library

Another post!?! What is this madness???

In all reality, I just want to show off the fact that we have bookshelves build into the wall by our pretend fireplace. I wish we could use it, but Weigand says we can't, and you never upset Weigand. House rules.

When I'm a real adult and have my real adult house, I'm going to need a room that I can just fill with books. I'm not sure what kind of books yet, but I want lots of them. I'll put really comfortable chairs and those mini hot plates you use to keep your drink warm in there. Put that will my ALL THE COUNTER SPACE and large back yard with giant garden, me looking for a house is going to look like the scene from Time Traveler's Wife.

Walk in, "nope. next."

"Don't you want to see the rest of the house."

"No, this doesn't have enough counter. Next"

"Nope."

"Nope."

"Nope." ".... YOU HAVEN'T EVEN GONE INSIDE YET!"

"There's not enough room for trees AND vegetables. Next."

Yesterday I was part of a research study my advisor is doing that compares muscle activation of a Curve (self-powered) treadmill and a normal treadmill. The Curve claims there is greater Glute Max and calf activation than a regular treadmill.

I haven't seen the compiled data yet, but I can tell you that self powering a treadmill is HARD. Because of how my ankles move (or don't move really) I had to run on my toes the whole time to hit the belt high enough to run as fast as they needed me too. So I was on a good uphill the whole time.

I can't tell you how much more my muscles were activated, but it took the same amount of effort, measured both by heart rate and my own perception of how hard I was working, to run 5.5mph on the Curve as it did to run 7.2mph for ten minutes on a normal treadmill.

I had 5 transmitters the size of tick-tak boxes put on 5 different muscles (under the blue tape): Glute Max, Quad, Hamstring, Calf, and Anterior Tib. Then there were 8 reflective markers on each leg: toes, both sides of the ankle, shin, knee, leg, pelvis in front, and pelvis in back. And athletic tape totally covering my shoes because they have reflective bits on them. Stylish, I know.

I mentioned I was interested in helping with research and not just being a guinea pig so I talked with the guys running the experiment for a while after. They showed me the results, which was awesome. In the lab we were in, there were about 12 cameras picking up the motion of those markers. Which they turned into a 3D stick image of my legs running on the computer. It was like how they show movies being made when people stand in for mythical creatures and such, but it was MY LEGS RUNNING! Awesome.

Even better than having my own skeleton on the computer, was that my advisor mentioned that he would look into seeing if they needed any more help with the study once they got all the data. It would just be analysis and plugging numbers into Excel, but at least it would get my foot in the door as far as research positions go.

Which would be freaking sweet to see all the research my professors are doing on body mechanics and stuff.

Grandma Dee's Rum Cake

Nailed it.

I think this is actually my Great Grandma's aunt's recipe. Which means that it has that "passed down" delicious factor that you just can't get in anything else.

Having said that, those ladies were not counting calories, I suggest you stay away from this cake if you are. There's a cup of both butter and sugar in the glaze alone. :D

You should probably also stay away from this cake if you are pregnant. The 3/4 cup rum in the cake bakes out, but I put an extra 1/4 cup in the glaze after I took it off the heat.

That's how we roll in this apartment.

The glaze didn't coat the cake as well as I would have hoped, but the glaze is hard. My mom's been making this cake for as long as she's known my dad (36 years) and it's still hit or miss with her. But this is supposed to be a bunt cake, and the glaze is supposed to go on before it comes out of the pan, then cool and harden to the cake in the pan. I didn't have a bunt pan, so I think I improvised pretty well, putting a layer of glaze on the bottom, between layers, and on top.

It just needs some vanilla ice cream. Yummy!

This was the first time I've ever had a "beater" [don't have a mixer so it was technically a whisk] from this batter. I now understand why my mom didn't let us have them as kids, even though with every other recipe there was, my brother and I each got a beater and she got the spatula.

Now I just have to make sure I don't eat the whole thing myself before my roommates get home.

Check out the awesome water bottle I got at the Career Fair last night:

For the past four years I have been going to the Health Sciences Career Fair to get the free stuff: water bottles, pens, highlighters, magnets, more pens, some candy, chapstick, ect. The kind of free crap that people just love to print their name on and give away. This year, I actually expressed a slight interest in some of the companies that had clinics in Phoenix, and I may have actually found a clinic that I would like to spend some time at. It is specifically a Sports Medicine clinic and is directed by an Athletic Trainer, although they do see other general outpatient clients too. However, I found out that I don't get to do as much outpatient as I thought, and in order to pass my Board Licensing Exam (scary) I have to do so much Acute and SubAcute Rehab. Bleh. Acute rehab is like post stroke and old people. Geriatrics? DO NOT WANT.

Next year I suppose I will start asking what they like to hear in an interview and about the interview process in general (ex. Is it appropriate to ask what your salary will be?).

One good think I learned though, if you get further specialized (which I plan on doing) in either Orthopedics or Manual Therapy (the two I am thinking about) "You pick where you want to work and you name what you will be paid."

But the moral of the story is I now have a snazzy aluminum water bottle.

Look at all the things I did this weekend. I feel so productive!

Does the fact that this is the second picture post within a week mean I'm going to get back on track with my posting?

No.

No it does not.

Last year, my cosy little studio apartment was never cold. Heat was included in my rent, so not only could I have the thermostat set however high I wanted, but I also had neighbors to the left, right, and below who were also doing the same thing. I was on the top floor, and in these buildings that were apparently built before the invention of insulation, heat rose into my apartment quite nicely.

This year however, is not quite the same. Not only do we pay for our heat (thus it is set at 62*) but we also have a very large apartment. A large apartment with lots of windows. Lots of windows that are probably older than I am and although they are weird and have two sets of glass (storm windows anyone? Yes? No?) they do NOTHING as far as temperature regulation. They are also coming out of the runners, so there is a lovely draft charging into every room of the house (except the bathroom - I might have to take over when it gets colder. I will make my own flag and everything) through the windows and two outside doors we have. We generally have a lot more outside wall then I did last year.

