A Course Description

So classes are going pretty well. I really like the Joyce/Woolf course; the professor is cool in a kind of nerdy way (afterall, he does teach Joyce). And he's such a great discussion leader. Encouraging everyone to say anything and allowing the discussion to flow well.

My other course... is a bit frustrating. The texts are somewhat hard, mainly because they are all from freaking forever ago (I mean, like 1350 and stuff) and we have a rather different point of view. The main problem, though, is the responses. We have to write a response every other week on the texts in relation to an analytical article. Which is not that big a deal. Most classes require a response. But she wants a casual, highly thoughtful, analytical, but relatively short and not that big a deal response. Not like a whole paper, she says. Don't worry about being that formal. But then she keeps marking me off for not citing correctly or not having a bibliography (for the REQUIRED TEXTS!) or being too colloquial. She's worse than Manav and at least I was writing an official paper for him. This is just a response! I've talked to some other people in the class, and we all agree it's a bit nuts. Even second years, so it's not a "OMG, I'm in grad school" type thing.

I finally have the time to write an entry (My parents were here last week, which was fun but involved lots of juggling/trying to squeeze homework into spare time and thus having no spare time), but I'm sick. And slightly incoherent. Which could be fun, since I have my Joyce class today and what can be more fun than being incoherent while talking about Ulysses? So this is all you get. Well, this and an internal yawp of excitement that my chocolate wine is finally in stock and that I get to see one of my best friends this weekend and go on roller coasters. Hopefully I will return with all my feet.

Paranoia

Okay, so I'm at work and I finished a writing piece. I go into my boss, and she's like, "wow. You're done? That's really fast..." Which now makes me wonder about the quality of the piece itself, except when I go back and look at it, I'm happy with it and I think it makes good sales sense. And I stole a fair amount from what the authors said, since their description was well-written... But I still feel all stressy about it. I seem to be able to finish things insanely fast here, or at least insanely fast compared to past interns, and I'm not quite sure why...

Worth more than a cookie.

Wow. So I guess it's been nearly two weeks since my last post. Oh well...

I was at a party this weekend for one of my friends. A chocolate party, I might add, which is such a great idea. While I was there, I was struck by how different my church group of friends is from everyone else I know. Well, not everyone else. But a good portion. They are just so responsible, so having everything together. Plus they are all older and definitely further ahead in their career. So they either are thinking of or have bought a place, many are married (although not the people I'm closer to) and have kids... I'm not sure why there don't really seem to be any people at my stage of life at church. Maybe it's that no one my age goes to church? But that can't be entirely true.

Whatever the reason, it kind of puts me in a strange position. On the one hand, I'm young. I'm clearly not settled in my career, anywhere near thinking about buying a place, and definitely not comfortably well-off. (And my loans still haven't come through to my checkbook... fun stuff...) But on the other hand, I feel older than I am. I have for a while. But I look at the people around me closest to my age and... I don't know. It's not that I don't kind of understand their lifestyles and whatnot, but they just don't appeal to me. I mean, parts of them do. But I'm never going to be a person who wants to go out all the time, staying up till all hours of the night. I like going out, I like hanging out even better. But staying out until 3 in the morning on Friday means that a good portion of Saturday is going to be wasted while I sleep. I would love to be able to buy something, I'd rather spend the evening in a quiet wine bar or a local pub or something than a loud club. Or a coffee shop. I really like coffee shops.

On the other hand, all this trying to organize school stuff, house stuff, and personal stuff all at once makes me completely exhausted.

Exhaustion

I would apologize for not updating, but I'm not sorry. I've been insanely busy in a "I have nothing really scheduled but 12987634987 things to do" sort of way. Add to that the fact that my house in currently internetless, and you get very few updates.

