Mischief Managed.

Something Changed

2006-06-03T01:47:56Z

I don't often post lyrics, but I am feeling sappy and thought I would post the lyrics of me and David's song, because I am lovey dovey like that. This has been the perfect song for us since we met because it's almost like it was written for our relationship. *swoon*

I wrote this song two hours before we met
I didn't know your name or what you looked like yet
I could have stayed at home and gone to bed
I could have gone to see a film instead
You might have changed your mind and seen your friend
Life could have been very different but then something changed

Do you believe that there's someone up above?
Does he have a timetable directing acts of love?
Why did I write this song on that day?
Why did you touch my hand and softly say
"Stop asking questions that don't matter anyway
Just give us a kiss to celebrate here today that something changed"?

When we woke up that morning we had no way of knowing
That in a matter of hours we'd change the way we were going
Where would I be now, where would I be now if we'd never met?
Would I be singing this song to someone else instead?
I don't know , but like you said - something changed

All that you live on is lipgloss and cigarettes.

2005-10-04T17:45:26Z

I've realized that I write a lot about makeup in my entries, and that not everyone necessarily cares about my latest MAC drama or which sixty eyeshadows I wore today. Soooooo....I am resurrecting my defunct "deep thoughts/poetry" journal, secretballerina and opening it back up as my makeup and makeup looks journal. Add it, comment here to be added, whatever, but from now on all of my makeup related posts will be done over there. It's sure to be thrilling, like my very own MAC forum where I make the rules, muahahah!

Michael Hutchence is rolling over in his grave.

2005-06-20T00:52:04Z

CBS is having an American Idol-style show (only with more piercings and tattoos) where the winner will be the new lead singer of INXS. It is a sad day for all.

Some thoughts. I use that word generously.

2005-02-23T15:00:14Z

This week has been ridiculously busy with planning for the conference (which finally begins on Friday...it's hard to believe the time has come already). I spent the weekend in the suburbs watching the dog while my parents were in Las Vegas. Though their trip was a disaster, it worked out well for me because I got lots of MAC Pro Pigments.

I'm once again having difficulties with the undergraduates in one of my cross registered class. I hate to be one of those assholes (many of whom I hate) who lump undergrads into a group (many of these people who think undergrads are dumb were undergrads practically two years ago...you haven't become Einstein in two years, my friend), and I don't, but this particular group just...bugs me.

In Correctional Policy and Practice, we discuss a lot of sociological issues surrounding incarceration. When it comes time to debate a particular issue, we must present some kind of valid sociological support for our opinions. However, the undergrads seem content to present anecdotal evidence, which, as we all know, is not truth. So, the question arises from our professor, "What could be some alternatives to imprisoning people who are drug users or addicts?" One girl says, "Well, for one, I think we should take their children away forever, because once at work I saw this little girl who was beaten and raped by the people the mother had coming in the house to sell her drugs." Well, then, let's go ahead and do it! If you've seen it happen to one person, then by all means, this is the solution! Let's just go ahead and put all the children of everyone who has ever used drugs in foster care. That's fantastic, brilliant, even. What if they have children after the drug offense? Well, then we should be there waiting at the hospital when they give birth to take the child away from them! ....

I mean, really, on what planet is this the best solution we can come up with? But she's convinced, since she's seen it happen ONE TIME. Okay, I'll cut this short before I start ranting more.

woooo snow

2004-12-14T18:47:02Z

So, today I was watching the news and they had a little blurb about what the city plans to do with the 5th and Forbes area downtown. For those of you not from Pittsburgh, it's basically this area between the two streets that has a lot of abandoned store fronts and is generally run down. On the news they called it "The undisputed ghetto of downtown." Now, it's true, it's not exactly picturesque, but I thought two things...

1. It's not like *any* of our downtown area is particularly upscale and fabulous, and
2. "Undisputed ghetto"????? Have these people ever been outside of the suburbs??!? There are FAR worse ghettos in the world, FAR worse, hell, there are worse ghettos in Pittsburgh. I don't even think 5th and Forbes *qualifies* as a ghetto, more like an unfortunately dirty couple of blocks in need of a good paint job. If you want to see a real ghetto, go to...I don't know, but don't go to fucking 5th and Forbes! 5th and Forbes at least has a department store and a CVS. Ghettos don't tend to.