So what do you do when your house leaks cold air?

You plastic wrap it:

And let me explain, this is not some brilliant idea that roommate Nichole came up with because she is from Green Bay and her family figured it out. Oh no. This is just commonly accepted here. Giant plastic sheets show up at the store with the Halloween decorations. Marquette always puts out flyers for a service day to help "Winterize homes of the elderly in Milwaukee." Like it's normal.

...

This is not normal.

I am using double stick tape to attach shrink wrap to the walls of my apartment and then using a hair dryer to make sure it's in place so I don't freeze to death. HOW IS THAT NORMAL?! WHY WOULD ANYONE CHOOSE TO LIVE IN A PLACE WHERE THAT IS NORMAL????????

As a note, I have no idea if the newspaper is a normal thing. But after last Tuesday it seemed like a good idea and I don't really care how it looks.

Last Tuesday was the day that reminded me of why I hate it here. It had been SO NICE up until now. I had been having a good time with the roommates and classes (for the most part) I can put up with. I was ENJOYING MYSELF. To the point where I may or may not have forgotten that it will get miserably cold.

But then we woke up on Tuesday. It was cold, and raining, and windy. I sat in my room trying to do homework and I couldn't feel my toes. It was the kind of cold INSIDE OUR APARTMENT that makes it so you can't think about anything else except not being cold anymore. I'm currently sitting here, in two pairs of socks, a shirt, a long sleeve shirt, a hoodie, wrapped up in the blanket my aunt crocheted for me, and I am still cold. I've got two layers of plastic on each window so far and I'm about to add another. Nichole told me that last year they had to do 5 layers for my room and the one at the other end of the hall - the ones with two windows and a full facing outside wall. Nichole and Marie only have one window each and are much better protected as far as how the building is set up.

So maybe I'm not becoming a Pagan. I'm about halfway through one of the books Mohale gave me and I just can't take it seriously. No, I'm not getting myself a wand and a dagger and a pendant necklace and drawing up a circle in the living room. When they spell magick with a K i can't take them seriously.

But I'll finish the two books and be completely open to whatever their religion entails of them and continue to be interested. I'll celebrate solstices with them and the seasons and be merry with yummy dessert wine.

Also, it's fall now. It seems that happened sometime in the four days I was home last weekend.

So.

I'm becoming a Pagan.

Really though.

Mohale, Emmanuel, and Alicia of Land of Upstairs are all Pagans, and tonight they invited Marie and I to Family Dinner, which was offered in the name of some solstice or something. I've actually been considering this for almost two years now, and he lent me some books about it. Alicia suggested I follow Norse traditions, which would give me the title Heathen. She also said it was acceptable for me to keep my Catholic-ness and therefore I get to once again be a Catholic Heathen. I haven't been one of those since I told Brian Bartel I didn't want to go to an LDS Sunday service with him.

Mohale. A week or so he gave me "The Talk," because my parents never did and has since become my black father.

Alicia brought out some wonderful smelling Rain flavored incense. It kept a bee away that kept trying to eat us.

Also, there is lots of wine and merriment at Pagan Family Dinners. And baked apples with sweet caramel drizzled on them for dessert.

Alicia also promised to take me to her parent's house next 4th of July because there is a carnival near by that we can go to, and then s'mores, firepits, and slip n' slides in her back yard at midnight.

I kind of love living below those three. So far it's making things more enjoyable than living by myself.

Now, back to your regularly scheduled anatomy.

I feel like I should be updating more. Taking more pictures and being all LOOK AT MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!one!!!

But really, there's nothing to report. There's nothing new to take pictures of. There's nothing happening out of the ordinary that warrants taking the time to put a post together. Even right now as I type this, I SHOULD be studying, but I've been doing that all day already, and I needed a break.

Most days, I get up at 7:30am, eat breakfast of oatmeal with raisins, go to class class class, study, eat lunch of a PB&J fruit and carrots, go to more class class class, workout, study, dinner of something rice based, study, go to bed between 11pm and midnight. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. On Tuesday there is a variation because I work in the dining hall from 6am-11am; I usually get something delicious for breakfast and get a hummus-grilled-vegetable-turkey wrap that I smuggle out for lunch later, then class, study study, class until 7pm.

Saturdays I go to Homestead from 8am-2 or 3pm, workout, study, grocery shop, and not pay for drinks at the Harp and Shamrock. Really though, I've been here for 7 weeks and haven't paid for a thing over there yet.

Sundays I run, study, work, and study.

I don't get a day off. Ever.

Woah is me of course. But really, it's just a fact.

I've been listening to Avril Lavigne's song How Does It Feel a lot. The first words of the song are "I'm not afraid of anything," and about 1:00 into the song she sings, "I am young, and I am free."

That's what I keep telling myself anyway.

I will see my lover in just two weeks!

JackBoyCat is a creeper. But he's also being my study buddy, so I guess it's ok.

Last night Mr. Upstairs Neighbor Mohale got home from a 3 week stint in Champaign Illinois for some work thingy. Former Mr. Upstair Neighbor Emmanuel came over, and it was decided that Nichole and I would get "Glammed Up" so we could go out to a bar with them, New Ms. Upstairs Neighbor Alicia, Other Michelle and Other Michelle's Male Platonic Counterpart.

So I put on a black skirt, a nice top, and my sexy boots.

I put on makeup for the first time since I got here.

And when I walked up the back porch steps onto Mohale and Alicia's porch, all I heard was "Oh God Damn!" from Mohale, and "Girl, you look fucking gorgeous," from Emmanuel, who is pretty fucking fabulous himself. They have high standards those two. It's not everyday one can get that kind of a reaction out of them.

It made me feel pretty fucking good about myself.

At the bar we ran into Mohale's friends, Steve and his lover, who's name I have unfortunately forgotten. She was beautiful in an old world sort of way, and had lovely short hair. She told me I had gorgeous shoulders. She taught me how to move my knees and hips more when I try to dance, not just pivot my torso back and forth.

