how deceptive that their apathy eludes us.

One of the feelings I dislike is the feeling of loss, or being lost. My primary example would be related to my father's job when he was still active as an officer. I remember traveling with him as a child; one time more vivid than the rest because I almost boarded the wrong bus and was almost spirited away if not for him being there behind me as I turned around in panic. Being five years old and lost was not a pleasant feeling, and although older I am still directionally-challenged, apt to being lost. I also remember the time I was with him in his quarters that was more of a prison cell really, than anything else. It had the tall, vertical iron bars, the drab gray cement walls and the lack of privacy. But it was homey and fun, our neighbors were officers as well, and their loved ones. What I remembered there though was the one time I woke up with him gone and the door locked. You couldn't blame me for crying my lungs out, distressing the young wife in the cell beside ours, when I found myself locked in by myself. I finally stopped bawling when I figured there wasn't anything that tears could do, I was too tired to care. I stopped wanting to go with him then, a change that my mother noticed, and he had to explain that he left me to go to the bank while I slept, he only locked the door to keep me safe, to keep me in, and keep others out. After awhile it was the same routine, me going with him to work for a week and coming home for the weekends, riding the bus, playing in his office, but he never let me out of his sight. It must have been terrifying for him too.

But enough about childhood, let's move on to a whole 'nother side of distraction. Right now there's a niggling sense of loss that just makes me slightly nauseous. Not of being lost directionally or of being lost because someone left me. I am just lost. Emotionally, perhaps. Or more like I lost myself. Sorry, I am confused at the moment too. So I ramble now. I was an art student. Now I am a nursing student, after three years of prerequisites, you know that by now. I have been taking science classes longer than I have been an art student but I have loved art far longer than science has challenged me. It is a bit convoluted but bear with me. Maybe I feel I haven't let go, I guess I sometimes feel that I am an art student playing at being a nursing student. That still I am not smart enough, or serious enough, or just enough to be a nursing student. But I know I come from people of intelligence and smarts, able to be dedicated to one or more things. Yet I can't help but wish sometimes that yeah I am artist and not a nerd. My freaking fortune cookie today said: "The thing you do is the one you love." Is it? Don't take me wrong, I find no fault in nursing, it is great, it is a wonderful, wonderful profession. But at times my hear just clenches at the sight of pencils, sketchpads, and paint. I want to cry because I resent having to be half-hearted. My mom wants me to do great in nursing school for a lot of reasons, but she also wants me to keep drawing and all that artsy stuff. Sometimes I just want to sneer and say, "just pick one and stick with it will you?", because it still stings to be reminded that I chose nursing over art. I feel that I betrayed a part of me and no matter what I do it won't come back to me.

Maybe subconsciously I resented my mom for having me change my major because when I did, I stopped drawing for two years and when I started again my art went to everyone else but my family. Maybe it's petty but I don't really care. I grimace when she tells people that I am an artist because in my mind that is a lie. So maybe you say, Kat you do not need to be an art major to be an artist. You don't need to be, but I wanted to. I wanted to be the cliched art student that wasn't really cliched because she had her own style and was great and all that. I am so annoyed right now at making such a fuss over this non-issue. It is a non-issue because no matter how much I rant about it I will still be a nursing student because I already committed to nursing. No, I am not changing majors, and no, hindi ako magshi-shift sa Fine Arts (No, I am not shifting to Fine Arts). It's not about "kung san ako masaya susuportahan kita" ("I'll support you if that's where you are happy"). I just noticed myself getting half-hearted on my nursing classes and coveting art, is the reason why I'm having a fit. I feel lost because I am getting coerced by the side that seems to have a more gooey chocolate cookies. I feel because I feel I lost a part of myself and I now realize that I want it back.

Why can't you keep doing art while you study nursing? Because I am an extreme kind of person, I either do it or not do it. This post does not even make sense. It's all pouty and tantrum-ish. Okay, so I guess the fact that it doesn't make sense means that my thought process also cannot make sense of it. I know that it's not nursing versus art. I also know that no one is holding me at gun point and forcing me to choose one over the other. And I also know that I feel strongly about both, enough to warrant me to write it out and subject you with the torment of reading this insanity of a post. Gulo, you are a labo (Mess, you are a convolution). Maybe in a month we can get back to this and iron things out. UGH. Spare me.