But, in good news, my hair dye was on sale. There was much rejoicing.

Amen, brother.

2004-12-02T21:49:10Z


damon albarn is love
brought to you by the isLove Generator

It only took about eight months!

2004-10-26T17:48:33Z

I finally finished crocheting the blanket I started in March (I think). It numbers at 192 granny squares in eight different colors. I can't believe how damned long I've been working on this thing and that it's finally done. I should stick to knitting.

It turns out I did exceptionally well on that bitch of an org theory midterm I was working on a couple of weeks ago (all 18 pages of it). I guess I'm not going to fail out of grad school after all! And hey, if I can do so well on something I thought I had no clue about, and am completely disinterested in, imagine what I will do one day in a program in which I really am interested!

Curiouser and curiouser....

2004-10-25T16:48:24Z

Will someone please explain to me why the temperature going up about five degrees means it's time for everyone to break out the shorts and flip flops again? It's fall, people, pants and socks are advisable.

Under my umbrella I'm an accomplished exile.

2004-10-19T04:33:23Z

It rained cats and dogs tonight. That bastard let us out twenty minutes late again and I had to wait in the rain with no umbrella for the later bus. After about ten minutes, a guy at the bus stop let me stand under his umbrella. Chivalry is still alive. What a pleasure.

And now for something completely different, a survey thingy stolen from shewontburn!

Last words you said: "Goodnight, mummy!"

Last song you sang? "Spice Up Your Life" - Spice Girls (yeah yeah)

Last person you hugged? David

Last thing at which you laughed? My brother's concerns about going clothes shopping with my mom.

Last time you said ’I Love You’ and meant it? To my mom, of course.

Last time you cried? Saturday night from stress and hormones.

What’s in your CD player? Nothing, it's been retired in favor of the iPod goodness.

What color socks are you wearing? I'm reasonably sure I only own black socks.

What’s under your bed? My naughty box.

What time did you wake up today? 8 AM. Damn this whole work thing.

Current taste? Diet Wild Cherry Pepsi and cigarettes.

Current hair? Black and all nasty from being in the rain.

Current clothes? Pajamas: purple cami tank top with pink starred pants.

Current Annoyance?: What isn't annoying me these days?

Current worry? That I will never catch up on my sleep. Ever.

Current hate? My professor who keeps us late in class and forces me to take the scary late bus.

Favorite thing about the opposite sex? The little curve in their backs.

Last CD You Bought? No Doubt singles collection in Chicago.

Favorite place to be? Sephora.

Least favorite place? Duquesne University.

If you could play an instrument? I already have: the saxophone.

Do You Believe In An Afterlife? Reincarnation, baby.

How tall are you? Five feet. But I hear dynamite comes in small packages.

Current favorite word/saying? "Rock."

Favorite season? The fall, when there is actually a fall in this city.

Favorite day? Saturdays...no work, no class, no responsibilities.

Where would you like to go? To bed.

What is your career going to be like? Professional student. Fo' shizzle.

The Windy City.

2004-10-18T16:49:13Z

So, I just got back from a weekend in Chicago with David, where we went to see the Morrissey show. I have many things to say, which I will cut into little mini-essays. Select the topics that interest you and read. Some are sure to be interesting (or at least a little bit funny).

When I was in my early years of high school, I began listening almost exclusively to Britpop, and since the only time these videos appeared on television were on the occasional hour of M2 that MTV would play (before M2 was free) and "120 Minutes" on late at night on MTV, I would tape these times religiously and compose tapes of the videos I liked. I once happened to stumble upon an old Smiths video, "Shoplifters of the World Unite," and enjoyed it, and ended up buying a Smiths album. I never really got into it.

David, on the other hand, loves Morrissey, and he follows him with almost religious devotion. Morrissey is getting on in years now, so at the concert, there were many different generations, beginning with original Smiths fans and ending with younger people who have been subjected to it by their older friends and lovers (I fell into the latter category). I basically seemed to be one of the few people there who did not hold David's obscene love for the man. Men stood captivated. Women cried. People of all ages yelled to Morrissey that he was sexy and a god. There was a frenzy of joy and ecstasy in the rather large hall (where our tickets were general admission, also known as Heather's knees and back hurt for three hours yet she can't see a goddamn thing because she's so short).