I actually talked to Steve the majority of the night. Tequila had made me not shy and we talked about The Meaning of Life, and he congratulated me on my relationship with Drew.

I also talked to Emmanuel a bit. Straightened out that David is not my boyfriend as he thought (he laughed at my reaction of "Dear God no! My boyfriend is much better looking than that!") and he made me talk about Drew for a while. Also said that our management of long distance was impressive and good for us.

I still can't get over the boy's reaction to me in Not Workout Clothes Mode. It's been a very long time since someone was able to make me blush with a complement before.

Gross Anatomy is a wonderfully interesting class. It's fantastically hard too. In all my other anatomy classes we learned that there was one artery in the arm - the Axillary Artery (or Bracial, depending where in the arm you are). However, this year, we have to know the 6 branches of that artery (Superior Thoracic, Thoracoacromial, Pectoral, Lateral Thoracic, Anterior Circumflex, Posterior Circumflex, and Subscapular). Before, we learned that the Brachial Plexux came from the nerves leaving your spine from between the 5th through the 9th vertibrea. This year, I get to know that those 5 nerve roots create the Superior, Middle, and Inferior Trunks, which then split and reform 6 divisions, which connect to form the Lateral, Posterior, and Medial Cords, which split and reform the Musculocutaneous, Radial, Ulnar, and Median Nerves. I need to know where in all that the Suprascapular, Subclavius, Lateral Pectoral, Medial pectoral, Medial brachial cutaneous, Medial antebrachial cutaneous, Upper subscapular, Thoracodorsal, and Lower Subscapular Nerves all come from.

Long words there. Basically, I went from having to know 2 or three structures to having to know about 40.

AND THAT IS JUST ONE CLASS. I have three classes a week where I'm expected to obtain this much new information.

So you can see why I have to have my Grey's Anatomy open to read about the structures while I have my Atlas of Human Anatomy open to look at the pictures of what I'm reading.

The body's an asshole.

I wanna punch it in it's complicated asshole neck.

I had my first shift at McCormick last night. I pretty much just wandered in circles cleaning tables for three hours. Then learned that when you sign up for a shift that ends at 12, you aren't actually done at midnight, you are done whenever you finish cleaning up. Which really, would not have been a big deal if I had been told this when I was signing up for shifts. However, as I have class at 9am the day after both of my closing shifts, I'm seeing that not getting to bed until about 2am is going to be an issue, cause I love me some sleep and I like getting up around 7:30am everyday, for consistency.

But they were very understanding when I told this to the Student Manager in charge of scheduling, cause she is a PT student also (a 6th year). I was able to keep all my hours, and they were just shifted around so I'm not there any later than 10. Which is going to be a double bonus cause now I can get some dessert before I leave. :D

Speaking of PT students, the 5's had a grill picnic get to know you yesterday for us 4's. It was fun, cause for the first time the group of upperclassmen I was talking to was actually HONEST about how things work, and they all said not to worry about our Policy Management class, cause it's crazy hard and our professor is kind of a bitch and will apparently try to flirt with all the boys in the class. We have her for 3 hours straight on Thursday nights and after class we all walk out of there going "I did not understand a word that came out of her mouth." Right now we are learning about Insurance Companies and how we bill them and what we can bill them for and can't bill them for and how we get paid and such, and our professor keeps abbreviating EVERYTHING into 3-letter acronyms. Then she will say what the acronym stands for and say "Who knows what that is?" and when we all say we don't have a clue what she is talking about, instead of explain, she just keeps lecturing about SNFs and AMCs and MACs and HDCKS's and we all have ADD in that class.

The Brew in the Union.

I like it here.

It smells good.

And there's lots of plugs.

So it would appear that this year, my Picture-A-Day blog is going to be an I'll-Update-Whenever-I-Damn-Well-Please blog.

Not that I don't want to post a picture everyday, I do, really. But we're going on year #3 here. There are only so many times I can post a picture of the same buildings and trees and things I pass everyday before it gets old. I know the cats aren't that interesting, and if they are, I don't get a picture of it.

Nichole and I are debating going camping this weekend. She took it off originally to go with her man, but he bailed because he's kind of a loser to begin with. So depending on if Molly is ok with us both missing the game this Friday we might trek it out to some camp site she knows of, make a fire, roast a marshmallow, and then say, "It's cold, fuck this." and come back. Ta-da! Camping.

Either way though, I have to be to work by 5pm on Sunday.

Oh yeah, I work in one of the dorm's dining halls now. Nothing too steller, but it's a consistent 15 hour a week job that will get me through the year. At $7.75 (and $8.25 for the hours after 8pm) with my current spending habits, I'll actually end up ahead each week. I'm not going to be making oodles of money or anything, but I should end up with a surplus of about $75 - $85 a week. Which for me, is quite a lot. I'll have to buy myself something nice (like a strapless bra that fits!) and not feel bad about it. Am I totally stoked to serve whinny freshmen food and then clean up after them? No. But I need the money AND I'll be getting a free meal 3 days a week, one of which is breakfast, which means a mother fucking bagel for me.

La-di-da

I wish I didn't eat when I was stressed. Spending an extra hour at the gym alternating between the elliptical and bike is a phenomenal waste of time.

Today I officially stop trying to be friends with this cat. I was standing in the kitchen, minding my own business, talking to Marie, when she jumped up on one of the low cabinet/shelves we have and dug her claws into my back. Not like she was trying to jump up on my shoulder, which she does to Nichole, but just reached up claws extended and stuck her paw against the middle of my back. A few minutes later she did it again to my leg.

So fuck you cat.

I fucking hate this fucking cat.

Jack Boycat however, I still really like. Because he's not an ASSHOLE.

