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Birthday Notes:
Sep. 12th, 2006 11:24 am1) Waking up at 1am to puke is possibly the worst way to begin a birthday. I spent some time just feeling ill in general, and trying to heave so I'd at least have an empty stomach that I could put some ordinary bread in, and I have no idea why I was puking. And I still felt bad after pukng some, so I couldn't eat anything, and drinking was just as unappealing, so I kinda sat on my couch feeling generally ill in the abdominal area for a while.
I'm guessing it was the fried chicken I had last night which was terrifically oily. It could also be stress, since I felt the same way I normally would when I'm having an overwhelming day.
As I leant over the toilet bowl, I kept heaving and sniffling and I think some of the upset came from the fact that the stuff from my nose keeps trickling back right into my stomach, which is kinda gross, but possibly true, so I'm going to see the doctor about it today.
I also wondered how the fuck bulimics managed to keep up this whole puking thing as a friggin LIFESTYLE.
When I went back to bed, I decided that since I still felt sick, maybe I should just meditate, and under the moonlight, I did. And I felt much better.
2) I despise receiving stuffed toys as gifts. Heather, who is no close friend of mine and probably was just buying it for me as a good gesture even though she obviously doesn't know me very well (not well enough, at any rate, to know that I really don't enjoy stuffed toys), bought me a stuffed BLUE doggie that's not just a toy, but a PURSE BAG AS WELL.
Excuse me, but do I look like the kind who'd actually willingly go around town carrying a STUFFED DOG PURSE BAG? For the love of all that's good and awesome, please relegate your presents to things I can use, or just buy me flowers and earrings.
Stuffed toys are cute little dust collectors. They are also ridiculously easy to buy, and you don't need much thought to throw together some small things like a rose quartz, seashells, a pearl necklace and St. John's Wort. And... easter egg chocolates.
I know this makes me sound like a ungracious little brat, but I'm the sort of person where, if I can't think of anything seriously meaningful and practical to buy, I just take that friend out to dinner.
You know, this makes me want a sushi lunch. I think that's exactly what I'll do for myself today.
3) I'm really, really looking forward to my Writing Fiction class tonight. Writing Poetry last night was a great deal of fun, and despite my initial impression of Dr. Bartlett as a rather elitist writer snooty type (he thought NaNoWriMo was like "fast food novelling", to which I took offense to), he actually remembered me and although there were just eight of us in class, it was a very dynamic class.
So, tonight's Writing Fiction with Dr. Alexander MacLeod, whom Stepha and I jokingly refer to as Dr. Dreamy MacLeod because he's very hot and intelligent (his father is Alistair MacLeod, a rather famous Canadian writer), and while I don't know how big this class will be, still...
4) Speaking of creative writing, we have to try 8 out or 12 assignments from the poetry class, and the first one is on hands or feet, or both. 6 of these 8 have to be revised, and that becomes a portfolio that the professor will grade us on.
Since I haven't brought out KireiRuka in a while, I'm at a workstation at work, and here's a very bad first draft of a Hand poem:
When I hold his hands,
I'm not thinking about the last time
he hit another person with those
solid knuckles and muscled fingers.
I'm not thinking about the capability
of violence, entrapped under the
taut, clean, pink skin.
When I hold his hands,
I'm not thinking about their function
in a making, in a protecting,
in a grasp of tight measures.
I'm not thinking about how very
useful they are.
This I say with a polite cough.
When I hold this hands,
I'm not thinking about their musicality
on a bass guitar, as long and lean,
strumming sounds gleaned.
I'm not thinking about their creative
power, their manipulative skill
at callused fingertips.
When I hold his hands,
it's not about those smooth palms
or fine hairs, or clipped nails,
or our twined, hungry fingers.
When I hold his hands,
it's one step closer to holding him.
And his holding mine.
5) I'm going to start taking Active Living classes at the gym again, and I'm thinking of Cardio T's, which is supposedly cardio "with a burlesque twist", and that sounds like a great deal of fun. I'm going to get Sean to be my dance partner for the jive/ballroom dancing class, and Elie and Bridget are also going to be there, and it's going to be awesome like that. I think I can cut gym classes twice a week: Tuesday and Friday evenings, and it will hopefully help me beat down the fatigue I seem to be having.
6) I went to the Student Accounts department yesterday to deal with my fees. While in total, I owe them abuot 9k for the whole year, I also have refunds credited, and an achievement scholarship, which means I only owe about 7k. This means I had to figure out how much I could get away with paying for the first semester since the exchange rate zinged up really high and wouldn't come back down for a while, and thus my dad ended up sending me only about three thousand dollars.
I apparently had a cheque I had to pick up, which was about 1900, and since it was so old, it's gone stale. So the nice lady and I decided to just have it cancelled the the 1900 credited into my account.
