.

“Twenty-eight,” Seamus says softly to himself.

Seamus thinks of himself as a normal, well-adjusted man in his late twenties. He goes to work everyday for five days a week at 7:56AM, with a standard deviation of 2.3 minutes. He jogs around the community park three times a week, trying to maintain a lean physique that has started to soften of late according to his full-length bathroom mirror. He has a girlfriend with whom he shares an apartment and the occasional appletini, when the situation warrants it. He’s even normal enough to file his taxes on time. But Seamus, like most people, has flaws. Two, to be precise, according to Amy. The first is his fascination with the movie currently housed in his hand, and his ability to laugh until tears stream from his … cerulean… eyes every time he watches the can-can version of the ‘Men in Tights’ song. The second flaw drives Amy up the proverbial wall, although Seamus really can’t see what all the fuss is about.

As he waits in the queue to rent his movie, Seamus decides to have a look out the large, double-paned windows that face today’s spring day. Just outside is a white flowering dogwood, no doubt planted for its aesthetic appeal and its ability to call to mind visions of soft, fluffy clouds. Beneath the tree is a lush carpet of new grass spotted with a few thick clover beds and the idea to hunt for a four-leaf clover passes transiently through Seamus’s mind. Vaguely, he thinks that Amy could use the good luck tonight, but as he moves forward in line the idea vacates his mind as quickly as it arrived, leaving Seamus with nothing better to do than to return his gaze out the window. He counts to ten, and in that time interval two cars pass by; one red, and one not red. Looking skyward, Seamus notes the heaviness of the darkening clouds with a brief pang of trepidation, knowing all-too-well their potential for exposing his second flaw. But if Seamus wishes to keep his supposed-second flaw secret, then I’m sad to report that it may already be too late.

You see, just as Seamus holds out an open hand to receive his change from the cashier, and one quarter, one dime, and one nickel fall squarely into his palm, one shiny, newly-minted 2008 penny chooses a different path for itself. It strikes the side of Seamus’s hand, bounces onto the very edge of the counter and spirals into the air. As he watches the downward trajectory of the coin, Seamus’s sympathetic nervous systems awakens and begins sending impulses to the sinoatrial node, which course through an internal electrical circuit and ultimately terminate at the purkinje fibers, accelerating Seamus’s heart rate and giving him the impression of time standing still. Turn by turn, the penny falls gracefully through the air, finally landing on the floor next to a crumpled-up receipt and a dirty wad of once-pink bubble gum. Sucking in his breath, Seamus watches with widened eyes as the copper coin continues to spin, releasing that breath as the coin lands such that Lincoln’s shiny profile faces Seamus’s relieved face. Seamus stoops to easily scoop up the penny and deposits it in his pocket with the rest of the change.

“Sorry about that,” says the cashier, absently waiting for Seamus’s receipt to print.

“Not a problem,” Seamus replies nonchalantly. He even manages a grin and a thank you as he collects his movie and exits the store, relieved at his merciful reprieve. Tucking the film into the front pocket of the hoodie that he only wears on Friday afternoons, Seamus begins the walk back to his and Amy’s apartment. When he is two blocks away, Seamus breaks into a run to avoid a sudden sheet of drenching rain. He enters the apartment just as Amy emerges from their bedroom dressed in a smart outfit that Seamus always felt made her look like a sophisticated and yet intimidating businesswoman. He never fails to amend his description to include how beautiful Amy is.

Whistling in appreciation, Seamus watches as Amy spins in place for him, giving him a 360-view of her entire ensemble, her strawberry-blonde hair unmoving from her perfect, although rigid, coiffure.

“You look wonderful.” Seamus pulls Amy in for a light kiss, which he places on her upturned cheek, careful not to smudge her makeup.

“Thanks,” she replies. “Will I knock them dead?”

Seamus doesn’t miss the note of uncertainty hiding behind her confident question. Giving her another quick once-over, Seamus says “You’ll knock ‘em dead. If that firm doesn’t hire you the moment you set foot in their door, then they’re crazy.”

Amy smiles, and then asks the question Seamus doesn’t want to answer. “What’s that in your pocket?”

“Oh, nothing,” says Seamus, trying for sang-froid. “It’s just a movie.”