So, you might be asking yourself, what has been keeping her so busy, too busy to get online and keep us all informed? Well, this was my quasi-first week of classes. I say quasi because only Monday, Thursday, and Friday classes met this week. I began with orientation, where I got shut out of all classes I was vaguely interested in but one, which apparently very few people want to take and which cost me a fortune in books, due to having to buy 13. 13! I went to the Joyce class I'm waitlisted for and which I'm losing hope of getting into, as I still have not heard about getting in, although who knows. People might go to class on Tuesday and decide to switch, in which case I shall jump on it and get in that class.

I have also been trying to find stuff which will somehow allow me to squish as much stuff as possible into a small room and small house without forcing either me or my roommates to live on hte porch or in such squalor that we all get really cranky and kill each other. This process has involved several trips to Target, one trip to Ikea, and much time and energy. Add to this all the walking I've been doing, and you get a collapse of me. Plus I lost an expensive ball of yarn, which upsets me.

However, Cassie seems to have transitioned all right, I'm now sleeping through the night, albeit with strange dreams in which teachers chase me for finding out that not only are they not gay, they are dating their high school students (he kissed her in front of an auditorium! We then all began singing somethign about it all in a round. It was odd. I now must go on a mad search for the last book for my medieval class, in order to read it by Tuesday so I can write a commentary by early Wednesday... And then I shall refuse to move for a few hours, followed by a happy hour and two picnics.

A Dark Fairy Tale

Last night. my parents and I watched Pan's Labyrinth. I had strangely enough forgotten that it was in Spanish, and so didn't get the knitting done that I had planned. I seriously am so in love with my shawl that I'm making. It's silk, variegated purple, and has lace edging. It's going to be gorgeous.

Anyways, missing the knitting was probably a good thing. OMG. That movie. I can't stop thinking about it. It was so bizarre and beautiful and horrible. It played with the differences between true life and fantasy, the ending reminding me of the ending of my favorite story that I wrote, meaning that you weren't quite sure what had happened. The people were either amazing, or completely awful, more evil than you can usually imagine. Or at least more evil than I want to think about people being. I did enjoy that the strongest characters were women, for the most part. The imagery was dark and sensuous and reminiscent of The Brothers Grimm, but with more meaning and depth.

The only problem with this whole movie (besides the gruesome imagery. I mean, really. I don't actually need to see someone whose mouth has been cut opened.) was that it has put my laziness and my curiosity opposite each other. I want to find the myths that this was based on, I want to see what the history is really like, I can't for the life of me remember the other movie made by the other Spanish director that was up for an Oscar... But then I'd actually have to do research and whatnot. We're going to ignore the ramifications this laziness might have on my career as a grad student...

Bike-y Goodness

Whee!!! I got a new bike! My mom got the exact same one, but in different colors... Now we all match.

Me? Cranky? Why do you ask?

I'm feeling just a teensy-bit pissed off at the moment. Not at anyone at home, although you'd think my parents would have learned by now that I'm not a morning person. I don't want to talk to anyone for quite some time after I get up. It's not you, it's me and all that jazz. Just leave me alone for a bit and we can talk at lunch.

But that is just a minor irritant, something that happens when I'm at home and forced to interact with people in the morning. No, I'm instead upset about something else entirely, something I'd rather not get into too much on here. Let's just say that if you purport to care about someone, and they email you about feelings and insecurities and whatnot? Freaking at least acknowledge that they told you something. Don't just ignore it because you don't want to deal with it. In fact, I'm going to say that one of the best ways to deal with email? Ask yourself if they said the same things to you in person, would you feel like you should respond. If the answer is yes, you should respond in some shape or form. Dumbass. (It's okay, he doesn't read this. Though I'd be okay if he did, because its about time for him to have learned these things by now. Such as treating significant others with common courtesy.) So now I have the song from Chicago in my head, the one where the Six Murderesses describe what they did. Mainly the line from the first woman, about "feeling REALLY irritated... so I fired two warning shots. Into his head." Yes, I can occasionally be frightening. Why do you ask?

