I went to Research Methods, drove through the rain and sleet to get there, and the professor didn't bother to show up. Nor did she bother to e-mail us and let us know she wouldn't be there, as she promised she'd do on the first day of class. And she had the department assistant take up our assignments and had her tell us to work on the next two chapters together as a class and turn it in before we left. We all refused. No way were any of us going to work on problems for a chapters that haven't even been taught to us yet.

So the up side of this is that we were all able to have a powwow, and we're all in the same boat with this professor. So we've decided to mutiny. On Monday we're going to tell her as a class that if she doesn't slow the pace and start making sure that we actually understand the material, we're all going to the dean. And if that doesn't work, at least two of us, including me, will be forced to drop the class. Two people have already dropped it; that means she'll lose more than half of her class, which can't be a good reflection on her.

So I'm starting to feel a bit better about things. We have a good leg to stand on, because this same class is being taught by another professor, and he reviewed her syllabus and said that her pace was ridiculous and that there is no way any of us could expect to get out of there with better than a C. And we're all A & B students.

Grr. Arrg.

Oh. Speaking of Grr Arrg, I did make time for last night's Buffy (that's my regular weekly happy place, and I refuse to give it up). <SPOILERS>Everybody's talking about the brief sex scene, saying how bored Buffy looked with the whole thing. Here's my take on it: the point of that scene was that Buffy was feeling so depressed and dejected about her job that not even sex with Spike -- which she's come to rely on as her regular happy place -- could make her feel better. I think the look on her face at the end was her realization that if he can't break through her stupor and make her feel better, then nothing can, and she's screwed (figuratively, and no pun intended). I think it was much more a statement about how much her life sucks right now than about her relationship with Spike.</SPOILERS>

I cannot wait for next week's episode. Well, I can because I have to, don't I? But I'll be ancy about it all week until it gets here. Sweeps month! Yay!

I'm still behind on e-mail. And I still haven't written up my adventures in the ED class last Friday. I'm sorry. Apparently all of my non-class time is meant to be devoted to working out statistics problems. Because that's all I do anymore. And I'm not understanding any of it, and I'm so stressed over this class that my menstrual cycle is out of whack. That, my friends, is pretty seriously stressed. So please forgive me for not answering your e-mail.

I want this:



And I totally want this:






Except, I'd have to swap out Spike and Angel, and make Spike & Buffy the King & Queen on the Scooby side and make Angelus & Darla the King & Queen on the Evil side. And I take exception to the fact that Oz gets to be a knight, but Xander is a pawn. Though Xander has been quite the tool lately, so maybe that is pretty apt, after all.

Anyway. You can find both of those (and more!) here.

From a spam mail I just got:

"Do YOU need help or know somebody who needs help
with any of the following addictions?

alcoholism
drug addiction
smoking
ADHD (attention deficit Hyper disorder)
sugar or carbohydrate bingeing
PreMenstrual Syndrome,(PMS)"

Why, yes! Please, oh please help me. I just can't get enough of the irritability and the bloating and the moodiness that comes with PMS. I lie curled up in a twitchy ball for weeks at a time waiting for it to come back and feed my addiction. And the shame of my addiction to ADD is just too much to bear.

Putz.

Today was fun. The kids were a blast. I have to keep a journal of my time spent in the classroom for my clinical psych class, and I'll probably post it online in some form, probably right here. I haven't written up today's entry yet. I need to go eat something first.

This semester is indeed kicking my ass. I'm having to do without a lot of sleep in order to get all my stuff done, and even then it's down to the wire. Yeah, I know, wah, but going without sleep was so much easier when I was 19 than it is now. Last night I went to bed at 9:30, fell right to sleep, and slept until 9:00 this morning. I felt better today than I have all week. It was nice.

