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Thursday, December 30, 2004

Internet people are weird. I've always known this, but sometimes stating the obvious is comforting.

(2004-12-28 08:00:12) elsisy_my_love: hello ... i need friends .. can you chat with me .. i think you my sister :)
(2004-12-28 08:00:24) : Buzz!!
(2004-12-28 08:00:32) elsisy_my_love: im swear
(2004-12-28 08:02:23) : Buzz!!

(2004-12-30 20:11:19) slavvikk: hi.... i'm on my knees at YOUR great feet begging YOU to give me a chance to have the honor of being YOUR loyal slave and YOUR obedient servant.... i would really love to spoil and pamper YOU

I'm trying to screw with my sleep patterns so that next week when I start working third shift weekends the crazy schedule won't be such a shock to my system. I tested a VasoPro today, and I have to say, ephedrine (this is synthetic ephedrine, which hasn't been banned by the FDA ... yet) is actually a pretty decent workaday stimulant. It's not at all speedy and, unlike caffeine, doesn't leave me anxious. And I only need to worry about heart attacks, strokes, psychoses and death if I abuse it! What counts as "abuse," anyway?

When I discovered that the velocity on my Kurzweil SP-76 wasn't working properly a while ago (after a malfuntioning radiator squirted rusty water into it), I was distraught. I never do my best repair work when I'm upset, which I was for several weeks, so despite taking it apart a number of times and cleaning it, I couldn't fix the problem. However, having bought a real piano to replace it, I've felt much more at ease. So yesterday, I opened it up again, switched around a few components, and managed to put it back together in such a way that it's fully operational! This is good news, because, as much as I've loved this keyboard, I think it's time to move on. I'm planning to shift it on eBay (and replace it with a Korg MS-2000).

In further preparation for its listing, I decided to replace the side panels, since one of them was smashed during shipping from Sydney to Baltimore. New plastic sidepanels from Kurzweil cost about $40, so I bought some poplar and a jigsaw for half the price and made old-skool wooden side panels. I've stained them dark walnut. Tomorrow I'll varnish and attach them, and post pictures. I can already tell it's going to look hot. Hopefully I can pass it off as an ULTRA RAERE CUSTOMIZED synthesizer. Heh.

Wednesday, December 29, 2004

Some advice, please!

For a while now, I have wanted a PDA so I can take notes at college and read e-books. That's really all I want it for.

So last night at around 2:30am, while I was watching (O, glorious!) multiple back-to-back episodes of the X-Files (TNT, I LOVE YOU FOR YOUR WEDNESDAY 12AM TILL 5AM PROGRAMMING. You are the BEST CHANNEL EVER.), I bid $50 (the starting amount) on a Palm i705, thinking I would surely be outbid. And I wasn't. $50 happens to be just what I have left in my Paypal account after my sloughing of shoes a fortnight ago.

It's a Palm i705, and it's new in the box. Two years ago, these PDAs cost over $450, mainly because they use WAP and wireless email tech. But three months ago, Palm shut down palm.NET, the service needed to access the internet with the i705 (it was a stupidly expensive and slow service anyway). So now, the i705 is just a basic Palm PDA, with normal Palmy stuff, and an unnecessary WAP antenna. The screen is kind of small, monochrome, but backlit. Refurbished/new ones still seem to cost around $100 from stores.

But I don't know if I should get it. I keep wondering if $50 is even too much to pay. The seller made the mistake of waxing lyrical about the PDA's wireless capabilities in the description, and I have already sent him a faux-disappointed e-mail about the demise of palm.NET in the hope that he will reduce the final price. If I wanted to, I could probably get out of the auction altogether.

Do you think I should buy it? Or should I wait? Wait until ... until ... until I don't know.

I still need to buy Matt his keyboard. The WHP job will certainly help.

Tech toy addicts! Christ Jesus, we shouldn't be buying any of these things. What the hell am I doing?

Tuesday, December 28, 2004

Insane with the pressure of things to do, I update my wish list.
I got the third shift job at WHP-TV. I start January 7. I have ordered a couple of bottles of VasoPro over the Internet.
Tripoli keeps walking on the piano keys and scaring the hell out of me when I'm at the other side of the apartment. ARGH! GHOSTS! No, it's just Tripoli playing the piano again. I'm making such slow progress on the Goldberg Variations, I think she sounds better than I do. When I play, it's not a piano, it's a paino.
Songfacts. Neat site.

