up on the roof

purplebunnie @ 2020-10-12T21:20:00

2008-10-13T01:19:35Z

Friends only! But open to making more. <3

purplebunnie @ 2008-10-03T14:11:00

2008-10-03T18:33:32Z

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.

purplebunnie @ 2008-09-16T22:37:00

2008-09-17T02:40:12Z

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.

purplebunnie @ 2008-09-14T09:44:00

2008-09-14T14:03:13Z

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.

purplebunnie @ 2008-09-07T11:37:00

2008-09-07T15:53:31Z

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.

purplebunnie @ 2008-08-10T14:09:00

2008-08-10T18:07:21Z

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.

purplebunnie @ 2008-06-16T16:48:00

2008-06-16T20:49:59Z

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.

purplebunnie @ 2008-06-12T23:36:00

2008-06-13T04:02:44Z

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.

purplebunnie @ 2008-06-09T15:27:00

2008-06-09T19:25:58Z

So I took the seat at Cornell.

How could I not?

Moving back to Ithaca in two months!

purplebunnie @ 2008-05-30T22:16:00

2008-05-31T02:17:15Z

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

I just got in to Cornell Vet School.

propane rant

2008-05-26T04:16:59Z

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.

purplebunnie @ 2008-05-23T23:37:00

2008-05-24T03:41:40Z

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.

purplebunnie @ 2008-03-24T20:46:00

2008-03-25T00:58:34Z

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.

purplebunnie @ 2008-03-16T21:32:00

2008-03-17T01:33:39Z

Where the eff should I go to vet school?

GRRRR.

Stupid big decisions. Really big decisions.

purplebunnie @ 2007-12-19T22:07:00

2007-12-20T03:12:48Z

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 :)

purplebunnie @ 2007-12-06T19:44:00

2007-12-07T00:52:11Z

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.

purplebunnie @ 2007-12-04T14:10:00

2007-12-04T19:11:07Z

I GOT AN INTERVIEW AT ROYAL VET!

WOO LONDON!

purplebunnie @ 2007-12-02T15:21:00

2007-12-02T20:22:55Z

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

Long overdue update

2007-12-02T03:22:37Z

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.

purplebunnie @ 2007-05-14T21:29:00

2007-05-15T01:36:15Z

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 :)

purplebunnie @ 2007-04-23T19:54:00

2007-04-23T23:54:40Z

I miss everyone.

I'm graduating next week. Forever.

Now what?

breathe in for luck

2006-12-15T07:07:17Z

I don't know why I walk through the math building anymore.

I used to make a point to cut through the building. To make my way up to the second floor, past a certain office.

Jesus, I used to know his schedule to the letter. I used to know his office hours, where I knew for sure he'd be there. Just to stop in and say hi. Because I knew I'd give ten thousand kidneys to have him stop by my UConn haunts just one time and do the same. And yet those ten thousand kidneys would completely go to waste, because it was NEVER. GOING. TO. HAPPEN.

I had a thousand excuses in the world to go through that building. It was cold out, I was parked in the garage, F-lot, etc., I had a question for him. Thousands.

And sadly enough, the other people who populated those offices were always happier to see me than he ever was. "Oh, I don't think he's crazy about the idea of a girlfriend. He's really reluctant to hear a reference to you in that way."

Spiderman always defensively piped in that he was an extremely private person, and I was considered a behind closed doors experience.

Conversation after conversation, the people who mean the most to him are those that he's known for years. Never one to turn his back on a friend, no way. I was the first girl in years he would wake up next to. And yet, I could never hope to hold the same regard to him as his office neighbor and friend Rachel he'd known for two years. And then to just be thrown aside when he finally met someone new?

Is it just me, or does every word he said along the lines of our "relationship" meaning something to him go right out the window with this?

And YES. I know I dwell.

We're still "friends". But we're not friends. We can't hang out. We can see each other at "parties". Which he doesn't have. And I really don't either. And the few and far between times we do, it's not a priority to him.

Oooooh, he im'd me the other day. And it was hellaciously awkward. How are things, he says. We'll keep in touch.

Bullshit.

What kind of a friend is the type you can't hang out with? Or really even talk to?

He'll always be there for me. Fuck that. For what?

Hey, Spiderman, I haven't talked to you in over a month and you have no idea or care about what's going on in my life. But I'm having a bad day and I need to talk to you of all people cause that will certainly help me or even possibly make me feel like everything is alright.

Yeah, no.

Hey, Spiderman. How are you? I know we haven't talked in a while, just wanted to catch up. What's going on in your life? Oh wait, you don't like to small talk or talk about life, feelings, etc.

Yeah. Also no.

Hey, Spiderman. How are you? I'm calling to tell you all about my life that you don't really care to hear about or even find that interesting or compelling to begin with. Oh wait, you even told me you don't like it when I call because I talk too much and completely monopolize the conversation that you don't want to participate in anyways.

Yep. Three strikes, out. New batter.

Score another fail on the quest for a meaningful relationship. Because the five months I wasted thinking we were building something were a wasted five months of me not being what he wanted and him just tolerating it in his scarce free time he would have prefered to spend with his friends.

And I lived for those Saturday nights and Sunday mornings. Even when they were all I had left from what was Monday nights, Thursday nights, Saturday nights. Friday nights out. Phone calls, plans for future weekends. Unsolicited invitations.

And I'm sorry if my heart breaking ruined your day
Oh well, sometimes it be that way
I said oh well, I got nothing left to sell
This love was a bell that rang unheard in the air
I was bound to find out that you didn't care
I said oh well, sometimes it be that way

And repeat the theme of my failing relationships. Insert my built in lack of confidence that it's only a matter of time until I become boring. Why I can't ever be comfortable or completely convinced that any relationship doesn't have a hidden ulterior motive. Wasted time. Wasting time.

