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.