Amy’s eyes narrow. “Which movie?” Although her question is only two words long, Seamus can hear each syllable hit the neutral carpeting between them with all the explosive potential of ticking time bombs. Seamus’s silence is Amy’s only answer and she lets out a sigh of exasperation. “I don’t know what your obsession is with that stupid movie, Seamus. I just don’t get it.”

‘You don’t try to get it,’ Seamus tells her in his mind, but keeps his peace, electing to say instead: “It’s pouring outside. You’ll need your umbrella.”

To Seamus’s relief, Amy accepts the change of subject. As she turns to put on her earrings, she tells him, “It’s in the corner by the bookshelf. Will you take a look at it – I couldn’t get it to open last time.”

“Sure,” Seamus says, swallowing the apprehension rising in his throat like bile. Now Seamus isn’t afraid that he can’t fix the umbrella. On the contrary – he knows he can do it in a trice. No, Seamus is afraid of reminding Amy of his second flaw, especially so soon after the appearance of his first. Seamus does not like it when Amy yells, especially at him. Still, Seamus walks to the corner and picks up Amy’s umbrella, its pastel polka dots seeming to swim on the navy-blue background. Quietly, hoping that Amy won’t notice, Seamus walks softly toward their small terrace, the closed umbrella tucked under his arm.

But Amy does notice. “What are you doing?” Her question cracks through the air like a whip, stopping Seamus in his tracks. “Why can’t you fix it inside?”

Seamus slowly turns to face Amy, knowing that she knows the answer to that question just as well as he does. It’s his second flaw, the one that drives her crazier than Seamus’s watching of his favorite movie over and over again, laughing at every asinine joke as if it was the first time he’d heard it. Seamus could not, or would not, open an umbrella indoors, for the same reason that he would not pick up a penny if it was face down, or would not walk under a ladder. It is the same reason that leads him to believe that four leaf clovers and visits from lady-bugs bring good luck, while shattered mirrors and spilt salt bring bad luck. You see, dear reader, Seamus is superstitious.

When Amy had first met Seamus, she’d told him that his silly beliefs were a breath of fresh, reason-free air in her otherwise logical life. The first time he presented her with a lucky penny, Amy hadn’t been able to contain the smile that spilled onto her face in a rosy blush, nor the laughter that bubbled forth as she accepted the good-luck token from Seamus’s earnest hands. That had been when they first met, over a year ago, and Amy’s smiles at Seamus’s flirtations with irrationality had long ago died. Her tug on her side of the wishbone last Thanksgiving hadn’t merited being called half-hearted, and she hadn’t even tried to smile when the wishbone had snapped with a dry crack, leaving her with the larger side.

This is not to say that Seamus and Amy’s relationship was rocky; that is far from the truth. Aside from Seamus’s superstitious beliefs and Amy’s rigid abhorrence of all things illogical, they fit together quite nicely. They share a similar set of friends, and both secretly dream of adopting a black Labrador puppy as soon as they find a larger place to live. Amy adores Seamus’s singing voice and never misses an opportunity to rain praise upon him when he does sing. Seamus lives in awe of Amy’s culinary savvy, which she takes with her once a week to the local soup kitchen, driven by a compassion that makes Seamus proud to know her. Perhaps it is helping people in need, and seeing firsthand the devastation complete dependence on irrational whims and dreams can create that makes Amy unwilling to abide Seamus’s superstitions. Perhaps it is her undying wish to make the world a better, more rational place that makes Amy so adamant about curing Seamus of his silliness. Whatever it is, all Seamus knows is that Amy lacks the ability to live and let live.

Which brings us to the current state of affairs. Amy repeats her question, her scathing response already selected and grammar-checked. “Why can’t you fix it inside?”

Seamus eyes her, noting her reddening face and her blossoming temper. Normally, he’d say something innocuous and wait for her to calm down, choosing a policy of inactive appeasement rather than assertive action to avoid a sticky argument. But Seamus doesn’t feel like it today. Drawing upon the same boldness that helped him to select his movie with nary a tremble, Seamus straightens his spine and meets Amy’s eyes squarely from his full height.

“I’m going out onto the terrace to fix your umbrella. It’s bad luck to open an umbrella indoors.”

