A brief introduction

Having tried my (unfortunate) hand with two fish, and not being in a position to acquire a doggie of my very own, I've decided to take a different tack with small, living things dependent on my care. T. and I have adopted a little basil plant, who now cheerfully resides on our balcony. His name is Basel (pronounced Bah-zul), and please, no comments from the peanut gallery about the imaginative name.

Yes, it's true, I've changed class (phylum? genus? something like that. Bio was a long time ago). He seems to be doing well but when we first got him he started looking a little peaky. Some internet research informed me that a shady, air conditioned apartment was not the best environment for him, and he now basks in the full eastern sunshine every morning and is dutifully watered by yours truly at dusk.

It's late so I don't feel like staging a photo op, but rely on a picture of our household's newest member sometime soon.


In completely unrelated news, last night the fire alarm in my building went off at 1:43 a.m. As I shuffled down the stairs in pajama pants a little too big for me, squinting at all my neighbors, I experienced an uncomfortable flashback to all of sophomore year. Jeez. I graduated from college so I wouldn't have to deal with this. Fire trucks showed up, alarms blaring, dudes in uniforms tromping up and down stairs carrying sledgehammers--the whole works. T says that the system has been having some operating problems lately. I'll say.

Houston, we have a problem

Let's see if I remember anything from algebra/geometry/whatever math uses proofs:

--Sleeping in + 2 hour nap = not sleepy
--Not sleepy + procrastination = baking
--Baking + new cookie cutters - not enough counter space + creative use of washer and dryer = roll-out sugar cookies
--Roll-out sugar cookies + they look naked = frosting
--Frosting + 1.5 hours - 2 cookies bravely lost in combat - 1 cookie sampled by the baker = 50 frosted sugar cookies

Therefore:

Sleeping in = 50 frosted sugar cookies


Something tells me that my math is a little off, but in the twisted logic that is my brain, this makes complete sense. Ah, the joys of the semester's early weeks...plenty of time later to feel guilty about all the hours of possible productivity I've wasted.

But look how pretty!

Pretty much the crappiest 24 hours I've had in a long time

If this comes across as whining, that's because it is. If you can complain to the internets it minimizes complaining in real life. This is actually true.

Things that happened
-woke up yesterday with sore throat, slight cough (sure signs of being sick)
-my fish died
-it was butt-freezing cold
-came home at 2 in the morning to discover that my hot water pipes had frozen in the kitchen
-My cable and internet are disabled, probably from the cold
-maintenance arrives at 4:30 to check it out — I have waited a long stinking time for them to show up
-maintenance informs me that my pipe has burst. He shuts off my hot water so I can't take a shower or wash my face without contracting frostbite.
-I get approximately 2 hours of sleep. The weather is such that every moron on the road drives approximately .007 miles per hour. I am exactly 1 minute late to my 8 o'clock class and the door is locked.
-I check Tom's flight status online. His flight into Detroit is delayed. His flight to South Bend will be leaving without him most likely, unless it is also delayed. The next flight is at noon.

Good things have happened too, but they aren't exactly counter-balancing the total suckage of the last day or so. Ugh. When it rains it pours — my bad days are always REALLY REALLY BAD days.

I write this from Lula's cafe while nursing hot chocolate, capped with a staggering froth of whipped cream. I have given up on this week.

When in doubt, blog

I need to outline, outline, outline...and yet, here I am.

Quick updates:

-baking time has been severely reduced, so the shiny new implements I acquired over Thanksgiving break are going to have to take a back seat until I get back to school in 2009...sob.

-I think I might be getting addicted to caffeine...I get these weird behind-the-eye headaches and they tend to go away with that first cup of coffee. This is absolutely not good and come break, I might have to figure out a way to slowly wean myself off the magic concoction that is 2 packets of sugar + a big splash of half and half. NOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

-I have given up getting my apartment clean; I simply don't have the time. Therefore, I've resorted to trying to control the mess: I have a bag for all the mail. All the dishes are in the sink. All the clothes are in a pile. Yes, they're clean, and yes, there's plenty of closet space and they should be there—but the point is that they're not EVERYWHERE.

-Taylor Swift. That's about all I'm going to say without going into a hundreds-of-words long review of how genius her pop songwriting skills are.

ACK. My life is a shambles. Please, please, please let me pull through the next few weeks with some of my sanity intact.

Please.

Maurice: an update

I've now had Maurice for over 6 months; possibly a record for me when it comes to fish-raising. As far as I can tell, he's doing pretty well. He just swims around in his tank all day, and since fish have memory spans of maybe 10 seconds, it means that every time he makes a circuit around his tank he notices his castle anew and is like "Cool! A castle!" And repeat...repeat...repeat.

The interesting thing about Maurice (well, I find it interesting) is that he's cold-blooded, and therefore is entirely dependent on the temperature of his surroundings. When my apartment is cold, he's sluggish, and when it's warmer, he's perky. There a few implications to this, but the most important one is that I'm afraid to really lower the temperature in my apartment when I'm not here, for fear that I'll return and find him a floating ice cube.

This poses some interesting dilemmas; this week I'll be traveling to the wilds of Northern Michigan for Thanksgiving with T.'s family, but since I won't be here I want to lower the temperature in my apartment so as not to waste money and energy heating rooms that no one will be in. Which means that I'll have to either leave Maurice here to freeze, or take him with me. Guess which option I'm taking here?

And the real problem will be Christmas break, because I'm not sure what I'm going to do, being gone for three weeks. I'll be flying home, so I won't be able to take him with me. But I can't leave him here by himself—he'll freeze, and starve, to death. So what should I do?

