up on the roof

Friends only! But open to making more. <3

Blood leaves the heart through the aorta and then goes kjdghjakshkjgwahrkg...

The nervous system is not called the brain system and I can hardly list the divisons off the top of my head. I also can't tell you any more about the pathway of a synapse besides preganglionic cell bodies and axons and postganglionic cell bodies and axons. At what point does this all turn in to mush? That I don't quite know myself.

If I didn't have to know either of these two things to a level of minute detail, I would get A's in vet school.

But the idea of either of them, and I panic. It's just a confusing tangled web. And if I can't straighten these two concepts out to perfect in the next three weeks, my lifelong aspirations of being a B+ student will quickly be dashed to a D student.

Perhaps I should scratch these pathways across my ceiling like a trap. I can fall asleep chanting how the subclavian, from the embryologic ____ aortic arch, branches to four separate pathways, dream of tiptoeing across fragile threads of elastic arteries to escape from the zombies that chase me through my dreams, only to wake from my haven up a tree to continue the pathway of blood to its venous return to the right atrium.

Collateral circulation will save my tired fleeing body from the horde of zombies that have cut off my originally planned escape route. Perhaps there is another embryological duct that hasn't closed all the way so I can fly over the masses to safety. If not, another less trampled branch will allow me the route that I need.

Why I dream about zombies, I don't know. Constantly. But I do not fear the reanimated, nor do I panic and get consumed. Every time I've managed to escape, through cleverly planned distractions, or pure luck of the draw.

Perhaps my subconscious is trying to tell me I must learn the paths, and not just for the exams. They are ingrained in my mind somehow, and I must uncover them. And I will... somehow... because this investment trumps my self doubt and lack of confidence if only by the weight of numbers.

As for the brain but not brain system, I have yet to dream of drowning.

I'm tired.

And I need to go running.

But I've done like 5% of the work I wanted to do today, which is the bad.

But tomorrow is another day.

Who ever thought I'd wake up at 730 on a Sunday morning... and just stay awake?

Coffee and Miller's Anatomy of the Dog. After a lovely evening of embryology, homemade hair masks, and a glass of wine. Cats on the couch and floor. And the rest of the world doesn't matter.

They talk a lot about finding balance. It seems all I had to do was go, and everything else slid into place.

Friday nights we go out. Every time we stay out a little too late, or have a little too much fun. But Saturday mornings start by 930 and we laugh about the night before in between our notes and books and laptops. We're the last to leave the library bursting out in laughter or tears and hit the pool on the way home. 730 am we're bright and ready for our rounds. By 4 or 5 we're dragging our feet through the end of our classes with possibly a nap or two in between.

We get thrown into walls by sheep and stabbed with scaple blades. We hustle down the stairs in our scrubs and stethoscopes and bystanders MOVE. And apologize! And we're only first years.

Our peers and mentors are always there to offer us advice, support, and candy. Every pet food company in the world wants to give us pizza.

We're broke, we're starving, we dress in hoodies and scrub pants. We talk about cranial nerves and complain about the smell of fresh specimens. Coffee is our major food group, with yogurt and granola bars close behind. The six straight men in the class appear like Greek gods and we can't speak in words less than four syllables.

It's bliss.

Well, we are two and a half weeks in.

The work load is about what I expected. Even after a long day of studying, I always feel like I should have accomplished more. I'm holding my own in our class discussions, and I can hammer through our gross labs and fill in the blanks.

We are already learning radiograph interpretation and physical exams. I get to spend hours at the horse barn, wrestle sheep, and examine the teaching beagles. My first shift at the hospital is in a few weeks. We mostly observe our first year, but depending on our background, get to be more involved as needed. It's not really that frightening, I figured I'd be a little more apprehensive than I am. But they really kind of ease you in to the people aspect, and give you some peripheral jobs to start out with.