And I am so, so tired of wasting so much time.

I always wanted to be the type of girl that made heads spin. A girl you'd stay up all night for.

But it goes back to an inability to be happy with someone else if you're not happy with yourself.

And I don't know why I can't just let myself be happy. I think I push myself so hard I burn myself out. I'm dissatisfied in general. I just can't figure out what it is exactly that makes me grate my teeth and throw my hands up in the air.

I realize I'm not looking for him in that building. I'm looking for his housemate. But I don't have the guts to take the steps I need to take. Or to throw myself out to the sharks again the way I did with Spiderman. I want to retrace my footsteps and claim my do-over. And plop my rear end down next to Matt like I should have that night, instead of Spiderman.

Screw you life. Screw you and your stupid, stupid curveballs.

Just hit me with the effing ball already. Please.

Tomorrow morning I should be back on the treadmill with my little blue iPod running my little heart out. Or off the coffee addiction. Or giving my life some purpose or getting something done.

Something.

purplebunnie @ 2006-12-10T11:54:00

2006-12-10T15:54:09Z

My heater is ringing.

Like creepy sci-fi pulsing noises.

It's a beautiful day and I am completely torn between Starbucks and a book, or a short hike through the woods. Short being a few miles this time, not some crazy ass 13 miles inclined hike like I stuck out last time.

And beautiful meaning the sun is out. It might very well be 40 degrees outside.

(And in reality I was going to get up early this morning and hike. Now we can all laugh hysterically.)

I'll have the house to myself all day. Roomie's being squirrelled away to Philly for a Pink Floyd show after she gets out of work today.

I think I'll try to find a hike that will allow for both today.

Problem solved.

i'm gonna leave it to stargazers, tell me what your telescope says

2006-12-05T22:26:26Z

SNOW!

The nice kind. Where it's not too cold, and it sticks on the grass and not the road and my car. Where it's just a light, white dusting on the trails, and it's still pretty.

I don't mind cold weather when it's just cold enough that you feel wonderful in a sweater, hat, thin mittens and a scarf. It's the kind of weather that makes Christmas seem like a better idea. Or makes you look forward to finishing the day with a book, warm apple cider (with a shot of coconut rum for pompous intellectuals like myself) and a deep regret for the fireplace that was removed from the house a few years back.

We have the heat on 60 and I'm excited for flannel pajamas and my sun blanket. And it isn't even 5:30!

The sun started setting around 4pm, so I celebrated with a nice brisk trail run. As I stumbled down rocks on the way home, I felt grateful for the carrots that were last night's snack. It's almost dark by 4:50, and now it's dusk.

Tomorrow morning we're attempting a 13 mile hike. Warmest day all week will bring highs of 43 degrees. Brr.

English class is winding down, and I'm finding myself sad. Not because I loved that class. Oh, dear me no. Goodbye to the headache of overblown professors. Goodbye to vague writing assignments you split your brain over for poor grades and generic criticism.

But a sad regret for the lack of new reading material and honest discussion. I love reading. I love discussion with intellect. Perhaps it's a different group of people, perhaps it's the honors collegiate level. But I remember the headache that was advanced placement literature and the urge to hit my head against the desk repeatedly, with increasing strength as the hour passed. Perhaps that's what spurned my hatred for English classes, perhaps it was inherent. But I want to write and read and analyze. I find I've missed discourse in the haze of experiment, hypothesis, right, wrong, and conclusion. The very ideals that fired my love for science classes have come to bore me.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not giving up my sciences. But I need to round myself out. I need more balance in my studies, I've known this from the start. But instead of arguing over the validity of results or the soundness of an experiment or argument, I find it's quite nice to find tangents on hidden meanings or discuss questions that will never have a concrete answer.

It makes me seriously wonder where the hell I'll find my niche.

purplebunnie @ 2006-10-27T01:42:00

2006-10-27T05:56:13Z

I can't breathe.

No, I can barely breathe. I can barely think straight, sit up straight, inhale, exhale.

I am so sick of wasting my time on late nights and pointless conversations and WASTING MY TIME trying to make something out of nothing and having it continually come back and bite me in the ass. And waste more late nights and my own well being on trying to fix the damage I invoke upon myself to collapse exhausted into my pillow barely able to eek out another pointless day. Of late nights to recover the pieces left from the night before. And over. And over. And over again.

And I take so much delight in helping make other people happy that I will sacrifice everything I have. To get people where they want to be and run quickly from the spotlight to keep out of the way of their happiness.

And I just can't ever seem to let myself be happy, or let someone have the chance to make me happy because I'm so bent out of shape trying to fix everything that's broken when I can't because I'm the one who's broken. And I can't fix myself because I'm too far ahead always going going going and nobody could even begin to try to fix me because I won't let them anywhere near me without kicking, screaming, crying, and running for my dear life because I JUST CAN'T STOP.

And I can never just sit back and let the good things be good and the bad things go. Because I can't even see what the good things are and as a result can't even begin to comprehend what the bad things are. Because I put so much time and energy into forging this put-together countenance that I'm so exhausted. So exhausted it takes nothing to crack it and the pieces fall away before I have the chance to scramble to grasp them with my shaking fingers.

I don't know what I want. Or need. Or even deserve for that matter.

I deserve to be happy? I don't know what happy means to me.

It's not that simple. It can't be. Because if it really is that simple, why does it have to be all the more complicated?

And I can't keep doing this to myself over and over.

But tonight I'll stare at the ceiling again and not sleep. When I just need to sleep. For days, weeks, months. Fuck, years. And follow through for once. Which I won't do. Because every time I wrap back into my cycle of take it on, start it, never finish.

I just... can't.