Yesterday I finally got a glue gun so I could start playing "art." "art" is what happens when I glue all* the bottle caps that we had on the fridge** to the back of a poster featuring the Marquette Men's Soccer team. "art" is what happens when I need a break from reading my Psychological Aspects of Health Care while I outline the chapter by answering the Reading Objective our professor provided for us. "art" is what happens when I am sexually frustrated, and I apologize if that is information you could have gone your whole life without knowing. "art" includes the CDs I painted with nail polish from the end of my sophomore through the beginning of my junior year of high school, the posters I draw on with Crayola markers, and other various projects which usually involve sewing things by hand.

"art" should never be confused with Art, which is something that requires actual talent to create. I should hope the things I make are never referred to as Art, as it would be an insult to actual Artists everywhere.

At this point, I am under the impression that there needs to be a party at this apartment, because I need more bottle caps and wine corks. I also need more glue gun sticks.

*That's the whole summer worth of bottle caps, before you think we're a bunch of alcoholics. Well, I don't know what I can say for my roommates, but *I* am not.

* *We have a bottle opener on the fridge that also happens to be a magnet. It's pretty cool actually, you just pop your bottle on it, and the cap flips up onto the magnet out of the way for the next bottle. It never complains about being used all the time, and can always be counted on to open a bottle. Even the twisty ones that hurt my hands to open.

Yep. You are really seeing that chain float in the air about 2 inches away from the fridge. That magnet is MADE WITH SCIENCE and is really that strong.

We may or may not have gotten tipsy and stuck Phoebe's collar tags to it. Before you tell me how cruel we are, the magnet was placed near the floor for this. We did not hang a cat from the fridge.

schoolio

Ok. I get it. I'm being a bad post-a-day-er.

But you know what?

I'm in fucking GRAD SCHOOL (cause I'm awesome) and it's HARD and I'm BUSY.

And you know what else? All my professors seem to be under the impression that not telling us exactly what assignments we have and what is due and what isn't due and what is expected of us is a good thing. That it is helping us grow as independent people. So not only do I actually have to pay attention ALL THE TIME in class, I have to figure out what I'm supposed to be reading, where to get a book my professor wants us to have yesterday but was not on the booklist and is not in either bookstore on campus ("Haven't you guys ever heard of Amazon?"), what I need to be retaining from some boring ass reading about making sure I'm super-smiley-nice to my patients even if they don't deserve it (answer: all of it), and how we have a whole class dedicated to how we should treat people with disabled persons no differently than people without disabilities (which is ironic, cause then why do we have a class about how brave and persevering and wonderful this person with a double-above-the-knee amputation is in the first place?). And that is just ONE CLASS!!!

Not to mention there is now the body of some old lady sitting (I guess laying in a blue bag technically) in the cadaver lab in the basement of Cramer Hall with my NAME ON IT. Not to mention that last Wednesday I CUT HER CHEST OPEN in order to find her frail old-lady pectoral muscles, cephalic vein, thoracoacromial artery, and lateral and medial pectoral nerves; and that in a few short weeks we will be using a BONE SAW to CUT HER CHEST OFF so we can TAKE OUT HER HEART.

Which is fine as long as you are just staring at the muscles or area of the body you are dealing with and do your best not to look at the white wash cloth and remember that there will be a FACE there and at some point in time we are going to CUT HER SKULL OFF AND TAKE OUT HER BRAIN.

Not to be graphic or anything.

(On a side note with that, I threw away my chemistry goggles last spring when I was moving. I held onto them for THREE YEARS only to throw them away three months before I get to another class where they say "At points where we are using a bone saw, it is advised you have lab goggles." Fuck.)

For the first time since I got here as a Freshmen I'm actually finding that I wish I had.... more time. Instead of wishing it was midterms already, or Thanksgiving, or even October 6th when I go home for the wedding, I'm sitting here wishing there were 3 more hours in every day. Before this week I was worried I would be bored only having 17 credits. Now I'm worried that I won't be able to handle the workload.

Technically, I could go to 15 credits, but those two would come from dropping Kickboxing and Pilates on Wednesday and Thursday mornings, which are two classes that are not contributing to the workload and are going to be WONDERFUL stress release. I should be able to do a spinning jump kick by the end of the semester, or so thinks my instructor.

I'm trying to work out how I can work at McCormick's Dining Hall with my roommate Marie. I have to keep reminding myself that while my schedule would allow me to work 6-midnight 6 days a week I am going to NEED that time to study, and I should make sure I don't ever work more than 15 hours a week. According to Marie, the minimum is 5 hours a week with one weekend shift, which can be as short as 2 hours.

Why, yes, that Policeman IS on a horse!

There is a police... office (?) on the first floor of the apartment building across the street from my building. I say office because it is no where near big enough to be a station and it looks like they just have a single desk in a waiting room type area in font. And apparently they like to ride their ponies there.

Today in my Patient Management lab we got to play in wheelchairs for two hours, which included an obstacle course in which not only did you have to maneuver through, our lab instructors got to pick if you only had arm control or if you could only use the right/left side of your body to move the chair. It was hard!

Tomorrow I start my cadaver lab. I'm nervous and excited at the same time. My mom is sending me a pair of scrubs to wear, which is very nice, cause the TAs said whatever you wear in there will be ruined by the end of the semester.

Sleepy time.

First day of scchhoooooooooool. Patient Management with Laurie (I'm Dr. Laurie Kontny but call me Laurie cause Mrs. Kontny is... I dunno... my MOTHER IN LAW) is going to be interesting, tomorrow we start wheelchairs and patient transport in lab. There's a lot about what the profession of Physical Therapy is, and I get the feeling lecture will be a lot about our scope of practice and the more legal/ethical side of things.

Right after that, it's an hour of Culture and Disability with Dr. Solbrush (or whatever), who wishes to be addressed as such. I'll bet you already know which lecture is going to be enjoyable. I don't know if Doc S just sounds like this, or if he is TRYING WAY TO FUCKING HARD but it sounds like he's so concerned with sounding like he is lecturing at a Graduate Level and so conscious of being beyond politically and grammatically that he seems to loose track of what he is actually saying. The man says "umm" and repeats himself way too much. Maybe he's nervous. Maybe he doesn't have the best people skills. Maybe that's just how he is. But man, I already hate listening to him speak.