Freedom Of Choice by Devo
Album: Freedom Of Choice
Date: 1980

Songfacts: You can leave comments about the song at the bottom of the page.

Devo was founded by Jerry Casale and Mark Mothersbaugh, who met at Kent State University. Here's what Jerry says about this:
"We loved that song very much when we were creating it. It was about how people were throwing away their freedom of choice into meaningless choices like between Pepsi and Coke, or pink fur shoes or blue suede shoes. Just mindless consumerism, they'd rather not be free, they'd rather be told what to do, because that's what appeared to us was the case, especially in the Reagan years. That was a very Devo position - Freedom Of Choice is what you've got, Freedom From Choice is what you want."

The lyrics about the dog in ancient Rome who had 2 bones are based on an old Aesop's fable about a dog that's walking across a bridge with a bone in his mouth. He looks down in the water and sees another dog with a bone, and he gets so upset that he finally goes to attack the other dog and loses his bone. Or, as Mark Mothersbaugh explains, "It could have been about the Cocker Spaniel that lives in my house. There's 2 Pugs, and if I give the Cocker Spaniel a treat, she's happy until I give one to the other dogs, and then she drops hers and can't believe that they have the treats too. She thinks they've gotten her treats, so she's upset until that's over."

Jerry Casale: "Today, when people use Devo's music in commercials, they either completely miss the point or excise the irony on purpose. Target used 'It's A Beautiful World,' and of course, left out the line 'For you, for you, but not for me.' They just made it a beautiful world straight up. That Freedom Of Choice ad by Miller Lite shows a guy making his Freedom Of Choice by stepping out of the way of this line of human dominoes that has been falling for 30 seconds. He's finally smart enough to back up and let it pass him by as he grabs his beer. The same with "Whip It," which has been used to sell Swiffer."

Argument for Abortion No. 1,212,938

From: disrupting distance
To: Mormolyke
Posted: Tue Dec 28, 2004 12:05 am
Subject: excuse me
I actually respect you, but do you have somthing against me did I insult you or somthing. Did I rape you integrity? I usally dont let peoples harsh and very crude posts burn me, but I actually respect you. So just lay off, please its all I ask. Have a great day.

From: Mormolyke
To: disrupting distance
Posted: Tue Dec 28, 2004 12:11 am
Subject: Re: excuse me
Do you think you will gain my respect by whining at me?

From: disrupting distance
To: Mormolyke
Posted: Tue Dec 28, 2004 12:15 am
Subject: Re: excuse me

From: Mormolyke
To: disrupting distance
Posted: Tue Dec 28, 2004 12:19 am
Subject: Re: excuse me
Seek help.

From: disrupting distance
To: Mormolyke
Posted: Tue Dec 28, 2004 12:23 am
Subject: Re: excuse me
no just fucking with you

Monday, December 27, 2004

OK, you brain freeze experts, I just took a huge soup-spoonful of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, fresh from my freezer, and applied it in one big dollop to the roof of my mouth. I tried to push it as far back as I could to the soft palate. I held it there with my tongue for about 30 seconds. The roof of my mouth started to get sore because it was so cold, but I can't feel any pain in my head or behind my nose at all.

So there you have it. I am an android.

Sunday, December 26, 2004

I have never had a "brain freeze" - the headache people get behind their noses and eyes when they drink too much ice-cold liquid at once. I remember seeing a preview for Shallow Hal a couple of years ago and wondering what the hell Gwyneth Paltrow's character was complaining about. On Friday, while eating spinach and artichoke dip at Molly Branigan's downtown, I asked Matt about it, and he tried to explain brain freezes to me. I drank as much ice-cold water as I could, but didn't feel any sensation like the one he described. Being from Australia, land of the stinking hot, I've drunk plenty of slushies in my time, too, and never had a brain freeze.

Aha, this site states that only 30% of the population experiences them, so I guess I shouldn't feel so left out.

I thought it had something to do with my inability to burp.

Saturday, December 25, 2004

Here are some things I have made recently.

Behold, the quilt I whipped up in a day a week or so ago:

Behold, the Wee Willy Winky stocking cap I knitted last month:

Behold, the Elegant Gothic Lolita skirt I made tonight from deep purple velvet and black crushed velvet upholstery fabric. There's an apron in front edged with lace, and petticoats underneath. I'm planning to make it my uniform this winter:

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Friday, December 24, 2004


I bought the guitar,
because I thought guitars were poets,
That gave words of wisdom
to those who know how to caress them.

