March 9th, 2004

I love my hand!

(no subject)

Tonight I went to the Aliki Barnstone reading (that's such a cool name), then to the afterparty at the Bakkens'. Nesset gave some of us a ride. I mean, that was a nice gesture, but it creeps me out to think that I've been in the backseat of his car. And I just stood around watching people for most of the party, feeling shy and short. Ah well. By the bye, thanks Jenn. *grins* Then we squished into Nick's car on the way back, and of all the songs he could have played, "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" by Gordon Lightfoot came on. That's the song you can sing the words of any other song to. My dad and I would do that while driving to and from Pittsburgh back when I was taking art classes at CMU in high school. And Gordon Lightfoot always reminds me of the 6 1/2 years I was an only child, and my dad would make pancakes on Sunday mornings. Jeez, Nick's car music always makes me nostalgic. He also has old Raffi tapes in his car, and Raffi was THE music of my life up until I was 6 or 7.

The internet was being retarded, so I wrote the rest many hours ago:

Jeez, the internet is slow today. And not working half the time. Oh well.

I have an idea based partially on the comments from my last entry. I originally got this idea back when I was 14 or so. I think that started when I tried on some of Megan's clothes - now THAT was an interesting experience... her clothes were huge on me, so I kept tripping over them, and I won't even get into how big her shoes were... Megan, if you're reading this, I hope you're laughing. We're mismatched bookends. Anyway, someone needs to come up with a better clothing sizing system. And then designers need to start making clothing for people of various sizes.

Why are most clothes designed to fit a generic body? Very few people have all the "average" measurements. Take me for example. I'm around 4 foot 9, 135-140 pounds (which is actually pretty heavy for someone my height), and my measurements are... well, I don't really know them, but they lean toward the large side, and they're certainly not 36-24-36 (and I'm not 5'3" either). I usually just wear large or extra-large shirts (I like my shirts loose) and size 14-or-so pants. My mom hems about 9 inches off my pants whenever I buy new ones. A lot of people think I must wear kid sizes because I'm so short. But I'm not tiny everywhere. I'm pudgy and have "good breeding hips" (yes, a random SCA merchant told me that once, and I almost smacked him with my Gatorade bottle even though there was a row of daggers between us). Therefore, kid sizes don't fit me. Well, kids shoes fit me, but I have wide feet, so I have to wear either wider girls shoes or boys shoes. Yep, size 2, baby! At least I never have trouble buying socks. I just wish my sister would stop buying me the cutesy girly socks at Limited Too... I mean, I like cutesy things, but right now my sock collection makes me look like a 6-year-old with an affinity for monkeys and frogs. Well, I like monkeys and frogs, I just don't need several pairs of sparkly, girly ankle socks. I hate ankle socks. My ankles like to stay warm, thankyouverymuch.

Ok, I am insane. Anyway, designers should keep "people of diverse sizes" in mind. And I still find it incredibly amusing that Nick's pants fit me perfectly around the hips despite being about a foot and a half too long.

I'm really sick of wasting time in this lab because the fucking internet won't work for several minutes at a time. Grrrr!
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    hungry hungry
I'm a dorkety dork dork

(no subject)

Got a 46/60 on my abnormal exam, which is a C but 6.66etc.% better than my last score. Maybe if I actually read the chapters I can kick my grade up to a B by the end of the semester. And I love Prof. Heuchert's accent. I listen to him just to hear him talk. Accents rock.

I find it amusing that I have so many tall friends. Soooo many tall friends. And then when I stand near them I feel so tiny, yet so... safe. But I adore my smaller friends too, even though most of them are still taller than me. If I had a valid medical reason for my vertical deficiency, I'd join the LPA. I'm short enough. But I don't know why. I say I must have had a growth hormone deficiency, but doctors did tests and stuff and found nothing. My "growth spurt" was a whopping 3 inches in 7th grade, and my feet grew 2 sizes. So I'm just little. But I'm damn cute, so there. Ha!

And this is touching.

Argh. It seems like more and more of my friends are going on antidepressants, particularly Lexapro. I mean, it's good that they're getting treatment for depression and anxiety and stuff, but medication just seems to be a quick fix. I hated being on medication, that's why I stopped taking the Lexapro and refused to take anything else. Paxil made me into a zombie. I didn't write for a month when I was taking it, because that "spark" was gone. My uncle had a heart attack and I didn't care. I watched Lilo and Stitch without feeling any emotion. Lexapro was better, it stopped the random episodes of depression, but it cleared my head and regulated the chaotic thoughts. It was really weird. I can't deal with ordered thinking, I need the chaos. And it didn't do anything for the social anxiety, which was supposedly the main reason I was taking it. So I stopped. Plus, I'm really bad about taking pills, so I'd get lazy and forget all the time. But now so many of my friends are on Lexapro, and it makes me wonder what's going on. Why are we supposed to just take a pill and make it better? How about working with what's making us depressed in the first place?

On the other hand, I got a pill bottle that's perfect for holding my dice, and I seem to roll better when I use it. *shrugs* So I guess there's some good in that. Heh.
  • Current Mood
    okay okay
I love my hand!

(no subject)

Okay... so today, before the Argo meeting, Deltron asked how much of a writer one would have to be to live in the writers' house. Instead of jumping up and strangling him, I told him about the unofficial rule I decided to set. I mean, Deltron is my friend, but I don't want non-writers living in the house. And a week or so ago, Good Tom asked if there was space. For the record, it's the writers' house, not the Argo house, even if most of the people in the writers' house next year are in Argo.

I also feel kinda weird about being the only girl in the house next year, but at least that guarantees that I'll get my own room. Having a male roommate would just be way too freaky. But since there are apparently more than 5 of us in the house next year, the boys can figure out who will be roommates. And I'll probably get the room downstairs and the upstairs can be the "boys floor." Just the opposite of the way it is this year. Ha. THEY can get the sink of eternal clogging and the toilet of eternal running! But I like the room I have now! Hmmm... well, we'll eventually work stuff out. But those who are comping and/or plan on "getting action" should have the singles next year.

Methinks I'll go home and get stuff done. Yay.
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    confused confused