Super TMI Tuesday
After the jump. Please don’t read if you’re bothered by “that time of the month” .
If I
Wasn’t going to go to a party tomorrow night, I would totally be drinking right now.
I like to keep my tolerance low-ish. I can still hold my own, but a lot of mixers give me a stomach ache, so I like to not have to drink a lot to get to where I want to go. So when I have an event planned where I know I’ll be boozing, I try not to drink a few days or a week or whatever beforehand.
Also, when discussing drinking lately, I’ve heard the term “gut rot” much more than usual, describing the sick feeling people get from sugary mixers. I usually hear that term is reference to specific spirits, like “Hawkeye vodka? That’s some gut rot right there”. But I also watch too many shows from the ’50s and ’60s, so…
I’ve been watching too much British television.
I’ve started using British phrasing/sentence structure. And people are noticing; they give me funny looks.
Also, a few months ago when I was on a major Torchwood tangent, I got into my car to run some errands after I hadn’t driven for about a week. Once I left the driveway I had to literally ask myself which side of the road I should be on.
The BBC is out to get me.
Little things.
I just slightly changed the color scheme of my layout because I realized I could and I loves me some purple.
I spend so much time on my dash I forget I have an actual page that people actually see. I’ve been thinking about getting a new layout which shows more information upfront instead of having to click the links at the top…mostly because I’m being lazy and don’t want to teach myself how to fully utilize those links.
But my background is space. And I want it to stay that way.
I’ll play around with my Tumblr more…eventually.
EDIT: I also added a tiny bit of info to my ‘about’ page. It’s not much, but it’s there.
“That awkward moment when your kindness is mistaken with flirting”
I’ve posted a photo containing the words above before, but these words kind of apply to a personal story I want/need to get out.
[TW:inappropriate contact/non-violent sexual assault]
Things I Need to Do Tomorrow:
- Clean/organize my room: It’s a pit and hasn’t been properly organized since I moved in a month ago.
- Go clothes shopping: Should be easy for a girl, right? Wrong. Hate it. But I haven’t bought anything that wasn’t underthings/stuff for school in ages. All my t-shirts are wearing thin.
- Make brownies: Cause I want to bake something and I will need them when I’m upset over the next thing.
- Study for the big cardiac/pulmonary test on Monday: Biggest test for this class, besides the final. Average is failing. Panicking already.
- Drink/wallow in self-loathing: I do the latter for a bit every day and I’ll be all alone tomorrow night so why not add the former and make it a bit more fun? This will have to come after number 4, but will probably mix with the results of number 3.
Ask me anything.
I’m a bit inebriated and I just watched Velvet Goldmine for the second time so I wouldn’t mind if you dropped something in my ask, anonymous or not. I’m bad at asking others questions, but that doesn’t mean you are.
Even if it’s silly. Or dirty. I’ll answer, one way or another. Don’t be shy (like me).
Look familiar? (Taken with instagram)
Can a cyber woman ever really love a corn?
I love Cyber Woman with a Corn.
And I was just talking today about seeing packaged sweet corn at the store and how, living in Iowa, it was like seeing a crime against nature. Sweet corn out of season? Why would you do this to yourself?
But! I realize not everyone is lucky enough to live in a place where you can get this golden treasure fresh, even for only a few months a year. So packaged corn is all they have. And they are missing out.
I can’t even tell you how many people are just plain amazed when they have real sweet corn for the first time. It’s like a religious experience.
It’s the soil, man.
And so ends my blog entry about…corn. It’s serious business.
So I’m a bit tipsy.
And I told this guy I used to have the most horrible (in so, so many ways) crush on that I wouldn’t mind having a chat with him. Over Twitter. After he stated he would love to talk to someone he hasn’t heard from in a very long time.
Just to catch up. Quite a bit has happened in both our lives.
But he’s, apparently, also been drinking and I haven’t really heard back. Not concerned about it.
My first year of college was pretty horrible for my self confidence…and mental health in general. I wish I could just forget most of it. But the brightest and darkest spots stick with you.