My first one came from Sears.
Twenty-five dollars in a cardboard box.
I sat with it for nights and practiced it 'til my fingers bled.
But "Shoo Fly" wasn't the poem I wanted from my poet.

So I saved my money, and I got a bigger, shinier poet.
And I learned more chords and I learned real songs
And I let that mumbling box steal my nights.
And it never sang the songs I wanted it to even though I knew the motions.

I got myself an electric poet, with shiny strings and switches and dials,
And it could scream your ears out.
But even that poet, that shiny new poet
Didn't sing the songs I wanted.

I got mad one night, not necessarily about the illiterate poets that littered my room,
Although I had been mad at them many times before.
But I was mad and depressed and I wondered what life was for
And that twenty-five dollar piece of junk from Sears was close by.
I touched, then picked it up, then stopped, then held it,
Then hugged, then kissed it with my fingers.

Then that poet whispered. Then louder.
And the poet sang all night long.

That junk sang.

-- Clark Nicholson (in high school)
Someone on ETS responded yesterday to my post with a private message saying he was sorry about my mother. The guy who wrote the message is about as pretentious as you can get, so I was kind of short with him, but I did include this in my reply:

"I am who I am because of where and who I've come from, and if my mother weren't manic depressive, I wouldn't be as smart, as creative, or as independent and resilient as I am. I am not a victim of my experience or my genes. Even my mother recognizes that bipolar has an evolutionary purpose and doesn't regret her disorder (she regrets taking lithium for 11 years, as she missed experiencing my childhood while all her emotions were wrapped in a wet blanket). She wouldn't be who she is without it either."

I used to be literally terrified of madness. My uncle on my father's side also has a mental disorder, probably bipolar, and has been hospitalized a couple of times. I've considered genetic counselling, but I've never gone through with it, claiming either that I don't want to know or I don't care to know.

Actually, there's a really neat experiment I heard about a few years ago, developed by a neurobiologist at the University of Queensland in Brisbane called John Pettigrew (or Jack Pettigrew). I always wanted to hunt him down when I was in Australia and offer myself up for experimentation, but I never had the nerve. Without getting too much into the science of it (you can read more here), he found that if one eye is shown vertical stripes and the other eye horizontal stripes through polarized lenses, the brain sees not a mix of the two, but a few seconds of horizontal and a few seconds of vertical stripes. It kind of "switches" between right and left hemispheres of the brain. He also discovered that when he performed this experiment on himself, it took about ten times longer for his brain to "switch" between the two images - he would see, say, thirty seconds of horizontal stripes and thirty seconds of vertical stripes. John Pettigrew has bipolar disorder. Preliminary experiments seemed to show that other bipolar sufferers experience the same thing under the same conditions. Unfortunately, he's facing some opposition concerning his research from the field of psychiatry, which seems to think that neurobiology has no business interfering in the diagnosis of mental disorders. But I still think it's pretty fascinating. I wish more people would pay attention to this study.

I'm obviously going through a mini mental health interest phase. I've just started reading Daughter of the Queen of Sheba.

Thursday, December 23, 2004

I posted this on ETS yesterday, and I get the feeling I'll need a variation of it again someday, so I'm reproducing it here:

My mother has bipolar. Not pussified cyclothymia, but fullblown, breakdown-every-year, long-stays-in-psych-wards, extreme-mania bipolar. About 0.01% of manic depressives have her type of bipolar, which is almost exclusively manic and very recurrent.

She has had three courses of ECT so far. Honestly, I don't remember exactly which years they were, but they were in the late 80's and early 90's. ECT is not some outdated treatment discarded by modern medicine but is still practiced.

Many people think ECT is "barbaric," but it's no more barbaric than most other treatments that routinely occur in mental institutions. Restraints and solitary aren't a walk in the park. Neither is having to share your room with a couple of potentially dangerous schizophrenics, IMO. One time when she had an episode while we were on holiday in Singapore, she was literally tied naked to a bed (mind you, after seeing the inside of a Singapore psych ward, I think Singapore is a barbaric country). Psych drugs aren't exactly good for patients either, you know. Aside from the psychological effects, after 11 years of taking Lithium (she thankfully stopped lithium in 1998 and is now on Epilem), my mother has developed type II diabetes, and I'm sure more physiological ill-effects will manifest themselves in the years to come.

