Elikrei

elikrei @ 2009-11-24T11:43:00

2009-11-24T16:43:29Z

Okay, it's a bad, bad sign when I yawn and then think, "Darn! I forgot to pay attention to the change in spatial frequencies of the sound of my yawn!"

Preparing to leave for Thanksgiving. Have cooked group dinner (though always with help) four times in the past 3 weeks. I think my grandparents are clear on the fact that I'll eat whatever my aunt chooses to serve, so that's good and I'm very happy with my decision that being a respectful guest should come before my choice to keep kosher, although I think it will feel weird - this will be only the second time in four and a half years that I've knowingly eaten nonkosher meat.

And I'm feeling like things in general are a little more manageable. Crying has dropped dramatically, though not to my preferred levels. Have made progress on applications to grad schools, found job-like things to apply for, may even get to shadow a woman who works with autistic kids over break. So, good!

And happy Thanksgiving to those who think this Thursday calls for pie. :-)

elikrei @ 2009-11-19T14:40:00

2009-11-19T19:40:46Z

Today's moment of massive stupidity: Opening a door into my face. Ow.

On the plus side, have cried only once since last journal entry, have found a second person to be my reference, and am generally making progress in life. Yay!

elikrei @ 2009-11-17T06:36:00

2009-11-17T11:36:35Z

Well, as long as the GRE focuses solely on my verbal and mathematical abilities and doesn't penalize the stupidity of being unable to open the blinds without hitting myself in the head with them, I'll be all right?

UPDATE: So apparently the GRE does not penalize blind-opening-fail. Huzzah?

Rebecca and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day(s)

2009-11-17T02:02:00Z

It's been a rough...week and a half? Since last Friday, when I started sobbing shortly after midnight. The next day I did a hike with Active Minds that launched this new program about how treating your body well - exercising (the hike, plus a mountaintop yoga session) and eating the right foods (which we had at the top) - is good for your health mentally too, and that day I didn't cry (since after all cutting onions doesn't count). But with that exception, I've been crying, pretty hard too, multiple times a day since. Monday afternoon had to pull myself up from where I was sobbing on my knees on the kitchen floor so I could cook dinner for 30 people, and I did it. Albeit with help, which was more appreciated/needed emotionally than culinarily. And that evening I kept being confused by the fact that drops of water were appearing on my textbook. Tuesday I'd cried three times by noon. At some point Wednesday evening I decided to stop fighting the lump in my throat and was instantly sobbing over my keyboard. Thursday I was so proud of myself that I was tear-free till 6pm. Friday, after a bad morning, I made a resolution at synagogue listening to the start of the rabbi's d'var Torah that I was going to make this Shabbat a day of rest and peace and no tears; by the end of the d'var I was in floods again. But then I made it 47 hours without another one, all the way into Sunday night. And today I was so proud of myself, only a little crying in class and got through a couple iffy patches all right, and I was able to say, "Look, these things that have been causing a lot of it, they're going to go away now, this was their last day." And now here I am choking on tears again.

What I'm going to do is I'm going to apply to Glasgow and Nottingham and the funding I'd need for it, and jobs in DC and in NH, and I will also apply to the US master's programs as my parents feel I should. And I'm just going to fucking hope that I'm successful with one of the things I actually want.

Found this old poem

2009-10-08T00:09:54Z

I Mean It As An Honour

Forgive me for borrowing your life.
It touched mine.
I didn’t know what else to do.

elikrei @ 2009-08-29T20:15:00

2009-08-30T00:46:52Z

The first autobiographical account of mental illness I read was of multiple personality disorder for a class during my freshman fall. (Quick note: Multiple personality disorder, also known as dissociative identity disorder, is not schizophrenia. Schizophrenia does mean split mind, but that phrase refers to a splitting of reason and emotion, not to multiple identities. It's a common misunderstanding that bugs me.) Long story short, the professors (one neuroscience, one psych; it was an interdisciplinary course they were co-teaching) recommended me a book by a psychiatrist about her manic-depressive disorder. I found her story fascinating and compelling, ended up buying myself a copy, and drew on it to write a paper for my abnormal psych class the next year.

