Crazy and Whiny and Painful Day
May. 17th, 2005 09:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tabular_rasaToday was nuts.
It was normal at first (well, as normal as recently has been, what the phantom period and all . . . )-- though I didn't like in Psychology the added extra stress of that meant-to-be-stressful rubber band activity. She put a rubber band between our thumb and our pinky, crossed over the back (you try it!!!), and on our non-writing hand. We then had to try to get it off. It was ridiculously hard.
That may actually have been the straw that broke the camel's back, lol . . .
In English we now have a report due on Monday. I am doing it on Rudyard Kipling. We have to have a brief biography and then analyze one of his poems. Mom suggested "If" in mockery, the "classic coming-of-age poem." "Take Up the White Man's Burden," would be easy to analyze, since it's all about imperialism and would connect back to his life very easily, and, well, I've always been fond of "The Female of the Species is More Deadly Than the Male" (it reminds me of Bellatrix, lol . . . ). He wrote about a million things, though, so I shouldn't have trouble finding something. He seems to have two major themes: Boys at boarding school (ahh, the classic setup there, lol . . . reminiscent of Harry Potter, only with speech a lot harder to understand than Rowling's across-all-boards British English-- and, obviously, no magic . . . or girls . . . ) and foreign countries (specifically India, but some Africa and Middle East, too . . . and this extends from the wilds of those countries to the political and religious practices of them . . . like the short story "The Village that Voted that the World was Flat" . . . I was like, "Elkhart!").
Then, in the research lab, Alice and Robert made fun of my favorite poem growing up (and then, at lunch, Kristina and Nichole and Amanda joined in, too!)! Everybody's just so dirty. It was written in 1830, for goodness's sake!
There's even a song that goes with it, which I never knew: http://www.kididdles.com/mouseum/i074.html
I love little pussy,
Her coat is so warm,
And if I don't hurt her,
She'll do me no harm;
So I'll not pull her tail
Nor drive her away,
But pussy and I
Very gently will play.
Then there are two more verses that I never knew about, and so I found them when I looked them up!
She shall sit by my side,
And I'll give her some food;
And she'll love me
Because I am gentle and good.
I'll pat little pussy
And then she will purr,
And thus show her my thanks
For my kindness to her.
I'll not pinch her ears,
Nor tread on her paw,
Lest I should provoke her
To use her sharp claw;
I never will vex her,
Nor make her displeased,
For pussy can't stand
To be worried or teased.
Yeah, if you found that dirty . . . YOU'RE dirty! That was my favorite poem when I was about four or five. It was the very first one I had ever had memorized, and I had done it completely of my own accord.
In AP US Government, we watched a video on another controversial case, this time about a guy who ran away for years for two charges of rape, because he said he hadn't done them and he "knew" he was innocent. I guess it's one of those inherent, "Why would he run if he weren't guilty?" Peter Pettigrew-type things, but then, at the same time, hey, Sirius Black was on the run, too, and he wasn't guilty.
Lol, I should make my own American Justice mockery series about the cases of Lily and James Potter's murder (Sirius or Peter or Remus???), or the Longbottom torture case (Bartemius, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan), or the disappearance of Bartemius Crouch, Jr. (lol, talk about a long and drawn-out case-- and it also involved the parents hiding him, rather like that Alex Kelly fellow we watched about today), or perhaps even the murder of Regulus Black, which we know nothing about, really, except potential suspects, lol . . . (personally, I think it was Bellatrix. After all, she is the fraternicide type, as we have seen . . . and that certainly would piss her off, her close family member backing out of her pet organization . . . her score for fratricide would be 100%! Lol . . . well, not fratricide, really . . . cousin-icide . . . whatever that is . . . ).
I was channeling Ermengarde at lunch today. I was so whiney and out of it, Amanda almost choked me, which really didn't help. I just felt like absolute sh*t, and I had to release that tension somehow.
Then, stuff got crappy in my day. I actually got my period (thank goodness, I thought, so naively, thinking it would be over soon, now), yet it was like all of those thunderstorms we'd been having recently: all suspense with no catharsis. (Earmuffs, Robert!) I had all this cramping and bloating, but the minimal coming out. In Sociology, I couldn't sit still at all. So Mrs. Velkoff let me go down to the nurse, as soon as I asked, because she knew that she could tell that there was something wrong.