But let me tell you a story about ECT. In 1992, when I was 12 years old, my mother had an episode of bipolar. Normally during an episode, she has to stay in a psych ward for around four to six weeks. Her bipolar is almost always manic, so if she is not institutionalized during episodes, she tends to do things like running out into the street half naked, loudly screaming that she is Christ, and threatening people with knives (To the artfuck types who glorify bipolar: her mania was far too extreme to allow her to do anything creative. Imagine taking five hits of MDMA a day for three weeks until you are psychotic. That's about where she is when she is when having a manic episode.). Quite often, we had to call the police to help take her in. Episodes occurred up to three times a year between 1987 and 1998, and she has had two episodes since she changed her medication.

Back in 1992 (I think it was 1992 - it might have been 1993. You tend to lose track of the psych stays after a while), Mum was showing no signs whatsoever of coming out of her episode after the usual period of time. They doubled her Lithium prescription, gave her a slew of other drugs like Melleril, tried psychotherapy, everything. Every day after school, I would catch a bus to the mental hospital, meet my stepfather, and we would go in together to see how she was doing. She would usually recognize us, but it was never long before she started babbling, usually about religion, and it was clear that she wasn't herself. Sometimes we wouldn't be allowed to see her because she had flipped out and they had had to sedate her or lock her in the solitude room.

She stayed in the psych ward for three months without any improvement. To put it another way, my mother and I lost each other for a quarter of that year. Finally, her psychiatrist decided to give her ECT. This was the third and last course of ECT she has ever had. The previous times I was too young to really understand and observe the results. ECT is administered once a week for three weeks. They anaesthetize her during the shocks, so it's nothing like the sensationalized scenes in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest or Requiem for a Dream.

The first time I saw her after the first shock, I couldn't believe it. She was lucid and completely normal. It still makes me tear up remembering it. I was talking with my mother for the first time in three months. You cannot have any idea how much I had missed her. The day before, she had been insane, but now my mother was right there in front of me, and we were having a normal conversation. She was tired, and her hands were shaking from the shock to her nerves, but she felt fine. I cried with happiness when I left the ward that day.

Over the course of the next week, the effects of the shock wore off. She lapsed back into her manic personality. After the second shock, she was normal again. And after the third, the normalcy hung around. She was home within a few days.

To everyone who thinks that ECT is a horrific treatment which should be banned, I understand where you're coming from, but I also think you have no idea what you're talking about. No one understands how it works, but it works. I know, because it gave me my mother back once.

Monday, December 20, 2004

The GAIM freak parade continues:

(2004-12-09 14:27:29) badboy4fun26: Hey whats up nice pics you have a great smile
(2004-12-09 18:30:47) badboy4fun26: hey whats up
(2004-12-11 14:31:48) badboy4fun26: hey whats up
(2004-12-14 19:17:51) badboy4fun26: hey whats up
(2004-12-14 22:03:15) badboy4fun26: hey whats goin on
(2004-12-18 17:30:36) badboy4fun26: hey whats up

(2004-12-10 15:07:16) heat_of_my_meat: hi there :) how are you? damn ur a hottie! wow

(2004-12-11 14:16:54) jb777x: you are georgeous, beautiful eyes, your hubby is a lucky guy

(2004-12-14 14:07:06) bhagwatmusale: hi jan
(2004-12-14 14:08:03) : Buzz!!
(2004-12-14 14:08:21) bhagwatmusale: i thik we r meet before some days
(2004-12-14 14:08:27) bhagwatmusale: am i right
(2004-12-14 14:09:50) : Buzz!!

(2004-12-15 05:56:38) shifuthivi: hi i am from india
(2004-12-15 05:57:37) shifuthivi: Welcome. I've been expecting you.
(2004-12-15 05:58:45) shifuthivi: haiiiiiiiiii
(2004-12-15 06:10:11) shifuthivi: Buh-bye! Buh-bye now. Buh-Bye!

(2004-12-17 18:07:02) isitinyou0: hi...would you like to watch me? =)

But this is hands-down my favorite random GAIM message ever. The last line is the killer.