And he stuck. I like to think he’s more bright than dark.
I’m not sure what the point of this post was but I should sleep. I need to get back to posting happier/more interesting things.
My dad and I watched this show when I was a kid. I was probably too young.
On the other hand it takes a lot for a horror movie to truly scare/impress me now.
For what it’s worth, movies with constant “boo!” moments that make you jump every two minutes are not scary. They’re cheap. And I will just close my eyes and turn away (I’m lookin’ at you, The Grudge II).
Poltergeist. Now there’s a great horror movie.
(Source: the-monster-and-the-lady)
I just installed Missing e.
It’s a big day.
I had a headache before going through all those settings and now am in dire need of a nap. I feel 6:42 p.m. is too late for such frivolity. But this morning I had to teach preschoolers about the 5 senses. Preschoolers, man.
And yes I know there are more than 5 senses but they were…like…four years old. How am I supposed to explain stuff like proprioception to someone who can’t tell me what salt is when they taste it? Cause that’s what happened this morning.
This went in a weird direction.
/nap
The Most Astounding Fact by Neil DeGrasse Tyson
Astrophysicist Dr. Neil DeGrasse Tyson was asked by a reader of TIME magazine, “What is the most astounding fact you can share with us about the Universe?” This is his answer.
When you take something great, like the musings of the mind of Dr. Neil deGrasse Tyson, and combine it with something else great, like stunning images of life and wonder on and off of Earth … you get this.
It’s the sort of video that makes you prop your chin up in your hand, with your head tilted just so (yeah, like that), as you stare at your computer screen mumbling things like “Ahhh“ and “Wooahh” and other unintelligible noises that mean “I approve of this, and it makes me feel good.”
Watch it once, then twice, then with a friend.
This is my favorite fact about the universe, and has been ever since I learned it years ago.
Have I talked about how much I love space? Cause I’m going to do it now.
When I was a little kid, I wanted to be an astronomer. This idea came from watching Jack Horkheimer’s “Star Gazer” shorts on PBS; they played ahead of one of my all-time favorite shows, Red Dwarf—a brilliant British sci-fi comedy. On his show, Jack would describe the astronomical happenings coming up in the next week. Things like Mars looking especially bright, meteor showers, or just talking a bit about the stars in Orion’s belt. I was fascinated. I still am.
I had a model of the solar system (which I built and painted myself). And a space bedspread. And those glow in the dark stars on my ceiling. And a telescope. And some bits of meteorite from The Magic School Bus book club (magnetic! cool!).
My Tumblr background is space.
I don’t know how to convey how much I love space, but I do. A lot.
When I was 10, I got an “Idiot’s Guide to Astronomy” for Christmas. Some of it was cool, most of it was too complicated for me to understand at that time…Equations. Bleh. I mean, I love learning about the advances in math and physics, but I’ve never had the type of analytic mind it takes to fully understand or be interested in those areas. And the book helped me realize astronomers don’t actually get to go to space.
So. I want to be an astronaut. Not wanted. Want. I want to experience the infinity that is space. I want to know how small the world really is.
I realize this will probably never happen. I’m still young, but I’ve looked at the requirements to become an astronaut and…damn, do you have to have a lot of school under your belt. Or be a fighter pilot. Probably not going to happen.
My only hope is that affordable space travel becomes available to civilians in my lifetime. And if not, I’ll always keep looking up.
So tired.
I woke up at 4:30 this morning for ICU clinical, my first of the semester. It went okay, but it goes until 2:30 in the afternoon—two hours longer than any other clinical I’ve had. It also starts an hour earlier than most clinicals. I’m beat.
And I just found out my pediatric clinical tomorrow also starts at 6:00 in the morning. But this one ends at 12:30, giving me just enough time to shower and get un-hospital-nasty for my meeting with the grieving kid I’m mentoring.
This is going to happen every week until finals.
I’m just so tired right now. I don’t know if what I’m writing is coherent.
I don’t even have the energy to properly tumbl.
My room smells like hospital.
But the worst part of this day is I had to put my hair up. And it still is. Ugh.