Holding On to the Dead

Forgiveness is the act of releasing or letting go of what you hold against someone. It reminds me of the anime Cardcaptor Sakura, when Sakura chants a spell, swings her wand forward, and shouts "Release," and the Clow Card would become effective in its natural state of power. I guess. So here I am, ready to exorcise you from my scarred soul into your natural state.

I forgive you for how you laughed at me at the wrong times: when you hit my head hard with that golf club, accidentally, when I fell down the stairs chasing after you, and when you again, accidentally, closed the car door while I was getting out behind you. That really hurt, by the way.

I forgive you for locking me out of the apartment because you just felt like it, and how you chased me in the room with a belt when I refused to obey you. I was so scared of you that time that I took hours staying in the bathroom. I forgive you for refusing to give me my allowance and having me starve. I was really angry and mad at that. I hated you for that.

I forgive you for using me as an experiment in your sadistic games. For when you nightly pricked my finger with a blood sugar testing kit because you thought it was fun. It was probably for you, but you made me cry myself to sleep every night. And that time you deliberately electrocuted me when I said no. That really wasn't funny.

I forgive you for gambling away the Ipod I gave you. Again, that stung. I felt like you didn't really care about me, that I was disposable to you. I forgive you for always asking me to buy you stuff, and you conveniently never asking me back what I wanted. It's not that a big of a deal, but I know you're a nice guy, maybe not just to me.

I forgive you for when you forgot that you have a temper and had me on the receiving end even when none of it was my fault. I forgive you for never apologizing on your own, you always had to be prodded by Mama and Papa. I forgive you for breaking my heart. I forgive you for being such a sucky big brother. I forgive you for even having me do this, for making me hate you unwittingly. I forgive you for making me hate guys, I just looked up to you for so long and then realized you didn't love me.

I really hated you, do you know that? You made my childhood miserable. You made me feel so small, defenseless, and you laughed instead of apologizing. I don't care that Mama likes you more, I understand that, but I dislike the fact that you got away on tormenting me. Disillusionment sucks so much.

I'm sorry if I became the baby in the family, I know you liked that spot. But you see, you're our only favorite brother, that's your role. I'm sorry if I screamed at you when you teased me many times before. Believe me, you're the only one who riles me to the point of anger management mandate. I'm sorry if I made fun of you unknowingly, or when I hurt your feelings. I'm sorry if I cramped your style, when you had to go with me when you wanted to go with your friends. I'm sorry for only having time for good times and forgetting to ask you how you were, we don't really know each other.

I'm sorry for clinging to you like a leech, I wanted a friend because I was alone. Maybe you needed a friend too, but I was so busy being selfish. I'm sorry for not being a good younger sister, I know I can be a pain. I'm sorry for the times I wasn't there for you, I'm here if you need someone. And I'm sorry for not loving you as I should. I do love you, I just forgot underneath all my hatred. You're still my favorite brother.

A Break From the Pity Party

My pity party is finally in conclusion. After weeks of tears, hair pulling, and sequestering myself in my room, I am now salvaging my pride and resurfacing as a human being. Maybe I should leave it at this. I should just exercise my facial muscles and smile again. But I need to write or I'll forever hold it and drag it with me to my last breath.

Ah, drama, how you fill my life with angst and profound melancholic monologues. I went to church yesterday with my Dad. I didn't want to since I had cramps and all that lovely time of the month joys of being a woman. But I knew he would be disappointed and I would feel guilty, so there we were. The guest preacher was funny, self-deprecating, and honestly confessed to a family case of inherited depression and self-medication. My kind of person. His message was aptly entitled "I Am Not A Victim." Huh. And there I was enraptured as he talked of his granddaughter's weepy soccer game, Jesus' miserable time on earth, his mom's seemingly pointless death, a parents' brutally murdered son, the elevator of choice: up for heaven and down for hell, and of why God doesn't answer our most esoteric question: Why?

