Who should I be?
Who should I be?
<input ... >Mattie Ross (True Grit)<input ... >Femme!Joker (composite/Batman)
<input ... >Femme!Graverobber (Repo)
<input ... >Meg Griffin (Family Guy)
<input ... >Anthropomorphic personification of EVE (Wall*E)
<input ... >
- Current Location:Illinois house
- Current Mood: busy
- Current Music:Senses Fail, "The Fire"
I have literally been working on this since I woke up. The editing of this motherfucker and the production into MPEGs (after trying to get them to be AVIs three times before I realized how obscenely fucking enormous AVI files are) took forfuckingever. Why did there have to be 3 different videos? Don't ask. Just don't ask.
Who Should I Be?
- Current Location:my Tyler room
- Current Mood: busy
- Current Music:Ot3p, "Sevas Tra"
*runs around flailing and squeeing*
Update: now I'm pretty much deciding between the last three, and am a little afraid that the second one down might look too creepy as an actual tattoo even if I love the font on paper. The last one would be great for referencing the fact that "indomitable spirit" is a Tae Kwon Do tenet, since the Bonzai font looks kind of Asian, but I also am wanting to get a tattoo that says "[Korean]Tae Kwon Do[/Korean] [English]is a way of life[English]" after I get my third degree and Bonzai would be the perfect font for that. Now I'm leaning towards Ithornet the most, I think, because I love the meaningful contradiction of the gothy font and the words; I still am an Opheliac with braincrazies, but I'm an Opheliac with an indomitable spirit who will never self-destruct and become and Ophelia.
- Current Location:my Tyler room
- Current Mood: hyper
- Current Music:Escape the Fate, "Escape the Fate"
Well, my life isn’t complicated at all…
Massey seonsengnim befuddles me. She won’t shut up about how I need to stop beating myself up over making mistakes; I have made a certain amount of progress with that, but every time I talk to her one-on-one she’s like “You need to calm down and do less shit!” (Obviously not in those words; but I do need to do less shit.) As I left my appointment with her, she hugged me…and then she smacked me really hard in the side and (playfully) told me to get out. I know she tries to make her students comfortable, but sometimes she just weirds me out.
The end of this week is going to be pretty crazy. Last night I had Voces rehearsal and room draw; I managed to get a single on the third floor so I can be with the rest of the Tyler Critical Mass of Geekery. Today I have to miss TKD for the orchestra dress rehearsal, despite the fact that my poor yellows are trying to test for orange at the end of the semester.
The thing I was most worried about this week was the bio colloquium. I had to attend a colloquium on polyploidy in cotton today for Bio 152. I was really concerned about not being able to use the annoyingly confusing (or maybe it’s just my public transportation-induced incompetence) PVTA system to get to UMass and then not being able to find the building where the colloquium was given. I had to get off the bus at Hampshire College to transfer to a different bus, then missed the bus I was supposed to get on to get to UMass because the bus claimed it was going to “Haigis Mall,” and how am I supposed to know that means UMass? So a friendly MoHo girl who was also at the bus stop told me that Haigis Mall was at UMass and I caught the next bus. By the grace of the noodle-monster I was able to find the science building, which was fairly close to the bus stop; I was actually looking for a campus map and just bumbled into the science complex. I was late for the colloquium and the door to the seminar room was locked, so I sat outside with my ear pressed to the door and taking notes for 20 minutes before some kind individual informed me there was another door. Sometime in the past 24 hours I apparently acquired a sense of direction, because I found my way back to the bus stop with absolutely no problem. Now I’m on the Minuteman Express back to Smith. Success!
Then the orchestra concert is on Friday night. I didn’t get thrown out of orchestra, but I’m barred from playing in the piece that I missed practicing (I got to rehearsal late). That piece was annoying, so I’m not too crushed. My Saturday is going to be busy as fuck; from noon to one, I have to be in two places at once; A.C.E. Club’s table and the TKD group’s table. Er, wait, that’s on Friday. Better tell my Taekwondoists that… Anyway, at four (and this really is on Saturday), I’m going to the queer org coalition as the representative for A.C.E. And at seven-thirty, A.C.E. is participating in “Take Back the Night,” a really sweet event held by Students Against Sexual Assault. There will be no DnD this weekend, though, and I’m thinking A.C.E. will stop meeting after the activities fair, so maybe I can see my girlfriend—I mean, do homework—on Sunday.
Ugh, I’m hungry. All I’ve had to eat today is two muffins and a cookie, and I didn’t really eat until 3 PM. Since when do I have a sense of direction and can go so long without food? I inherited my love of food and my utter lack of direction from my dad…have my genes just shut off today or am I pulling a Shilo Wallace here? “My legacy is not up to my genes!” Oh yes, Repo. Repo is quickly invading my brain. I’ll probably ravenously scarf down my dinner tonight in the privacy of my room so I can keep listening to the soundtrack. Is it weird that I’d like to play a femme!Graverobber in a production of Repo before I die?
I CAN’T BRAIN TODAY I HAVE THE STUPID.