I didn't read another such account for a while, despite deciding at some point (I think by at least halfway through my sophomore year, but maybe as early as freshman spring) to go into clinical psychology. I did, however, hear stories and poems (and first-person accounts) written by a girl who'd struggled with anorexia who was in my creative writing class. In spring 09, though, junior spring, someone left a memoir of anorexia around the house. I think all the women in the house eventually read that, and we all reacted the same way - by feeling a powerful urge to show that we weren't anorexic, look at all the food we were eating! - because it was so frightening and compelling. This summer, I've read one of autism (albeit from the brother's perspective, not the autistic man's himself), just finished one on depression, and am partway through one about schizophrenia. I think next I'll search for one about OCD, and maybe a first-person account of Asperger's if not autism; I wonder if I'll be able to find much about Alzheimer's, because I don't remember noticing any of those yet.

I don't find these easy to read. They are all frightening as well as compelling. They remind me of tough times friends have gone through and make me afraid for them. They make me cry. But it's important to me to understand - especially, I think, after my encounter with the work of the girl in my creative writing class brought home to me that what I'd learned in psych classes did not give me that understanding.

This book has just reminded me of why I'm putting myself through reading these.

As I said, it's a first-person account of her struggle with schizophrenia (it's the center cannot hold, by Elyn Saks). After several years in which a calm, patient therapist has helped her keep her schizophrenia under control, Elyn is involuntarily committed and restrained - meaning they tied her hands and feet down and put a net over her so she couldn't move her body at all - for hours at a time, an experience whose horror she communicates very effectively. Having regained her freedom, and control over her schizophrenia, she returns to law school, where she (unsurprisingly) has a special interest in mental health law. She is preparing a special letter (Note) to be published arguing against the (excessive) use of restraints, and writes:

While I was preparing my Note, I spoke to one mental health professional then on the Yale faculty. "Wouldn't you agree that being restrained is incredibly degrading?" I asked. "Not to mention painful. And frightening."

The professor looked at me in a knowing way. "You don't really understand," he said kindly. "These people are different from you and me. It doesn't affect them the way it would affect us."

Reading The Descent of Man

2009-08-06T02:11:26Z

DarWIN:
"He who rejects with scorn the belief that the shape of his own canines, and their occasional great development in other men, are due to our early forefathers having been provided with these formidable weapons, will probably reveal, by sneering, the line of his descent. For though he no longer intends, nor has the power, to use these teeth as weapons, he will unconsciously retract his 'snarling muscles', so as to expose them ready for action, like a dog prepared to fight."

DarFAIL:
Women may have once used music to attract men. "But if so, this must have occurred long ago, before our ancestors had become sufficiently human to treat and value their women merely as useful slaves."

Happy stories

2009-07-26T04:52:53Z

It would be nice to write a happy story. I liked writing this story when it was happy. I liked feeling like I was creating magic as my two main characters fell for each other. In fact, I let him be happy for a good three weeks. My notes suggested that her mother die shortly thereafter, but it seems I was wrong - she is the one who dies. Of course. It makes sense that way. Writing his response to her death has been a challenge, definitely a worthwhile one, definitely necessary to the story. But I have also resolved that I'm not going to solve this with a new love, that though I'm hoping to heal him again I'm not intending to take that out. This girl was amazing, unique, ~~fun to write~~ one of a kind...he can't get her back. And that means that he's going to end up a more unhappy man than he started, and what kind of a story is that?

I told my parents I want to live in England today

2009-07-12T01:08:04Z

Every angel is terrifying. And yet, alas,
I invoke you, almost deadly birds of the soul,
knowing about you. Where are the days of Tobias,
when one of you, veiling his radiance, stood at the front door,
slightly disguised for the journey, no longer appalling;
(a young man like the one who curiously peeked through the window).
But if the archangel now, perilous, from behind the stars
took even one step down toward us: our own heart, beating
higher and higher, would beat us to death. Who are you?