They are huge with the learn from your peers and your upperclassmen mentality. Day one they gave us long lectures on not competing with each other. One of our professors went through that whole deal and inserted the fact that he graduated 77 of 82 and guess what, he's here teaching us. As Cornell grads, we will get good jobs. So do our work and don't sabotage each other.

Classes basically go from 8 am to either 3 or 5 every day. I wake up at 630 every morning and fall over myself by 1030. Weekends I find I can't sleep any later than 830, which is just as well, because there's lots of catchup to do then.

I'm rushing the vet frat and joining a few other clubs. Everyone is starting to form their little cliques, which is too bad. But my roommates are fabulous, and I've met a few other first years who are joining the frat as well, and we've hit it off nicely.

We spend six hours a week doing case studies in a small group. My group is fabulous. Everyone is nice, well prepared, and has all sorts of interesting backgrounds to throw out on the table. Our tutor is the former dean of the vet school, who is easily one of the most interesting people I've ever met. He knows EVERYONE who went to the school in his lifetime. No joke. It's kind of interesting to think of that sort of legacy you can leave behind in a class of 86 students. My advisor has sent one of his second year students to look out for me, and she found me in the middle of a dog wash.

We spend about 8 hours a week cutting up a dog, and unfortunately, this is my least favorite class. I know it's fundamental, but I find it tedious. Although I don't feel my group prepares for the labs sufficiently and this seems to add to my lack of patience. I enjoy the concept, but I think sawing off hunks of flesh just doesn't do much for me. I love the finished specimens, I love tracing a nerve through the body and finding where it begins, but I just can't bring myself to enjoy the actions themselves.

Right now we also learn embryology, radiology, and histology interspersed along these larger labs. Two days a week are spent in live animal labs.

I really like it here.

By this time tomorrow I will be about an hour outside of Ithaca. Where I will live for the next four years.

Although "live" might not be the best choice of words. "Exist and occasionally sleep" might be the best.

I can't wait.

And we are settling in to a nice two months of couch hopping.

Kitties are all doing well. Benny has taken solace in the living room and comes to visit the computer room when it's quiet. The other three have learned where their new bed is and spend the nights with me. Funny thing being that Panera is prefering Atlanta's company to Phoebe's lately. He hisses at her whenever she comes near him, and she just looks at him like "But I love you!".

Hobbes is quite stinky about the situation, but he's adjusting.

Winter bunny is kicking it at Camp Grandma's with the fish tank.

And I'm half packed for New York already. If I could only find a godforsaken place to live. Grr.

Why the hell do I have the most ghetto karma in the world?

Where it begins: Two weeks ago. Packing for vacation. Phone rings, it's Cornell, offering me a seat in the beginning of this year. Out the door for vacation.

Return to the beginning of this week. Tuesday morning, first day back, spirits are restored.

Jer gets fired. For no reasonm, really. He apparantly rubs a supervisor the wrong way. The doctors that own the practice have a vote, missing the two doctors who like him the most. Consequently, they decide in a very close vote to let him go without any warning or chance to fix anything.

So he's pissed. And rightfully so. But then, at the same time, it's probably for the best, as he really needs a job that will challenge him and allow him to keep learning. And he's pretty much reached the end of his rope here.

So off I go home and try to sleep for my overnight/morning double shift. Not altogether fruitful, though I do my best. I give up around eight and head into work. It's a busy shift, and hell breaks loose with a newfie c-section at 430 am. We finish picking up the pieces around 830, and I head up front to complete the other half of my shift.

It's a weird shift, everyone's in shock that they let Jer go. A lot of people are shaken up. I have an appointment at 3pm, so I keep plugging along so I won't crash.

Around 215 I'm taking x-rays and I get a call from an Adam. The only Adam I know is my upstairs neighbor, and I told him once time I worked at Bolton. The girl with the message goes back to check, and it IS my neighbor, who says it's an emergency.

I pick up the phone.

