Monthly Archives: March 2008

Good News. Bad News.

Written by serene. Filed under Nerdy, Whining. 6 Comments.

The Good News:

I got a 3.9 this quarter! It’s the best GPA I’ve ever had. I’m pretty proud of myself, and glad I sacrificed all those nights. I would’ve been pissed if I had no social life in exchange for mediocre grades.

And – I got into the Denmark program!

The Bad News:

I think I’m going to have to bail on the Denmark program. Between finances and trying to figure out what to do with Freckles, it seems like there are too many barriers. You may laugh, as some of my friends have, at the idea of my dog preventing me from going abroad for a couple of months. But when I asked my Grandpa if he would watch him not only did he say no (which in his defense, I understand), he suggested I have him put to sleep. There is NO WAY I’m doing that. That is cruel, selfish, and totally absurd.

The only thing that prevents me from emailing the director right now and telling her I can’t go is this little, tiny, practically squelched voice camping out in the back of my head. Her conversations go something like this:

 You are old. Your chances to do something cool like this are floating away as we stand here, having this ridiculous internal debate. Plus, don’t let money get in your way. You just have to have faith that you can get loans together. And there are probably scholarships out there for you – just get off your lazy ass and find them. And if worst comes to worst, sell your eggs. You don’t have any use for them anyway.

What do you kids think? Should I do it? Should I bail? Should I tie them in a bow?

Party like it’s 1994

Written by serene. Filed under Culture Club, I am a sap. 5 Comments.

Those last four minutes of My So-Called Life cut to my emotional core in such a quick and effective way that I’m often left dumbfounded in its wake. This probably explains why I’m up at 2 am, feeling compelled to write after spending my evening in warm pajamas covered under a blanket, drinking tea, and clumsily wiping tears from my eyes.

Watching this series is such a vivid flashback for me that it is borderline unhealthy. The show aired in 1994-1995, when I was fifteen. While I was nothing like the fictional fifteen year old Angela Chase, I still felt kinship and warmth for her character. My ability to watch the show critically was probably severely stunted by this age similarity. Well that, and the raging hormones. Either way, there was very real quality to her character, as well as the rest of the cast, that I associated with people in my life. The result of all this is a Pavlovian reaction to the starting credits. Instantly, I am fifteen again, laying on my stomach in my Grandpa’s living room on Pampas Drive, simultaneously feeling awkward and sentimental and wistful.

Publicly admitting how weepy it gets me also outs me as a closet romantic. I can’t help it, though I wish I could. This romanticism can be quite destructive – having a fictious idea of what a crush looks and feels like, a distorted idea of how love is displayed, a convoluted view of what people do when they like is each other is nothing but trouble. But it does feel good to get swept away in those moments, right? I figure as long as it doesn’t interfere with healthy relationships, it isn’t all that bad.

Beyond my sentimental garbage, the quality of My So-Called Life is nothing short of genius. The tackling of very real and relevant social issues, like homophobia, single-parenthood, and homelessness represent just one dimension of brilliance the show had. The superb casting and cinematography are further reasons why I can still watch these episodes and not feel shame for the fervor I felt for the show (much unlike my sad and lengthy obsession for Deee-lite).

So, go ahead, watch those four minutes. I dare you to not get misty.

It’s time to get ill

Written by serene. Filed under Culture Club. 3 Comments.

Between staving off a nasty chest cold and general malaise, I’m having a hard time studying for my final today. So, it’s time for a quick break! That, and I did this today on another blog and wasn’t happy with the songs that came up.

You know the drill. Hit shuffle on your mp3 player and let me know which 10 songs played. And no skipping because you are embarrassed about the track.

Here’s what mine looked like:

1. “Prayer” by Burial

2. “She Will Never Feel” by Andreas Tilliander

3. “Ketto” by Bonobo

4. “I Sent Off/Il Sus Per Coil (Jogger rmx) by Daedelus

5. “2:1″ by Elastica

6. “Dead to the World” by Jon Brion

7. “The Negatives” by Hood

8. “Last Flowers To The Hospital” by Radiohead

9. “The Scholars and The Travellers” by I am Robot and Proud

10. “Dead on Arrival” by Evol Intent

(p.s. Ro and Ludie – your mixes are in development stages and will be shipped next week)

Debbie Downer

Written by serene. Filed under Nerdy. 5 Comments.

On my bus ride home I was feeling really bad for myself. I found myself listlessly staring out the window, mulling over how great it would feel to bitch about my life. I was so far down this pity-party path that I even had a couple witty sentences constructed in my mind. I was going to get good and Debbie Downer on you all and explore the dark, dirty details of why my life sucks. (Don’t ask who Debbie Downer is, but ask what she listens to. The answer is a lot of Mogwai.)

Thankfully, I had a change of heart.

Why?

It’s National Geographic day – that sacred day once a month where I walk up to my mailbox full of glum and walk away drunk with anticipation of what I hold between my hands: The beautiful photographs! The exotic lands! The scientific facts!