At first, I just wanted to lie down with the hot pad, and I did that for a while, but then I felt as if I were going to throw up. I told Mrs. Freve that, and she let me call home, and told me to try driving to get home myself, but, if I couldn't, to come back. I had to do that, because the hot sickliness of my car just made me feel sick and faint. I came in, called Mom again, and, as I waited by the front door, felt completely and totally sick, and ran for the bathroom by the cafeteria. This nice lady followed me in, and handed me some wet paper towels in the stall, and told me she'd wait for my mom for me out front and come and get me then.
Mom eventually showed up, and I felt really, really sick. So, as we were walking out, and once we were outside, I said I had to throw up, and she goes, "trash can!" and she ripped the lid off the one in front (you're welcome, guys . . . ), and I stood over it for a second, and then just let it go. I vomited once on some watermelon-flavored sport drink pouch. I remember it, because it was all I could see as I vomited.
We drove home. I felt like I was in labor the whole way, moaning and sticking my legs up on the seat. Hey, it's been about 9 months from my Jesus dream . . . for a moment, in painful, headachey thought, I wondered if God had changed his mind and I was going to give birth to Him right in the car.
. . . but no, He still doesn't like me . . .
So Mom gave me some Hydocodone (or whatever it's called . . . generic Vicadin saved from back when I had my appendix surgery, lol . . . thank goodness we still have it, and I hadn't bothered to give it to Nichole, lol . . . ) we still have lying around from somewhere, put a trash can next to my bed, in case I had to vomit, heated up a hot pad for me, and then I went to sleep. For a while, though, I was just loopy on the Vicadin-like stuff, babbling in a 4-year-old-child-like voice about God and Victorian children and dying, sounding an awful lot like Roderick von Brandt from Tiffany's, Jessica's, and my story (I think I may actually have to use that in there, lol . . . ).
I was knocked out for about 4 hours, and, so, natually, I feel quite jet-lagged now. It does not feel like 9:30 AT ALL. I still have to take a shower and get to bed, a little later than I usually would.
I feel much better now, anyway, thankfully. I was able to eat dinner (Sloppy Joes-- mmm ^_^ lol . . . though only a little bit, actually . . . ), and some popcorn cakes (good for everything, of course!), and I talked to Tiffany for a while (turns out the Improv show is the same night of her Spring Sing . . . we were both going to go see one another but now we CAN'T, damn it . . . grr . . . ). I finally got it all out of me. (Earmuffs, Robert!!!) I had huge chunks of uterine lining in my pad when I woke up-- like, seriously bigger chunks than the last time I had the period from Hell. Seriously, these were about as big as my fist. OUCH!!!
I'm glad that's out of me, at any rate. Now I can just move on with the usual menstrual cycle: A little b*tchy, a little sore, a little cramped, a little bloated-- though albeit a bit weaker and more sensitive in that region than usual.
Honestly, the last time I threw up from absolute pain was back during my appendix incident. That takes a lot to get me to do that.
My dad and I just had a rather one-sided discussion about religion. He likes to make fun of my opinions. He just does that because he's a lawyer, I guess, lol . . . he also revealed to me that he is the type that is nitpicky and argues about stupid points and definitions, rather than the sincere philosophical topic itself. Gaa . . . I hate it when people argue like that!
I finished that Psychology project with the ranking of myself and then comparing the rankings of others. Tiffany, Alice, and Mom think I am more stubborn, more affectionate, and less prone to giving compliments than I do. Mom also thinks I am more easily embarrassed than I am (she says that I just can't tell when I'm embarrassed . . . ???), and Tiffany thought I was much more easily bored, based really only on the fact that when I'm ignored at her house I tell her I'm bored, even though it really just means that I want attention (because I do want that . . . when I want to be social, I want to be social-- if she'd give me access to stuff in her house, though it'd be rude, I'd be perfectly able to occupy myself . . . it's just that when I'm there to see Tiffany, I'm there to see Tiffany, not occupy myself!!!), and also she says my memory is worse than I (and everyone else) think it is, though she can't provide any proof to back it up, lol . . .