After class yesterday I went out to little sis's house. My mom was already there checking out her new furniture. We hung out for a couple of hours. That was also nice. Little sis is so pleasant to be around now that she's a grown-up. Well, an adult, at any rate. But for two hours I just sat and chatted and drank iced tea and looked at magazines. In other words, I relaxed. Been a while since I got to do that. Even over Christmas break I was too busy trying to get all my personal and non-school stuff done to take any time to really relax, except on Christmas day. And even then I worked on a story. Coming up mid-February is "The Thrilla in Nashvilla," a.k.a. DL3 Con, and I'll get to go to my friend Edith's house and spend the whole weekend shooting the breeze and watching videos and hashing out plotlines with the DL crew. Well, some of them, anyway. Not all of them can make it, sadly. But regardless of whether we get anything done, I'm just really looking forward to the break. I think the road trip alone will be cathartic.

Provided I don't spend it thinking too much, that is. Driving out to my sister's yesterday, I started thinking about how I'll be 35 by the time I finish grad school, and how I'd just learned that afternoon all about how that's the age your risk of having a retarded baby doubles, and I realized that's only 6 years away, and I am so woefully single and the chances of me having a baby before I'm 35 are pretty much nil. And I'm not even sure I ever want to have a baby. I don't think I'd be a good parent. I can't even clean my catbox out in a timely fashion, and my apartment is a pit. I'm going to be 29 in less than 3 months and I can't even keep my apartment clean. How could I even consider subjecting a child to me? Or a husband, for that matter. And considering I'm not dating anybody, and haven't dated anybody in a very, very long time, I really think this isn't something I need to worry about.

Then I started thinking about how I need to get the hell out of this state. Oklahoma is probably the worst state in which to be single. I've got statistics to back me up on this. Well, I don't have them right here with me. Anyway, I think that when I get my BA I need to run as far and as fast away from this youth-sucking state as I can, which means I probably won't end up going to UCO, where they're offering tuition wavers for their school psychology program (did I mention? I think I've decided to be a school psychologist. It's the working schedule that swayed me, it would leave me with time to write) for people who sign agreements to work in Oklahoma for at least 3 years after they graduate. So on the one hand I think it would be idiotic to pass up free tuition to grad school, but on the other hand that means I would be trapped here for the next 9 years, putting me too damn close to 40 when I finally manage to flee.

*SIGH*

So I think I'll be shopping around soon for some good out of state grad school programs. On the up side, thanks to the wonder of the Internet and Buffy fandom, I've got friends all over the country, so there are plenty of places I can go and still have at least one friend nearby. That's comforting.

In other news, if you share my insane love for Spike & Buffy, I've got a Yahoo group for you: The Clubhouse, for speculation about the 'ship and Spike's apparent road to redemption. The other mods and I are doing our best to keep it spoiler free.

Oh! I'm going to see Disney's Aida tomorrow. It looks like a great musical, but I fear the Disneyfied ending. Because you just know a Disney production isn't going to end with the lovers being buried alive. Probably after that I'll see The Count of Monte Cristo, because, Jim Caviezle (sp?) and Guy Pierce: Two great tastes that taste great together.

Kitties!

Smoochies!

I start helping out at my sister's classroom today. Should leave me with some stories to tell.

I haven't answered e-mail in about a week. I'm going to try to get that done tonight. A more detailed update is on its way as well.

I want!

Ho. Hum. All of my cash was stolen out of my purse. Tra la la.

It had to've happened right before my Perspectives class yesterday when I stupidly left my purse in my chair while I went to the restroom. I think I only had around $5 in there, so it wouldn't be that big a deal (other than the whole personal violation and theft aspect of it), except that I'm, y'know, unemployed, and I was working to make that $5 stretch as far as possible, because I don't have any more money coming in.

*SIGH*

Let this be a lesson, ladies. Always take your purse into the bathroom with you. But you probably knew that already, because you're not stupid.

And now I make an offer. I'm still giving away DL Soundtrack CDs to everyone who donates $20 or more to help me pay all my Internet & server fees and what have you. If you're interested, check out the Donate page for details.