(2004-12-10 14:51:24) paksegu: hi
(2004-12-10 14:52:34) paksegu: you so fine that I will like to ... the hell out of you
(2004-12-10 14:53:48) paksegu: are you there princess
(2004-12-10 14:55:10) paksegu: girl I like to fuck you real good...I got some blk dick for you
(2004-12-10 14:56:07) paksegu: i bet u like to be on top
(2004-12-10 14:56:49) : Buzz!!
(2004-12-10 14:59:03) paksegu: hi
(2004-12-12 15:55:37) paksegu: hi melissa
(2004-12-12 15:57:36) paksegu: did u go to hacc
(2004-12-12 16:59:00) paksegu: u sexy thing
(2004-12-12 16:59:35) paksegu: i bet u like it from the back huh?
(2004-12-13 09:36:42) paksegu: hey mellissa
(2004-12-13 09:42:13) paksegu: o thou my heart
(2004-12-13 17:12:45) paksegu: what u up to
(2004-12-13 17:15:16) paksegu: hey I am a web developer so let me know if you want you site redesign I got reseasonable rates, seriously
Aha! Thank you to Sue and Sheryl for recommending Planned Parenthood. They are wonderful! Best pap smear experience ever.

Now I am considering the possibility of an IUD, even though I haven't been pregnant before. Specifically, the Mirena IUD, which is much better than the old copper one, which I have always thought was a dodgy gamble. I'm mulling it over. Anything has to be better than the pill - and in fact, even though it would cost $450 to get the Mirena, it would be cheaper than the pill in the long run since it lasts five years.

A new version of an old classic! Today has been a good day indeed.
This is a good day.

4.0 GPA, baby. Hopefully I can keep it up on 16 credit hours next semester.

A couple of months ago, I was disappointed because I had been turned down for a part-time weekend graveyard shift master control op position at WHP-TV. *cue heavenly sound of singing angels* Good things come to those who wait. The guy they hired didn't show up last weekend, and the job is up for grabs again - and once again, all indications seem to suggest that I will land it.

• Studio is five blocks from our apartment

• $10-per-hour, 20-hours-a-week regular gig

• Really slow shifts = studying, composing, learning lines, possibly even sleeping are allowed on the job

• Good experience for future television ops jobs
• The hours will probably make me chronically tired and/or insane, at least for a while

• Would have to seriously juggle theater commitments - might not even be able to do Macbeth

• Less weekend time with Matt

• It's Clear Channel. Clear Channel is the devil.

My knuckles are bleeding from kung fu again today. It seems Monday sessions are the most taxing on me.

Sunday, December 19, 2004

Heh. "More than a few" errors on that VB.NET assignment ended up being two points, so my score was 116/118. I'm a little suspicious - was my professor being excessively generous? I'm sure I gave her more than two points' worth of dodgy answers.

Final grades are being posted on Tuesday. In the meantime, I am trying to juggle piano practice, composition (or rather, thinking about composition, since nothing is on the page yet), preparation for the spring term, catching up on domestic housework*, and spending some long overdue quality time with Matt. Thus I am finding myself rather busier than I thought I would be four days after my last final.

I saw Lemony Snickett with the aforementioned husband tonight. Visually stunning. Accents confusingly disparate.

*For example, two days ago I decided to make a quilt out of all the scrap material I have stored under the sewing machine table. It took all day to sew, but I'm proud of the result, as it turned a very old and ugly off-white duvet which we were thinking of discarding into a rather dashing red-and-black coverlet of mixed textures. And it's useful - since the temperature has dropped sharply (tonight snow lay on the ground for the first time this season), we need an extra layer on our bed if we are to save on our gas bill by turning the radiators off at night. I might take a picture later.
can't talk playing piano

Thursday, December 16, 2004

Fucking money-grabbing doctor bastards. The doctor I've been seeing, Thomas Hargest, is only going to fill out my birth control pill prescription for a month because apparently I need to have a pap smear before they will continue refilling it. Which is complete fucking bullshit. Firstly, it's bullshit that I need a pap smear every year. Their pap smear guidelines are outdated - at my age, one every two years is more than sufficient. Secondly, I don't have fucking health insurance, and I don't want to pay for a fucking unnecessary pap smear. Moreover, the girl on the phone actually tried to say that this was some sort of legal requirement in this country. Which has got to be bullshit. I am so angry.

So I just changed doctors. Of course, the new doctor is also going to give me a pap smear before prescribing me a contraceptive, but somehow it makes me feel better than I'm not paying Dr. Hargest to have it done. I've been dissatisfied with him since he prescribed me low-grade Prozac for PMS, but I haven't had the energy to make the switch until now. The assistant at the new practice has already convinced me to get Dep Provera shots instead of taking the pill, which is not only more convenient, but seems to be cheaper for someone who isn't on health insurance. Huzzah. And my new doctor is female, and her name is Shannon Livingstone. Which would make her Dr. Livingstone (I presume).