The building burned. Fire broke out about two hours earlier. He told the firefighters I had animals in my unit, but he doesn't know if they got any of them out. They made him leave the building area entirely, so he headed out to Enfield.

I called 911, and they said they would have someone call me back. I ran to my car, and my phone rang. The fire department removed two cats from my unit, they said, one orange-ish and one white. Phoebe and Benny.

My stomach hit my knees. Hobbes. Panera. Two cats I raised from 10 days old. Winter-bunny.

There's two more, I told them. One brown, one black and white. There's a rabbit in there, she's blond. She's probably in the closet. They said they'll see if they can send someone back in.

I pulled up to the roadblock and they tried to detour me away. I live in the unit that's on fire, I said. They said I can come and get my cats. They let me through and I pulled up besides the firetruck. I see four carriers. They found Winter and Hobbes. But no Panera.

I ran to the firemen in front of the house. I have a black and white cat in there. His name is Panera. He gets scared very easily. Can I go in with a firefighter? He'll come out if he hears me.

No way can I go in there, they say. They'll see if someone can go in.

Please, I tell them. I need to know where he is. Even if you only find a body, I need to know.

He goes to talk to another firefighter. The fire is out. They send someone in. Five minutes later, a firefighter comes out with Panera. He's soaking wet and howling. He burrowed deep into the closet, they say. He's sneezing like mad.

Jer takes all the animals to Bolton. Despite being canned the day before, he doesn't care. Luckily they all check out fairly normally, but Panera's lungs sound a little harsh. He was in there the longest, after all. They say cats in fire always present in their worst condition. Not like dogs at all, who may seem ok at first, and then bam, the symptoms kick in at overdrive.

So I wait. The Red Cross is getting everyone's information. We all get disaster relief funding - debit cards for food and clothing, and the offer of a hotel for a few days until we can get resettled. My landlord tells us he can't replace our possessions that were destroyed, but gives us some cash to help.

The fire marshall comes. The state fire marshall comes. They decide the house will be condemned, and torn down. And just like that, we're homeless.

Finally, I get a supervised entry into my unit. Which is flooded. Water is raining down the walls and through the ceiling. The smell of smoke is overpowering. Everything in the apartment is soaked.

I retrieve everything that has a chance of salvage. My fish have three inches of water, but look like they're ok. We move the tank to mom's and refill it. As of today, everyone's still swimming.

My mattresses are ruined. My carpet is ruined. I pulled most of my clothes, and think they'll be ok. Shoes- mostly ruined. My fall coat is ruined. My microwave is toast, as are most of my appliances. My tv is possibly ok, but I'm letting it dry for a few days before I even try. Laptop is damp, but the same few days will hopefully leave it functional.

My furniture is all cheap from Target, so if it doesn't make it, it doesn't make it. Not a big deal. Honestly, it's all just stuff. If the animals are out and ok, everything else is replaceable. Eventually. When I have the money to replace it.

So the next few months I will be couch hopping.

It's all just so much to think about. When I have time to think about it, anyways. Which will be soon. But not just yet.

So I took the seat at Cornell.

How could I not?

Moving back to Ithaca in two months!

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

I just got in to Cornell Vet School.

Suburban Propane can bite my ass.

I've managed to empty my propane tank. Which happens. But I've used only 40 gallons since October 1st because I am a cheap bitch. Needless to say, I'm probably only going to use 20 more, but the tank has reached its unfortunate end.

So I call the number on the tank, since apparantly they are the only ones who can fill it.

Only to find they are based out of Derby, CT, over an hour away. Which means they will only drive out to fill the tank to the top. No minimum delivery. Plus I get the especially affordable first time fill rate of 3.399 per gallon, after which I get market rate, which is only currently 4.599 per gallon.

Ok. So. 100 gallon tank they will only fill to the top costs me 339.90. Which would be fabulous if I could sell the remaining 80+ gallons to the next tenant. Which I can't do. I basically have to eat almost 300 dollars. And I am not a charitable person. I am a cheap bitch.