In another completely innocuous turn, Kinder Surprises are apparently illegal in this country. For those of you unfamiliar with these, they are little chocolate eggs with toys inside. The toys are carefully encapsulated inside a plastic egg and they usually have tiny parts that you must put together. Apparently, our government, in its infinite wisdom, has decided that these eggs are too dangerous and may encourage small children to eat parts of their toys. Not the toys from the eggs, but toys in general. Parents, if your kids are small enough that they might be confused about what is and is not edible, you probably shouldn't be giving them things with small parts anyways. If they are old enough to know not to eat toys, but still might be confused about whether plastic is edible... you might have some bigger problems on your hands than Kinder Surprises. Besides, we combine food and toys all the time. Cereal? Cracker Jacks? All food known to have toys inside. And what about the candy that you can play with? How is that not more confusing? Is it a sucker, or a light saber? It's both! Play with your sword, then eat it! But beware the dangerous Kinder Surprises...

I guess I really am all grown up now...

Apparently, this trip is going to be the trip where childhood dies. Okay, so that's a bit dramatic. But my childhood cat Oreo is dying. She's hanging in there, but just barely. Her kidneys are failing and she's not really eating and she was in the vet hospital for a while on iv's, so her little front legs are shaved and you can see how skinny she is. Which is just strange because before I graduated from college, she was overweight. Fat even. And now? So sad looking.

Also, they are getting close to tearing down my elementary, which I agree with in theory. I mean, the building is old and has been condemned and whatnot. So teaching there is probably not such a great idea. The local university wants the land, I'm sure, and leaving it up for sentimentality's sake is a bit strange. But still. It's hard to imagine that now all the schools I attended as a child have either been torn down or drastically changed. I'm not sure what happened to my preschool, but every other school... Even my middle school and high school have now morphed into one and I've been told that the inside is nothing like what it was when I was there.

My most recent haircut seems to have reminded my church that I have moved out. It was strange. The last Sunday I was there, I think only the people who were friends with my parents or parents of my friends said anything to me. This time, I think I was more popular than the preacher. Some people had me four years younger than I am (So... you're in your last year of college now? Um. No. I graduated three years ago.), but at least they knew I was no longer around. Why a haircut would accomplish this, I have no idea. But whatever.

Also, my friend Brian currently has a picture up. I can't decide how I feel about this picture. See, his wife is pregnant which makes me so happy(!!!!) because I know they will be great parents. But the picture is of him holding the test in his hands, reading the positive sign. So a part of me is all excited for them. The other part of me? Is going ew. I mean, she peed on that. I know urine is an antiseptic, but still.

A Not-so-fond Fairwell

My last posting from this desk. How shall I miss it, let me count the... or not.

So I'm on my way out. I'm quite excited about this. We all had a nice moment in the conference room that was horribly awkward. I'm really not good about being the center of attention at any point in time, much less in a room with 7 people, where one of the people has not said anything directly to me for a number of weeks (he still avoided it, for the most part) and where I harbor dislike for another. Still, I'll miss the other three (yes, 3+2+me only equals 6, but Pres' daughter is in today, so she makes 7. I'm rather neutral towards her.) I've cleaned my stuff up, filed everything I hadn't been filing for ages, and finished up the bits and pieces I had left. Now I'm just hanging out until I can leave. LEAVE!!! And then go home and take a few loads over to my new place. Ugh.

I shall also have to spend some time with Cassie. She's had a rough time lately. She ran into a glass door a few weeks ago, then ran into a wooden door, and then last night, she fell and bit her tongue. I think she bit it hard enough to make it bleed, which of course made me feel horrible even though there was little I could have done to prevent it.

And in another blast from the past, I myself friended the little sister of one of my old best friends. Her sister and I were always together for about 2 years solid. Our whole families were and somewhat are still friends. I feel bad because I tend to forget that there is another younger sister, who was too little for me to play with and who apparently made very little impression on my young mind. But the middle sister was frequently the third in our games. She got all the crap roles, though. And the blame for things that weren't her fault. We once blamed her for breaking a doll her sister was holding, because she tripped or distracted her or something. It was kind of funny, looking bad. She had to go apologize to my mom and was all in tears and she hadn't even done anything. Sigh. Good times. Of course, she's now threatening me with revealing pictures...