I was so, so wrong about my Clinical Psych class being as easy as last semester's Abnormal Psych. Apparently, the prof saved the entire workload for this semester. Also, he's requiring us to do at least 1 hour a week of volunteer work in the mental health field, for which we have to keep a journal. So I'll be helping out in my big sister's classroom on Fridays. Don't know if I've mentioned before, but she teaches "Emotionally Disturbed," elementary age. Some of her students are autistic, so that should be fun.

Child psychology doesn't look to be too difficult, and the term project actually looks fun. We have to do a comparative study of two children in different stages of development. Unfortunately all my nephews are in the adolescent stage, so I have to find a little kid to study and compare with one of them.

I already have 3 papers due next week, two of them for Clinical psych. So I guess I'll be spending this particular Friday at the library doing research. Whee.

This semester's gonna kick my ass.

It started badly. My first class was scheduled to be in a building that I didn't even know existed until last week. I found the building okay, but then had to wander for a while before I found the classroom, but when I did the door was locked and nobody else was trying to get in, so right there I wasn't too confident that I was in the right place. But while I was re-checking my schedule to make sure I had the building and room number right, another guy showed up for the same class, so I figured that if I was in the wrong place, at least I wasn't the only one. That made things better. I left him to go hunt down a pop machine, and found another entrance into the classroom, this one unlocked and wide open, with people inside. My confidence increased. I went to get the guy and tell him about the other door, and we both made it into the classroom. It was a small auditorium, with a closed circuit video set up. The class was supposed to be broadcast from one of the other campuses.

So there were four of us, waiting for the class to start. 20 minutes after time -- because apparently we were all either too goody-goody or too scared to take advantage of the 15 minute rule and just leave -- one of my classmates went to find a phone and call the Social Science department and find out why the hell our professor hadn't shown up yet. The woman whose phone she asked to borrow then said, oh yeah, she'd received an e-mail saying that our class was now going to be taught in person and as such had been moved to a different building, and she forgot to post a sign on the door. Dumbass. So anyway, I made it to my first class of the semester more than half an hour late, but at least I was in good company. On the upside, now all of my classes are in the same building again, and I'll have personal contact with the prof, which is good, because we'll be covering statistics (the class is Research Methods 2, by the way) and I'll need all the help I can get. It looks like it's going to be so very hard.

As does my Perspectives on Human Behavior class, in which I already have to write a two page report over the first chapter of our first book for this Wednesday. The syllabus shows a chapter report due on just about every day the class meets, and I swear I had to fight from putting my head down on my desk and crying. I got through last semester, and did quite well, by catching up on the reading when I had time for it. Sometimes it meant I had to lock myself up in a room for 36-hour marathon reading sessions, but still, it got me good grades, and allowed me to get my other stuff done. If I'm forced to spend a couple of hours reading the material every single night, I'll never get anything else done, ever, and I'll be one distressed little writer. But much to my relief the prof explained that the reports would be divided up among the class and we would each only be responsible for 2 short reports per book. Thank God. I'm not quite sure what to make of this professor, by the way. He was wearing a lumberjack shirt, which is unusual enough for a university professor, and he had a big belt buckle which I first thought said "Jesus Christ," and I wasn't sure whether it was a declaration of his Christianity or if it was a sign that he had a serious God-complex (seeing as so many men in these parts like to wear their names on their belt buckles); but then I got a better look at it and saw that it said "Jesus First," so I'm figuring it's the former. Which is good. But he tends to ramble, and he doesn't use powerpoint or any other visual aids, and the class is at 4 p.m. which is just not a good time of day for me to pay much attention to anything, and I kept zoning out. I'm thinking I'd better get some new batteries for my tape recorder for this class.