Gross Anatomy with cadaver lab. Need I say more?! It's going to be great. Unfortunately we can't take pictures for medical privacy issues. So no pictures of my group's body's insides. :( :(

Good fucking Christ.

That's all.

*After financial aid.*

Back Porches

Well, this is the back of our building, looking at the 6 unit bundle that is to the north of the 6 unit bundle I am in. It's possible to get onto the roof from the northmost building, and I am very tempted to go over there if I ever have a day off (not likely) and try to even out the horrible farmer's tan I've developed over the past three weeks of football. The dress I'm wearing to Rachel and Brian's wedding is light and spaghetti strapish, and as proud as I was of my tan lines in high school at prom, I'd like to just look normal now.

Nichole brought her mini-fridge from the dorms to the apartment last year.

It's known as the Beer Fridge.

{COLLEGE!!}

Across the street at the Harp and Shamrock the bartender (Ted) often gives out free drinks. Nichole and Marie frequently showed up last year, and thus he knows them well. I've only been over there twice but he knows me now too. He looks kind of like a crack-head but he's not. He's actually pretty cool. Did I mention he gives me free Mike's Hard Black Cherry? It's my new favorite!

He also doesn't look at me weird when I order tequila and Sprite.

This is Jack. He's Marie's and is the most god-awful irritatingly loud thing on the planet. He also desperately needs to be reminded that he is loved and is generally a very cuddly cat. I like him much more than Phoebe, as I have yet to find him lying on my bed like he thinks he owns it. He's also easy to please. He just flops down on his side and is perfectly happy if all you do is rub him (none too gently either) with your foot. He gets all purry and goes nuts rubbing his face on the carpet and stretching out so you can get to his belly.

I've been letting him sit on my lap while I'm on the computer because he loves just having someone touch him, even if it is just my forearms resting on his back while I type. I don't know how much longer that will go on though, it makes me sneezy.

Speaking of my computer, last night my hard drive crashed. Again.

Apple gave me a new one. Again.

I lost everything that I had put on my computer since April 4th, but that is mostly just pictures (a bummer but not the end of the world) and some music (which I can reload when I come home in October).

Apple is on the awesome list for this though. I called this morning, they got me into the genius bar after football practice, put in a new hard drive and gave me a keyboard/cover in less than 45 minutes, and then didn't charge me for it.

Cool.

I miss my boyfriend.

It's my Daddy-o's birthday today. He's a pretty swell guy and I hope one day Drew will be as good a father to our children as he is to me. He's always been there with advice or strong arms to fold me up in; from when I was little and could snuggle into his chest on Saturday morning to now when I just need a hug. He can fix anything or any problem, and knows everything there is to know about everything. He's perfect. He's my dad.
And I have his chin.

I have the worst luck with glass.
Today I grabbed a mason jar that had broken and I didn't notice until I looked down and my entire palm was red. It was just a little cut, but the glass was sharp enough to make a very clean cut that just kept bleeding. It's stopped now, and it just kind of stings.
I haven't seen my own blood in a long time though. It was kind of interesting.


Tomorrow we've got two football games (JV and Varsity) at some school that's about an hour away. Molly said to be prepared for a 10-11 hour day, which isn't as intimidating as you would think. A whole lot of that is going to be sitting around, then taping people, then dealing with blood during the game, then injury evals, then riding home. Plus, Molly, Nichole, Mackenzie (student from Corcordia University), and Bailey (from UW-Milwaukee) are going on an AT outing to get lunch before the game. It'll be fun. We'll bond and ensure Tyler (also from UW-Milwaukee) feels outnumbered by all the estrogen when he starts coming for his clinical on Saturday.


Also, blood:

Since I have east-facing windows I have been woken up quite rudely by the sun every morning around 7. I try to go back to sleep, but the blinds are crap in these apartments, and so it only gets increasingly warm and bright in my room.
I'm hoping the posters block out enough light to keep it darker, and the white backs reflect enough to keep it cooler in my room tomorrow morning.
If it works, I'm giving myself 25 points for being resourceful.

Hello there. No I have not been shot because I live in Shit-Hole Milwaukee, nor have I been stabbed because I live on 22nd street. I'm just slacking.
Last week, everyday was the same. Wake up at 5:30am, leave at 6:00am, get to Homestead by 6:30am, tape and pre-practice for an hour, first practice, injury evals and snarffing lunch, second practice, wondering where all the people I told to get ice are, home by 3:00pm, True Blood, dinner, in bed by 9:00pm. Repeat.

All in all, I'm enjoying being at the High School. However, it's reminding me of why I'm going on to PT school afterwords, and making me really glad I decided not to stop next spring. Right now, I'm doing a lot, A LOT of acute injury evals; ankles, knees, shoulders, backs... and honestly, it's just not floating my boat. I mean, I enjoy it enough that I don't dread going to practice, but I enjoy the rehab aspect of things SO MUCH MORE, and that's something I don't really get to do a whole lot of at the high school level.
I haven't decided yet if it is because rehab is most of what I have done so far and I am comfortable with it, and that I keep encountering injuries that don't fit into the textbook description of what we learned, and it makes me feel incompetent that I don't know; or if it's because it's just not my thing. Either way, I know I've just got to just wait for it to grow on me like Marquette did in general.

Yesterday I went to the state fair. I got a bit sunburnt, more freckles, my first funnel cake, and looked at all the animals. Dairy cows are much larger than I thought they would be.

We finally got a shipment of supplies in today at Homestead. It was like Christmas, but instead of presents we got tape and bandaids and shoulder slings.
I was in charge of making sure the shipment matched the inventory list and then putting it away. It was great, I got to organize.

I was not aware of this before now, but I got good news today. Two-a-day practices only last until the end of this week, and then go to normal practice time of 2:30 -5:30pm. I only have to wake up super early tomorrow and Saturday then I get to sleep in! Yay! Sleep!
Once I get a list of days that we have events other than normal practice times, I'm going to try and get a few hours at the bookstore. Hopefully I will be able to work something out.