(Side fun fact: If you forget to take those little individual alcohol swab packets out of your scrub pockets and put them in the dryer, they puff up like pillows. I assume this is from the alcohol evaporating and expanding in the heat. It’s surprising.)
Traveling Abroad
I am going to Nottingham, England this summer!
I’m beyond excited. I’ve known I was going for a while, but now that I’ve applied for my passport and paid for the plane tickets it’s becoming real. (Yeah, yeah I’m 22 and don’t have a passport. I’m from the U.S. My state is bigger than some countries. And when I went to Canada with my family that one time I didn’t need a passport or one of those dumb cards. Problem? I can’t hear you over all my freedom. [/sarcasm])
I’m leaving on the third of July and I’ll be landing in the U.K. on July 4th, which is weird because it will be Independence Day in the States. And I left for the country we gained independence from. No fireworks! No sparklers! I’m such a traitor.
It’s also going be my first time on a plane. The first time will actually be just a regional jet from Des Moines to Chicago, but I’ll still be flying. Which is amazing. And then I get to cross an ocean, something I’ve never seen in real life before—cuz no matter which way you slice it, Iowa’s smack dab in the middle of a looooot of land.
But I’m not just going for the hell of it, I’m going for my Community Health class. I’m super excited for this, because I’ll get to experience how health care works in a system much different (and as far as I’m aware, better) than what we have here in the U.S. But they also use kilograms and Celsius and kilometers everywhere and I really need to brush up on all that. We do use the metric system in healthcare but…it’s just so hard to change your perspective.
Most of our time will be spent in Nottingham, but the third weekend we get to go to London. I don’t even know what to say. I’m speechless. I can’t wait.
And then I come back to Iowa on the 23rd.
I feel like I’ve rambled but it’s just so hard to describe the way I feel about this. I’ve watched British television ever since I was little and I’ve always loved the humor and the culture and the accents and now I have the opportunity to actually go.
I think the hardest thing to adjust to will be not saying ‘pants’ when referring to jeans/trousers. Because it means underwear in Britain, and I will be sniggered at.
Ughhh i just had a traumatic animal experience.
So it was a bit before midnight. I’m home for spring break and watching TV with my dad. I decide to go change into something for bed.
As I pass the stairwell to go into the back room, I hear scratching. And squeaking.
At the top of the stairs and to the right is a window. Right now—because Mother Nature decided to start summer early and make it 80 degrees when it was <30 and snowy just over a week ago—we have a box fan in it, leaning against the storm screen to blow in the cooler night air. This window is where the sound was coming from.
I go upstairs thinking (for some reason) it was a bird sucked towards the screen by the fan. I lean the fan forward, look down, and see a fuzzy little bat head and claw sticking out from the grate.
“Dad. Dad!”
“What?”
“There’s a bat in the fan.”
“What?”
“There’s a bat in the fan.”
“Hold on a sec.”
He was heading to the bathroom when I yelled for him. I didn’t know what to do right away.
How did the bat get in there? The fan’s on. Is it hurt already? Should I turn the fan off?
This last question was hard because the fan settings are a bit backwards; in order to turn it off from the lowest setting, you first have to go through two increasingly powerful settings to get there. I didn’t want to hurt it while trying to save it.
I heard a soft tumbling, crumpled sound. I looked down. The bat had been sucked into the fan.
I turned it off as fast as I could and looked for the bat in the bottom of the fan. It was still moving, a little brown lump of a thing.
After I brought the fan outside, I unscrewed the corner of the grate. My dad wedged it open and ended up plucking it out with giant utility tweezers. He placed it in a Frisbee. It wasn’t moving.
I hope it was just playing dead. My dad placed it by a tree in the yard and I hope it’s gone tomorrow morning. I don’t want to have killed something by not turning a stupid fan off fast enough.
I heard another one in my brother’s room while I was looking for the tool kit. My dad and I couldn’t find it, and by the sound we’re fairly certain it’s in the walls. We have no idea how they got it the house. I hope it gets out okay.
I’m probably more upset about this than I should be.