I'm not Bon Jovi.

Facebook is a strange beast. Today I had a guy friend me. This guy and I have a long and sordid history. We met online in 8th grade, back when that sort of thing wasn't done. He took me to my senior prom, we stayed in touch for a good portion of college. He kind of became friends with some of my other friends. Then we had a falling out. A pretty serious one, leading to me deciding that talking to him wasn't good for me and wasn't worth my time. Not to be mean about it, but he hurt my feelings and then not only didn't seem sorry about it, but twisted everything to try and make it my fault. Which is not cool with me. Hurt my feelings, yes, people can do that. I mean, you can't always know what's going to hurt someone. You might not agree that it is worth being hurt over. But to not want to apologize, to not feel bad for hurting someone? That I just don't get.

But maybe he's grown up some. Maybe he just wants more friends on Facebook. The whole thing is a little strange, though. Being tracked down by someone you had cut out of your life.

Strangeness Abounds

This week has been strange at work. It's my last week, a fact that excites me muchly (WHEE!!), but it has led to a strange office atmosphere. Or maybe it's not even that, but whatever it is, it means VP has not said one word to either me or CW. And actually, it's not even been just this week. I don't think he's said anything for the past few weeks. Not idle chat, not hello, not goodbye... I even got my hair cut again (it's not like three inches long), and not one word from either him or Pres. She at least has talked to me, mainly because she's in a good mood and because she wants me to do stuff before I leave. Though she also hasn't mentioned that it's my last week... And no one has told me exactly what they want to do before I leave. I mean, I've been doing the basic cleaning up, making sure everything that needs to be done is. But anything else? Who knows.

But Pres keeps acting funny anyways, laughing indulgently at strange things, like us only having a mechanical pencil sharpener because none of us ever use pencils. Or that our rubber bands are old and we haven't ordered new ones because she uses like 15 a year. I know. It's really not funny. "Haha, we tend not to waste money on office supplies we never use..."

A Trainwreck

I have reached the state of exhaustion where everything may or may not be funny and when the stupidest things make you giggle. Including awful yogurt pick-up lines on other blogs (Yoplait or mine? Seriously? Can't stop snickering at it.) I thought my falling asleep at 10 last night would help, but it has only dulled the edge.

I blame the commute. I think it may have killed my brain. See, yesterday it took me 2 hours to get from Foggy Bottom to Ballston. 2 hours! I could have walked in that time. Something I considered, but then realized it was freaking hot and my feet already hurt and my ankle is still not 100%... i also blame SB. The metro broke down yesterday. A train broke somewhere between me and where I was going and they claimed it was fixed, which was clearly a lie. There were no times on the sign. There was a man wandering the tracks at my station with a flashlight. I really don't think things were starting up. So I left. I was supposed to meet people at 6:15, it was now 6:25 and I thought I should call them. Plus I figured SB could come get me. Ha.

I called him and asked him to come get me. The lack of enthusiasm just dripped through the phone. He is so freaking unwilling to ever drive into the city. I don't know why. He comes in for meetings not that infrequently. It's really not that scary of a place. And I say that after getting lost nearly every time I've tried to go somewhere specific around here. (It's the traffic circles. Screw EVERYTHING up for me.) Since he was SO excited about coming in to get me, I offered up a bus possibility, not in seriousness, but more in a "I'm trying not to force you to do what I want, but really get your butt in here because there is no way taking a bus is not going to take forever" way. Yeah, guess what I wound up doing. Freaking waiting for a bus for 40 minutes, followed by a 40 minute bus ride. Because he "honestly thought it would be faster for me to take the bus." Liar. He honestly really didn't want to pick me up in DC. He wanted to pretend like it would take less time. But deep down, we both know that's not the reason.