Well, I ought to go off and take my shower and attempt to get some semblance of a normal night's sleep.
It was normal at first (well, as normal as recently has been, what the phantom period and all . . . )-- though I didn't like in Psychology the added extra stress of that meant-to-be-stressful rubber band activity. She put a rubber band between our thumb and our pinky, crossed over the back (you try it!!!), and on our non-writing hand. We then had to try to get it off. It was ridiculously hard.
That may actually have been the straw that broke the camel's back, lol . . .
In English we now have a report due on Monday. I am doing it on Rudyard Kipling. We have to have a brief biography and then analyze one of his poems. Mom suggested "If" in mockery, the "classic coming-of-age poem." "Take Up the White Man's Burden," would be easy to analyze, since it's all about imperialism and would connect back to his life very easily, and, well, I've always been fond of "The Female of the Species is More Deadly Than the Male" (it reminds me of Bellatrix, lol . . . ). He wrote about a million things, though, so I shouldn't have trouble finding something. He seems to have two major themes: Boys at boarding school (ahh, the classic setup there, lol . . . reminiscent of Harry Potter, only with speech a lot harder to understand than Rowling's across-all-boards British English-- and, obviously, no magic . . . or girls . . . ) and foreign countries (specifically India, but some Africa and Middle East, too . . . and this extends from the wilds of those countries to the political and religious practices of them . . . like the short story "The Village that Voted that the World was Flat" . . . I was like, "Elkhart!").
Then, in the research lab, Alice and Robert made fun of my favorite poem growing up (and then, at lunch, Kristina and Nichole and Amanda joined in, too!)! Everybody's just so dirty. It was written in 1830, for goodness's sake!
There's even a song that goes with it, which I never knew: http://www.kididdles.com/mouseum/i074.html
I love little pussy,
Her coat is so warm,
And if I don't hurt her,
She'll do me no harm;
So I'll not pull her tail
Nor drive her away,
But pussy and I
Very gently will play.
Then there are two more verses that I never knew about, and so I found them when I looked them up!
She shall sit by my side,
And I'll give her some food;
And she'll love me
Because I am gentle and good.
I'll pat little pussy
And then she will purr,
And thus show her my thanks
For my kindness to her.
I'll not pinch her ears,
Nor tread on her paw,
Lest I should provoke her
To use her sharp claw;
I never will vex her,
Nor make her displeased,
For pussy can't stand
To be worried or teased.
Yeah, if you found that dirty . . . YOU'RE dirty! That was my favorite poem when I was about four or five. It was the very first one I had ever had memorized, and I had done it completely of my own accord.
In AP US Government, we watched a video on another controversial case, this time about a guy who ran away for years for two charges of rape, because he said he hadn't done them and he "knew" he was innocent. I guess it's one of those inherent, "Why would he run if he weren't guilty?" Peter Pettigrew-type things, but then, at the same time, hey, Sirius Black was on the run, too, and he wasn't guilty.
Lol, I should make my own American Justice mockery series about the cases of Lily and James Potter's murder (Sirius or Peter or Remus???), or the Longbottom torture case (Bartemius, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan), or the disappearance of Bartemius Crouch, Jr. (lol, talk about a long and drawn-out case-- and it also involved the parents hiding him, rather like that Alex Kelly fellow we watched about today), or perhaps even the murder of Regulus Black, which we know nothing about, really, except potential suspects, lol . . . (personally, I think it was Bellatrix. After all, she is the fraternicide type, as we have seen . . . and that certainly would piss her off, her close family member backing out of her pet organization . . . her score for fratricide would be 100%! Lol . . . well, not fratricide, really . . . cousin-icide . . . whatever that is . . . ).
I was channeling Ermengarde at lunch today. I was so whiney and out of it, Amanda almost choked me, which really didn't help. I just felt like absolute sh*t, and I had to release that tension somehow.
Then, stuff got crappy in my day. I actually got my period (thank goodness, I thought, so naively, thinking it would be over soon, now), yet it was like all of those thunderstorms we'd been having recently: all suspense with no catharsis. (Earmuffs, Robert!) I had all this cramping and bloating, but the minimal coming out. In Sociology, I couldn't sit still at all. So Mrs. Velkoff let me go down to the nurse, as soon as I asked, because she knew that she could tell that there was something wrong.
