This should be interesting...

From class today.



I sorta rushed to finish this, but I kinda like it. For the record, watercolor does not stay in the lines!

Oh amusement

Some may recall that I went through a phase during which I would write haiku about random stuff. Well, this site is my new favorite! Haiku, funny pictures, politics...what more could you ask for? Here's a sample:



And the text to this picture:

I write on my hand.
It helps me remember stuff,
like "Me = President."

Chemistry will be the death of me.

I tried to post before, but the Internets ate it. Tragic, truly.

Tonight was my final in analytical chemistry (or "anal chem" as Dr. Frost calls it). I really didn't care how I did on it, as I previously calculated that I'd need a 120% to pass the class. My chances of acheiving that? Slim to none, and slim just rode out of town on a fast horse. Oh well. I will have to pass it eventually, but for now, I'm just glad it's over.

Upon pondering why I am so mediocre at school these days, I was reminded by Katie that the science program is intended to weed people out and make them fail. "But why me? Why am I being weeded??" I wailed. "Well", she said gingerly, "I think that most other science majors study. A lot. Like, all day. Hardcore studying." Perhaps she has a point. Perhaps if I cracked a book open once in a while I'd have an easier time. The fact remains, however, that I hate chemistry with an undying passion, and to have to spend any more time on it than I already do would be infinitely more torturous. Alas, the torment of the natural sciences!

In any case, I have one more final this week, and then I'm home free! For the weekend, anyway. Then it's on to the next big adventure, in this case, art classes. They may end up being a bloodbath, but anything's got to be better than analytical!

Unreal.

This has got to be one of the most disturbing things I've ever heard of.

Some select quotes from the article:

Aborted babies used in Russian anti-ageing fad

The foetal stem cell therapy is not only being used to smooth out wrinkles, but is also being injected into other parts of the body to get rid of cellulite and excess flab...

Investigations are currently being carried out into an illegal baby trade that sees impoverished women from Russia and the surrounding countries selling their aborted foetuses to unscrupulous specialists for as little as £100...

"Doctors tell the women or girls that there is a problem with their pregnancy and that the baby has to be aborted, or else they are offered more money," said Shorobogatko...

Russia's oligarchs are continuing to develop the stem cell treatment that will give them eternal youth...

Just, um...wow. That's seriously messed up. To tell a woman that there's something wrong with her baby so you can buy it and sell it at fifty times the price??? Wow. Errr, I don't even really know what to say. There's so much wrong with that that I can't even begin to figure it out. Whose planet have I stumbled upon, and when can I go home?

Evidently.

Evidently, if you're rich and famous, you can molest children and get away with it.

Evidently, if you have a Ph.D, even if you hate what you teach and are bored with life in general, you're allowed to be a chem professor.

Evidently, if you lose seven pounds in a week and a half, people go ape-shit.

Evidently, if your bilirubin is up, it means your liver is messed up.

Evidently, I've lost all talent for writing. Meh.

I delight in being ornery.

Well, friends, I admit it: I am my therapist's worst nightmare. Really I am. I am bitter and sarcastic, and I question almost every suggestion put forth. As I have been sick lately, I have been struggling with eating, which is not such a good situation for a recovering anorexic. This was of some concern to both my therapist and myself, so as I was leaving, she insisted that I stop at the friendly neighborhood Wawa to get something to eat before class. "But what should I eat?" I asked. "Don't ask me that!" said she. "But there's nothing gooood...." I whinged. "Oh don't be ornery," she said, with a glare that said, 'you are testing my patience, Lisa, of which I have a lot. So cut it out' (yes all that from a single look!).

So I am ornery. Cantankerous. Quarrelsome. Yup. That's about right. It's not that I set out to be that way. It's just that I'm, erm, a bit stubborn, one might say. I know I really shouldn't be this way, especially with someone who is trying so hard to help me out. Especially with someone I'm paying to help me out! Nevertheless, I find myself arguing and ranting and whining to a superlative degree. I happen to believe it's part of the healing process for me. Gives me some sense of control. If I went along with every suggestion without a fight, I'd be the same spineless twit that got herself into this mess in the first place. So I whine and complain and counter every thought with a twisted-logic gem, and somehow my therapist, God bless her, puts up with all of it. We have a good working relationship. Even if I am "that patient".