A letter

2009-07-06T03:14:21Z

Dear Life,

Do you see these people? These ones over here? They are my friends. Be nice to them. Please. I know "nice" is an exceptionally generic and unhelpful word, but just as a hint, it is not particularly similar to the way in which you are currently treating many of them. For example, being nice to them should involve them being happy.

Or I'll send the Dread Pirate Roberts after you, and you don't want that. Savvy?

Much appreciated.

Yours faithfully,
Rebecca

elikrei @ 2009-06-29T19:08:00

2009-06-29T23:14:37Z

A conversation yesterday.

ME shows MOM photos from the foreign study program.

ME: And this is us playing Wah! It's this odd sort of game...you're a tree, and simultaneously a lumberjack. I think I'm going to teach it to my kids.

MOM: in a cunning, maternal fashion Are you planning on having kids?

ME: Yes. Twelve. Tomorrow.

MOM: Oh. Those kinds of kids.

So! Today I had twelve kids, ages 9-11. I am, again, a program assistant at a summer camp. The kids are difficult to herd and to get to agree on the same game (herding and entertaining constitutes most of my job), but the instructor who teaches them/works with me is really fantastic.

A dramatic dialogue

2009-06-22T11:01:36Z

After 20 hours' travelling (door-to-door), at 4am Rebecca's-circadian-rhythm time (which was 11pm Rebecca's-body's-physical-location time), I decided to go to bed.

Me: *turns off lights and gets into bed* Ahh, at last! Now I can sleep.
Brain: No.
Me: What?!
Brain: No.
Me: Why not!?!
Brain: Need cuddle-time.
Me: ...oh.
Brain: Cuddle-time comes before sleeptime.
Me: ...there's something I should tell you....
Brain: Must have cuddle-time before sleeptime.
Me: ...um...Atlantic Ocean...uh...
Brain: NEED. CUDDLES. NOW.

BRAIN infuses ME with unwanted energy.

Brain: GIVE ME CUDDLES!
Me: *sigh*

ME gets out of bed and locates cat, then proceeds to cuddle cat until such time as cat manages to escape.

Me: Happy now? Can we at least sleep past 5am tomorrow morning, O enforcer of cuddle-time and jetlag?
Brain: Sure.

ME falls asleep and has odd dream about fighting off evil alien parasite things that are essentially large, albino heads that live in people's stomachs. The dream concludes with her vanquishing the evil aliens and then discovering that the young boy, who she was told was her nephew, and whose alien-infected father she has just slain, is actually her own son. BRAIN promptly awakens her at 6am sharp.

Me: That wasn't quite what I was hoping for.
Brain: *ignores, as per usual*

Addendum

2009-06-05T17:19:24Z

Putting sterling in my purse is starting to make my heart race. Now that's more like the reaction I'm used to!

Goodbyes

2009-06-05T16:47:53Z

Wow. It's the end of my junior year at Dartmouth, and my ninth term (counting the foreign study program, when I was enrolled in classes but not on campus, and this term, during which I've been on campus but not enrolled in classes).

And I can't help but think how glad I've been to leave so many times. To get away from roommates (four separate times that was a huge relief) and to be finished with work; plus six times, counting this one, I was about to see Nik.

The first time it was much different was my sophomore summer (2008). I regretted that I'd be gone and wouldn't be able to really befriend the people from creative writing who were starting to turn into friends. As for Fall '08 (junior fall), I was in Maryland. And then the end of the FSP in winter '09, I was, yes, I was a bit sad, knowing I'd made friends there who probably wouldn't last into Dartmouth proper, and I stayed up till 2am hanging out even though we had to get up at 4:30am.

This term I'm crying. Even though I'm about to go see Nik. I've left eight times now and have never felt this sense of loss before. It's a strange feeling.