These are going to be my hardest two classes, I'm certain. I have a feeling they may very well be the most difficult classes of my entire undergrad career. So it should be an interesting semester. Tomorrow I'll have both of my psych classes, Clinical and Child psych. The Clinical psych class is the follow-up to Abnormal Psych, and I'll have the same professor, so I'm expecting -- nee, counting on -- it to be just as easy as last semester. And the Child Psychology class should be pretty easy to get through too, just because of the fact that I'll actually be fascinated by the subject matter. God, I hope I'm right and they're both easy enough to balance out the two classes I had today.

~~~

In other news ... hey, that David Boreanaz just keeps getting better at the acting thing, don't he? <SPOILERS>He played a very convincing crazy person. I was impressed. And, Angel luuuuuurves Cordy. Hee! Angel & Cordy, sittin' in a tree, gettin' crowded off the branch by Spike & Buffy! Hee! Oh, I just remembered that they kissed! I have to head over to the insane "Buffy & Angel 4-Eva!" forums to see if any of the B/A 'shippers' heads exploded. And again I say, Hee!</SPOILERS>

Wah! It's Sunday, and I have to go to school tomorrow!

Obviously, I'm not going to get any Harry Potter read before I head back. It's not looking like I'm going to get my apartment clean, either. Eh.

I just found the URL to the blog of one of the most ridiculously mockable people I have ever come across on the Internet (we won't name names, but it rhymes with Darah P.), but alas, I'm too chicken to post it. 'Cause then she'll say something scathing and non-witty about me in her blog, and then her "fans" might flame me, and it's just not worth it. Actually, that could be fun, if I had time to post the flame mail and mock it publicly, but I don't, what with school starting back up tomorrow. So I'll show some restraint. For now.

Which Kevin Smith movie characters am I?

You know all and see all, but that doesn't prevent you from having a child-like innocence and a playful sense of humor. You obviously think very highly of yourself, but that's okay, everyone does. Told ya God was a woman!!

Take The "Which Kevin Smith Female Are You?" Quiz!!

Your friends would describe you as a true blue pal, but sometimes you just don't know when to let things go. You have a few problems when it comes to letting your true feelings out into the open, and that can cause permanent hardships for you. Other than that, you're a great person to be around. Your jokes are crude, you have a big porn collection, what more could anyone ask for?

Take The "Which Kevin Smith Male Are You?" Quiz!!

Not sure about the first one, but that last one's fairly accurate. Except for the part about the porn.

"We're brilliant! We rock!
The sex scenes are too hot!
You love 'em, they die!
We love to make you cry!
True scoobies, great plots,
It's everything most fic's not!
We're witty! We're cool!
We aren't just 'shippy fools!
Who are we? Just guess!
Our fanfic is the best!
We all beta! and write!
That's why the arc's so tight!
We write battles
For mobs
Joss ought to give us jobs!
More smoochies! More gore!
It's what our fans adore!
Assembled
By Jean!
We're a fic writing machine!

Hate us 'cause we're literate?
Well we don't like you either!
DL Writers! We're DL WRITERS!!!"

Hee! I love georgevna.

Mighty Big TV » The X-Files » Recaps & Extras » Season 9 Episode 6 -- This pretty much sums up how I felt about it. Feh.

Last Exit - I keep meaning (and forgetting) to blog this. This is Nephew #1's band (he's the tall, surly-looking one in the photo. Isn't he cute?), of which he is the lead singer. They're really quite good. Unfortunately, the quality of the mp3s they have up is terrible. As such, for a limited time (from now until I need the server space for something else), I'm happy to share better copies with you. Check out Angel Walk and Run. I'm pretty sure Stacie wrote both of them. 'Cause he's talented like that.

In other news, I'm currently reading the only Chris Moore novel I'd yet to read: Island of the Sequined Love Nun. It's funny. Chris Moore writes what Terry Pratchet or Douglas Adams might have written if they'd grown up in California instead of the UK. As soon as I finish this I'm going to start in on the Harry Potter series. My friends from DL were kind enough to pitch in and get me the entire set for Christmas, I really want to get through at least the first volume this week. I'm trying to get in as much leisure reading as I can before school starts again.