The Mystery Illness returns.

I have been sick now for about four days. Four. In the past 50 hours I have eaten 2 crackers and 3 spoonfuls of cous-cous. Doing good. How bout that eating disorder recovery! Yeah! Anyway. If I could just stop throwing up, life would be good. I went to the Health Center. I was there for about an hour, yet they provided me with no health. They gave me some lovely drugs (Tigan, Zantac) and a bottle of Gatorade to boot. My lucky day. Oh yeah, and I'm not pregnant, which is always a plus, though that was fairly obvious to me, but I do whatever makes the good doctor happy, so whatever.

I got a phone call today from the hospice volunteer coordinator. I was afraid it was the dreaded, "She died" phone call, but in fact, it was a phone call in which they were wondering if I had died. Nah. Just been busy. Then away. Then sick, then busy, then sick again. So I've been slightly neglecting my patient. I feel awful about that, but at least I know she's still alive and I can make ammends.

In any case. I'm hoping I feel better pretty soon. I can't handle this shit. I feel like I'm going to pass out. Matter o' fact, I'm going to go to bed now. I am going to attempt to actually go to class tomorrow. Eep.

The internets live!

I have not in fact fallen off the face of the earth. My internet has been down for almost exactly one week. I had a fun time trying to get them to fix it. I called the company twice, with no results. So I figured that by the third call, I was fully authorized to throw an official shit-fit. Which I did. I called, and they put me on hold for ten minutes. Nononono. So I called back and said (with a snide and sarcastically cheerful tone to my voice), "Hi, I just called and was put on hold for ten minutes, and I'm approaching furious, so you need to find me someone to talk to." The woman was slightly freaked out, replied, "Yes ma'am", and then I spoke to a lovely technician named Josh who helped me try to figure out the issue. Good old Josh, he probably lives in his parents' basement, but he was a swell guy, who, even though he didn't get the problem fixed right then, was very cordial and promised to see what he could do. Less than 24 hours later, my internet lives, and life is good once again.

In any case, my 21st birthday was a good time. I only had three drinks, but they were quite good. It was unfortunate that the band at 15th North sucked that night, but it was quite entertaining that my older brother (who I haven't seen in ages!) bought me an apple martini, which may or may not be my new favorite drink. All around, it was good times.

Since then, I've been sick, busy, sick, busy, sick, and then busy again. Not much of a life, to be sure. However, I have worked in time for painting and occasional napping, so it can't be all that bad, right?

Being foolish when there is work to be done.

Contrary to popular belief, being on vacation is a reason not to post here. I didn't have a computer all week! And to be honest, it was kinda nice. Being away was great. I was in the Outer Banks for the week (Corolla, to be precise). The best part of all was that it was free! Yup. All I had to do was chase after six children between the ages of 5 years and 5 months. Many people thought I was insane for going on this trip, but it was actually one of the coolest thing I've ever done. The house we stayed in was ginormous, the beach was beautiful, I got a new pair of Reefs. All in all, a quality experience.

Since then, I've returned to West Chester, and I find myself once again hammering away at summer courses (analytical chem and psych stats, as it were). Everyone else is doing exciting things this summer. They're going to exciting places: Atlanta, Australia, San Diego, Mexico...you name it. But not me. I'm going to be here the entire time. And then, when the summer's over, I'll still be here. I guess there will come a time when I will long for this place and my college days, but when I'm being forced to listen to what a "sigma" means (Psych stats is torturous. It's like a bad flashback to 7th grade algebra), it seems that I can't get out of here soon enough.

The only good news is that my 21st birthday is finally here. Well, almost. It's Friday. This Friday! There will be much alcohol and merriment, so be sure to come on out. Email me for details if you're interested.

The Peasants are Revolting. And whatnot.

Ok, maybe not. But I have been pestered as of late to update this thing, so here I am.

I haven't had much to write about lately. Perhaps that's due to it being finals week, during which time my brain is on overload.

Anyway, here's a bit of amusement for everyone: So here is an article about religious groups trying to get a gay marriage ban passed in California. Which I think is pretty dumb, but that's beside the point. In fact, most of the article is beside the point. The real gem of this article is actually the picture. The picture shows a man holding a sign that reads: "Jesus Forgives Sin. He does not Except it!" If you are a grammar/spelling nazi as I am, you will have caught the reason why I was so amused by this. But if not, let's delve into it a bit:

Except: To leave out; exclude

vs.