"Because He's God, and He's right, and you don't get to ask that question." He was kidding, of course, but yeah, it feels that way sometimes. When my uncle passed away, I asked God why; Why did He allow my uncle to die when He could just have healed him? So I was angry and hurt, and it hurt more that I was angry at God when I've loved Him since I've known Him. Add to the fact that I was stressed out over my classes, and being bombarded by blasphemous statements by my World Religions professor, having no time to clean the house, piling papers needed to be started, and having someone tailgate me to the point of hitting my car's rear end. Ah, hell. Wonderful.

I used to think that asking God why would result in being struck by lightning and damnation to a voidless, dark, pit. But I learned recently that if you're honest with God, He'll be equally honest with you. It didn't matter what God's answer was, in hindsight, I just wanted the assurance that He would answer. The preacher said that asking God why should not were we should exert our effort, but in searching for God's plan for us. Pain happens, and you could either choose being a victim, or believing that God has a plan. Jesus suffered on earth too, but have you ever felt that he was a victim in all that you've read of him? I'm sure he didn't enjoy some or most of the experiences he's had on earth, similarly, we don't either.

Sometimes life is hell. But hell, as I learned yesterday, is just the absence of God. When we choose to be victims, we take God out of the equation and instead believe that life is just random and out of control. I don't want to be a victim, I want God there with me. As my Patho prof says, "there are no victims, only volunteers." I certainly don't want to volunteer for hell. So I'll start by pressing the Up button; it's tempting to stay wallowing in hell but no thanks.

Time Capsule

I'm currently studying for my Food & Nutrition finals for Monday. As much as I'm trying to concentrate for our comprehensive exam, I can't help but be distracted by thoughts of what I'm going to do after this semester ends. Just last week I heard from my friend that the Nursing program I was planning to apply to is being frozen due to having budget issues and having way more people apply than they can accommodate. Of course, I'm now one of those people who are part of the 'Cannot be Accommodated' group. This just depresses me to the point of developing frown lines overnight.

Since I've changed my major from 'Undecided' to 'Fine Arts & Humanities', and finally to 'Nursing', I've been pushing myself to complete my prerequisites, enter the Nursing program, graduate with sparkly rainbow colors, and join the work as a Nurse. I snort as I type this since the only thing I seemed to have accomplished was finish my prerequisites. And those prerequisites were just for the Maricopa Community College Nursing requirements to enter their program. Of course I have submitted my application and now in the wait list. The fact that the wait could take years though is just a minor detail. So now I am again going to finish my prerequisites for the University Nursing program. I'm guessing that would take a year at the most, and there's that minor detail again that they're extremely competitive and only accept straight As from your transcripts. Minor detail that out of 300 people they only accept 100 on a good day. And the most minor of all the details, their program is now "temporarily frozen". That takes the cake. I roll my eyes at the thought that maybe, I'm just guessing, I'm wasting time.

So now on my break, I'm inquiring other universities on their Nursing program, and if, hopefully begging, they can let me graduate in the very near coming soon in your local theaters future. The first in the least is a private university that advertises the fact that they have room for nursing students, in response to the crisis of all wait-listed students probably. My response to their response is: Please accept me in your university, I am willing to study my slacker butt off for you, and lay you golden eggs in the form of straight As. Seriously, my inner nerd is crying for a school that will let me graduate, or at least give me assurance that by the time I'm twenty-one I am already working. For crying out loud, I'm turning twenty in four months or so.

The only reason I'm harping and griping on this desperation to graduate is the fact the I want to end being a burden to my parents. I want them to retire and enjoy their lives somewhere they want to, where they won't have an obsessive compulsive, perfectionist for a boss. I know I should be looking for a part time job at least, and I am. The minor detail getting in my way is the fact that this state is in major recession, and more people are losing job rather than gaining promotion. My desire to immediately graduate makes me seem like a child wanting to be an adult Right Now. Laughable to some, I know, but for me it's really Srs Bzns. (Text speak for Serious Business). I guess it's more a frustration right now where I seem to just be running in circles and then straight to a wall. I feel like this is some demented game of Snakes & Ladders where there's more snakes than ladders, more manholes than highways.