Let me digress, though it is a related point. There was no smoking allowed in the hall, though I noted that as the woman who was frisking me was lecturing me on this point, the large bouncer was standing there puffing away. At any rate, *everyone* was smoking once we got into the lobby. When the concert began, there was a distinct smell of the mixture of marijuana and cigarettes combined with sweat that you can only get at a concert. So, I figured, shit, I can't see, I may as well smoke. Moments later, a bouncer appears to tell me to stop smoking, because Morrissey is "very sensitive to smoke and will walk right off stage." Now, he of course could not have known that I was not really that into Morrissey (even less after this show), but I found this rather amusing. He assumed that telling me this would fill me with sorrow and concern for Morrissey's health. I would go for this argument maybe for the Dalai Lama, but certainly not for any musician whose life is playing in smoky places. He could have easily told me, "Hey, asshole, you were told no smoking, so if I catch you again, you're out of here," and I would have respected it, as it was true. He tried to appeal to my hero worship, and that was ridiculous.

Is there any musician that I admire with this slavish fervor? Anyone for whom I would stomp out my cigarette? Anyone for whom I would cry? Anyone I would call, as David did of Morrissey, "the next Keats?" When I saw Blur, I wanted to touch Damon's shoe, because Damon is hot. At APC, I was excited, and clapped and screamed a lot, but didn't exactly pass out from excitement. The closest I can think of is Radiohead, where I stood in total awe of being able to see such a great band. Musicians are admirable, and some are unbelieveable in talent, so what makes particular ones eligible to be cast as graven images and placed in conflict with the Ten Commandments as some place him as a god before God? Why do some provoke tears and others applause? Is it image? Talent? Intruige? Why is one person's Dalai Lama another's Morrissey?

So many questions. So few answers.

In downtown Chicago, there is a stretch known as the Magnificent Mile, which is a mile-long stretch of street packed with trendy stores. It encompasses both ends of the trendiness spectrum (which ranges from college chic to $500 for a pair of shoes chic), having a healthy assortment of The Gap and Gucci, Banana Republic and Chanel, etc. It was nothing short of glorious.

We spent a total of seven hours shopping Saturday, and I ended up being spent in more ways than one. I finally found black 'Roos (now that they are making a come back from a bit before my time), got lots of great stuff at Urban Outfitters (I don't care where I end up living in my life, but it must have an Urban Outfitters), the obligatory Tony & Tina purchase from Sephora (it's one of the only brands I like that I can't get anywhere here), and here's the best part...

Some of you may know of a collection of pricey dolls for girls called "The American Girl Dolls." Traditionally, you could only order the dolls modeled after girls from different American historical period from a catalog. However, as happens with everything, they were bought out (by Mattell) and started to expand. There are now two stores in the US, one in Chicago and one in New York. The place was *packed* with people of every age, about half of them clutching their dolls and the younger ones begging for the accessories for them that they eyed with joy. I was so excited, I didn't really know what to do. I could finally see this stuff in the flesh. I mean, I have all the dolls, but not all the outfits. So, I found a nice outfit for my newest doll and was on my way. It took strength to limit myself there.

Hell, it took strength to limit myself everywhere. Which is why I am not buying anything unimportant for at least two weeks. And never moving to Chicago.

In addition to David and myself, on our way to Chicago, we transported David'a friend from school, Amy. Her husband was to meet us in Illinois. When we went to pick her up, we almost fell over. David harasses me for overpacking, and sometimes I do....my suitcase for two weeks in California was over 50 pounds. For the weekend, I took my bookbag with clothes and toiletries, my little sidebag for my crocheting, and a grocery bag for snacks, which is light for me, but pretty average in general. Amy, on the other hand, had a medium-sized suitcase, a bookbag, a duffel bag, a cooler, a paper grocery store bag of food, a pillow, a sleeping bag (these two were moderately necessary), and a fan (more on this later). Needless to say, fitting three people and all this crap into David's little car was a challenge.

Then, the trip began. It started out innocently enough. She had to stop to pee about every forty-five minutes, but whatever. She whined about the quality of her soft-serve cone. She would not eat the cheese crackers I brought because they were "too fatty" (they were 6g of fat per package, but whatever). General picky crap, which is just the way some people are.