Accept: To receive (something offered), especially with gladness or approval

Well, as a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure that Jesus does except sin. But he probably doesn't accept it. I mean, I'm just saying. I have a hard time taking seriously the arguments of anyone who can't even make a proper protest sign. Seriously, get a brain, morans.

"It really makes you think..."

Read this please.

Kira aptly explains some recent events in her life, and also talks about Laura and how her death has affected all of us.

We are not invincible.

Fun with the digi.

I like this picture.

From Baccalaureate.

Andrea and the Padre

Katie's baccalaureate speech 

Screw Jennifer Wilbanks.

No, I mean it. Jennifer Wilbanks is a waste of resources. This is, as you may know, the woman who disappeared from her home days before her wedding, put her family through hell, wasted thousands upon thousands of dollars of search and rescue resources, made her fiance a suspect in her murder, lied about being abducted by Hispanic people, and then stated that she just got "cold feet" and needed time alone.

Now, I'm not sure what this woman's deal is. Maybe she just really was nervous about getting married. That seems legit, especially given the monstrosity that her wedding was going to be (600 guests, 30-odd people in the wedding party). Or maybe she has some sort of psychological disorder causing her to need attention beyond what she was receiving. Or who knows what. But the bottom line is: Get off my TV. Seriously.

While this woman is having a nationwide canniption, there is actual news going on. And even tonight, after she's been "found", the networks have to capture her every move. Now, had she actually been abducted or somesuch, national media attention would have been helpful and warranted. But she was faking it the whole time! And people are still watching this tripe? Honestly.

And another thing. When LaKiesha from the ghetto goes missing, no one gives a rip. But when a wealthy white woman disappears, everyone drops everything to find her. It's pretty disgusting. The same people oo-ing and ahh-ing over Ms. Wilbanks are the same people that think we shouldn't have bothered looking for Margarita Aguilar-Lopez. Because she's an illegal, ya see. Never mind that she's twelve. Ugh. People in this country, sometimes.

This was not unexpected.

So it's the last week of classes, which means, of course, that I'm a bit stressed out. Stressed out as in: I've been subsisting almost entirely on toast. As in: I wish I hadn't put off doing my physiology lab notebook til three days before it was due. As in: It has been taking me forever to fall asleep and when I finally do, it's not very restful anyway.

It's not all terrible though. I started going to yoga last Thursday, and it's my new favorite pastime. Other newish obsessions include: Gregorian chant, Lipton Cold-Brew Iced Tea, Firefox extensions, and my new chem shirt that says "We (Heart) Chemistry" on the front and "Please don't beat me up" on the back, and also features Dr. Starn's drawing of n-propyl-people-ether. I like all the neat doodads that can be added to Firefox. I've got one that tells me the weather. By the way, Firefox is quite possibly the best browser ever, so if you're still using that IE crap-for-crap, I suggest you check it out. The Lipton tea thing mostly has come about because I'm too lazy to make a full pitcher of real tea and put it in the fridge, although admittedly the cold-brew teabags are significantly less efficient than the usual stuff.

I am going to see Ani Difranco tonight. I am very much looking forward to going but that still doesn't solve the problem of my lab notebook. Sigh.

Sticking it to the Man yet again.

Per Rachel's suggestion, I went to this page, which provides tests you can take to disover your own hidden biases toward various populations. I found the entire thing to be fairly eye-opening, as well as really interesting from a psychological-testing point of view (I know, I'm a nerd).

Tolerance.org is also an extremely cool website. The information on their is useful and intriguing. For example, you can check out the local hate groups. Scary, no? And for us college types, they have ways to fight hate on campus.

Stick it to the Man, friends. Keep working on promoting peace in the world.

PS- How can I neglect to mention what today is??? It's Earth Day, suckas (in the words of Kira). Not only that, but it's the 35th anniversary of Earth Day. So why are you still here, reading this, wasting electrons? Go plant a tree or something!

Where do these people come from?

Who are these people that have the time to lay out on the quad, sunning themselves? Who are these testosterone-overdosed guys, these skanky, skinny girls? Where do they come from? And do they never study?