At first, I just wanted to lie down with the hot pad, and I did that for a while, but then I felt as if I were going to throw up. I told Mrs. Freve that, and she let me call home, and told me to try driving to get home myself, but, if I couldn't, to come back. I had to do that, because the hot sickliness of my car just made me feel sick and faint. I came in, called Mom again, and, as I waited by the front door, felt completely and totally sick, and ran for the bathroom by the cafeteria. This nice lady followed me in, and handed me some wet paper towels in the stall, and told me she'd wait for my mom for me out front and come and get me then.
Mom eventually showed up, and I felt really, really sick. So, as we were walking out, and once we were outside, I said I had to throw up, and she goes, "trash can!" and she ripped the lid off the one in front (you're welcome, guys . . . ), and I stood over it for a second, and then just let it go. I vomited once on some watermelon-flavored sport drink pouch. I remember it, because it was all I could see as I vomited.
We drove home. I felt like I was in labor the whole way, moaning and sticking my legs up on the seat. Hey, it's been about 9 months from my Jesus dream . . . for a moment, in painful, headachey thought, I wondered if God had changed his mind and I was going to give birth to Him right in the car.
. . . but no, He still doesn't like me . . .
So Mom gave me some Hydocodone (or whatever it's called . . . generic Vicadin saved from back when I had my appendix surgery, lol . . . thank goodness we still have it, and I hadn't bothered to give it to Nichole, lol . . . ) we still have lying around from somewhere, put a trash can next to my bed, in case I had to vomit, heated up a hot pad for me, and then I went to sleep. For a while, though, I was just loopy on the Vicadin-like stuff, babbling in a 4-year-old-child-like voice about God and Victorian children and dying, sounding an awful lot like Roderick von Brandt from Tiffany's, Jessica's, and my story (I think I may actually have to use that in there, lol . . . ).
I was knocked out for about 4 hours, and, so, natually, I feel quite jet-lagged now. It does not feel like 9:30 AT ALL. I still have to take a shower and get to bed, a little later than I usually would.
I feel much better now, anyway, thankfully. I was able to eat dinner (Sloppy Joes-- mmm ^_^ lol . . . though only a little bit, actually . . . ), and some popcorn cakes (good for everything, of course!), and I talked to Tiffany for a while (turns out the Improv show is the same night of her Spring Sing . . . we were both going to go see one another but now we CAN'T, damn it . . . grr . . . ). I finally got it all out of me. (Earmuffs, Robert!!!) I had huge chunks of uterine lining in my pad when I woke up-- like, seriously bigger chunks than the last time I had the period from Hell. Seriously, these were about as big as my fist. OUCH!!!
I'm glad that's out of me, at any rate. Now I can just move on with the usual menstrual cycle: A little b*tchy, a little sore, a little cramped, a little bloated-- though albeit a bit weaker and more sensitive in that region than usual.
Honestly, the last time I threw up from absolute pain was back during my appendix incident. That takes a lot to get me to do that.
My dad and I just had a rather one-sided discussion about religion. He likes to make fun of my opinions. He just does that because he's a lawyer, I guess, lol . . . he also revealed to me that he is the type that is nitpicky and argues about stupid points and definitions, rather than the sincere philosophical topic itself. Gaa . . . I hate it when people argue like that!
I finished that Psychology project with the ranking of myself and then comparing the rankings of others. Tiffany, Alice, and Mom think I am more stubborn, more affectionate, and less prone to giving compliments than I do. Mom also thinks I am more easily embarrassed than I am (she says that I just can't tell when I'm embarrassed . . . ???), and Tiffany thought I was much more easily bored, based really only on the fact that when I'm ignored at her house I tell her I'm bored, even though it really just means that I want attention (because I do want that . . . when I want to be social, I want to be social-- if she'd give me access to stuff in her house, though it'd be rude, I'd be perfectly able to occupy myself . . . it's just that when I'm there to see Tiffany, I'm there to see Tiffany, not occupy myself!!!), and also she says my memory is worse than I (and everyone else) think it is, though she can't provide any proof to back it up, lol . . .
Well, I ought to go off and take my shower and attempt to get some semblance of a normal night's sleep.