Lord God, I just close my eyes in prayer. I need a miracle.

Tough Love

My head hurts. After mulling over the happenings the past few days, I can certainly say that my head hurts. This, of course, does not imply insult to my intelligence. I'm not that dumb. My thoughts just refused to let go of me, perhaps like a cow and her cud, just refusing to go down effortlessly. I digress. Cows and cud aside, my thoughts are just too bold in wearing out their stay in the confines of my brain. And I wish I could just forget about thinking and thoughts all together like every other time but no, this one time it has to regurgitate itself over and over. Just me and my pathetic luck. Or lack of pathetic luck, even.

Why in the name of all that's noble and ignoble am I being tortured by my own brain? Well, first off, my brain just plain sadistically enjoys my discomfort. Self-sabotage, much? Okay, so maybe not that reason. The only reason I can think of is that reason, that which is Tough Love. And I mean that in the most platonic sense. The only sense that is of parent and child, specifically, mother and daughter in perfect discord. Don't you just love oxymorons? At any rate, there is that Tough Love in every mother-daughter tandem that even sitcoms make money off it. In my case though that tough love can be a bit jarring to the point of wounding.

What exactly can I say? First, it was just annoyance that I was watching anime instead of typing my laboratory report (which wasn't due until next week [Yeah, Kat, excuses, excuses]). Then there was the displeasure at the fact that I haven't been resuming my job hunt in two weeks now. And then there was the little incident of overhearing her retell to Papa the earlier scene of annoyance and displeasure she had with me. When I told her that she should say the things she wanted to my face, she did that and more, to my regret. Maybe it hurts a little to hear her talking about me in her vexed voice to Papa and hearing it in the way that sounds as if she enjoyed scolding me. Or the matter-of-fact voice of hers saying, "There is no secret between your papa and me." After that it was just me tearing up and staring at her emotionlessly that made her say, "Don't you dare look at me like that, I know how your mind works. You think I'm just being hysterical. I'm not." And continuing on to say that she does not work herself to the bone to have it all be for nothing, a waste. And that she has provided for me and so I would lack nothing. Again with the remark on me looking at her that way (my emotionless stare mask) which made her say, "You looking at me that way is such a disrespect to me. Your mother." And with that, she left.

So I just stood there for a while. Then I remembered my book and notes in the living room and sat there. I cried. Maybe it was because of monthly hormones that made it hurt more. Or maybe because I was completely blindsided by the whole thing. It was Sunday, it was not supposed to be that way. I didn't come home from church to have everything blow up in my face. I could make excuses for my inaction from job hunting or taking a break from writing the lab report. But no, that's just not working for me. It would all just sound pathetic and false. All the while, I completed my job application online, shut the laptop off and locked myself in my room.

Papa came knocking moments later so I had to open the door. He wanted to talk but what would I say? I didn't want to be in a pissy, vulnerable mood while talking to him. And I'm not a Talk kind of person. So I just told him an excuse and shut the door again. Later I had to go with Papa to help water the plants in my aunt's house across the street. I just seriously really wanted to be alone, by myself, in solitary isolation. I really can't get a break can I?

So there I was exiting my room when she stops mopping the floor and looks at me. "O, ano?*" She not speaking in English anymore, indicating that she was considerably calmer. Oh, goody. I just stared at the floor since I figured that staring at her would just make me appear disrespectful. She starts out by saying that she was not mad at me but frustrated that she was not seeing any effort from me. That I was not doing my best in looking for a job. That she just wants the best for me. That she just wants to see me enjoying my life, seeing me have a passion for something. That she does not see me making any ripples in my life, or in any one's, basically. I guess it went from frustration at my inertness to me being passionless then to me being a waste of space. That remarkably does not do great and passionate things to my ego and self-esteem. If I have any left. Then she asks if I was angry with her or hurt. I could only continue to stare at the floor with my face tracked with tears as I answered silently. "I don't know."