I've been noticing these people for the past few weeks as I slaved away in phys lab. From the lofty heights of the 3rd floor of the science building, I can see these people out on the residential quad. They laying on blankets, playing football, volleyball, lacrosse. What sort of major do these people have that they can afford to spend so much time outside? I am always inside, chopping up baby rats or mixing together some lovely neurotoxins. I am working on lab reports or reading textbooks or going over notes. What do these people do? Do they even go to class?

I consider myself quite a slacker, but these folks are unreal! I'm not saying that I am constantly doing tons of work, because I'm not. I do a moderate amount; I do what I need to to get by. But spending the afternoon catching rays on the quad? Unlikely.

It must be nice.

Zen and the Art of Catholicism

My new favorite thing to do is to sit outside on my porch and read books. It's a good, peaceful thing to do, especially when the weather is as lovely as it has been. Sometimes I bring some tea along. Among other things, I've discovered that my neighbors aren't all scary, obnoxious, and drunken college students. In fact, some of them seem quite nice.

Currently, I'm reading a book called Radical Acceptance: Embracing Your Life with the Heart of a Buddha (Brach, 2003). I've gotten several reactions to my reading of this book, most of them along the lines of "You're the weirdest person I know" or "Where do you find these books???" I find it amusing how the concepts in this book (and other Buddhist-inspired writings) have so much in common with DBT. I found DBT to be alternately annoying and sacrosanct: it was the bane of my existence or my salvation. In any case, I am endlessly intrigued that the practices of DBT are quite Buddhist in origin. Things like mindfulness and indeed even radical acceptance itself are key DBT buzzwords as well as central Buddhist teachings.

The point of reading all these books is not only because they're interesting, but also so I can figure out a way to incorporate such Buddhist ideas and practices into my life. Of course they would be beneficial to my daily life in general, but if I could incorporate them into my prayer life, the results could be quite sublime. The teachings of Christ and Buddha overlap in numerous places. Buddha teaches that we must abandon the concept of "self", since we are all part of a single entity and are all interconnected. Jesus teaches that we must love our neighbor as ourselves. If our "selves" are more permeable than we envision, then it makes a great deal of sense to treat our neighbors with the same love and respect we should show ourselves. Perhaps saying that we all have a Buddha nature is the same concept as saying we are all children of God.

So I suppose I will continue to read weird books. Now if I'd only read my school books once in a while...

Extra caffeine, please.

"She only drinks coffee at midnight
When the moment is not right
Her timing is quite
Unusual
-Train, Meet Virginia

I love coffee. Looooooooove coffee. I drink coffee at almost every opportunity that arises. I drink coffee in the morning, of course. And sometimes I drink coffee at night because we're at the diner or Starbucks. I drink coffee at night and then complain when I can't sleep. But it doesn't matter. It's worth it.

I like coffee because it's warm. I like the bitterness staved off with skim milk and two packets of fake sugar. I like coffee in the winter and I like coffee in the summer.

I like to drink coffee when everything is going wrong. For example, my chemistry research is a mess. I often have afternoons where absolutely nothing goes right: my gels won't polymerize, one sample contaminates the others, I can't get a current to run through the damn gel once it's set to go. When this happens, I figuratively throw up my hands and run downstairs to the lunch trucks for a cup of coffee. Usually hazelnut, as it were.

And then there was yesterday. I did possibly the dumbest thing ever. I locked my keys in my car. Ok, it happens. But oh, it gets worse. I locked my keys in my car. With the car still running. It takes a true genius to do something like that. The situation ended up not being such a big deal, but of course I ended up hyperventilating and whatnot until it was resolved. Once I was driving away, my knees feeling shaky and my stomach feeling fluttery as I came down from the adrenaline rush, I thought to myself: I could use a good cup of coffee right about now.

Last summer, when they were trying to get me to stop being anorexic, they said I had to stop drinking so much coffee. This was actually part of my treatment plan. If I would just cut down my coffee consumption to one cup a day, I'd be much better. Nevermind dealing with the abusive ex. Nevermind the fact that I wouldn't eat more scrambled eggs and cottage cheese. The problem was the coffee. I have dealt with my issues now, and I eat lots of things, but I drink more coffee than ever. I happen to think it's beneficial to my mental health.