I'm definitely going to visit Dartmouth this summer.

But at least everybody liked the meal?

2009-05-26T04:15:21Z

So, while cooking today, I may or may not have unthinkingly plunged my hand into more or less boiling water. And I may or may not have not bothered to run it under cold water afterward. It right now may or may not be swollen, achy, and discoloured. Yes, I may or may not be exceptionally stupid.

Ow.

I am not dead! Surprise!

2009-05-12T03:46:44Z

Major update on my life: I am at college, doing research rather than taking classes. I am deadly bored with my psychology research project now - it doesn't help that it's kind of stagnating because I need three (just three!) more subjects and no one's signed up - and don't want to have to tell my prof. I also feel guilty for trying to get friends of mine to take the subject slots; I'm so bored with it, why should I make them sit through it? But I think if I just get the running subjects over with, I'll enjoy writing it up. Also, I think I have some ideas for a cool thesis project that's kind of related that maybe I could bring up wanting to do with my prof without feeling too awkward about having totally changed my plans. I still (think I) want to do a thesis, just not something that feels as meaningless as this.

I'm living at Amarna, which is pretty cool. We seem to have picked up some really awesome people in my absence. Maybe I should go away more often? My roommate is also an incredibly lovely and wonderful person, which is very nice. I mean, I roomed with half a dozen...or more like 10?...different people over the course of the foreign study program (FSP), all of whom still are (or appear to be) on speaking terms with me. Maybe roommates aren't so awful? Or don't necessarily think I'm so awful? And can be happily coexisted with? I may have to find out (again) next year....

Speaking of the FSP.... After returning from the FSP, I got an AIM account, figuring I could keep in touch with some of the FSPeeps (especially ones who aren't back at Dartmouth) that way. I have also added a couple other people now and am starting to really remember to turn it on. And it is so strange having people on IM after 10 o'clock at night. All my MSN friends are 5 hours ahead of me (except for the one that's 6), so they're abed by usually 7 or 8pm my time; I'm just not used to being able to chat late at night. But the really surreal part is that it does feel so strange. Like...come on, you used to talk to people online after 8 o'clock. Why all of a sudden do I feel awkward about using IM, or like I don't know the appropriate protocol for talking to people?

I have to choose classes the day after tomorrow. It'll be good to get back to the real business of studenting...although I will probably be scarily procrastinatory, too. But what else is new?

...I think I'll leave it there for now. And try to update more often than once every other month. Although does anyone who doesn't talk to me really read this? I guess I don't get a chance to say hi to Zoe much? Hmm. If you're out there, say hello. Testing, testing, 1, 2, 3.

elikrei @ 2009-03-31T07:59:00

2009-03-31T12:03:25Z

I did, after all, make the decision that I wasn't sure if I could last entry. Unfortunately, it looks like I won't get my first choice job for the summer, but I'll be happy in my second-choice, and I have a ticket to England in 65 days and counting.

I am back at college, and it is fantastic to be here. Lots of Amarnites are here and we had a big FSP reunion last night; everyone who's on campus this term and one person's who's not were here. Haven't met with my research prof yet, but I will in two hours. (I don't think I've slept past 8am once in the last three months - I was awake before 7 this morning. I would really rather like to be able to sleep better. Aside from getting up at 5:30 on Saturday, I haven't needed to set an alarm in weeks - including getting up at 4am one day after going to bed at 2.... I'll put it on the to-do list.) We spoke briefly, though, and I'm really excited and optimistic about the term to come.

Urgh

2009-02-18T04:32:54Z

I have just applied to a summer job even though I'm probably a little late doing it and I would really really like to not apply and be able to book a flight to go see Nik in June.

I want to feel able to make the choice to spend time with him rather than applying for this job. I want to feel able to put him first.

But in a year and a half I can.