Once we get to the hotel, the real fun began. She has to have total darkness when she sleeps. The curtains must be shut all the way, no lights on, even the alarm clock must be covered, and she wears one of those face masks to cover her eyes. She also must have "white noise" when she sleeps, hence she brought the fan. In the morning, she can only listen to "quiet music." She has to have very soft facial tissues. And on and on and on....

I believe some people would call this girl a princess (in the negative connotation, of course), and I would agree. She has a younger sister, but has all the earmarks of an only child. I almost killed her this weekend, but I restrained myself. How do you get through life being so damned picky and imposing that on others?

Alright, I have made this long enough. If I have additional thoughts, I will make a new entry.

Love thy neighbor.

2004-10-14T18:34:22Z

So, Dell shipped my new A/C adapter (actually, they sent me two, so I figured I'd send them back both of my old ones. Hey, not my fault they screwed up) a couple of days ago. Sometimes, my neighbors will sign for my packages when I'm not here, which is really very nice. They are a Bulgarian family with a very sweet little daughter who showed me where the laundry room was when I moved in. So, the husband left me a note telling me he had signed for my packages and for me to stop over to pick them up. I guess he heard Megan and I come into the apartment, because as I walked over to talk to him, he opened the door....in his underwear. I pretended not to be totally freaked out, as he is an older gentleman, and this is the kind of thing you see on TV. He put shorts on and brought me my packages, asking me if it was alright to take my packages (he said he didn't know how Americans feel about things like this), and I said it was fine, and that I was in fact very appreciative about it. I said goodbye and closed the door. What I wanted to say was there is only one man in my life that it is acceptable for me to see with his pants off, and he is 27 and not my middle-aged neighbor. But thanks for getting my A/C adapters.

I am Gandhi, it seems.

2004-10-12T20:35:53Z

Yoinked from Meg and found at okcupid. Anyone shocked?

You are a
Social Liberal
(91% permissive)

and an...

Economic Liberal
(13% permissive)

You are best described as a:
Socialist
You exhibit a very well-developed sense of Right and Wrong and believe in economic fairness.

Thus Died Zarathustra.

2004-10-10T13:44:21Z

Or at least I think he is dead. Okay, this is going to sound terrible, but anyway...So, yesterday, I thought Zarathustra's (my snail) behavior was a bit off. Sometimes he moves around one of the plants in my tank and generally hangs out, but yesterday he was just kind of nestled in them. I thought nothing of it. Then, once I miraculously finished my 18 page midterm at 1:00 AM, I looked at the tank, and he was just floating around the top. I had my suspicions, but had read online that sometimes snails like to float. He never has before, so I was fairly sure he died. However, I have been too scared to remove him from the tank (though if he is dead he will decay and pollute the tank) in case he's just being weird. This morning he had sunk to the bottom and is showing no signs of activity. So, yeah, I think he is pretty much deceased, and now I have to decide what to do with him. I think I may put him in the woods behind my apartment as a way of returning him to the earth. You know, I used to have no luck keeping fish alive, but so far Viv and Foucault have been thriving. How did I manage to kill my snail?

However, there is some unrelated...

My father called me Friday to tell me about a massive recall of A/C adapters for Dell laptop computers. Apparently after about five years they have discovered certain adapters can catch on fire. Now, a few months ago, my adapter mysteriously stopped working and I had to buy a new one, which now is being held together by electrical tape since the rubber around the wires at the plug managed to come loose. Never having been part of a recall before, I figured I wouldn't be so lucky to get a new A/C adapter out of this, though I new I would have to buy a new one eventually. So, I went to the website anyway and checked mine out. It seems that the original one I had for the laptop which broke is not part of the recall, but the new one I bought is. So, I put in a request for a new one. The fate of the universe has smiled on me!

Alright, enough stalling. Back to the twelve more hours of work I have to do today.

THE quote of the presidential debate...

2004-10-09T02:05:51Z

"I hear there's rumors on the internets." - George W. Bush

Where are these other internets and how can I get to them? I am on the computer all the time and I have only found one internet! Goddammit, what am I missing out on?

Toner snot.

