Subtle

Last night I dreamt that I was watching myself try to fit my mouth around my notebooks and textbooks for my classes. It wasn't working very well. As I was watching myself in the dream I wondered if perhaps I really have bitten off more than I can chew. Then I wondered whatever happened to dreams that required actual interpretation. I keep telling myself that it was just a dream, and that I can do this. Sometimes it's all to easy to have doubts about that, but I haven't fallen down yet. So, it was just a dream, like any other anxiety dream. And like the dream that followed it, wherein a ginormous rattlesnake fell out of my airconditioner vent, it's not real. I may be fighting the urge to seal off my ac vent, but it wasn't real.

Huh...

Tonight my "voice" was compared, favorably even, to Harper Lee's in To Kill a Mockingbird. I think that is the most kick ass thing I have heard in a long time. I wish I had more to say, but at this point my brain is quickly powering down. Sadly, I can't write, but must read before all neural function ceases. Not that I'm in a silly mood or anything.

Cake

There is currently a six pound, ten ounce buttercream frosted chocolate cake on our kitchen table. Apparently, we're celebrating Mom's birthday again. I believe what really happened is that Dad was taken in by the cake while at Sam's this morning. "It's bigger and cheaper than the ones at HEB" was his completely rational answer to my question of "What's with the cake?" As the lolcats would say, the origins of my issues, let me show you them. Mom interrupted the cake conversation to ask if I wanted her to join the gym with me. The me plus other people plus the gym conversation is one we've been through over and over again. I hate people watching me while I work out. I don't care if they're actually watching me, because in my mind being in the same room is enough. They probably saw me at some point, and therefore they are watching me. Only replace the word watching with judging. If there's anything I hate more than people seeing me at the gym, it's having someone try to talk to me while I'm trying to do my thing as quickly and as solitarily as possible. My mother can't resist talking to me. Every trip will be a chat session. I told I don't mind her going at all, but that I am definitely not looking for a workout buddy. Again, this is a converrsation we've had. We'll see what happens.
In other news, we are sans tv at the moment. We're switching between satellite providers, and unfortunately the new one won't be able to install for four more days. It's not been too bad. I've been working on homework anyway. It's also a sort of thing. Amazingly, with all the studying I've been doing, words are failing me. At the end of my tv-free time, I will return with things better than ever. We're getting dvr. Oh yes. I will once more be able to pause and record tv. Joy. This means I am no longer an actual slave to my tv. In the meantime, we've been re-watching Firefly. I wish there was more. But, since there isn't, I'm off to continue on homework until it's time for HFS.

Crunch

School is going well. Everytime I start to feel less than adequate a professor will be excited by something I've said, or I get a paper back with marks far better than I was expecting. I havent' missed any deadlines, and I am actually working ahead on things. I still feel crunched, though. I am crumpled. I feel like the paper wrapper on a straw that has been completely compressed around the straw's bottom. I have all of this straw stretching out before me, but, for some crazy ass reason, I am scrunched down into near nothingness.
Andrew is, as always, incredibly supportive. So are my friends. Sadly, I'm not seeing everyone so much as I'd like. It seems odd, in the past I have practically lived at Val's place, but now I haven't even seen her or the family in well over a week. I've missed HFS two weeks in a row, now. First I had a headache from hell. It felt like a lovely little proto-migraine, waiting to fully flower from semi-blinding pain to full blinding pain. Last week I was working on the story that wouldn't end. When it did end, late Sunday night, it clocked in roughly fifteen hundred words beyond our maximum word count. I did finally manage to cut it down by about twelve hundred words, but it was cutting it close. It hurts to have to go through and cut down what you thought was sparse to begin with. But this weekend I will be there, and hopefully will get the ball rolling on my squire project. I am feeling antsy about my squireship. It feels like I am off to a rough start. I'm hoping to change, this, though. Maybe seeing my friends on Saturday will be just what I need to feel like I can stretch out.

Ericka Tagged Me!