Ah, experience

2009-02-10T12:22:56Z

New definitions, as shaped in my mind by the past month and a bit in Costa Rica:

luxury: having a pillow. Did not have one for Santa Rosa (two nights), most of Cuerici (four nights without), and all of Corcovado (seven nights).

cold: requiring a blanket (not just a sheet) to sleep at night

hot: sweating profusely while engaging in real physical exertion like sleeping. Yes, I have seriously been drenched in sweat while lying down multiple times. And when I played football for half an hour, my clothes were still pretty wet hours later. I went into the bathroom even though I knew the shower wasn't working, and I turned the knob although no water came out, and I said, "Look, I am going to shower. I can wait all day." The shower turned on.

clean (human): has showered within last three days. When the hot water was restored to the showers at our coldest site, I was genuinely confused by the idea that I might therefore take another shower; I had taken one the day before.

clean (clothing): has been laundered within last two weeks. And my clothes still don't count as clean. ETA: I have few items of clothing here. Over the space of two weeks, clothing probably gets worn at least three times. Through the dirt and grime of the forest. And the sweat of soccer games.

clean (socks): not currently damp with sweat or crusted over with dirt.

low elevation: below cloudline.

short distance (to hike): 8km. That was into Santa Rosa, and took a little over two hours; Cuerici was barely one. Going into Corcovado, I left at 8am and arrived just before 5pm. (To be fair, I dawdled - ate lunch, looked at bugs and monkeys, etc. - and the people walking out took only 6 hours. I finagled my way onto a four-seater biplane that flew low over the Golfo Dulce and the rainforest.)

long distance (to dining hall): more than 3m from bed.

haut cuisine: lentils. They were SO GOOD. I cannot express how exciting it was to find lentils. The flavour was amazing. FANTASTIC.

everyday animals: toucans, scarlet macaws, hummingbirds, four different species of monkey, crocodiles, sharks, and 20cm long grasshoppers. Coatimundis and agoutis are still pretty rare and a tapir or sloth would be amazing. Many of my friends regret the lack of snakes, but this bothers me fairly little.

truly unnecessary extravagance: electricity in the bathrooms. You don't really need to be able to see any more than the location of the toilet. I felt pretty guilty having the light on this morning.

There are no rhinos in Costa Rica, but it's the closest userpic I've got

2009-01-11T04:40:07Z

I am in Costa Rica. It is awesome. There are so many cool trees - trees with peeling red bark over a green photosynthesizing trunk ("gringo trees"), trees with green lines all along their bark from swelling with water to store it for the dry season, trees swarming with ants who protect it from competition and herbivory in return for food and shelter.... And class today was delayed somewhat by the arrival of some howler monkeys, whom one of my classmates noticed while taking a quick bathroom break. And the place is full of people who pick up bugs and scorpions and snakes the better to look at them ("By the way, Ernesto, we looked up that snake you played with this afternoon, and it was poisonous!"), which is pretty cool too.

The trees are probably the neatest part of this for me right now, but since people tend to have a cute-and-fuzzy bias, here are

two snuggling white-faced capuchins for you!

More thoughts on books and what I have gained from my jobs

2008-12-21T20:04:55Z

At Job #1, apparently, they do a Secret Santa (each person in a group gets one other person's name to buy a gift for) every year. I didn't especially want to participate - nothing to do with not being Christian, more about not being too attached to any of my coworkers, as well as the fact that I was leaving a few days before Christmas anyway. But...I glanced at the sign-up list for it, and everyone else's name was on it. Given that, it seemed rude not to participate, so I signed up...and promptly drew the name of the only person at either job that I actively dislike. She was unpleasant to me (apparently she is always that way to new people), told me I was doing things wrong when I was doing them right (mostly due to her own incompetence), was stiff and unfriendly, etc. But I figured this was a good "out" - I wouldn't feel guilty regifting something to her, and I had something to regift that did seem to suit her. That way, I didn't have to spend any money on this woman I disliked and if I never got anything in return, it would be no big deal.