What am I procrastinating now? Ah, yes, collecting evidence of the administrative error on my green card to send to the INS. Also, my Australian 2002-2003 Tax Return.

Aha, I just received word from my VB professor that my assignment will be accepted. I would be overjoyed ... if I knew I had done a good job. Unfortunately, it was very rushed, and I'm sure there are more than a few errors. We'll see, we'll see.
Well, that's it. Finals are over. I just completed my VB.NET exam, and it kind of sucked, so I'm not exactly rejoicing. I guess we'll know how I performed next week when the grades are posted. Of equal concern is my VB.NET assignment, which I tried to hand in 30 seconds too late last night. It wasn't accepted, so I had to e-mail it to the professor directly. I didn't do a very good job on it anyway, and I don't know if I'll get full credit because it was late (even if it was only about one minute late). I'm a bit depressed about it. I'm going to be bummed if I get a B.

Wednesday, December 15, 2004


Don't click unless you have a container of bleach handy with which to wash out your eyes immediately afterwards. It's a (very real looking ... perhaps it was created with the entire photo sequence, which I have saved on a CD-ROM somewhere) animated version of the infamous picture. For all my fascination with and use of the original still image, you'd think I would have seen this before today, but five minutes ago was my first time (awwww).
Added to the list of things I don't understand in this world: Christmas cards containing nothing but the senders' names. I understand that writing out dozens and dozens of personal messages in Christmas cards is a chore, but I think I would rather receive nothing than a generic Hallmark card with hastily scrawled signatures at the bottom. What's the point? I already know your names. No need to tell me again.

To all who expect Christmas cards from me: I'm sorry, but I don't think I'm going to get time this year. If you're lucky, I'll send you a personal Christmas e-mail as soon as my finals are over.

It's strange to think that I will probably never have to do any algebra ever again. I'd better not say that too loudly, or something will change, and I'll have to do some sort of calculus pre-requisite for music composition. Hey, you never know.

Tuesday, December 14, 2004

I'm looking at Lemony Snicket stills, and my abdomen is physically hurting with jealousy. I wish I had been born 15 years later than I was. Thanks to this and Harry Potter, it's a wonderful, wonderful time to be a junior bookish goth.

Actually, my stomach is hurting because of something I ate. I'm not sure what.

I had my English final tonight. It was a piece of cake, though I don't think the essay was the best piece of writing I've ever produced. Still, I am not worried about English in the slightest; I don't think there is any doubt of an A.

Earlier, I did some acting work for Aurora Films which I mentioned in an earlier blog entry. Film is fun! I was having a good skin day, and I was wearing scrubs in my role as a nurse's aide. What I caught on the monitor looked a lot like General Hospital, snigger snigger.

I just found out that the starring child in Lemony Snicket is from Melbourne. I think I've seen her on an episode of Halifax F.P. I'm fascinated by her. Dammit! Lucy knows how I feel.

Monday, December 13, 2004

I just finished my final exam for math. I have absolutely no idea how it went. For some reason, I have felt particularly slow and stupid the past few days. It's not PMS; maybe it's because I haven't been able to catch much sleep lately. At any rate, I moved very slowly through the questions, and my mind frequently felt woolly and useless. It was something of a shock when I finally looked up to find there were only ten minutes left, and nobody was left in the exam room. Every HACC exam I've taken before this one has been simple and easy enough for me to complete in under an hour. Still, maybe it was a particularly difficult exam. Nobody else in the room was taking the same test. In fact, according to the sign-in sheet, I am the first person in my class to take it.

I came home so frazzled that I have begun drinking the Vanilla Smirnoff Bill Dickensheets left in my freezer at our housewarming. Just to take the edge off the stupidity. Or something.

My hands and forearms are still shaking with fatigue from my kung fu class, and I've only just realized that my right wrist is sore, presumably as a result of repeated palm blocking.

Now I'm going to make a sweet potato and butternut pumpkin bisque with the leftovers from the WITF cooking show this weekend. Apparently these are two exampes of SUPER FOODS. I'll let you know if I acquire the ability to fly.
*smacks foreheard* That's why chloracne is familiar to me! Ever since Yushchenko was diagnosed, I've been wracking my brain for the reason why the name of the symptom tickles my memory. This post on Portal of Evil news gave the answer. Zodiac, by Neal Stephenson! Of course!
I just came back from kung fu, and I am most displeased because the eBay auction I had been hoping to win finished when I wasn't looking. A $250 Korg MS-2000. The seller listed it wrongly in the title as an "m-2000." That doesn't happen very often. And now I've missed out.