I really did not know how to feel about her. I wanted to be angry at her for having the ability to hurt me when she knew I would not retaliate. I wanted to keep on crying because it just hurt so much. I wanted to punish her by ignoring her and whatever else she would say to me. I just did not know how to feel when I felt like I was betrayed and naked. She and Papa are the only ones who can hurt me so much with their words. To everyone else, I would just emotionlessly stare back and cry privately. But with them, I cry on the spot, where ever the spot maybe. So I continued to cry as she hugged me after being surprised by my answer. She just confidently said that I would understand what she means in time. Maybe.

Maybe it's just me blowing it out of proportion. Maybe I'm overreacting and I shouldn't be. Maybe I just wish that never happened so I can continue on with life, blissfully not trying to avoid her. Maybe I'm trying to desperately keep my apathetic mask back on to prevent myself from shedding more tears. Maybe I shouldn't even be sad right now. Maybe I should just continue to retreat to my shell and stay there indefinitely, until I get my bearings set. Maybe I should never have left that shell and tried how it is to feel again. Maybe. Maybe tomorrow I'll have acquired amnesia and live happily ever after. Not bloody likely. What can I say, we all have our days. I just wish mine were pre-marked in the calendar so there'll be no surprises. Ha. My head still hurts.

*O, ano? -Tagalog for 'So?' or 'What?'

Food and Nutrition Lab Rule 6: Do not eat, drink or smoke in the lab

That title right there is one of our Lab safety requirements for Food and Nutrition. It is kind of ironic, don't you agree? I was wondering what one does in a Food and Nutrition Lab, or why one needs a Food and Nutrition Lab. I found out that there is no food involved in a Nutrition Lab, we are in fact actually required to fast for one project. Irony, that is the word for the day. Well, my day at least.

How do I start? (Or continue, I suppose). I went to school early today, at least an hour and 45 minutes early. Because, first of all, parking during the Fall (or Spring) semester is so bad that it is horribly horrid. The other reasons were that I needed to buy my textbook and print out the notes for class. I just have to say that going to school an hour and forty five minutes early seemed to be the common consensus by my fellow collegiates. And I spent the next forty five minutes circling the parking lots (north and south) with other students circling there way away. We were like ants foraging for food under the Arizona sun. And the more time I was wasting, the antsier I got along the rest of the masses. I concluded that life sucks when you can't find a parking space, or make one. I got so fed up looking for a space that I ended up parking three blocks outside campus.

That is just the start of my lovely day. So now, I had an hour left, but wait it took me fifteen minutes to get to the other side of campus to the bookstore. And once I got there the checkout line was l-o-n-g, endless. It took a good twenty minutes for the line to dwindle and for me to get out of there. Another fifteen minutes got me to the Life Science Lab to print out my class notes and five minutes to get me inside the Technology 1 building. I had five minutes to spare. Yay me.

Another highlight of the day was the vending machine. No, I did not kick it. I almost did though when it wouldn't spit out the potato chips I was planning to have for lunch. There's always the "Now what?" moment after a vending machine eats your dollar and doesn't release your food. So I looked for coins in my purse and found three US quarters and one Canadian quarter. They were the same size...so I figured that the machine might take it. I took one quarter and fed it to the machine and took another one which the machine promptly spat out. I did that two more times and got out two potato chip bags for the price of one dollar and a quarter, instead of two dollars. Another Yay me moment.

Currently, I am looking forward to the long weekend since I have no class projects or assignments due. My professor, whom we shall call Persian Mistress, apparently likes giving our assignments to do in class. So Yay.

fitting room wars

Friday morning I woke up to my mom asking me when Fall semester starts. August 25th is when my Food and Nutrition class starts. The question of why was uttered sleepily by me and the not so plain answer was "You're going to Canada." Oh. That certainly woke me up.

Fast forward to Saturday morning I woke up to be asked what I was going to wear for the wedding. Piles of scattered dresses and hangers later, my mom and I were on our way to JC Penney, Lola's free blank cheque in hand. After all, blank cheques are for shopping.

Hours later I was backed into a fitting room surrounded by dresses and hangers. Deja vu, much? My eyes just continued to narrow and my brows drew together as the dresses that continued to mock me were becoming worse and worse in style and fit (and would you believe, in smell). kasuigdbajbshbjh.