- Current Location:a PVTA bus somewhere in NoHo
- Current Mood: calm
- Current Music:mental iPod; "Repo! The Genetic Opera"
A good friend of mine compiled two of his weirdest days to create "Diary of a Physics Student." This is a fairly accurate description of one Tuesday of mine with some events from other days thrown in.
8: 45 AM
Ugh. Is it normal that I practically have an apoplectic fit whenever my alarm goes off? Despite the fact that my heart is racing now, I still feel like I can’t move. Maybe I should take the OCB (Outrageously Comfortable Blanket) off my bed, because it is very much not helping me want to get up. Okay, no breakfast. I’m going to squeeze in a little more sleep…was up really late finishing that stupid take-home quiz for genetics…
Kicked one of my stuffed animals off my bed when I was startled awake by my alarm. Still unable to drag my ass out of bed.
Okay, I really need to get up this time. Class starts in half an hour. But all I have to do is get dressed, brush my teeth, and throw my hair into a braid, right?
Crapcrapcrap. Shouldn’t have spent so long squeezing the living hell out of my pores—who cares if I have blackheads? (I swear, though, the BenzaClin isn’t working; if I were still taking microbio, I would test my facial bacteria for resistance to clindacymin.) My professor, however, might care if I’m late. Especially because I’m going to ask her if she’ll be my advisor.
10: 47 AM
Got to class only 2 minutes late. Missed nothing; we’re going over DNA replication, which my AP Bio class apparently covered more in depth than we are in Smith’s Bio 152. Still, I need the refresher. Am feeling somewhat sorry for those in the class who haven’t had genetics before, because we are actually flying through the material; I’m lucky I know this already.
I love DNA replication (despite the fact that it spawned the pickup line “If I were an enzyme, I’d be DNA helicase so I could unzip your genes”), but the muses are poking me. I have most of my laptop screen showing the PowerPoint the prof is using, but I also have a really narrow window open showing Chapter 3 of my latest fanfic on Microsoft Word.
Lunchtime! I hope the food is decent, because I’m hungry. I’ll probably keep working on this fanfiction while I eat; I seem to be making progress. Random note, I’m a little disappointed that this lecture didn’t mention topoisomerase. I like topoisomerase; it has a cool name.
Eh, chicken ranch wraps. Could be worse. No dessert, but I have more chocolate than I really should in my room. Am watching What Not to Wear with housemates and making fun of Stacy for thinking she’s Rogue from X-Men since she keeps that gray streak in her hair.
Wait, what the hell, muses? My fingers just typed an OC into the story. I did not have an OC planned for this! It makes sense, I suppose…at least, it makes more sense that there was somebody in Turpin’s house who would let Sweeney in instead of Sweeney knocking on the door and killing whoever answered. But now what the hell is this OC going to do for the rest of the story? I should put this in the story outline and see how it shakes out…oh, sentient fanfiction…
Bio lab. Whee. Today we’re licking paper, i.e., testing to see if we can taste PTC. I already know I can taste it; not only can I taste it, the incredibly bitter taste lingers for about 12 hours. But then we’re collecting samples of our own DNA and using PCR to amplify it, then next lab we’re using gel electrophoresis to see which alleles we have for the PCR-tasting gene. Gel electrophoresis awesome, but the collecting and processing of our DNA is a bit tiresome. Oh, and…the fruit flies...we are doing a semester long project involving documenting mutations in Drosophila melanogaster. I’ve actually lost track of what the goal of it is…something about…proving that the mutation alleles are recessive using a chi-square test. I used to think the little flyguys were cute, but now I’m just a bit sick of them.
Never mind, I still think they’re cute. Just…annoying in the way that they constantly crawl toward the top of the tube. If I weren't sure they're too stupid to know to escape...
Whoa, this stats homework is a lot more in-depth than I was expecting; usually these online assessments are pretty tame. Temporarily beating away the plot bunnies with a club-proportioned carrot in order to get this assignment done.
The dining hall in my house just opened for dinner. Dinner looks fairly gross, though, so I’ll stay here. I’ll get a burger; I haven’t had lean red meat in a while, and I don’t want to be anemic. I just finished my stats assignment, though; perfect timing. Confidence intervals aren’t too hard, I just have to give them my undivided attention.
Back in my room. Jennifer and I had a short little geeky conversation about Emilie Autumn and historical accuracy in Les Mis fanfiction. It’s 6 hours later in
Why do I enjoy poetry written in Spanish so much more than English poetry? Well, except for Sylvia Plath; she’s awesome. Anyway, on to the Korean worksheet…
Hmm. It seems I haven’t made much progress on this Korean worksheet. Possibly because it turns out the murderer in SVU used his karate black belt to strangle two people, and the idea of using a black belt as a murder weapon is quite disturbing to me. That belt is the culmination of years of hard work, respect of your fellow students, and learning how to never use your martial arts for selfish ends or…or anything bad! Black belt is NOT a murder weapon. *whimpers* Cannot focus while freaking out.