2004-10-05T04:14:51Z

So, in the lab today, the toner cartridge on the laser printer ran out. Though the message screen alerts you when this happens, no less than three people stared at the printer wondering why it wouldn't print before I realized what was going on and figured I was going to have to replace it myself, despite it being a fairly simple procedure. I go and retrieve a new cartridge and proceed to open up the package only to find that it was defective and had exploded within the wrapper, covering me and the desk in powdered ink while the rest of the people continued to stare in amazement at the printer. I recover, get a working cartridge, install it, and go to the bathroom to wash the toner off my hands and face. I am gone not five minutes and return to find everyone once again staring at the printer, the new toner cartridge on the desk. I ask what is going on, and they tell me there is a paper jam. I open up the printer to find they put WAY too much paper in the tray. I free the jam, and am once again covered in toner. I wash up again. About fifteen minutes later, I blow my nose (my bronchitis seems to have now transformed into a sinus infection) and toner comes out of my nose. I suck.

An Open Letter to the Residents of Shadyside

2004-09-30T15:28:55Z

As you are obviously aware, we have laws in this fine city of ours about cleaning up the crap of our dogs from the sidewalks. I know you are aware of this, because as I turned the corner of Walnut and Negley today, I discovered a bag of dog crap on the sidewalk. Now, perhaps this law needs a bit of clarification. The point of putting the dog crap in the bag is so you may dispose of it in a trashcan or dumpster so that it is not stinking up the sidewalk, spelling sure peril for whoever may walk by. It is not enough that you simply put the crap in a plastic grocery store bag. You are required to actually place this bag in a trash receptacle. I mean, come on, you already went through the trouble of putting the mounds of crap in the bag, why not go that extra mile and just throw it away? The street is full of dumpsters and trashcans, so this is not a problem. I was a bit pissed off today when, after a great shopping trip, I nearly stepped right into a full, overflowing bag of dog shit on the sidewalk in my beautiful Rocket Dog shoes and my favorite pinstripe suit pants. Had I actually stepped into it, I would be significantly more pissed off than I am now. As it is, we were both lucky, and I am writing this as only a friendly reminder. As one of the more pretentious, high class neighborhoods in the city, I expect that we will all take special care to see to the beauty and safety of our fine streets and not strew dog shit all over the place. Thanks for your time.

Health Services Fun, part 3

2004-09-24T22:16:31Z

I apologize to those who are sick of my medical woes, but if you can't share your dirty illness details with your nearest and dearest internet friends, with whom can you share them?

So, yes, today was trip three to the doctor. She was shocked I wasn't feeling better, and even more disturbed to find that the wheezing has now permeated all sections of both lungs. So, she sent me for a chest x-ray which came back negative, gave me a nebulizer treatment which made me feel high, and put me on steroids. I bought a humidifier and have been wearing my aromatherapy oil diffuser as well as a reiki crystal over my chest to try to drive this madness from my body. So, basically, I have hardcore bronchitis (not yet pneumonia, thankfully) and feel more like crap from the medication than anything else. However, all this kept me from working today with all the back and forth to health services and the hospital. My plan for the weekend: lay low! Break out the movies and the green tea, I am for the next few days an invalid.

Health Services Fun, part 2 and other fun stuff

2004-09-23T14:40:02Z

So, yeah, I went back to health services on Tuesday and got to see someone with the authority to give me medication. After listening to my lungs, she determined I was wheezing in my right lung and have bronchitis. She gave me an inhaler and antibiotics. I am supposed to be feeling better by now, but alas I am not, and thus have to return to the doctor tomorrow. I suck.

On a more interesting note, last night, one of David's friends wanted to take us out for a drink to celebrate his birthday. First we went to a bar on Centre Ave, but then David's friend wanted to go meet one of her friends at a gay bar in Shadyside. It was more or less the most horrible bar experience of my life. First, I was standing at the bar drinking a glass of red wine, when the manager ran into me, spilling half of my wine on my brand new Gap skirt. He gave me a towel with club soda to clean it off with, and everything was cool. Later, David went to take a cell phone call, and because the music was so loud, he had to stand right in front of the kitchen door. The same manager who covered me with vino, completely unprovoked, told David to get the hell out of his bar, and that no one comes to his bar and stands in his kitchen. David asked if he could come tell his friends that he was leaving, and the guy said he was calling the cops. It was just one of those really weird experiences where you aren't sure that what's happening is really happening. After we left, and assured the police we would not come back, I tried to wrap my mind around what had occurred. Part of me wants to say the guy just had a bad day. Part of me wonders if the guy was pissed that a bunch of straight kids were at the gay bar. I hate to say that, but I guess it's possible that when one creates a place where a traditionally harassed minority can feel safe and free to express themselves, they feel intruded upon that the majority would come there too. I don't know what it was, but I know after the cops left, I hacked up phlegm in the car for about fifteen minutes. I am still too much in shock to really be angry...I don't even know if I should be angry. I mean, we didn't do anything wrong. David didn't antagonize him, nor was he really even *in* the kitchen. It's just very strange.