So in all, I really only need to pay about 5k for the entire year.
I love me and my fiscal luck. *knocks wood*
Okay, work off in five minutes. Happy Birthday to me!
I'm guessing it was the fried chicken I had last night which was terrifically oily. It could also be stress, since I felt the same way I normally would when I'm having an overwhelming day.
As I leant over the toilet bowl, I kept heaving and sniffling and I think some of the upset came from the fact that the stuff from my nose keeps trickling back right into my stomach, which is kinda gross, but possibly true, so I'm going to see the doctor about it today.
I also wondered how the fuck bulimics managed to keep up this whole puking thing as a friggin LIFESTYLE.
When I went back to bed, I decided that since I still felt sick, maybe I should just meditate, and under the moonlight, I did. And I felt much better.
2) I despise receiving stuffed toys as gifts. Heather, who is no close friend of mine and probably was just buying it for me as a good gesture even though she obviously doesn't know me very well (not well enough, at any rate, to know that I really don't enjoy stuffed toys), bought me a stuffed BLUE doggie that's not just a toy, but a PURSE BAG AS WELL.
Excuse me, but do I look like the kind who'd actually willingly go around town carrying a STUFFED DOG PURSE BAG? For the love of all that's good and awesome, please relegate your presents to things I can use, or just buy me flowers and earrings.
Stuffed toys are cute little dust collectors. They are also ridiculously easy to buy, and you don't need much thought to throw together some small things like a rose quartz, seashells, a pearl necklace and St. John's Wort. And... easter egg chocolates.
I know this makes me sound like a ungracious little brat, but I'm the sort of person where, if I can't think of anything seriously meaningful and practical to buy, I just take that friend out to dinner.
You know, this makes me want a sushi lunch. I think that's exactly what I'll do for myself today.
3) I'm really, really looking forward to my Writing Fiction class tonight. Writing Poetry last night was a great deal of fun, and despite my initial impression of Dr. Bartlett as a rather elitist writer snooty type (he thought NaNoWriMo was like "fast food novelling", to which I took offense to), he actually remembered me and although there were just eight of us in class, it was a very dynamic class.
So, tonight's Writing Fiction with Dr. Alexander MacLeod, whom Stepha and I jokingly refer to as Dr. Dreamy MacLeod because he's very hot and intelligent (his father is Alistair MacLeod, a rather famous Canadian writer), and while I don't know how big this class will be, still...
4) Speaking of creative writing, we have to try 8 out or 12 assignments from the poetry class, and the first one is on hands or feet, or both. 6 of these 8 have to be revised, and that becomes a portfolio that the professor will grade us on.
Since I haven't brought out KireiRuka in a while, I'm at a workstation at work, and here's a very bad first draft of a Hand poem:
When I hold his hands,
I'm not thinking about the last time
he hit another person with those
solid knuckles and muscled fingers.
I'm not thinking about the capability
of violence, entrapped under the
taut, clean, pink skin.
When I hold his hands,
I'm not thinking about their function
in a making, in a protecting,
in a grasp of tight measures.
I'm not thinking about how very
useful they are.
This I say with a polite cough.
When I hold this hands,
I'm not thinking about their musicality
on a bass guitar, as long and lean,
strumming sounds gleaned.
I'm not thinking about their creative
power, their manipulative skill
at callused fingertips.
When I hold his hands,
it's not about those smooth palms
or fine hairs, or clipped nails,
or our twined, hungry fingers.
When I hold his hands,
it's one step closer to holding him.
And his holding mine.
5) I'm going to start taking Active Living classes at the gym again, and I'm thinking of Cardio T's, which is supposedly cardio "with a burlesque twist", and that sounds like a great deal of fun. I'm going to get Sean to be my dance partner for the jive/ballroom dancing class, and Elie and Bridget are also going to be there, and it's going to be awesome like that. I think I can cut gym classes twice a week: Tuesday and Friday evenings, and it will hopefully help me beat down the fatigue I seem to be having.
6) I went to the Student Accounts department yesterday to deal with my fees. While in total, I owe them abuot 9k for the whole year, I also have refunds credited, and an achievement scholarship, which means I only owe about 7k. This means I had to figure out how much I could get away with paying for the first semester since the exchange rate zinged up really high and wouldn't come back down for a while, and thus my dad ended up sending me only about three thousand dollars.
I apparently had a cheque I had to pick up, which was about 1900, and since it was so old, it's gone stale. So the nice lady and I decided to just have it cancelled the the 1900 credited into my account.
So in all, I really only need to pay about 5k for the entire year.
I love me and my fiscal luck. *knocks wood*
Okay, work off in five minutes. Happy Birthday to me!
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