Better head off to orchestra. Why do I do so much shit? I swear…if I didn’t love the music we play in orchestra so much (one of our pieces is “Raider’s March” from Raiders of the Lost Ark, which is of course written by John fucking Williams!) I’d quit. Such a big time commitment…
Back from orchestra. Pretty decent rehearsal, but I do not think we’re ready for our concert this Friday. Not to mention the concert is going to prevent me from going to some ConBust panels on Friday night. *grumble* Well, maybe I’ll be able to make it to the fanfiction panel. Anyway, I’m going to wear my hair like Mrs. Lovett to the concert, partly in protest and partly because I’m cosplaying Lovett at the convention and will want to have less preparation of my costume involved once the concert is over. But mostly in protest.
Damn, this Korean worksheet is really befuddling me! Usually Korean grammar isn’t that hard…also this is a sheet of sentences I have to translate from English into Korean, which is annoyingly time-consuming.
ACK. Stupid Korean took me forever. So sleepy…come hither, OCB…
It just occurred to me I have my once-a-week bio discussion tomorrow. I don’t have any homework for that, do I? I’d better check the syllabus.
Apparently I have to read two articles on asexuality in bdelloid rotifers and write one page on why asexuality is so advantageous. Hopefully I won’t be so slap-happy by the time I finish the article that I start writing about why being asexual suits my personality, although unlike bdelloid rotifers I do not reproduce asexually.
Thank heaven these articles aren’t outrageously dense; they’re more like something you’d find in Popular Science. And I’m being incredibly amused by the fact that the first article puts so much emphasis on “Yes, these organisms survive happily without sex!” Actually, I can’t stop giggling…exhaustion, you do odd things to my brain…
I love how I’m so sleepy I can’t focus particularly hard on these articles and have to read them multiple times to extract any meaning…
Finally starting on the paper. Only one page. Come on, brain, don’t fail me now.
I have a title: “Why asexuals win the universe.” Hehehehehehe.
Hehehehehehehehe. Wow, I’m hyper. I appear to be passing through my cyclothymic response to lack of sleep. At least I have the energy to write now…and I’ve eaten some leftover peppermint bark from Christmas…mmm, dark chocolate and mint…
Asexuals win the universe!! These bdelloid rotifers are little BAMFs. They use degenerate tetraploidy to recopy damaged chromosomes, and—get this—they’re resistant to radiation. Maybe they’d make good mascots for the A.C.E. Club.
I’m done with the paper! Haha, no male bdelloids have ever been observed. Most amusing. I’m still very awake…maybe I’ll work on realistically incorporating the OC into the later plot of my Sweeney fic. She has informed me that her name is Gracie Parker. Her name was going to be Molly Dunaway, but she disagrees.
Oh…Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ on a pogo stick fucking a zebra, I feel like a shuttlepod landed on my head.
I have class in less than 6 hours…I am going to be a zombie in Spanish class, and I’m usually the only one who talks…oh, and I just realized that I stole the shuttlepod line from Star Trek: Enterprise. Ugh. BEDTIME.
- Current Location:a friend's room
- Current Mood: amused
- Current Music:mental iPod; Nightwish, "Wishmaster"
I have a love/hate relationship with my Korean professor. She’s very forgiving of mistakes—I was supposed to do a presentation today, but I didn’t know about it, and she simply said “OK, you can present with this group, but write it down this time”—but she’s incredibly harsh at seemingly random times. I mean, today at the language table (a bunch of Korean students eat in Chuckett—God I hate that dining hall—and gab in Korean) I was one of the few actually trying to speak Korean. My listening comprehension is absolute crap for some reason, so I was feeling really self-conscious, and it surprised me when she put her hand on my back and went “You’re doing really well.” And then she launched into her speech on how I have to not be nervous when I speak. And she told me not to think about how I’ve only been taking Korean for less than a semester and as such I need a lot of practice with listening comprehension. At this point in the conversation, I started to cry. Okay, I get that it’s bad to focus exclusively on the negative, but I have to be aware of what I have to practice and why. Oh, and then she said she would hit me if I kept being too nervous. I get that she was kidding, but is that really the best thing to say to someone who’s crying? *sigh* I started crying again while I was walking home, and couldn’t stop for no apparent reason, and not for a lack of trying. Antidepressant fail? I don’t know.
I am currently sitting in stats class watching an episode of The West Wing. Everybody is talking about a mile a minute, and my poor brain started thinking in Spanish this morning, was very recently thinking in Korean, and now I can barely follow English. Yet I’m supposed to be able to point out the mentions of statistics in the episode and explain them. Um…not going to happen. I would much rather be curled up in bed with a book. Also, a good friend is going to stay in my room for the weekend for ConBust, and I need to clean. I also really need to figure out my costume (I’m cosplaying Mrs. Lovett) just…because I really want to and it will improve my mood significantly. And I have a French horn lesson today, and a concert tonight—maybe I’ll wear my hair like Mrs. Lovett’s to the concert in protest of not being able to go to ConBust until tomorrow. So basically I don’t feel like doing anything but have a shitload of things to accomplish. Dammit brain, this is not the time to have an episode.
- Current Location:McConnell 404
- Current Mood: blah
- Current Music:mental iPod; Halestorm, "Halestorm"