The options are:
-send him home with my Mom when she comes in a few weeks to pack up her stuff and take it back to Kansas. The problem with this is that she's killed the last 2 betta fish she's owned. While I trust him with her for just a few weeks, I can't figure out a way to get him back here when vacation is over. This might take some figuring out.

-drive home to Kansas so that he can ride in the car with me. I realize that this is absolutely insane and that I'm nuts to even momentarily entertain this idea for a pet that can't actually make eye contact with me. Really, this would be the only way for him to get to and from Kansas safely. However, I'm not quite enamored enough to drive 12 hours each way just to ensure that Maurice is comfortable.

-find a sitter. I have some friends who are rectors at the school who might be willing to let him dwell there for a little while; it'll be warm there at least (I think?) and depending on when they get back he should be OK with the no food (or I could get him some slow-feeding pellets). Or I can ask the law school staff if it's OK to let him chill at the school for a few weeks; at least there will be heat there and I wonder if they would feed him. Again, I understand that this is complete ridiculous, but I don't want him to die.

Suggestions are welcome. I'm sure you are all glad to know that I have given so much thought to the welfare of my fish, while putting off any concern for the welfare of my fed courts outline. Stay tuned for the outcome—I know you're all just riveted to your seats.

It's that time of year again

I've done some looking back in my archives, and it seems like each year, around this time, I post some sort of panicked/denial-ridden-perky post about how I need to sprint quickly and successfully through my final exams without losing my dignity or sense of personal hygiene. And I am here to say "Enough! No more pseudo-motivational phrases with snappy alliteration! No more talking about how stress is great, but success is greater! No more, I say! Let's just be honest."

I am in full-blown, 100%, all out holy-crap-I-need-to-get-my-rear-in-gear mode. And I am not ashamed to admit it! I do not deny it! Finals times SUCKS!

Whew. I feel strangely empowered now.







PS: Back to the clean slate. It was nice flirting with the girly swirl, but this is a little easier for me to look at.

Today, summed up

Nap from 5-8.

Honesty

Really, the best policy.

My life has been in a constant state of stress lately; school, job search, life. All have been sort of an intense overload. I've been trying to cope by just taking things a step at a time, not letting myself get freaked out or feel overly pressured, but I think the time has come for me to acknowledge that something needs to be different. A good capsule example:

My apartment has been constantly messy since the beginning of the semester, when I moved back and didn't unpack all my clothes, but rather dumped them into a huge pile on the floor. It only got worse when I would do laundry and then fail to put my clothes away, instead leaving them jumbled in the basket.

While my apartment was like that, I felt assailed by an almost physical wall of frustration the second I walked through my door. Anything that was on my mind — assignments, bills, plans — would be instantly overwhelmed by MY APARTMENT! MY APARTMENT! IT IS MESSY! It became almost impossible for me to get things done.

Last night I took an affirmative step and finally organized, folded, and hung all the clothes that were making my room look like that of an 11-year old boy. I was finally honest to myself about the fact that I could no longer bear to step over piles of socks and scattered shoes on my way to my bed; that the giant piles of junk mail slowly conquering my living room were not good for my sanity; and that I needed to just suck it up (side note: this is, indeed, proper usage) and devote a whole evening to putting my life back in order.

So I did. And now I feel great about it. I'm still busy and occupied, but at least I can come home, walk in, and not feel immediately overwhelmed. A great weight has been lifted. And all because I was finally honest enough with myself to admit that I was turning into a messy, disorganized wacko and needed to make a drastic change.

Despite my best intentions

As any semi-regular reader of this blog knows, I have attempted to kick start no fewer than three fitness regimens over the last few years. All have failed. This is a little discouraging, but change is always possible (YES WE CAN!).

In the interest of starting up again (my goal being a lung capacity greater than that of a two-year old child, and possibly the ability to run more than a few blocks without wheezing like I'm going to die), I have taken a number of fitness-geared actions.

To wit: I've purchased new running shoes (now with actual cushioning for your feet, as opposed to the clearance-purchased Meijer brand shoes I was using before), joined the 2L Powderpuff team (really fun!) and vowed to go to the gym.

Problem: I have NO IDEA where the gym is. Last night I got all swanked up in my new shoes and some ratty shorts, drove to campus, got out of my car, and walked around for twenty minutes without finding it. All the while I was on the phone with two different people trying to tell me how to get there. Then I gave up and went to go watch the boys' flag football game instead.

Also, the headphones I purchased yesterday for my iPod were broken. I swear, it's like the universe is conspiring against my getting trim and toned. If that's the case, I would appreciate a clearer sign, so that I can just start mowing down the potato chips and watching endless reruns on TV, instead of fighting inevitable fate.

A week's worth

It has rained, virtually non-stop, for the last three days. Hard rain, too, not just little drizzles—today, walking on campus, I splashed through a puddle that was literally ankle deep. And the worms! Don't get me started on the worms.

In other and better news, T comes to visit me tomorrow. WOOHOO! He'll be here until Saturday. I am practically crippled with happiness.

Dangers and Benefits

First: the dangers of being absent-minded. Paid for a coffee refill in the lounge this morning, filled my mug, left. Realized an hour later that I had left my wallet and phone on the milk counter.

Second: the benefits of attending a smaller, [relatively] honest school. When I went back in a panic, the woman behind the counter had it. It was not stolen.

I think there are several things that I should start doing in order to make my life less crazy.
1. Not forget things.
2. Put things away after I use them...in the same place!
3. Be conscious of what the heck I'm doing at all times, if possible.

Good plan. Now, if only I could implement it...

4. Follow through with plans.