In actuality, I already had a dress I wanted. It was simple and comfortable. It was a nice, black dress. The kind that doesn't compete with bride's white (or near that color scheme) wedding dress However, my mom seemed intent in finding the holy grail of dresses. Or at least the dress she wanted me to wear. It was ridiculous to be having a fitting room war. I would glare at the door when I would hear a scuffle indicating my mom's presence outside bearing more dresses to be worn, like Santa Claus sneaking in through your chimney bearing either gifts or coals. My face grew stiff in an attempt to be apathetic.

When she finally found a dress she wanted I was ready to burst into tears of chaos and frustration. Finally. I was hungry. The holy grail dress was (how should I say this) perky for a long, brown dress. I guess having humongous red and orange print of flowers can do that. Alone in the fitting room with the holy grail dress, I was conversing with it, out of annoyance and hunger. I was apologizing that I didn't like it but I would like us to try and get along since we were going to spend more time together. I found that completely ridiculous but I somewhat felt better. At least I could be honest with the dress.

In case you find it curious that we were having a fitting room war, the truth was we were shopping for a wedding dress or a dress one when wears for a wedding. A dress I would wear for my cousin's wedding in Canada. SO now that you're up to speed, let's move along with the rest of my weekend blues. If none of you noticed, my mom can be a bit overbearing. I assure you that I know that she is overbearing for my own good and the wellness of my well-being. I doubly assure you that that is not sarcasm you hear.

Knowing that, you can probably deduce that the fitting room war continued to the battle of the heels. As I said, jdbbaskhabaKJK. Short story miniscule, it was a standoff between open toe wedge shoes and open toe stilletos. Their color, of course, matched the holy grail dress. The better heels won, and I am happy to declare that mine KO'd the other shoe. Woot. A small victory, but a victory no less.

In the end, the Queen gave in bought my mistress as well, the other dress, so to speak. And we all lived happily ever after. Yes, you can totally hear the trumpets rejoicing in the background.

I am Queen

Right now it is about 109 Fahrenheit. It is so hot that when I was outside in the parking lot I felt like I was burning or roasting without the flames. It was 111 Fahrenheit in my school earlier so that was probably a prelude to hell.

Anyway, my brain has undeniably fizzed out. Seriously. ME using multisyllabic verbiage is just a great concoction of your imaginations. Believe it. I only have three hours of sleep from the previous night and five hours from last night. That would have been sufficient enough if I didn't have any exams or whatnot. But my oh my, fancy meeting you here, I had a lab practical on cat veins, blood and lymphatics, plus our sheep hearts. Yeah, get over it. But wait! There's more...dun dun dun. I decided last night that I was going to take the Nurse Entrance Test Test (Duh. They call it the NET Test). Psh. I'm an idiot. That's an exam for about two hours on math, reading comprehension, reading rate, test taking skills, stress level, and an added bonus for me, hunger control. UNbelievable.

So, anyway, I took both exams earlier and I have yet to find out my lab practical result but I do know my NET test result. Let it be said for the record that that test was taken without any food in my system and lack of sleep...SO, let's just say that I passed. WooHoo. Okay, okay, so I scored better on my Math than the Comprehension. Big deal. Isn't it?? Yeah, it is. I scored better on my Math than the Comprehension. It's true. People who know me dear can attest that me and math are not tight but we manage. SO that was kind of a weird situation. I feel kinda bad since I am so much better at reading and comprehension. But my comprehension was non-existent today since I was just shy of passing out cold on the High Tech1 Building Room HT-143. Hunger and lack of sleep can do that to me.

I am Queen. Queen of Procrastination Hullabaloo. The reason that I took the NET test without preparation was 'cause I needed it as a requirement for my Nursing Application which I need to submit by Monday since I want to get in the Banner Program whose deadline for application is this Monday. Cheers for me. I am likely to kill myself before I can submit that application. SIgh. I need my Fingerprint Clearance Card since it is also a requirement but it will take three weeks or so to get to me. I am really, really not that optimistic about all this. But at least, I really am trying. The only reason I am rushing is 'cause I want to be considered for Estrella Mountain Community College's (school near our house) October Nursing Program. If I don't make the application I'll have to either wait for a year on the waitlist, or I could hope to be considered for the next batch which will be on March 2009 (Next Freaking Year) for Glendale Community College (college I go to right now which is farther from our house).

