In regards to two posts ago, I missed it when I so wrongly maligned the smallpox vaccine. Wrong plague. It's Influenza.
"Influenza! Influenza! It's a virus! It's a virus! It's not the same as love!" (with best regards to Garrison Keillor).
You know, being able to quote La Influenza is probably the one bright spot in this whole shebang. Being able to research for the paper isn't because it's bloody depressing. My teacher (henceforth known as Rat Pimp...He's a Psychologist who breeds rats for studies; it makes sense to me!) wants one book source for the paper. He's only getting one source, because I went to the library, found one source, and went to the Dr., found out I had the flu and was contagious. Hence, we research tonight on Hogarth/Lappy.
My loverly friend Songbird (formerly and unimaginatively referred to as M, I think) took me to CVS to get my scrip filled. I saw her in the student center after getting my mail (I know I shouldn't have been in there, but my allowance was in the mail, and I needed that!), kept her away from me and through whisper and gesture explained the situation. She got her mail, I got shoo-ed/chased out of the center by 2 of Campus Life's staff b/c of my sick, and she and I went to CVS. She's a vocal major, and I really hope I didn't get her sick. The Dr. said I was one of the first cases of flu she's seen this year, but according to Songbird, our friend Lady (lives off-campus) has it, and a girl from work asked me to work for her b/c she's sick, and on the way back another girl called Songbird & said she was sick, and some of her symptoms matched. Guh. Thankfully Monkey and Sunshine don't seem to be showing any signs of flu yet. *knock on wood* I didn't have a flu shot in the fall, but after this I think I will next year. BLARG!!!!
(odd. Blogger doesn't like any "n't" contractions, but has no trouble with "BLARG")
I go die now.
~Very Dull Billiance
Monday, February 23, 2009
Oh, ow.
My throat doesn't like me. My voice is completely gone, the throat is very, very sore to where swallowing is a delicate operation and sneezing has made me cry. Also, I've had sporadic coughing fits almost to the point to making myself sick, and all I've had to eat for the past 2 days is water or variations thereof, soda crackers, apple sauce, Gatorade, and a very misguided attempt at broth from bullion cube. I'd've had PB for (much-needed) protein, but it's crunchy. Usually a good thing, not so much now. I'm going to the nurse in half an hour.
I have a research paper due in Psych tomorrow on Thurstone, one early-20th century dude whose only works in the library on campus center heavily on math FAR above my sphere of experience. The on-campus periodicals all start just after the ones containing his articles were published, and JSTOR doesn't carry those journals AT ALL.
I have one book source, and possibly 2 others, but one of those is primarily biographical.
A partner and I have to present an oral report on him Thursday. See the voice comment above.
I wish I'd taken the Buffy the Vampire Slayer class.
~Grr
I have a research paper due in Psych tomorrow on Thurstone, one early-20th century dude whose only works in the library on campus center heavily on math FAR above my sphere of experience. The on-campus periodicals all start just after the ones containing his articles were published, and JSTOR doesn't carry those journals AT ALL.
I have one book source, and possibly 2 others, but one of those is primarily biographical.
A partner and I have to present an oral report on him Thursday. See the voice comment above.
I wish I'd taken the Buffy the Vampire Slayer class.
~Grr
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Variol-ee, Variol-ah, variola-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-aaah!
OK, so maybe it's not smallpox, but I did manage to catch the Death Plague that's been going around. It's already picked off 2 in my ceramics class (the one Ceramics IV, and the one other Ceramics II...it's not a big class). I felt fine when I went to bed (too late) last night, but when I got up for the mini-retreat and on-campus training for my job, I felt like I'd just had a bad asthma attack: sore, rough throat and lungs that felt beaten up. I had a dry cough all through training.
After training, I took a shower hoping it would give me some much-needed humidity in the lungs, but no-go. I slept for 3 hours and woke up feeling worse. I had a fever, full-body aches so bad that clothing seams hurt like sandpaper, and a non-migraine, non-sinus headache. That last one feels weird, because I almost never have them, and it doesn't pulse or push, it just hurts.
(Side note: Blogger doesn't like the word "doesn't" until I type it about 5 times. It prefers it be "does n.")