I was too tired last night to be properly pissed off, but tonight... Plus, appropriately enough, Token Male CW yesterday was talking about his then-girlfriend, now wife, and how he once rode from Ballston to Van Ness at 10:30 at night in the rain, because she thought she heard a noise downstairs. That's what HE did...

Moving Forward

I am officially homeless. If SB wanted, he could kick me out and it would be me and my stuff on the street. Not likely, but still. It's strangely a little freeing. For at least this little bit, I don't have a place tying me down. I have no responsibility to pay rent or cable bills. My stuff is completely in a mess and I can't find anything. Last night was a success because I found a pair of shoes and my retainer. (Yes, I still wear my retainer. I didn't spend 2 and a half years in pain to watch my teeth slowly become crooked again.) And while not being able to find stuff is not the same as not having stuff, I still feel somewhat unencumbered. Just don't tell SB's housemates... They'd take one look at my massive amounts of clothing clogging up their storage room and laugh.

I also just got back from an interview for an internship. I think it went well. In fact, I might be a bit overqualified, not in that the position has nothing to offer me, but more in that I would be doing work comparable to what I do now. The difference would be that this internship would give me a chance to look at a part of an industry I think I'm interested in. I would be working for basically the whole department, which would give me a broad view. And they had an editing test, which I nailed. I mean, "manged" for "managed?" Just made me giggle.

Up and Down and Down Again

I am just about to collapse from exhaustion, mental and physical. This weekend... Up and down and up and down yet again.

Last Thursday, we went to look at a house. It was great. Perfect even. We both felt like it should be ours. Sadly, there was an application put in the day before. BUT there was a chance that if our application was better, we could still get it. Friday, we frantically put together the individual portions of our applications. The girl from Colorado got up early to get it in by noon EST. We sent it in with a check for credit checks and a check for a deposit, hoping that having our money in hand would also tilt things in our favor. Things were looking sunny by mid-Friday. Our realtor thought we had a pretty good chance.

Saturday, I started to move out. It took freaking forever. SB kept trying to convince me that I didn't need to move out all of my clothes, because potentially we would get the perfect house and I could move some straight there. We made several trips. I hurt my foot even more, to the point that Saturday night I had resorted to basically hopping, only lightly touching my right foot down for each step. Physically I was exhausted. I didn't eat enough. I hadn't slept enough. I didn't drink enough water. By the end of the day, I was nearing collapse. And it took all day to move. Not a few hours. Not even several. But all. And I still have those last pieces of clothing and about half the kitchen to move. And I have to clean everything. By tomorrow night. I also have no lights in my apartment outside of the kitchen and closet and bathroom.

I slept a bunch Saturday night. A bunch, but not well. SB's basement is noisy. I was worried about Cassie and how she was managing the transition. I was worried about whether or not we'd get the house. Woke up still exhausted in the early afternoon.

And Sunday evening I learned that my worry had been right. We didn't get the perfect house. There hasn't been a lease signed, so theoretically it could all fall through for the other person, but it doesn't look good. I was very sad, and immediately felt more exhausted.

Today... still tired. Still didn't sleep well last night. There have been a few brighter spots. I may have an interview for a paid internship. My mom sent me flowers to make me feel better. But I still have no place to live and I am thoroughly tired of looking.

Don't Work Out with a Sprained Ankle, or Why I Am a Moron

Those of you with someone longer-term memories may recall last week that I hurt my foot walking to see a place. I quickly, and by quickly mean over several days and with the opinions of others, decided that not only did I twist my ankle, I actually sprained it. The bruise got darker, the swelling got bigger, I bought a wrap and started wrapping it... It's only a minor sprain, so I can get around fine and just limp a bit.

HOWEVER. I am a moron. Or at least, not very good about taking care of myself if it is something that I can ignore. So Friday. Walked. A lot. Took waltzing lessons at the HP event. Walked some more. Barely could walk by the end of the night. Luckily, this didn't have a horribly adverse effect, although I'm sure it didn't help.