My reaction is so strong that I often don’t make it to my door before ripping the poly wrapping off and reading the index with the same fervor one might hold for, say, pornography. This, my friends, is what being a science dork all my life has left me to – a magazine subscription to counter life’s woes.

I hope you all have something equally as visceral and uplifting in your life.

Visceral. Heh. *pushes glasses up nose*

Day From Hell

Written by serene. Filed under Whining. 7 Comments.

Or: How a small bag of peanuts ruined my day, for which I will be paying for many years from now.

My story of RBFPA (Really Bad Fucking Peanut Allergy) started around 12:30. I bought a bag of peanuts. I eat nuts all the time, as I am a vegetarian and need the good oils and proteins and all that. About 10 minutes after eating this bag of peanuts, my tongue felt like it was swelling. I thought nothing of it, because I really had no reason to think anything weird was going on as I eat them all the time. As I walked on to work I felt short of breath, but my stress level has been high and, well, I had other stuff on my mind. I didn’t get much better at work, and when I barely squeaked out a phone conversation from my tensing throat, I decided something was amiss. I read online about peanut allergies on WebMD.com and how they are treatable with anti-histamines. I wheezed my way over to the bookstore to buy some, and went back to work. This was around 2pm.

I started to feel better.

Around 4pm, things got really REALLY bad. I started wheezing again, and my throat started contracting. Someone walked by my desk and asked if I was okay, to which I answered with a shrug. He then commented that my face was swelling. So, I called the consulting nurse at school. She told me to hang up and call 911.

But, I don’t have health insurance. I decided I couldn’t do that. Let’s be real – I can barely afford my rent.

My boss called his wife, who also has a peanut allergy, and she instructed me to double my Benadryl dosage (so, after this I’ve taken 150 mg of Benadryl in 2 hours) and to get to the health clinic on campus. I tell my boss I will walk over there, but he insists that he and his wife will drive me over.

We get into the clinic, and I notice people are kind of panicking. I’m not really sure why, and feel like it’s a lot of overkill. I talk to the doctor and tell him what happened and what I’ve taken. He nods politely for a bit, and gives me the news: he won’t let me leave the clinic, he has called an ambulance, and I need to go to the hospital right away. They give me an epinephrine shot (which is adrenaline) to get my reaction to stop.

By the time the medics get there, I’m am TWEAKED out: I’m sleepy from the Benadryl, shaking from the ephinephine, and pissed off that I have to go to the hospital. Apparently this is mostly internal, as the medic gives the doctor a quizzical look and says I’m the most lucid peanut allergy they have ever seen. They start to make the obvious jokes about my name, and one of the medics tells me he thinks my shirt is cute.

By the time they wheel me out of the clinic, quite dramatically in the 5pm traffic and drizzling Seattle rain, I can’t feel my fingers and my heart is leaping out of my chest. I just stare at the ceiling of the ambulance, asking the flirty medic about all the gear hanging from above. It’s all I can do to keep my mind clear, because at this point I’m just scared and want to talk to someone other than these doctors who keep telling me how grave my situation is.

I get in to the ER (which, if you look at a campus map of UW, is maybe a mile away from the clinic), I talk to some nurses and the attending doctor and wait. And wait some more. The hospital tells me they can’t call Dylan (my emergency contact) because his number is from California. So I try to call Dylan from my phone, but can’t get any reception because I’m in ER room BFE and I’m in no position to move. Now I really start to feel sorry for myself: my arm is shaking so bad from the epinephrine I can’t really read what I’m trying to text Dylan, I have no one else to call, my life sucks, this fucking bill is going to be insane, etc.

You can pretty much predict how it went from here, outside of needing another epinephrine shot because the allergy started to flare again. They decided that I could go home around 9pm, gave me a shit ton of steroid and anti-inflammatory medicine and – get this – my very own mobile epinephrine shot. I officially have RBFPA, and need to use it if someone sneaks in some peanuts into my food because I will go into anaphylaxic shock. Yes, like Freaks and Geeks.

Funny how life works out sometimes.

Amuse thyself

Written by serene. Filed under Culture Club, Nerdy. No comments.

Things are ass-crazy right now. I’m wrapping up the last week and a half of classes before finals, and feeling the stress. The little down time I have that hasn’t been devoted to eating salty, crunchy foods has been very carefully plotted around – guess this – Really Cool Stuff.

1. Gnarles Barkley “Run” video. Apparently it can cause seizures, but who doesn’t love to live a bit dangerously?

2. Jeff Lemire comics. I should post something about him on the ole dusty comics blog. Until then, his art makes me weak in its inky but refined goodness and the succinct storytelling just…wow. Good stuff. Meow.

3. Sitting in the sunshine and fighting through the New York Times crossword puzzle.

4. Bash.org and Getofftheinternet.org.

So, with that, have fun kids. If you are in Seattle, go enjoy this beautiful weather.