My arms are shaking with fatigue, even though I don't feel like I did a whole lot with them in class today. I can barely type properly.

I was supposed to take a math test this morning, but I didn't feel like it, so I'll probably try the session tonight. Virtual courses have their pros and cons, but being able to choose when to take your final exam is a definite pro.

Time to knuckle down figuratively and review.
I was just outside 15 minutes ago, and it didn't seem all that cold (I mean, it was cold, but not FREEZING), and I was just on my way out again, and it's SNOWING, it's SNOWING!!

I guess the novelty hasn't worn off.


It snowed for all of thirty seconds, and the snow melted as soon as it hit the ground. Still, it was neat to see. I had to think for a second when I first saw all the white flakes drifting down: "What the hell is going on?" One day, I'm going to look back at this blog entry and laugh. Probably in February. Bitter laughter.

Sunday, December 12, 2004

It's Ryan Taylor's birthday!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Happy birthday, Mr. Taylor!

Lordy, I'm swimming in friends' birthdays!!!!!!!!!!!! But I have all these college finals to finish. Of course, this doesn't seem to have stopped me from staying up late to list shoes on eBay last night instead of studying.

Saturday, December 11, 2004


I called her just now, but while we were talking, the phone went dead, and now I can't reach her again!

But here are some pictures of her to make everyone happy!

Friday, December 10, 2004


*dance dance dance*


160/150 in the second proctored algebra test. Yes, 100%, plus the 10-point bonus question.



Wednesday, December 08, 2004

(2004-12-03 23:22:41) guidoforfun: are you in harrisburg Pennsylvania

(2004-12-03 23:39:12) canyoumakethatputt: what do you do in tv production?
(2004-12-04 04:36:33) canyoumakethatputt: What TV work have you done recently?

(2004-12-06 00:59:59) jtothedbaby: hey you asian

(2004-12-06 19:44:23) letsmeet65: Hello I'm kelly from manhattan, KS and will be in Harrisburg for a few weeks in January. Hope to chat with you. Have a great evening. @};-

(2004-12-07 19:12:24) djkaeproductions2004: what's up?
(2004-12-07 19:15:00) djkaeproductions2004: sorry to bug ya
My problem with procrastination becomes worse and worse. If I emerge from this finals season academically unscathed, it will not only be a minor miracle, it will probably also be damaging to my future college career - how will I ever be able to justify studying steadily if I can do well by frantically cramming?

I attended my third kung fu class, which was much easier than the last class - there were less required sit-ups and push-ups, and nobody forced me to repeatedly punch a canvas bag. Still, I punched the damn bag anyway. Ow. I can't wait until my knuckles are conditioned. I also discovered that, contrary to praise received from audience members at The Tempest, I am an uncoordinated gumby. Enough said about that. Hopefully I will improve.

The most exciting news of the moment is that I am buying a piano. Since the Kurzweil SP76 fell victim to a leaky, rusty steam radiator valve, I haven't been able to get the velocity working quite right, and a large part of my soul yearns for the real vibrations of piano strings anyway. On eBay, I saw a baby grand piano located in West Chester for $200, so I called a piano technician in Harrisburg to ask his opinion. He informed me it would cost about $500 to transport anyway, advised me against buying it, and gave me lots of good advice. Since he had earned my trust by being so helpful, I asked if he happened to have a piano for sale. Wouldn't you know it, there is a mahogany console piano sitting in his garage which he's letting me have for $465 tuned and delivered. It's being delivered on the 17th. The only problem is that I feel terrible, buying a piano for myself while Matt goes without the Korg MS2000 for which he's been yearning for years. I've set myself a goal to get him that keyboard sometime in the next couple of months, without touching our savings. Hopefully, my part-time work at WITF and occasional acting gigs will earn enough.

Other methods of avoiding study have included:
• Deciding, what the hell, I might as well learn Mandarin even though I don't have the time
• Listening to how the US government was quite aware of the attack on Pearl Harbor before it happened
• Making curry
• Building shelving
• Sewing curtains
• Watching Law and Order

I have done a little study. Just not enough.