Health Services Fun, part 1

2004-09-21T17:05:18Z

Yesterday I went to health services (something I was scared to do since the last time I was more or less told I was sick because I don't believe Jesus is our savior) and was told I was definitely sick and that it should clear up. I got a rather impressive goody-bag: a full sized Robitussin, two kinds of cough drops, Advil Cold & Sinus, and paper thermometers. The nurse was nice. When I told her I smoked, I said, "I know, I know, it's bad," and she said, "It's alright, I'm not here to judge you," which was cool. She said if the home treatment didn't work to come back Wednesday to see the doctor. Last night, I could hardly breathe and soaked my sheets with night sweats, and woke up with a terrible headache, body aches, and a pain in my chest. I threw down on the phone with health services and told them this was not going to get better, as I think I am having a hard time breathing in my sleep, hence the headache. So, alas, soon I will be leaving to see the doctor. I just don't think I can cough anymore. My whole body hurts from coughing. I've done all I can: anti-inflammatory, cough syrup, fluids, getting plenty of rest...but I am ridiculously ill.

On an unrelated note, my professor kept us until 9:00 last night (class ends at 8:40) and I missed my bus. I had to take a later bus which was the scariest experience of my life. The bus was packed and ready to revolt. People in the back screaming at each other that one was going to beat the other one: "I will kick your white ass, bitch!" A cranky woman wouldn't move to let a man in a wheel chair on. This slowed down our progress, sowing the seeds of revolt. I managed to get off unscathed, but the next time, I am just going to leave class to get my usual bus whether that meanie is done or not.

Off to health services. Wish me luck.

I'm done for; go on without me!

2004-09-19T16:41:10Z

Day eight of the plague has come with no relief. My mother has threatened that if I do not at least go to health services tomorrow (where they will inevitably give me a goody-bag of cough drops and Tylenol [to which I will say: No cough drops, my tongue is too sore from too many cough drops!]) she will come to my work hours at the lab and drag me, kicking and screaming, to the real doctor. However, Kristen tells me that likely I suffer from viral bronchitis (and I consider Kristen more reliable than a doctor at this point because the poor girl's lungs have been declaring war on her for quite some time) for which there is really no medical cure because it is viral and not bacterial, and they will tell me the goody-bag is my only chance for survival. I am fighting my hypochondriac urge to declare that I simply have lung cancer (as I smoke another cigarette; smoking is the only thing thus far that breaks up the phlegm and keeps me from coughing) and am going to die. So, there is no hope of a short term relief, so I continue to chug dextromethorphan and slather myself with Vicks while drinking massive amounts of water and green tea. In addition, I am going to put my plastic tongue ring in, because the coughing has put quite a bit of stress on my tongue, and the enormous slave barbell I normally wear is only aggravating the situation. And I have a cold sore on my upper lip, which is only adding insult to injury by making me not only sound pathetic, but also look ridiculous. I have given Megan instructions on what to do with my belongings should I die from this illness. Pray to your respective Gods and gurus for my speedy recovery.

The plague strikes again.

2004-09-16T20:07:44Z

I've been fighting it, but yes, I really am ill. I have been coughing regularly for two days now and drinking so much water, tea, and juice that I may have to relocate the television and computer into the bathroom. Mostly I've just been coughing, but don't feel sick otherwise, and have to contemplate a rather awful thought...am I experiencing a serious medical problem due to my smoking? I may just be legitimately ill, but how would I know? Can one start having such problems after just four years of smoking? I posed this question to Meg, who suggested I have a look at my phlegm to see what color it is. I expressed some shock at this proposition, but she tells me it's better to spit it up anyway. So, I, Heather, will be spitting my phlegm into a plastic cup for the rest of the day to see what color it is. Updates will follow.

School can be dangerous to your health.