The fever has come and gone, and I woke from the nap with my heart pounding for no apparent reason.
I want to be better. I have 2 papers due in the next week, (though one paper is optional; one now on one book or one later on another) and I need to do research. Gah!
~Light
After training, I took a shower hoping it would give me some much-needed humidity in the lungs, but no-go. I slept for 3 hours and woke up feeling worse. I had a fever, full-body aches so bad that clothing seams hurt like sandpaper, and a non-migraine, non-sinus headache. That last one feels weird, because I almost never have them, and it doesn't pulse or push, it just hurts.
(Side note: Blogger doesn't like the word "doesn't" until I type it about 5 times. It prefers it be "does n.")
The fever has come and gone, and I woke from the nap with my heart pounding for no apparent reason.
I want to be better. I have 2 papers due in the next week, (though one paper is optional; one now on one book or one later on another) and I need to do research. Gah!
~Light
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Well, THAT was interesting!
Never have I had anyone show such rapt interest in my legs as tonight. The (about) 4-year-old daughter of 2 of the music profs here sat beside me with her mother and played with my fishnets whenever she could. She was bleedin' adorable, and has about 1/2 the music school wrapped around her finger.
As to the act, it went off without a noticeable hitch, except for Le Batard falling off the stage at the very end, though apparently it looked planned.
The Finale was the Supremely Awfuls, a groups of professors who put up their act for purchase in a mortarboard auction last semester, and a group of us purchased it. MWAHAHAHAHAHA!
The final set-up of the act was Prof A standing out in drag and a bum-roll with "OMG, just look at her butt!" "I know! It's just so big..." etc. playing in the background (Prof A is a theatre prof and hammed it up rather a bit). From then, the line-up was "Fat-Bottomed Gilrs," "YMCA" "Space Cowboy" and "Wannabe." With, of course, 'appropriate' costuming for each act. Three of the 4 profs were, by the end of the act, in dresses, and the other ("Sporty Spice") wore a bra over a t-shirt. I think I cheered/laughed myself hoarse. The thing was horrily campy, tacky, and fabulous.
What was really cute was the little girl from earlier dragging her daddy's pants from where he'd tossed them stripping from one costume to the next and took them around the partitions in the back to toss them to her dad.
As to the act, it went off without a noticeable hitch, except for Le Batard falling off the stage at the very end, though apparently it looked planned.
The Finale was the Supremely Awfuls, a groups of professors who put up their act for purchase in a mortarboard auction last semester, and a group of us purchased it. MWAHAHAHAHAHA!
The final set-up of the act was Prof A standing out in drag and a bum-roll with "OMG, just look at her butt!" "I know! It's just so big..." etc. playing in the background (Prof A is a theatre prof and hammed it up rather a bit). From then, the line-up was "Fat-Bottomed Gilrs," "YMCA" "Space Cowboy" and "Wannabe." With, of course, 'appropriate' costuming for each act. Three of the 4 profs were, by the end of the act, in dresses, and the other ("Sporty Spice") wore a bra over a t-shirt. I think I cheered/laughed myself hoarse. The thing was horrily campy, tacky, and fabulous.
What was really cute was the little girl from earlier dragging her daddy's pants from where he'd tossed them stripping from one costume to the next and took them around the partitions in the back to toss them to her dad.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Bounty-Schmounty
Tonight I gave bra-sizing and purchase advice to a professor. A male professor. Lip Sync does these things to people. If this show doesn't drive me to insanity or murder, it will be absolutely awesome!
Because I will be dancing around in front of rather a lot of people alternately pretending to stab and rub all over Le Batard in a dress that really limits my sitting positions, I thought I should attempt to make myself ...maybe not 'presentable,' but less like an art student with a month of roots coming in. So tonight I dyed my hair "Medium Golden Brown" (approximate natural color) from black...THEORETICALLY. What really ended up happening is that my roots got a little darker, and my hair has a very slight dark-dark red-brown sheen. Poo. If I don't want to live with roots until it grows out to where I can cut it, I'm going to have to go to a professional.
Silver lining: roots are not easily visible, or at least blend in to the rest of the hair, so it won't be a bother on stage.