But here are some pictures from the recent Two Front Teeth "Fight Club" choreography camp.

I should have the hang of Tiger Claw by the time I get to learn it in kung fu class.

Here I am practising having my throat cut with a plastic spoon handle.

Monday, December 06, 2004

Wow, there is a forum for everything these days. For instance, here is a forum especially for the most retarded NIN fans on the internet. All that's left is for me to pray that they enjoy talking among themselves so much that they stay there and cut their ties with the rest of us.

I am so sore. So, so sore. I spent a couple of hours today at the kung fu school, punching a canvas bag filled with sand until my knuckles were red raw and bleeding a little. The bags themselves are covered with dark brown smears from past students' knuckles. Afterwards, some time was spent blocking, or as I prefer to call it, getting the crap pulverized out of one's arms. All while in horse stance. So sore. Oh, and I nearly forgot to mention the dozens of sit-ups and push-ups I did. Christ. Ow.

Saturday, December 04, 2004

Yesterday someone found my blog with the Google search string "phoebe ling fuck." Good lord!

I attended an introductory kung fu class, and it intrigued me enough to make a commitment to ten months of training. I am already impatient to know as much as I can about the art, and I've been searching Amazon for the required reading material. My prospective favorite book on the list is Deadly Karate Blows: The Medical Implications, which, as its name suggests, describes how to kill people with your bare hands and contains drawings of the righteous internal damage you will inflict as you do so. I'm already chuckling my way through the preview on Amazon; I can't wait to read the whole thing.

The instructor took us (being myself and another potential trainee, Chad) through sit-ups and push-ups like a drill sergeant. This is fine as far as sit-ups go, but any attempt I make at push-ups is remarkably like that scene in Stripes. "That's ... three. You're almost ready for the Special Olympics!" I have always had useless twigs for arms.

Of particular amusement to me is the instructor's pronunciation of Chinese phrases. Sure, I don't know more than a couple dozen Chinese words, but I can clearly hear that he has a thick Western accent. Part of me wishes I had a Chinese kung fu instructor. But I think I'd actually want to learn Mandarin beforehand. And when the hell would I have time to learn Mandarin?

Thursday, December 02, 2004

Of Mice and Men ...

ZING! My darling Tripoli has caught her very first mammal as part of the Dunphy household!

'Sfunny, some guests were saying we would get mice after firing (more than) a few spud gun rounds on Saturday night. I guess they were right. However, with Tripoli's hunting skills now apparent, I welcome the mouse invasion with open arms! Do your worst, puny rodents! My fat, happy killer cat will destroy you with glee and vigor!

In other pictorial news, here is a picture of Mr. Clark Nicholson impersonating Trent Reznor in my kitchen.

He has another Trent Reznor impression which I am eager to digitally record and turn into an animated gif one of these days. Unfortunately, we didn't have the required props on hand for that one.

Hrmm, I'm being distracted, aren't I?
I created a snaps page for the housewarming stills.

I'm trying to cut down on distractions so that I'm forced to concentrate on college study. I've withdrawn almost completely from my usual forum haunts (although I have had some fun with a particularly crazy and stupid member of ETS), and I'm limiting my presence in the lounge room, where that great flickering god of catatonia sits atop its pedestal, tempting me with neverending episodes of Law and Order. I haven't watched or listened or read any news whatsoever, meaning I have barely anything to discuss with my husband.

Of course, now that I need all the spare time I can get, WITF has entered its TV pledge drive, so there's far too much part-time work available, none of which I can turn down because I need to pay for next semester's fees. Last night, I had to sit through three hours of pledge performances from the Trans-Siberian Orchestra and John Denver. I had no idea that the Trans-Siberian Orchestra were so much like Scorpions*, except that TSO headbang to Christmas carols. Also, I hate John Denver. Very much. It isn't an arbitrary hatred, it's a hatred of every aspect of him, gained through reluctant close study during two PBS pledge drives. I particularly dislike the fake yodelling.

Happily, I have been offered a role as a nurse's aide in some sort of medical instructional video, for which I'm being paid rather nicely.

*Okay, I confess that I actually bought the cassingle 'Wind of Change' in 1991. Screw you for smirking, I was eleven years old, and I found it in the dollar bargain bin. And something about really schmaltzy metal ballads appeals to me. I also like Metallica's slower songs. I don't admit this often, so count yourself lucky to have caught me in such a revelatory mood.