If my 2+2 did not equal 4 in your head, that is entirely my fault but your problem. Heh. :) Kidding. Yay me, Queen of PH.

K is for klutziness, the kind that bites you in the ass.

This day just continues to amaze me. A tuesday that should have have been normal is acting so alien that even I am left staring at it. The day started normal as a normal day would be for me. I woke up to the ever vengeful alarm clocks, prepared for school, skipped breakfast, and drove steadily through the freeway. I was early. Maybe that's what's off.

Anyway, the lecture on genetics and biotechnology was confusing but that was understandable. Manipulating genes and usage of the products sounds something Scifi channel would air. But nonetheless, it was fascinating and not to mention part of the third lecture exam. But I digress, that wasn't the weird part at all.

Lab, now that is a different subject altogether. We began the Unknowns Lab today. Ah, my young broth culture, G157, we had fun together. I was flabbergasted. We had to do several tests to determine what our unknown bacteria were. It was like a blind date: awkward, unscripted, and cringe worthy.

I started out fine with the wet mount for the Motility test and the Streak plate. It was fun, that is until I proceeded to Gram staining, the Thioglycollate broth, and the slanted agar media. For the record, I suck at gram staining. Maybe because I'm sort of color blind that I can't distinguish red from purple. And seriously, bacillus is hard to tell from cocci and spirillum, even under Oil of the microscope. That was the start of my blind date fiasco.

It went downhill from there when I overtipped G157 and spilled some of the broth on my hands and the lab table. Contamination, much? Good thing Katie loves me enough to spray my hands and the immediate area with disinfectant. But still. Guh. Bacteria. I don't want to die due to contamination. That's just pathetically sad. I had to scrub my hands raw with soap under hot (scalding, peel your skin off, sue McDonald's and win Hot). If I were an ostrich, I would have buried my head under sand and stayed there until hell froze over twice.

But blind date isn't even over. We'll continue the date for the next week and the weeks after that. That wouldn't be a problem if I didn't spill half of my broth. Now I only have thismuch. Thismuch won't last for two more plates or tubes. This is sucky more so since I know this isn't the end of my clumsy klutziness.

Excuse me while I go bash my head repeatedly on the wall now.

in a loss

I have no words to describe this. This, this. Just this. Foremost, I'm caught off guard. Our dog ran away. Poor Chairo. I can't believe it but yeah. I'm sad now. I don't even want to talk about him. And what makes me more sad is the fact that no matter what I do I still cannot get the grade I want. Why? Is there a conspiracy against me? A plot out to keep me from getting that grade? I'm tired. I don't want to give up but that class is argh. I don't want to complain and angst and whatever. But still it's so frustrating. I just want to find a corner to cry into, but all the ones I see are taken by other classmates. I can do this. But I'm not sure if it's enough. I don't want to obsess about the grade but why can't I not want it when I know that I know the stuff. It's that simple but it's that hard. So just let me rant and vent.

Agsbsdguiahdhegduyq3bhdsu83uIYDhi379w;Y&y7;IHFBCNDCF97d7wet7sai7WHEA7w7eihfad.

DIE. LIKE RIGHT NOW. JUST DIE.

because we hurt the ones we love.

it hurts that you don't trust me. that you think so lowly of me. it hurts that you trap me in their shadows. it hurts that you don't know me. that it's not okay. it hurts that i'll always be mediocre. that i'll always be lacking. it hurts because you can hurt me. it hurts because i want to be spiteful but i'm not that person. it hurts that i can't tell you that i'm hurting. it hurts because you have the power to make me cry. how much more do you want me to bleed? how much more do you want me to break?

i just want to cut my bonds. to strengthen my defenses. to keep you out. all of you. i hate you. right now i hate you. but it hurts that i hate you because i love you. you make me bleed with your careless words. you break me down with your doubt. it hurts that i will always forgive you. that i will force myself to forget. just to make you happy.

what more do you want from me? i don't understand what you want me to do, to be. i hope you're freaking happy. because i'm not.