Devon calls landlord. Devon bitches at landlord. Devon offers landlord the opportunity to change the propane tank to the local propane company which services EVERY OTHER TANK AT THE APARTMENT BUT HERS. (Which will do a minimum delivery of $175.) Sounds like a wonderful solution, doesn't it?

Landlord doesn't really want to bother with the paperwork there. Landlord offers to cover half the tank since Devon is a quiet, clean tenant who pays her rent on time every month. Not ideal, but palatable. $170 or $175 is about the same after all.

So I call the propane company. Who won't come out and deliver propane until they receive a signed service agreement contract in the mail. Which they have to mail to me first.

I wait.

Eventually, I get a paper to sign authorizing a credit check.

WHAT?

What does my credit have to do with a UTILITY? THIS IS NOT A THIRD WORLD COUNTRY. Does this mean if I have poor credit I can't have hot water? I understand not lending me money to buy something, but not letting me have hot water? There isn't even an option to pre pay in lieu of a credit check. Despite the fact that I already underwent a credit check through the landlord to RENT THE APARTMENT TO BEGIN WITH.

Now if I wasn't leaving the unit in three months, I'd suck it up. However, I am. And I'm already pissed about the 339.90 charge. Not to mention the fact that in less than three months, I'm applying for about 75000 worth of loans, applying for a new apartment in Ohio, and preparing to move across several states. Needless to say, I am not sacrificing my credit score to stupid bullshit when I'm already going to have to pay ridiculous interest rates.

Ok, fine, says the propane company. Write that you do not authorize a credit check on the contract and be prepared to pre-pay. Oh, and without a credit check, you will have to leave a 200 deposit on the equipment which is refunded to you when the next tenant signs a new service agreement. So make sure your landlord can be trusted to transfer that money back to you.

WHAT?

The new tenant who likely won't need to sign a new service agreement because the 80+ gallons of propane they inherit from me will likely get them through the year. Not to mention if the new tenant defaces the equipment before signing a new agreement, it gets charged to me.

Needless to say, there is no way in hell I can afford to pony up almost 600 dollars with the good faith that in a year I'll get back $200.

And WHY THE HELL WOULD SOMEONE DEFACE A PROPANE TANK THAT SUPPLIES THEIR HOT WATER?

Are people seriously that stupid?

I can stick out three months.

The disclaimer being that I have a membership at a 24 hour gym which I patronize almost daily before work and have to shower before work anyway. Soooo... I can swing three months of boiling water for dishes and cleaning and a cold shower here and there if it means $400 more for school.

I truly am a cheap bitch. A stubborn cheap bitch. Not to mention incredibly bitter about my dismal weekly paycheck.

The local propane company doesn't require credit checks or equipment deposits. Just pre-payment.

Maybe landlord wants to hear another pitch for changing propane companies. Maybe people would like Devon more if she wasn't such a pain in the ass. :D

The End.

Moving to Ohio in just under four months now. Funny how I almost moved to Ohio nine years ago.

Good things: I have a roommate. We're both psyched. We are driving out for a few days in June to hopefully find somewhere to live so we won't be homeless. We will both be putting off the big move for as long as possible because we are both poor and like our jobs out here. That and we are already adding to our collection of animals. So far we have my four cats, my rabbit, a fishtank, her FIV cat and possibly another FIV friend for said cat, possibly another rabbit, and potentially a dog when we get settled in. Hooray for a zoo. Hooray for a familiair face.

Bad things: The whole moving to Ohio thing.

I don't know, I don't know.

Three weeks.

Some people just seem so decisive about this whole thing. Just makes me feel like a faker.

I mean seriously. I talk to people that are like "I've wanted to be a vet since I could breathe. If I don't get into vet school I'll die! I'll keep reapplying every year until I finally get in!"

