But A Modern Day Femme Fatale

I haven’t updated this is months. I’m not quite sure where to begin. I’m a week away from finishing classes for my freshman year of college, complete with a final design review to do and press releases to write. So much has happened that trying to logically sort it out is seeming a bit like a herculean task at the moment (or that might be the migraine talking. I’m not sure.) We’re t-minus three weeks to moving, so that’s a head trip in and of itself.

in any case, hello (again) world.

• The english class I was dreading is turning out to be pretty amazing, courtesy of the teacher. I realized when she walked in the first day with dreds and star earrings that things were probably going to be fine, a suspicion confirmed when she announced the class was about the rhetoric of cultural fearmongering and put “The Wasteland” on the syllabus.
• Markus Zusak is coming to Penn State! The man responsible for one of my three favorite books of all time is coming to Penn State! I MAY DIE OF HAPPINESS.
• I’ve ended up in a engineering design class. Two of them. The only problem? I am not an engineer. I am nowhere near an engineer. For context, though, the class is really part of the core team working on the Mashavu telecom health project in Kenya. I got brought on to handle media piece. But still, what the hell, I am not qualified to be an engineer.
• My film professor understands my love for Conrad Hall’s cinematography!
• I have reached new levels of unquestionably geeky,
• You know you’re in an engineering class when the professor finishes with “Questions, comments, expletives?”

Because lists are fun.

• I am really really not cut out for writing any kind of academic paper.
• Yes, this means I am screwed for my Schreyer’s thesis.
• Riots give me a sense of invincibility.
• I am really, really not cut out for political science.
• I’m at school for the piece of paper that says I went to school, the film and art classes, and the swing dancing. I am not there for the straight academics.
• I don’t want to work as a staff journalist for a newspaper. Ever. Freelance or bust, baby.
• Yes, I do realize that’s going to be a problem.
• Dorm life and I do not get along. Shared bathrooms? Yuck!
• It ain’t what you do, it’s the way that you do it.

Dear State Theatre-

WHY CAN I ONLY FIND YOUR VOLUNTEER APPLICATION?

Dear Uncle Eli’s-

WHY DO YOU NOT NEED SALES HELP?

Sincerely-

Broke, and yet dying to see “Sleep No More” and stalk Lady Macbeth

you are darkturquoise
#00CED1
Your dominant hues are green and blue. You’re smart and you know it, and want to use your power to help people and relate to others. Even though you tend to battle with yourself, you solve other people’s conflicts well.

Your saturation level is very high - you are all about getting things done. The world may think you work too hard but you have a lot to show for it, and it keeps you going. You shouldn’t be afraid to lead people, because if you’re doing it, it’ll be done right.

Your outlook on life is brighter than most people’s. You like the idea of influencing things for the better and find hope in situations where others might give up. You’re not exactly a bouncy sunshine but things in your world generally look up.
the spacefem.com html color quiz

Dear comparative politics-

Please go away. I can’t have you eating my life like this. I have better things to focus on … like the internet at large. Seriously. I know you’re sort of a major part of my day tomorrow, but enough is enough already.

-Me.

So, I had a really sort of huge flare up this week. It started Monday, and was so bad, dad ended up coming out from New York because I couldn’t actually do things like walk to get food/move/etc. He was here until Wednesday when he left to go home in the snow (charming weather we’ve had here). I was mostly okay for Thursday; sore, yes, but I was at least able to function like a human being.

And then it flared right back up. Basically, a group of eight people got stuck taking care of me when the pain got to the point that I was almost cutting my own hands open with my nails from squeezing so hard. it also involved a conversation that went along the lines of:

“You shouldn’t be able to *walk*. How did you get here?”
“Force of will.”

and

“I’m going to kill you for this.”
“Honey, at this point, that’s a mercy kill.”

This gets particularly interesting when we went to the local McDonald’s after. When I tell you that stairs have never been so scary, and that I have never been so grateful to have had people on either side of me, I mean it. We ended up getting the freight elevator downstairs, sticking me in the handicapped seat, and staying there for a good long while. On the way back to my dorm, I had to actually be carried up stairs.

Seriously. Thank you to the people who spent last night holding my hand, half-carrying me, actually carrying me, and who still have not written me off.