I also really wanted to get rid of the various shades of blue and brown oil paint that reached to my *elbows* (I epitomize grace and neatness , and the Pope visits Stonehenge to honor the Celtic gods every Solstice). While the dye set, I worked on the paint (and dye that I'd splattered shoulder to elbow, nicely complementing the paint) with the school soap and paper towels. Really, Bounty has NOTHING on institutional paper towels. Even the Quicker Picker-Upper wouldn't have lasted through repetitive scrubbings of ears, whole arms, neck, hairline, and arms AGAIN on one towel without even starting to break appart. The things don't tear either, except when wet, and only then with great determination of spirit.
I THREW A BOWL! TWO!! No, not across the room, on the wheel. After two weeks I finally managed to make a bowl that didn't shuffle off this mortal coil and join the choir invisible in a very abrupt, centrifugal fashion. The smaller of the two has been trimmed, and the second one probably will be done tomorrow in class. I'm looking forward very much to the production and firing of products in this class, partially because then I'll get to see my work from LAST SEMESTER finally finished (Including Monkey's Xmas gift, sadly. Poor dear's been wonderfully patient.)
It's late, and tomorrow is more day than I have room for, even though one of my classes was canceled, and theh paper moved. I tried to think about what I'd do if all that had been tomorrow on top of everything, and started twitching.
Sleeping now. Typing later. Much later.
~Brill
Because I will be dancing around in front of rather a lot of people alternately pretending to stab and rub all over Le Batard in a dress that really limits my sitting positions, I thought I should attempt to make myself ...maybe not 'presentable,' but less like an art student with a month of roots coming in. So tonight I dyed my hair "Medium Golden Brown" (approximate natural color) from black...THEORETICALLY. What really ended up happening is that my roots got a little darker, and my hair has a very slight dark-dark red-brown sheen. Poo. If I don't want to live with roots until it grows out to where I can cut it, I'm going to have to go to a professional.
Silver lining: roots are not easily visible, or at least blend in to the rest of the hair, so it won't be a bother on stage.
I also really wanted to get rid of the various shades of blue and brown oil paint that reached to my *elbows* (I epitomize grace and neatness , and the Pope visits Stonehenge to honor the Celtic gods every Solstice). While the dye set, I worked on the paint (and dye that I'd splattered shoulder to elbow, nicely complementing the paint) with the school soap and paper towels. Really, Bounty has NOTHING on institutional paper towels. Even the Quicker Picker-Upper wouldn't have lasted through repetitive scrubbings of ears, whole arms, neck, hairline, and arms AGAIN on one towel without even starting to break appart. The things don't tear either, except when wet, and only then with great determination of spirit.
I THREW A BOWL! TWO!! No, not across the room, on the wheel. After two weeks I finally managed to make a bowl that didn't shuffle off this mortal coil and join the choir invisible in a very abrupt, centrifugal fashion. The smaller of the two has been trimmed, and the second one probably will be done tomorrow in class. I'm looking forward very much to the production and firing of products in this class, partially because then I'll get to see my work from LAST SEMESTER finally finished (Including Monkey's Xmas gift, sadly. Poor dear's been wonderfully patient.)
It's late, and tomorrow is more day than I have room for, even though one of my classes was canceled, and theh paper moved. I tried to think about what I'd do if all that had been tomorrow on top of everything, and started twitching.
Sleeping now. Typing later. Much later.
~Brill
Sunday, February 8, 2009
It's ba-ack
Oh, my. It has been quite a while since I posted. And interesting stuff has even happened! Oh well. My month in a nutshell: I passed my personal finance class better than I thought I would, though studying aspects of estates, wills, and estate taxes left me dreaming about how much of an inherited house (pretty one, too) was subject to estate taxes. I've just now started my second semester, and I think that, if my books get here and I can actually afford my art supplies, I will enjoy it greatly. I only have 2 studio classes (Ceramics 2 and Painting 1 -the expensive class), but I'm also in an Honors Psych class and an indulgent History class. The former is my final Honors class, save the Junior seminar, and I didn't need the latter but took it because I like history and I'd heard the teacher was excellent (so far, he really is). I've an Art History class as well about which I haven't much yet to say, but about which I'll probably complain later.