Kitchen

Today was a gorgeous day in Milwaukee. When I got up this morning (still feels obnoxiously early - will that ever change?) it was cold enough that all the humidity had condensed into dew on the grass, and it would have been perfect weather for jeans and a light sweater. By the time Nichole and I got to Homestead High, it had warmed up just to the point that I was comfortable in my t-shirt and shorts with OR without the light jacket I had.
So far it has not been uncomfortably hot at practice, and sunny enough that I believe that I am tanning very slowly (and will get a wicked farmer's tan by the end of the season) with no risk of burning. Every now and then a big, fluffy, white cloud will float across the sun and you can see the shadow move across the practice fields. I do need to invest in some sunglasses though. I believe mine are somewhere in Shellie's NEW YORK purse that she brought to the pool in Vegas for us to put things in.

Marie and I even turned the air off this afternoon and have just had all the windows open all day. It's currently 8:21pm and I could change out of shorts into long pants and still be comfortable, which I predict will make perfect sleeping conditions in an hour or so. Speaking of sleeping. Despite the fact that I get up at 5:25am everyday and do not take a nap, I cannot for the life of me fall asleep when I get into bed around 10pm. I know I'm probably still used to staying up till 3 in the morning, but you'd think after four days of this I'd be so exhausted I couldn't keep my eyes open. Around 9 or so every night I've been getting a second wind or something, and gone back into AWAKE! mode.

Marie and I (mostly Marie - I cleaned the shower though. It's a good thing I really don't mind cleaning the bathroom, cause I'm pretty sure I'm going to be the only one doing it. Which I will be doing every week so I don't have to scrub it down like that again) cleaned the kitchen today, so now I can take pictures and show them to you and you'll think our kitchen is nice.
Oh yeah, and that IS the BACK DOOR that you see, which goes out onto a PORCH!

Posters today.
Woo.

My dad suggested spritzing the cats with water when they venture in here. Good idea.

How fucking great is that?!

Also, my desk finally showed up, which is superb. I also got a little basket thing that sticks in the corner of the shower for my things.
While wandering around Barns and Noble I made a new friend. I was looking at a book with dog pictures in it, and this lady walked up; I turned around because I thought she was David and I was going to show him a picture that looked like his dog. But we just started talking, this lady and me (I cannot remember her name) about if I was an animal person, and if I had dogs, and what kinds I wanted, and what she wanted (a pit, a boxer, and a.... something else of that nature). We ended up standing there talking for like half an hour about dogs and Marquette (she was an alumn) and Milwaukee and where we wanted to move too to live. It was crazy, but nice at the same time.

I'm starting to realize that my room is going to be the only clean room in this house. Either Nichole or Marie needs to buy an odor eater and put it by the litter box in the bathroom; it overpoweringly smells like ammonia even when it's clean.

Oh, and football preseason. They are doing 2-a-days right now, one from 7:30-10:00am and one from 11:30-2:00pm. Which means we are there from 6:30am-3:00pm. Which means I get up at 5:30am. Which for me, who didn't get up before 10am all summer and is used to working from 1 to 7pm, was a rude awakening this morning. It's not even 10 and I'm ready for bed.
However, it's going to get me 40+ hours a week for the next four weeks, which will put me way ahead of schedule on hours when classes start. It'll be nice not having to stress about getting them all done.
Practice itself is a bit boring, but there's always something to do, and it's really nice having Nichole there to talk to the whole time. Having said that though, I'm glad I'm going to PT school. From what I have experiences of both, I enjoy rehab more than the acute injury evals - though I still enjoy that part of it too.
Eating lunch at 11:00am is going to be a bitch though. I'm hungry again by the time 3 rolls around.

Now if I could just find my thumb tacks... I really want to hang up my posters but I have no clue what I did with them last May!

Senior Year

School hasn't started yet, but I'm back in Milwaukee so I might as well start posting again. I can already tell this year will be better than last, because my apartment wasn't 100 million degrees when I walked into it yesterday. The CENTRAL AIR (!!!) is set at about 75* or so, but more importantly it keeps the humidity down.
Neither Nichole or Marie were here last night so I've had the place to myself all weekend setting up and getting organized and trying to figure out how to keep their cats out of my room. Not that I don't like the cats, cause I do, I just don't need them being all "Look at me, I'm a cat. I'm in the goddamn way," while I'm moving a dresser across the floor.

So here's my room:

I think my room here is actually about the size of my bedroom at home. (The one upstairs that has as of last Tuesday - 3 man weave on the bedrooms to put my grandma in the Master on the main floor so she did not fall down the stairs.) I'm still missing my folding table/desk but I am pretty sure that is at David's house still. The wire rack I was using as a pantry last year is in my room and, now that I've been to the grocery store, is being used as a pantry again. Still in my bedroom. It was much easier to set up this way than try and claim space in the kitchen which is fairly small given the size of the apartment and just cannot hold 3 sets of everything.

This is the PhoebeCat, she has an elusive brother Jack (or BoyCat as I call him). Currently, they are not allowed to roam my room and are only tolerated being in here while I am updating my blog and don't want to move my laptop off my lap to throw them out. I think they both clearly understand I don't want them in here, because they both like to sit in my doorway and wait until I'm not paying attention, then sneak in to crawl under my bed. Under no circumstances are the cats allowed under my bed. I do not want cat hair all over my things. Simple, really.

In other news, I woke up from a nap this afternoon, looked out the window and thought "Where the fuck am I?" I had been having a dream that Drew and I ( and my sister for some reason) were back up in Montana playing in the ponds.

I am very home sick.

Luckily, Marie is here and she has people over so I will be going out to sit with them instead of curling up in the fetal with my Drew's-cologne-sprayed-Teddy-Bear instead of pouting that I am not at Bear Lake with him.

A Post!