At Ohio they asked me what I would do if I didn't get in this year. I told them I'd go to school for education instead.

I think I've always just figured in the back of my mind I wouldn't get in, so I settled my back up plan. I mean, it didn't take much. I went to school originally to be a music teacher. To tell you the truth, I'm not even sure when exactly I decided to try for vet school to begin with. But I did, and here I am. First time around, with choices.

And I still have no freaking clue what to do next.

Where the eff should I go to vet school?


GRRRR.


Stupid big decisions. Really big decisions.

Well I interviewed at Ohio State last Tuesday...

and got accepted on the spot.

I'm still processing the fact that vet school is no longer a question of when. Instead, it's where. No matter how the rest of my interviews go, I will be starting vet school in the fall of 08. Holy crap, dude. I could blow the rest of them, I'm still going. I could own the rest of them, I'm already going.

My biggest victory being I never in my life need to refer to Ohio State as The Ohio State. Cause they already said yes.

I didn't really know how I would take the interview but I wasn't nervous at all. I just tried to be my quirky self and rolled right through it. They didn't rake me over a fence or make me regret my application. We mostly chatted about my life experiences, my disdain of horses (sorry!), my analysis of the crazy psychos who come through my hospital, and how I worked my way up the hospital ladder from sweeping floors to working 50+ tech hours weekly.

The only medical question I got? "What is MRSA?"

The beginning to my answer: A royal pain in the rear.

They loved me :)

Moving down the road from mom was the smartest move I ever made.

MOM COOKS. HOLY CRAP mom cooks.

And sends the leftovers off to work with me.

We won't discuss the counterproductive activity this has on my somewhat healthy lifestyle however. Nothing a few more miles a week can't counteract.

Five more days until my Ohio State interview. Five more days to relearn make-up, dressing as a human being, practicing speaking with people again on subjects that don't involve dog vomit, foreign bodies, or cat shit. Five days to paint myself as a socialized, intelligent human being that doesn't spend ten hours a day pinning dogs to the floor, ducking away from abscess juice, and scraping plaque off teeth who then goes home to argue about Battlestar Galactica and scream pirate insults at the neighbor's impressionable children.

Grown-up life can seriously suck.

I GOT AN INTERVIEW AT ROYAL VET!

WOO LONDON!

Dear Massachusetts:

I love your wonderfully low gas prices. I absolutely love paying 2.99 a gallon right before getting onto 91 South. I loved your gas prices before, but I loved them even more today when I pulled into my driveway and caught the 3.31 low low price across the street from my apartment.

However, I do not love your hookers walking back and forth in front of the MSPCA. I also do not like your residents throwing beer bottles at the cars and pedestrians that pass by.

Love,

Devon

So I'm currently knee deep in vet school applications. Good news so far - I got a call from OSU and have an interview on the 11th. Kinda nervous, kind of excited. Very nervous about the hair/makeup/nails/heels look.

Lucy you will be excited to know I applied to Royal Vet. And they haven't said no yet.

Working, working, working. Rocking my very own studio apartment in Stafford, five minutes from mom. Spending way too much time watching tv and not enough time reading.

That's about it.

Sorry, I'm lame.

Sunshine makes everything seem possible, doesn't it?

Beautiful days and chilly nights. Flip flops and sweatshirts. Sunrise at 530 and sunset after 8. Getting up in the morning for the sole fact that the sun is out and no one expects anything out of me today.

My car is packed with sunscreen, roller blades, and tennis rackets. Maps, hiking boots, extra layers, and an umbrella. A couple of books and a blanket. Feels like you can go anywhere lately. And I can.

No more school. No more taking a week off from work and hurrying to catch up on schoolwork. I can finally read to just read and not reiterate useless, easy accessible facts on a test paper three weeks later. My library is already growing exponentially.

Dinners with mom, spending time with dad. Wandering through the woods with the boy. Finally being accepted for being a free spirit and not criticized.

Time to head home :)