2004-09-15T18:32:01Z

You heard it here first, school is very bad for you. After spending long days holed up in College Hall (where there are nearly no windows and the average temperature is about 50 degrees farenheit), I have developed a cough and an extremely dry mouth, throat, and eyes. At first, I thought I was sick because I was coughing, but I don't really feel sick. I just feel like I need to reach in my mouth and scratch my throat. It could be the smoking, but it's a non-productive (dry) cough, so it doesn't seem like the typical lung damage smoking problem. So, since all these problems sort of seem to point to dehydration, and my eating, drinking, and smoking patterns have remained constant, I combed WebMD for the solution, and I found it. I am allergic to school.

Well, not really. But the only lifestyle change I have made is spending more time now in air conditioning (and fucking harsh air conditioning, I must say) at school. On any given Monday, I spend a good nine to ten hours in extreme air conditioning, then three to six on other days, whereas over the summer I was almost never in air conditioning, mostly just outside or either my or David's apartment, neither of which is air conditioned. Many of my cohorts at school have also developed this problem, so there had to be a connection. I found it. Sick building syndrome. This occurs when a building has dry air infected with mold and dust from outdated climate control systems. It causes a dry throat, irritated eyes, headache, and lethargy. So, that settles it. Duquesne has made me ill.

The new school year...

2004-09-14T16:18:51Z

Today is Tuesday, so of course I am hungover. I think this is starting to become a bit too common for me. I remember the days when I drank Banker's Club vodka straight out of the bottle, and now a couple of Cape Cods causes me to have to hold myself up on a telephone poll while David gets my stuff out of the car.

At any rate, now that a new school year is three weeks in the making, I have been making observations. I forget what it's like being a freshman in a new place. I forget what it's like to be a teenager again. But man can I spot the new incoming undergraduates when I stand outside of College Hall by a few of these indicators:
1. Freshman girls stand in gaggles discussing how they want to go get their first tattoo ("What if it huuuuuurts?").
2. Many of the boys dye their hair a terrible shade of green or blue, which they will of course have to dye brown once they go home.
3. Freshmen now enter that delicate time where they are easily coerced into beginning a cigarette habit.
4. Freshmen start standing around talking about how to get a fake ID (or at least go to a bar where they won't get carded).
5. New piercings appear, for which "Mom will kill me."

And then I start to remember what it was like being a freshman. Body modification, drinking, hair dyeing and all.

I love the smell of hypochondria in the morning.

2004-09-09T22:11:38Z

I have sufficiently convinced myself that I have vertigo stemming from an inner ear infection. Yeah, I know I don't have it, but I have been getting these really irritating spacey/dizzy feelings and last night I had a horrific headache, the pain radiating from my right ear. So, of course, after browsing WebMD for my symptoms, I decided that while I may not be dying, the body is a damned imperfect machine. The good news is I finally did my grocery shopping today (NEVER do grocery shopping on an empty stomach, as it will result in the purchase of toaster strudel and frozen burritos) and can finally make tapoica and deviled eggs, both of which I have had the strangest craving for over the last couple of weeks. I would wax intellectual about something here, but, alas, I have another hundred pages or so of reading to do about the human relations approach to organizations. Someone shoot me now. Please.

To the fashion gods....

2004-09-08T20:33:28Z

I understand that you are all powerful, and that as you will, it shall be done. I follow many of your commands. After all, have I not spend the week wearing my makeup as pictured in the Sephora catalogue? Did I not go buy a scalloped-edged skirt from Express? Did I not just order a pair of high-heeled Steve Madden shoes from zappos? Do I not attempt to the best of my ability to follow those fashions which fit into my sort of off-beat goth style? I mean, please fashion gods, I own four pleated mini skirts. I bought an ionic steam straightener for my hair. You said black with pink pinstripes was in; I did not protest. You said plump lips were in; I bought plumping lip gloss. You said Chanel perfume would make me sexy; I bought Chanel Chance. So many of your commands I have followed. However, there is one which I cannot assent to, one command for which I have to throw down the gauntlet and say, "Enough, fashion gods, enough!" One command which I simply cannot understand. With all my love of fashion, I just cannot go along with you on this one: high heeled plastic flip flops!! Fashion gods, please! Sure, I wore flip flops to the showers in the dorms. I even have a pair of sequined Rocket Dog platform flip flops. However, I cannot buy a pair of bright orange jelly flip flops with a two inch heel. I cannot. Strike me down, if you must, but here I draw the line.