It feels like a certain male, famous, well liked, black celebrity just got down at eye level with me and yelled, "Bitch, SHIT. JUST. GOT. REAL." Not in a mean way or anything. Just in a... declarative, factual way.
Maybe Chris Rock?

(skeetskeetskeet)

Has anyone seen that skit of his where he is making fun of the song Get Low? Does anyone understand why I find that song so funny now?

I feel like this summer is The Summer I Grew Up. Not any specific event, or day, but I feel as if I am no longer the same kid I was in May.
In just two weeks I go back to Milwaukee and start GRADUATE SCHOOL. To become A DOCTOR. I've realized that after these two weeks, I don't really live in my parents house anymore. I will have my room for Christmas and Thanksgiving and such, but other than those short school breaks, I will be in Milwaukee. Of course I cannot tell the future, and circumstances may have me back here for another summer in two years while I do a clinical internship, and it is possible that Drew and I will live here between the time I graduate and start a residency.
I saw the last Harry Potter, which seems like a weird reason. But I very much grew up with Harry Potter; I was 11 when the first movie was in theaters, and I was 17 when I read the last book. It was a huge part of my childhood, and now it's finished. I cried during the movie. Not at the sad parts, not when Fred died, but just randomly, cause it was the last one.
I'm 21. That really is functioning adult status in my book.


I want to get "There is no try." tattooed on the underside of my left forearm. It's been my philosophy ever since my mom quoted Yoda on my whiteboard during track season my senior year of high school.

I have no criminal record in the states of Utah and Wisconsin. I could have told you that, but Marquette needs it official before I can start my clinicals.
Which I start signing up for this October. How am I supposed to do that? I have no idea where I want to go. I suppose the actual clinic/hospital doesn't matter. I just have to pick an area of the country I want to spend a handful of weeks in.
I do know I want to go to Athlete's Performance in Phoenix from January to March of my last year. The weather will be perfect and so fuck Wisconsin winter.

Today was my last day at Hand and Ortho, it was kinda sad. I really enjoy my job. Hopefully I can cover for some people when I'm home for Christmas.

I might have a job as a receptionist at a gym once school starts. Only a 3 hour shift on Tuesday and Friday mornings, but that's still $45-$60 a week more than I would be making without a job. Which means my grocery fund would remain neutral if not actually increase over the course of the semester. It would be nice if that worked out. Really, it would.


I'm running again. It's slow, and my endurance is laughable, but I'm running.
It's wonderful.

I want a puppy.

I'm sitting in my parent's basement, computer on my lap, watching a marathon of 16 and Pregnant.

Living the dream.

Actually this show makes me wonder just how stupid people can possibly be.
I mean.
My god.

What is wrong with people?

Someone needs to slap a bitch.

I can't decide if it's like a train wreck that I just can't look away from, or if I'm watching because it makes me feel better about myself.
I think mostly the later. It's nice to be reminded every now and then that by comparison, I'm not a total fuck up.

I seem to keep teetering back and forth between embracing my adulthood and clinging to my childhood.

-I interrupt this blog to let you all know that I've changed channels and I'm now watching House Hunters and a gay couple is featured. Wonderful. And the house is gorgeous. Oh my god and they have a son. Denmark is much cooler than America. AND THEY HAVE A HARLEQUIN GREAT DANE!-

Anyway.

I keep getting complemented at work about how mature I am, how with it I am, how I have such a set and determined plan. I keep getting told that people would have never guessed I was turning 21 in a few days, not 25 or 26.
I keep replying with sure, I know what I would like my life, I know what I want to be studying, I know where I would like to be going.
But I still feel like I am pretending.
That I'm not a real adult.
Even though, I know, by society's standards I am.
That if I wasn't going to school, or even if I was going to school at the University of Utah, I would be working more. Possibly enough to support myself, or if not myself, enough to contribute to Drew and I supporting ourselves. I know that I know how to take care of myself, I did it for a year without any major disasters.

But by the standards that I grew up with I'm not an adult. Not until I am done with school. I'm just not, no matter how capable I may be.
Instead of looking at it from the point that I know how to find a place to live, I have a job, I can cook, I know how to budget my money....
I just see the fact that I don't own my own car nor do I have to money for one, I don't have my own insurance, I know the definition of a stock but I don't know how to acquire them or what to do with them when I have them.

I keep saying things like, "when I'm an adult," and "real job," and Drew keeps getting mad and telling me to stop selling myself short. And I think I see his point. IF things were different, and IF I wasn't going to school in a different state, and IF I was able to work full time I could do it. I could be an adult.
But I am and I'm not and it's not. I don't work full time and I don't live here and things are how they are. And how things are now I'm not a real adult.

But I could be.
And it's weird. Cause adulthood was always so far off and it seemed like this state of being where you just know what the fuck is going on. But I'm finding out you just get better at dealing with things on the fly and acting like you are not as surprised as everyone else that is worked.

I think it's mostly I know all the things that I want, I just don't want them now. I want it to be the time I want them to happen but at the same time I want that time to take it's sweet time getting here.
Say that 5 times fast.

I'M AN ADULT -Andy Sanberg

I'm beginning to realize my excuse of being "too young" is starting to get... well... old.

Because the fact of it is that I'm no longer too young.

One of my patients told me so last Thursday. He was the most adorable old man ever. Actually he asked if I was married, and then asked why not when I said that I was not. He laughed when I told him 20 was too young. He also said that Drew was the lucky one.
Two days before that, I was mistakenly assumed to be Drew's wife.

I've been pushing the things I want out of my mind for years now. I keep telling myself not to be silly and entertain the thoughts.
I tell myself all things in due time.
I tell myself things will happen when they happen.
I tell myself I will get it when I'm older.

I've generally held the opinion that my classmates who have had gotten married or had children already are out of their mind. That they are wasting their young adult life.
I comfort myself with the idea that taking that path myself would ruin everything. That I'm not ready.
That it's not in the cards for me.
That I'll be better off the way things are going.
That I'm not ready to be an adult, a wife, a dog owner.