Ericka tagged me! And so here we go with the meme thing.
1 - List seven weird/quirky habits about myself
2 - Tag seven people to do the same
3 - not just say “whoever wants to do it” or refuse to tag people

1. I kiss the back of my hand and tap the roof of my car as I go through yellow lights. I'm not sure why. It started with my friends in high school and it's just continued. I've heard different reasons from different people, but none of them are the reason I do it, because I don't feel like anything special is going to happen if I do/don't do it.

2. I can't feel comfortable living somewhere until I've put salt along all of the windows and doorways. It's my big "oooh I'm a witch!" concession. I don't work a whole lot of magic, but this is definitely one thing I have to do. Interesting sidenote, I never had to do it at our last apartment. I always just felt safe there.

3. When I'm fidgeting with my hands I will run one thumb across my other thumb nail, alternating back and forth.

4. I hate it when other people use words such as ironically or literally incorrectly, but it drives me flat out insane when I use them incorrectly because I have been subjected to the wrongness so much. (I've pretty much given up on ironic, but I will never stop the fight on the misuse of literal.)

5. Andrew enjoys pointing out that I drink from the left side of my mouth. This is one of those things that I don't know why I do it, but have become incredible self-concious about. If I had to guess I'd say it's because I can't drink and read effectively if I don't hold the glass to the side.

6. If I'm wearing a necklace, I'll constantly mess with it. If it has a pendant, I'll either rub it or tap it against my lips. It helps me think.

7. I plan to curse around my children. I am going to teach them that words are powerful, and there's no such thing as a "bad" word, just an inappropriate one. There will be much talking about what is appropriate and what isn't, just like with any other behavior. I am looking forward to my children. I think they'll be fun.

Now let's see... I choose: (from Livejournal) Melissa, Courtney, Mark, Sarah M., Jordan, Trish (who can fill it in for Rebekah if she'd like) and Jessica

Cats and Boobs

Mom has taken to waiting until Andrew is out and then coming in to talk to me. Well, she says she wants to talk to the cats, and before I know it the cats are being told how my brother is screwing up now, or getting a litany of things my father has done lately. At least she tells them they're cute. Anyway, now, apparently, my brother feels that by buying him a house Mom and Dad pushed him out. Bentley's answer was to roll on his back and try to look cuter. Puck just glared at her for interrupting his nap. Puck is officially a teenager, I guess. He has the glare down pat. He could out glare a whole lunchroom of seventh graders. I'm starting to realize that it's a good thing I'm married, otherwise I'd surely be edging into crazy catlady territory.
In other news, I've decided to the Boobie-Thon this year. I forget why I didn't last year, but I'm doing it now! Yay boobs! And double yay for keeping boobs cancer free! Stupid cancer. My maternal grandmother survived her breast cancer (but not her diabetes), but I lost a paternal aunt to it. Breast cancer is a topic near and dear to my own boobs. I'm debating trying to put together a donation thing, like if I hit a certain ammount I'll shave my head. Or maybe I'll put two up, donate for me to keep my hair or donate to see me shave it, and then whichever ammount is higher will be the winning option. I think my mom will be donating to see me shave it, though she might throw a couple of bucks at not in the end. We'll see. My biggest concern about shaving my head is how much I know I will look like my brother. Everything else I can deal with. Well, possibly not the big red circle birthmark I have on the back of my head, which my brother also has, because the last thing a bald girl needs is a target.

Happy (early) Birthday to Me

Yesterday my mother and I went by a local gym, just to check it out. I walked out with my birthday present, a membership. Which, while a wise investment in my future, shoots down my plans for pooling my birthday money and putting it towards a laptop. Although, one of the other things that came up was the possibility of selling my car to put some money towards tuition. I'm hoping to shunt some of that money into the laptop fund. It's for school! If I had a laptop, I could be curled up on the bed typing away on my story, instead of doing it here at my desk and being distracted by the interwebs every two seconds. That is my rationale. Now if I could just concentrate on the story I'm supposed to be writing. The story itself is good. The fact that it's only supposed to be 750 words long is bad. I don't know if anyone's noticed, but I talk. A lot. Me plus a 750 word limit doesn't work. Can't I just write away to my heart's content and eat the rest of the tomato soup I made for dinner? Mmmm.... Anti-oxidants are yummy.
Now to finish cutting my story to shreds, to be followed by digging out gym stuff. Must resist napping.