Amy appears taken aback by his forthrightness but recovers quickly, taking it in stride as she lets out a frustrated groan. “Not this madness again! How many times do I have to tell you – opening an umbrella inside is not going to bring bad luck! It just doesn’t make sense. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you see how crazy your beliefs are?!”

“My beliefs are not crazy,” Seamus says, coldness seeping into his tone.

“Oh, yeah?” She asks, before snatching her umbrella from under Seamus’s arm. “Then tell me, what exactly is going to happen to me if I open this umbrella right here, right now? Please, tell me. I want to know.”

Seamus doesn’t make a move to stop her. He watches in silence as Amy defiantly forces the umbrella to open with a manic burst of strength. She sits down on the couch, the umbrella draped over her shoulder like a parasol.

“Where’s your bad luck, Seamus?” she asks, moving her head from side-to-side in mock alarm. “I don’t see it.”

“No,” he finally says. “You wouldn’t. You don’t believe it. You don’t understand that it’s not the opening of the umbrella inside that brings bad luck, or the finding of a four-leaf clover that brings good – it’s the belief that you’re going to meet with either good or bad luck. That’s it. It’s just a belief. If I think I’m going to have bad luck, odds are I’ll have bad luck. If I think I’m going to have good luck, then the odds are I will have good luck, simply because I believe it.”

Seamus advances on Amy, standing solidly before her. “But you’ve never cared about that. You’ve never cared that finding a penny heads-up makes me happy, or that watching this movie,” Seamus pulls said movie from his pocket and throws it onto the coffee table with enough force for Amy to flinch, “makes me happy. You don’t care that what I believe has been scientifically tested and has a logical, rational origin. You don’t care about any of that. All you can see is that I will not conform to your so-called rationality.”

Seamus stops for a moment to take in Amy’s unyielding expression, and something breaks within him. Seamus loves Amy and he knows in his heart that she is the only person he wants to be with, but this conflict between them, sparked by his idle beliefs, is killing their relationship. Seamus recognizes this, and realizes that it’s just not worth it anymore. His spine deflates to its usual, stunted height as he tells her, “Fine. I can’t take this anymore. You want me to be rational, then fine.”

Before Amy can ask him what he’s doing, Seamus seizes the small mirror mounted above the couch and hurls it into the wall. Silvery glass shatters, the shards reflecting a hundred scattered images of Amy’s shocked face before raining down on the beige carpet. “Well?!” Seamus asks, his chest heaving. “Is that rational enough for you? I’m not worried about bad luck anymore. Does that make you happy, Amy?”

When Seamus looks at Amy, he finds no happiness on her startled face. Instead, he finds a soft question, seeming to ask him, ‘Why haven’t you said any of this before?’ But Seamus doesn’t want to answer it. As his sudden anger ebbs, Seamus feels a hint of remorse for his actions, and the need to be alone.

“You’d better get going,” he says to Amy. “You’ll be late for your interview.”

Amy silently stands up and closes the umbrella. Her eyes don’t quite meet his as she gathers her purse, her leather briefcase, and the umbrella and heads toward the door. She hesitates before opening the door, a burst of nervousness filling her with the need to hear him wish her luck, but Seamus is through with luck, and says nothing.

As soon as Amy leaves, Seamus cleans up the broken mirror, depositing the dangerous shards into a brown paper sack before placing them in the garbage. He thinks briefly of changing out of his sodden clothes and taking a shower, but the will to do so deserts him and he instead sits by the window. The rain that had poured so strongly before has ceased altogether now, and Seamus marvels at how beautiful everything can look after a storm. The residual moisture darkened the bark of the trees in the park next door, making the new leaves and flowers all the more brilliant. Seamus hopes that after the storm of this most recent quarrel, the future of what he and Amy share will be just as bright.

When Amy returns, Seamus is still sitting in that same seat, watching the sunset. He turns his head briefly to acknowledge her arrival before returning his gaze outside. Amy doesn’t speak to him, but he can hear her moving about in the apartment. Sometime later, the irresistible smell of popcorn tickles Seamus’s nostrils, and a familiar tune emanating from the TV prompts him to turn his head. Amy sits on the couch, a large bowl tottering in her lap as she pats the seat next to her, a smile warming her face.

Seamus cautiously approaches and sits next to her with an expression of disbelief, as if he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. Amy passes him the bowl of popcorn as the opening credits of Robin Hood: Men in Tights flash across the screen, ending Seamus’s disbelief but exponentially increasing his confusion.