But when responsible, mature, intelligent, and reasonable Kelly John and Andrew Jolly (yep, another one!) get engaged, it's suddenly thrown in my face that the way I'm keeping my thoughts at bay isn't exactly 100% true.
I admit to myself that I am responsible with money and finances, that I am driven and get things done, and that I am capable.
I realize (with a nasty shock mind you) that at almost 21, I AM in fact, old enough. Old enough to own a car as some of my friends do, pay rent like I do, hold a job and find an income like I do. That I am indeed an adult.
That only a few years ago I regarded this age as OLD. Well now I'm here.

It's interesting.

I'll allow myself to admit, just for an instant, that, after four years, maybe being engaged isn't something to brush off for a later time.
To admit that while I was overjoyed at the news that Rachel and Brian were engaged, I allowed myself to shed a tear or two of pure jealousy. Over the fact that they started dating, got the dogs, got the house, got engaged, will be married, and most likely having children AFTER Drew and I started dating yet BEFORE we can have any of that ourselves.
To admit that for years I've been making lists of what I want our house to be like. Making mental notes of colors I think would look good in our kitchen and in the bedrooms. Learning to cook and learning how to take care of myself so I can make sure I can take care of Drew and the family we will create one day.
To admit that for the past two years, through birthdays and Chirstmas and any other occasion where I am asked, "What do you want?" that the first thing that comes to my mind is a ring. That the image of Drew down on one knee asking me to spend the rest of our lives together flashes through my mind before I tell him that if he really must get me something a movie or text book would be fine.
To admit that I thought it might happen in Montana, in Disneyland, in Hawaii.


But I know that no one follows the same path, and there are no rules that define the miles stones of relationships and when they have to happen.
So I just go back to smiling and saying, "All things in due time."

Well, this was supposed to be posted like two days ago, but blogspot was apparently having issues so.... well that's that I guess.
As of now, all my things have been moved out, living temporarily in either the new apartment's living room or in David's spare bedroom. The carpet has been vacuumed and the apartment cleaned.
My keys were turned back into my landlord about 5 hours ago.

So now I'm just chilling at David's house, waiting until I can just go ahead and fall asleep because the sooner I go to bed, the sooner I'm waking up at 4:30am to get to the airport by 5. This time, I'm going through Atlanta, which seems very much the wrong direction, but I'm still getting home by noon, AND I'm getting a crap-ton of miles. Miles that will get me home in October for Rachel's wedding.
He's watching the finale episode of Smallville. I haven't seen an episode in about 8 years and I am generally uninterested.
What am I going to do for two hours until he presents me with the ice cream he promised?


Yesterday I finished my last final of the semester.
As of now, I am officially a Grad Student.
It's an odd feeling.

Studying

I am particularly fond of this particular slide in my notes about weather-related illness. I don't know why.

In the near-ish future, it may be required that I carry and know how to use a rectal thermometer if and when I am covering a sporting event as a Certified Athletic Trainer.
Who wants to help me practice eh?

Caramel Frapachino Light*

Starbucks is a treat I indulge in maybe once or twice a month. Not because I can't live without my Starbucks, but because mom and dad sent me a gift card for Easter, which makes it a double treat, because it's not even my money.
Would I support the -local scene- of coffee houses if I didn't have the giftcard? No, probably not. From what I've seen, they are full of tea-slurping hipsters who don't know the meaning of the word "headphones," and cost just as much, if not more, for the same drink.
Plus, I'm not about to go on a 20 minute bus ride for coffee when I have my own cheap tea in the cupboard.

I am The Champion of Tetris.
Ok, maybe not THE Champion, but I'm pretty freaking good at Tetris-ing the crap out of everything and maximizing the amount of things I can put into a plastic container when it comes to moving.
By the time my 6th year rolls around I'm going to be so efficient at this we'll pack up one car full of my stuff and be like "yup, that's everything." Sure, it will weight about a billion pounds, but it will be very -compact-.
Or maybe not actually. Given that Marie, who is one of the girls I am moving in with next year is also in PT school with me, she and I may just stay in that apartment until we are done with school. Even if Nichole goes off somewhere else for Grad School and Lindsey gives into her hipster soul and moves to Portland, I know at least one of our other PT classmates who has expressed interest in living there. I mean, roommates aren't hard to find when rent and utilities and cable/internet is only $250 a month.
As much as I love packing things into boxes (seriously, I do. I know, I'm weird) it will be nice to not have to move again for a while.

In more academic news, Cog Motor final was roundhouse kicked in the face. Depending how just how well I did I may actually be able to scrounge an A out of that class. Worst case scenario still has me an AB that is very close to an A. Which wouldn't be as cool for my GPA, but as far as not caring at all about a class, an AB is pretty good.
Why Marquette has a grading system that goes A, AB, B, BC.... instead of A, A-, B+, B.... I don't know. I feel that having the -,+ in between full letter grades would give me a chance at a higher GPA in most instances, but whatever. I'm sure The Man is just trying to keep us down. Or it's easier for our grading program to handle less options. One of the two.

Last night Nichole and I were studying for our Cognitive and Motor Learning final, which is on Monday morning. After about two hours, we both decided we were done and that making Whole Wheat Oatmeal Chocolate Chip cookies would be a better use of our time.
So now those cookies are breakfast before I go to the gym for my scheduled run (16 minutes of running and only 4 minutes of walking!). Which I think is an excellent choice for breakfast before exercise. Carb it up you know?

I just want it to be Thursday at 7pm already. I'll be done with finals, done with working at the bookstore, and getting ready for a End-Of-Finals get together at the other apartment; waking up on Friday morning to hurry and move the rest of my things to the other apartment, ensuring I get my whole security deposit back from my move-out inspection by my land lord, and then... waiting for 4:30am to roll around when it's time to go to the airport and GO HOME!

Artichokes were on sale today. Dinner was delicious.
Then I broke another glass.