Then the bruise and swelling started to go down. I started limping less. Felt almost normal. I was considering stopping wrapping. Then my stupidity kicked in again. First, I forgot that I'd only been injured a week (I thought it had been two), and it takes over a week for an ankle to heal. Then I thought that I could just be careful when working out. HA! I should have known better. I started off on an elliptical machine. It hurt some, so I wisely got off and got on a reclining bike. Things were going okay. But I'm not used to a reclining bike. For one thing, it burns a heck of a lot fewer calories. Plus it's hard... Yes, that means it's probably good for me, forcing my muscles to do something else. But it also means... it's hard.

So I got off after 15 minutes and got... on an elliptical. The same machine that hurt earlier. My foot started swelling a bit. My toes went numb as the wrapping dug in tighter and tighter. By the end, I was a little afraid that I was trapping blood down there and might eventually pass out. And yes, I still finished my proscribed time (10 mins. with a 3 minute cool-down). In my defense, my foot didn't REALLY start going numb until the cool-down. And nothing REALLY hurt after a few minutes.

But today? Today I am back to limping. It hurts nearly as much as it did when I first hurt it, although it's not nearly as swollen. And I get to move in two days. It could be fun...

Betrayal

So my coworker pointed out this today. Apparently Bear Grylls and Man Vs. Wild is a big fraud. He stays in hotels. Consultants make his rafts and show him how, so they can get the precious shots of him building them. Channel 4, the channel in Britain airing the show, excused themselves, saying fans should know because " he often directly addresses the production team, including the cameraman, making it clear he is receiving an element of back-up." Which is a big fat lie, obviously spoken by someone who doesn't actually watch the show. The ONLY times I've ever seen Bear address the cameraman were when they were in danger and he was telling them to get back or get out of the water or some such warning. And Bear himself has said on the show that he's not allowed to interact with them. Hmph.

Now some of you might not think that this is such a big deal. After all, he's still showing you the survival techniques and he still, as Channel 4 put it, "does his own stunts." But it is. First of all, they lied. I'm tired of people lying, relying on trickery to get good ratings. Plus, while Bear is attractive, liars are not. So all this makes him less attractive. Second of all, I only marginally watch the show to learn how to survive if, by some strange chain of events, I wind up stranded in the arctic or something. A good portion of why I watch is to see how someone well-trained can manage to do these things that are beyond my capabilities. To learn that they are beyond his, too? Such a let-down. Next, they'll tell us that he wasn't actually climbing waterfalls in the wild, that it was all a set and they had those invisible wires holding him up.

That's it. My allegiance now goes to Survivor Man. Not only is his show more informative, because he can't do a huge amount that I can't, but it's more true. After all, he doesn't even have a cameraman with him. He carries all his own equipment.

Less-es approaching

I have decided that one of my new big pet peeves is people who don't email back in a timely manner. No, I'm probably not talking about you. But if I am... beware...

So the big move is approaching and I will officially have no where to live. Then, one and a half weeks after I become homeless, I shall become jobless, too. I will essentially be a bum, living off the government. Of course, in this case, I shall eventually have to pay the government back and will have a place to live at some point in time. But still. It's all so exhausting.

I would, of course, write about the final Harry Potter book, but I know several people who don't know what happens, and I don't want to ruin it for them. For some reason, though, that kindness doesn't want to extend to people on my commute. Every time I see someone reading it, I really just want to yell out, "So-and-so dies. DIES. Kaput. They are gone." I don't get it. Most of these people I feel rather neutral towards. One is one who does tend to annoy me by talking loudly and obnoxiously to her friend, but the rest are perfect strangers. I don't actually do it, but the temptation... always there. I did enjoy the last book, but now I have to go back and reread it. I read it in a speed-reading marathon of approximately 6.5 hours, meaning I averaged over 100 pages an hour. I'm rather proud of that. But now I need to go back and reread the 4th and 5th and then the 7th. I just reread the 6th like last week, so don't really need to. There are things I only vaguely remember. Like Sirius' mirror. Minor flashes of recollection, but for the most part? Only grayness... Appropriately enough.