Amy answers before he can ask. “I didn’t know how much it meant to you, Seamus. I didn’t realize how much any of it meant to you, but now that I do, well…” her loosened hair whirls about as she turns and flashes him a smile, “I think I can learn to live with it.”

So Busy!

So Busy! From now until May 1st - I'll be busy busy busy! Bollocks.

But in other news, I am quite lucky. I planned my semester to ensure that I met my graduation requirements and that I took some courses I wanted to take. That's it - I didn't plan beyond that, but had I - I couldn't have come up with a better semester.

I have a project due in one class on Monday, and after I present the project, that class is done for the semester - completely done.

I've already turned in my short story for creative writing, so all I have left to do is revise my major pieces to turn in as my portfolio for that class on the 1st, and that's it - no final, no new assignments.

For Biotechnology - I have one lab report left aside from the final, and the final is going to be very easy, so that's wrapping up nicely.

For French - well, it's French - easy, and that's enough said.

Which brings me to anatomy, which is not wrapping up nicely. My 3rd lecture exam is tomorrow, and I've got a big cramming session headed my way tonight to finish preparing for it. After that, I have a lab exam (worth the same number of points) followed by a huge final, plus a possible video project that I do not want to do. But on the bright side, Anatomy is my first final exam during finals week, so I'll get it over with very quickly and will never look back.

And after that...I have almost a 9-day gap before graduation. I need it to ferry my stuff between here and home, but I think I'd like to get down to Charleston for a visit, and to acquaint myself with Charleston because I really really want to end up working down there. I have a phone interview with GEL labs tomorrow, for a position I don't really want, but another one opened up a few days ago on their website that's better suited for me, and I've already applied for it, so maybe I can mention that in the interview. But first things first - Anatomy exam, and then interview, and then anatomy lab, and then tutoring...

And I didn't even mention when I'm going to find the time to update my story because I just don't know when that time will come...urgh.

Doy...! =D

I'm a little drunk. I like Heineken. Especially the big bottles of it. I don't like Vodka, but I finished my bottle of it anyway. Hence the being a little drunk. Or a lot. I don't know. I haven't tried to walk yet. Hang on-

-Wow, that was fun. Kinda like spinning really fast and then trying to find your balance. Anyway, I'm off to bed. noodgight.

Three Icks This Way Came

Ick: noun. An unpleasant and/or disgusting, frightening, or creepy situation or event. (Source: Ickaliscious Dictionary)

I have experienced three icks this week. The first was on Saturday night. I was sitting at my computer, like I am now, and out of the corner of my eye I saw this shape move onto the carpet. Turns out it was a positively huge spider that had crawled out from under Rebecca's bed. Well, it was lucky that I had a shoe nearby because, despite my fearful dislike of spiders, if they are within my room, I must kill them, and this one was too big to kill with my bare hand or foot. I left it there under my shoe to show to Becca when she returned that night, or at least that's what I told her. In reality, I just didn't want to think of it anymore - it creeped me out so much - so I just left it under my shoe so I didn't have to think about it.

The second ick occured earlier today. Someone - I've narrowed it down to one of 6 girls who currently reside in this suite - vomited in the bathroom. In a toilet? Nope. In the trashcan. Now, I have pity for anyone who's sick to their stomach - I'd rather let someone slice my leg open rather than suffer the slightest bit of gastrointestinal pain, I dislike it so - but still...the trashcan? Couldn't they at least have the decency to warn someone after they were finished? Well, they didn't. Instead, they relied on the scent of stomach acid mingling with partially digested foods to serve as a warning to all who entered the suite: Beware of Vomit. After a few hours of the stench, I finally went into the bathroom, grabbed the trash bag, took it outside and threw it into the dumpster, and then went back into the bathroom to vigorously wash my hands.

The third ick happened maybe an hour or two ago. I was sitting on my bed, working on some Biotechnology homework when another shape crawled just on the outside of my peripheral vision, but instead of being a few feet away, this one was merely inches away. Luckily, the spider was very tiny, maybe the size of my pinkie nail, if that. Unfortunately, it was so small that I couldn't see if I killed it or not. Hence my starting every time I feel the slightest breath of something on my skin.