Speaking of which, I have to go buy my books this week. But first I have to figure out what I've done with this semester's schedule, because without it I have no idea what specific classes I'm taking, which is always good info to have when you go to buy your books.

Tomorrow, I swear, I'm going to clean the apartment. Maybe saying so on here will make it happen.

The other day I was watching an old episode of Buffy, and it was a scene with Giles & Willow. Giles's head looked huge compared to Willow's, and I thought to myself, "Whoa, Giles has a big head. Hmm. I guess that's why he's played by Tony Head." And then I cracked up so hard I scared my dog.

I make my own fun.

New design! Whee! I think this more than makes up for the simplicity of the last one. You have to update your bookmarks now. Sorry about that.

My body is punishing me for not being pregnant. I'm having some of the worst cramps I've ever had in my whole entire life. They actually woke me up, they hurt so bad, and I can sleep through just about anything. Right now I loathe my reproductive system. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I have it, 'cause I might want to use it some day. I just wish it would quiet down and wait patiently for that day to come.

Ow! Ow ow ow!

Happy New Year!

This is from a story I started at the beginning of last year but never got around to finishing:

The giant oak that stood in the middle of Spring Hollow's one and only city park began to turn, it's ruddy yellow leaves signaling to observant citizens the official start of autumn. For reasons that no one had ever even thought to try and explain, the giant oak was always the last tree to turn, and it had an uncanny way of starting to change year after year exactly on the day of the autumnal equinox.

The town's newer and younger residents had yet to take note of this phenomenon, while the older citizens simply accepted it, the way that they accepted that funny ache in the joints that always heralded rain. Given a chance, the more superstitious among them might tell anyone with the patience to listen the tales that were passed to them by their elders, of a time before the town stood, when the mountain folk would come down each year, from the Ozarks in the West and Appalachia in the East, to meet at the spring from which the town got its name and trade their wares. They traded with local villagers and with each other, for the items necessary to make it through the harsh mountain winters. It was said that an old woman, whom some might call a witch, came down from Knob Hill in the west and planted the tree beside the spring, and charged it with the task of signaling to travelers when the time of the trade meetings grew near.

Whether or not this tale is true, the fact remains that year after year, for as long as anyone can remember, a week to the day after the giant oak begins to change, artists and craftsmen from the mountains arrive in town and set up their wares in thee park around the great tree, intent on making small fortunes by overcharging tourists who've grown bored with the mass appeal of Pottery Barn and are ready to shell out ridiculous amounts for an Authentic Handmade Original.

In the 1950s, a stage was erected on the north end of the park for local bluegrass bands, and some of the townspeople began setting up booths to sell chili and baked goods. The following year, the mayor officially declared the gathering The Annual Spring Hollow Bluegrass Festival. Word began to spread, and the festival continued to grow. These days, for one week a year, the Spring Hollow Chamber of Commerce can count on seeing the kind of tourist traffic that Branson sees every day of the year.

The place of honor at the foot of the tree had, for the last fifty years or so, belonged to Sadie Mackenzie, doll-maker extraordinaire, and alleged great granddaughter of the one who planted the tree. She had inherited the spot front her grandmother, all the better to enchant pretty young girls with her incomparable creations. It was said that Sadie's dolls held places of honor in the nurseries and playrooms of royal palaces throughout the world. They were things of exquisite beauty, alarmingly life-like both to the eye and to the touch. How she made them was a closely guarded secret, passed down through the women in her family for generations.

It should come as no surprise, then, that on opening day of the festival, it was in front of Sadie's booth that Clarissa Henson, age six, decided to throw the first of the many tantrums that would be thrown in front of Sadie's booth by eager little girls over the coming week.