Furthering my nerdom

I discovered something sad today. Apparently, there is a Buffy Musical sing-a-long this weekend. And I don't have tickets. And it's sold out. Though it'll be back in November, if I can remember and have the time to go.

Also, I have to force myself to stay away from the news. How dare they leak details about the last Harry Potter book?! Jerks.

And Arlington sucks. See, I went to see a place last night that was a forever long walk away from the metro. It involved crossing 50 where it intersects Washington Blvd. Both are 4 lanes. 50 is crazy and really can't be crossed without a light. There is a sidewalk on the side of Washington and you go under 50, so theoretically it should all work out. HOWEVER. Arlington had to redo the bridge. They are trying to make it more pedestrian-friendly, which I am all in favor of. To do this, they, in their infinite wisdom, decided to destroy both sides of the sidewalk and put confusing little "Sidewalk closed. Go this way." signs everywhere that wound up pointing to each other.

So I wind up perilously walking in construction trenches where the sidewalk should be, as cars going 45 whiz by three feet away. I was hot, I got dirt blown on me, and I'm still apartmentless. And my ankle starting twinging with pain last night. This morning, it hurts more and I have a funny bruise/swollen area. I blame the county. CW thinks I should sue.

Moving sucks, and other things

I am so ready for a vacation. Good thing that I bought my tickets home! Yay. And I'm leaving a day earlier, because that's when flights were cheapest and when I could overlap trips with my brother and sister-in-law. Now, if I can just get housing nailed down...

Speaking of which, I met with Most-Likely Roommate. She's pretty cool. Nerdy enough to like Eureka, which is always a good sign. CW decided I wasn't excited enough about the whole thing, but really. I'm just completely exhausted. This whole thing is just wearing me out to the point that I just want it to be over. Although I did discover a lovely coffee frappucino type-thing when I went to meet her. (The exhaustion plus the stress = me craving coffee and sweets, or better yet, sweet coffee.)

I also am making gradual process on my lists. Applied for health insurance, which hopefully will not take the 4-6 weeks they mention, as I am supposed to have it for grad school and that will barely get it going in time, as my old cuts of September 1. I also really need to go get my shots (I can't believe I still have to be vaccinated for school. As my mom puts it, "You're in GRAD school and you need to fill out health sheet?!) I've been decent on my packing plan, although Cassie hates it. She is enjoying one of the tubs, as she likes to sleep on it or just jump up there to better attack me. Her hating the changes, though, leads to her crying entirely too much. Some of that is because she found one of these little flower roses that she absolutely loves to chase around. She carries it around, though, and cries. Apparently, she associates crying and carrying. I'm not quite sure why.

Nothing funny or entertaining seems to be happening lately. I mean, there are the political fiascos still, the quotes from the Administration that make me want to run through the streets screaming, "STOP LYING TO US, WE AREN'T MORONS!" until I listen to quotes from the general public and am reminded that, yes, we are morons. My brain isn't working, so I'm not even having funny thoughts. Although I did feel like I had fallen inside a Zach Braff movie the other day, listening to a French cd on the metro. Something about the type of music and the movement of the metro. I also thought that it would be cool to shoot a scene that included the reflection of a person climbing the escalators in the metro, mainly because I saw the reflection of me climbing the stairs in the metro.

Oh, I am almost done with the scarf that would not die! That excites me. My goal is to finish it before I move. I think I can do it. I only need to knit a few more inches. And then I have to sew part of it together, because of a whole fiasco which is not that interesting but which led me to threaten to burn a row of the scarf for every minute the next time SB fell asleep.

Besides all that, I just desperately need a break, one which will hopefully occur after I quit. If I haven't moved, then I won't be so relaxed. But, we are keeping our fingers crossed....