I wrapped up the gift and brought it to work my last day, attaching a pleasant Merry-Christmas-type note. I was opening with the assistant manager, who's very lovely, only a few years older than I am. She headed to the back straight away to turn off the alarm while I locked the gate, and when I got back there she came out of the office and handed me a tiny little gift bag that someone had left in the office. I opened it up and found that it contained...a gift certificate to the mall's bookstore. YAY!

Now, I was working a 9-hour day that day, so I got a fifteen minute break in addition to a half-hour one. I used the fifteen to eat lunch, and spent the half hour shopping for a new book. Sound like me or what? :D (I ended up on The Hour I First Believed, by Wally Lamb; I've really liked his other two novels.)

How, you wonder, did my mysterious gift-giver know to get me a book certificate? Well, I usually get to work a few minutes early (because otherwise I get worried I'll be a little late), and I bring a book with me to read in the mornings, as well as during my lunch breaks. I sit on a bench near the store door and read. More than once, I've glanced up from the book to notice the manager standing by the gate waiting for me. Upon my apology, they declare, "I didn't want to interrupt you - you were reading!" Yes, but I'm here for work!

I only regret that I didn't try to use this to my advantage, by picking up a book during store hours. Would they not dare to interrupt my reading even then? I could have been spending my days buried in books instead of folding clothing! =)

So what have I gained from my jobs? Money, for a start: by dint of working so many hours, I have made more than I was hoping to, not even counting the tax refund that I expect to get because my annual income should be too low for me to have to pay income tax (since I only worked three months). The ability to stand for nine hours at a time, on one-inch (platform) heels no less, without really noticing any pain in my feet - although sixteen-hour days like Thursday still get to me. Detailed knowledge about where things are located in the stores. An understanding of clothing terms and the ability to fold exceptionally neatly when I'm so inclined (from Job #1). An appreciation for how much the hours you work in retail stink (I'm referring to working evenings and weekends, not to the fact that I was working 50+ hours/week). An invitation to return to both of my jobs should I want them. A strong reminder to be the customer who's patient and appreciative. Knowledge of lyrics and tunes to a wide range of Christmas songs, including multiple versions of some of the more popular ones (not sure whether this is really a "gain"). And a hell of a lot of random arts and crafts stuff (from Job #2) - this gain being to the detriment of the first one listed!

So, yes, I have quit for a life of leisure.

Oh, and just to clarify my schedule, since people have been confused:
Jan - Aug 2008: take classes (a total of three 10-week terms)
Sept - Dec 2008: work full-time
a few weeks now: holiday with His Nikness in Florida
Jan - March 2009: trip to Costa Rica and Little Cayman, effectively finishing off my biology major; expect limited internet access (infrequent lj posts, long response times)
April - June 2009: hopefully, do psychology research at College (but won't be taking classes) - depends on receipt of funding
June - Sept 2009: work full-time, doing psychology research if possible; may be at home or somewhere exotic like Arizona. Or it might be back at Jobs 1 and 2. =(
Sept 2009 - June 2010: go to College full-time (a total of three terms)
June 2010: graduate
rest of life: spend with Nik

Everything clear?

Pierogiholics Anonymous

2008-12-18T04:57:04Z

So, I got home after 10 hours' work, starving because traffic was so bad that I got to Job #2 late and therefore was there for under 6 hours and so only got a fifteen for lunch and didn't have time to finish what I'd brought, and looked in the fridge. Lo and behold: Pierogies!* I grab them, heat them up, and begin to dine. Porpy, noticing, rushes upstairs to play with me. He sits on the chair next to me, then jumps down to the floor and reaches all the way up to put his paws on the table, then switches to the other chair, etc., etc. How sweet that he's being so friendly! But then I remember: He is obsessed with pierogies.

I mean obsessed. My sister puts them in a ziploc baggie and leaves them on a counter as she's getting ready for school; he steals them all the time. He just likes the ziploc bags, right? WRONG! I put mine in a Tupperware container and he still goes crazy over them. He is genuinely fascinated by pierogies. Today, after I'd finished, I let him have the empty bag - it was the happiest moment in his whole kitty cat life.