The largest item of note on the horizon is a Lip Sync show in which I will participate later this month. It's sponsored by the GLBT club here, Ally, and as a member (& VP) I'm not only participating but also helping with much of the set-up and take-down. I'm doing "Squish" from Cell Block Tango, a la Chicago, and Monkey and Le Batard are also in it. We did this show for the first time last year and while it was an absolute hoot, there were also some...learning experiences. Like not to put paper down on the runway, and that the stage set-up we used was not only the wrong shape, but also not the best choice of support (We used risers instead of an actual stage, and it had a runway theme that only worked for a couple of the acts but mostly stuck out like a sore thumb for the rest.)
Now, re: the title.......
I CAN PULL MY HAIR BACK AGAIN!
I re-acheived my mini-ponytail (affectionately named Robyn by Monkey the last time I grew my hair out) today. It requires the liberal use of hair clips, and whisps slip out of those, but it is Out Of My Face, and I've found 'my' face again. This may not make much sense, but though my hair's been short for rather a lot of the last 4 years, the face I mentally associate with myself has long hair. (It's also my natural color[s], which I haven't seen since, oh, this past summer.) I think many if not all people have an idea of 'self' with which they associate themselves, and mine has always had long hair, pulled back away from my face in a ponytail. It may sound odd, but I've missed my long hair, and have asked Monkey and Mum to remind me of this tedious wait for growth the next time I make noise about chopping the poor stuff off.
A friend and classmate of mine introduced me recently to a folk singer to die for: Heather Alexander/Alexander Adams. He's a FTM transgendered singer who, as a woman, was actually a very close ringer for the friend who introduced me to his work (there's no relation between the two). Look up his or her work on YouTube, no matter how long the bloody site takes to download; it's worth the wait. It's folk/folk based, and hence catchy as all get out, but really, really good.
Enough for now. I have actually finished my homework for tomorrow (as much as I can, cost and availability of painting supplies aside), and I want the sleep I denied myself the past two nights.
Au revoir,
~Brilliance and Light
The largest item of note on the horizon is a Lip Sync show in which I will participate later this month. It's sponsored by the GLBT club here, Ally, and as a member (& VP) I'm not only participating but also helping with much of the set-up and take-down. I'm doing "Squish" from Cell Block Tango, a la Chicago, and Monkey and Le Batard are also in it. We did this show for the first time last year and while it was an absolute hoot, there were also some...learning experiences. Like not to put paper down on the runway, and that the stage set-up we used was not only the wrong shape, but also not the best choice of support (We used risers instead of an actual stage, and it had a runway theme that only worked for a couple of the acts but mostly stuck out like a sore thumb for the rest.)
Now, re: the title.......
I CAN PULL MY HAIR BACK AGAIN!
I re-acheived my mini-ponytail (affectionately named Robyn by Monkey the last time I grew my hair out) today. It requires the liberal use of hair clips, and whisps slip out of those, but it is Out Of My Face, and I've found 'my' face again. This may not make much sense, but though my hair's been short for rather a lot of the last 4 years, the face I mentally associate with myself has long hair. (It's also my natural color[s], which I haven't seen since, oh, this past summer.) I think many if not all people have an idea of 'self' with which they associate themselves, and mine has always had long hair, pulled back away from my face in a ponytail. It may sound odd, but I've missed my long hair, and have asked Monkey and Mum to remind me of this tedious wait for growth the next time I make noise about chopping the poor stuff off.
A friend and classmate of mine introduced me recently to a folk singer to die for: Heather Alexander/Alexander Adams. He's a FTM transgendered singer who, as a woman, was actually a very close ringer for the friend who introduced me to his work (there's no relation between the two). Look up his or her work on YouTube, no matter how long the bloody site takes to download; it's worth the wait. It's folk/folk based, and hence catchy as all get out, but really, really good.
Enough for now. I have actually finished my homework for tomorrow (as much as I can, cost and availability of painting supplies aside), and I want the sleep I denied myself the past two nights.
Au revoir,
~Brilliance and Light
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