And now, since I have to be at work at 8am tomorrow (and until 11:30pm), I'd bet go.

(Porpy is still putting his paws up on the table from the floor to search for more pierogies. He discovered that the ziploc bag was empty. )

*Dumplings with, for our purposes, potato and cheese inside. A Rebecca staple.

More musings on booking veggie meals for airplanes

2008-12-16T18:01:56Z

This has always struck me as odd.

I call American Airlines. I go through their automated system and tell them I'd like to change something about a Mr Antelope's reservation for flight number 3.1415927 on Christmas Eve. I'm sent to a person. The person confirms that it is a Mr Nikolas Antelope whose flight I would like to change. I say yes and request the veggie meal (and doublecheck that his return flight, number 2.718, will also be changed). This is done.

It is pretty clear that I am not Mr Antelope, given that I am (and sound) female. They do not even ask me for his flight confirmation number. They have no evidence whatsoever that I am really calling on Mr Antelope's behalf, other than that I know his name, date of departure, and flight number, which to me seems not very much. For all they know, I am an evil horrible human being trying to sabotage Mr Antelope's flying experience by forcing him to consume vegetables when he would much prefer meat. (Not that a 22-hour journey is particularly pleasant to begin with!) This woman even asked for my name. I told her I was Rebecca Cragg. I was about to explain that I was his girlfriend, and that he was having me call because it was simpler to take care of it from the US and he is in the UK, but she simply said, "Thank you for calling American," and that was that.

I really hope they would ask for a little more proof of my authority in calling them if I tried to make any serious changes to his reservation!

A sad e-mail

2008-12-15T01:35:35Z

I got an e-mail today called "Sad News," through my College account. I assumed it was a joke-title, to get me to open it; you get a lot of those, frats trying to get you to read about their parties or sociology students trying to get you to take their surveys or people whose coats were taken at the frat parties trying to get you to realise you accidentally (or not) grabbed theirs.

It was to inform us that a student had died while on a foreign study program. Cody was his first name. I knew I knew a Cody and so looked him up on Facebook, but it wasn't the Cody I knew; this person I'd never met.

His Facebook page is full of casual chitchat and people asking when he'd be back this side of the pond, up till four hours before he died. Then the "goodbye" posts started. It really emphasized to me how suddenly he was alive and then he wasn't.

He died at 1am last night his time. He fell off a balcony. Paramedics were there. There's an article about it from the newspaper local to where he died that doesn't specify his university, only that he's a foreign exchange student. It seems odd, because I'd never met him, yet I know. The College's newspaper has an article about his death up on its website, though.

I'm feeling very sobered.

The strange state of my room; the power of Springsteen; the need to buy everything at Job #2

2008-12-09T03:40:48Z

I like the cleanness of all my countertops.

It is somewhat counteracted by the fact that all the items that used to be there - and on the floor, and under my bed, and in all the nooks and crannies where I like to shove things - are now on my bed. But their presence there is a pretty compelling reason to get this room tidied before I go to sleep. Despite Porpy's tendency to sleep on newspaper on my floor, in as awkward a position as possible, I do quite prefer a mattress.

One-job days - even when they're longish ones (today was seven hours) - are easy. Particularly when it's Job #2, I suppose. But two-job days are really killer. Walking into the second job is hard.

Playing "How Can A Poor Man Stand Such Times And Live" on repeat before going into work also helps. Although I probably creeped out quite a few customers as I put away the beads and yarn*, muttering to myself, "Gonna be a judgment and that's a fact...."

*Why do they always have me in the sections where I want to buy everything? Oh yeah, because that's all the sections.

ETA: Do normal people edit their entries 700 times immediately after posting? Liz, don't bother answering, you don't count: You're not a normal person, you think begonias miaow. Besides I know you edit ad infinitum anyway. =)