Jun. 25th, 2005 08:38 pm
lykomancer: (Silver & Gold)
<---- I love [personal profile] yuuo a LOT. She takes the pretties I so nicely share and makes stuff for me! (Out of my own writing, no less. ^___^)
THANK YOU! Squeeeeee~!

My teeth really, really hurt. Like, agonizingly hurt. Fuckers.

And if Wendy catches me on the computer, I think she's going to skin me alive, so porn-writing has to wait until later.
Nap now, porn later, yes!

But mostly I just wanted to thank and love on [personal profile] yuuo for the iconage! *kisses*
lykomancer: (Happy)
As some of you already know 'cause I wanted to spread the joyous news...
idiot-boy no longer lives with us!

Tom, Wendy, and I got together yesterday at Judith's, and had a serious talk. Tom stood up at the end of it, announced that he was going to take some anti-anxiety drugs, we were going to go eat, and then we were going home to say, "Here's two hundred dollars, get out by tonight."

We were expecting all sorts of hell to break loose. We were expecting things to get broken. We were expecting a fight.

Nothing happened. Derek said, "OK, can I at least stay the night?" and Tom said, "No, and that's final" and that was it. He packed up and we dropped him off at the bus station at 9; he got a ticket back to PA on a bus leaving at 10.

I think he's really and truly gone.

No more chaos. No more fear. No more wondering were in the hell that pound of lunchmeat I just bought yesterday went.


In other fields, I think I got an A- in my historical theology class. I got an A on half of the final-from-Hell and a B on the essay half. Along with the 2 A- and 1 B on my other papers...

Also, Julie emailed me a picture from Thanksgiving that I will eventually have to post. I look crazy. It's great.

Umm... that's all for now!
(I think that's enough!)
lykomancer: (Happy)
Second week of classes. My 2-page paper written and turned in, my assignments read, my peer groups introduced...
and I'm having the time of my life! ^_^

I love this! I feel so energized and good here, even during my evening class after working all day since seven am, even during my morning class that begins at eight. I get on campus and I don't want to leave; I could happily hang out here all day... in the library, on the lawn. Where ever. I feel great-- focused, aware, attentive. The people are all so friendly, and my professors are some of the best lecture-ers and speakers I have ever heard. Paul Captez (hey look, Jenny, another Paul!) lectured all Tuesday night, and I was not only interested in what he was saying (and how well he said it), but for the first time in my life, I took lots of notes! Eleazar and Chris, my Intro class profs, find the most eloquent yet understandable ways of making and illustrating points, and I can really see why Chris is the Preaching professor. I can't wait to take her class now.

I attend Thursday chapel ever week so far, and plan to continue doing so, and I just joined the choir-- the first choir I've been in since ninth grade, and man, does it feel good! I'm very excited and hope that we are able to preform for chapel service sometime this year. That'd rock my socks.

And with Tom up in Ashland for two to three days, I get the private alone time I so desperately, desperately need, so I'm feeling a lot more sane. Time sans Tom is happy, tail-wagging Inu-no-Jess-chan time.

I don't mean to say that everything is peaches and cream. I mean, I'm still working thirty-plus hours a week at the freakin' bakery; I failed my budget pretty righteously (I'll talk to Judith about that); and now that I've stayed on campus for choir and to write this, I have just witnessed the weather go from post-card perfect to abysmal in ten minutes and I have to walk to my bus stop; I need a new bus pass badly, and don't feel like going downtown to get one; I haven't heard back about my interview; et cetera, et cetera...

I feel stable, sane, happy, healthy. I am meeting new people and learning new things. I am advancing my education, and involving myself in my community. None of these are bad things.

And the one sign language interpreter for the deaf girl in my Intro class is hot.
Really hot.
I could stare at her-- yes, her; you read that right-- all day. Happily. Hornily. With an idiot grin plastered all over my stupid mug.
Hot ASL translator gives me yet another reason to attend class regularly! ^_~

Thank ya, God, and amen.
lykomancer: (Default)
In some ways I'm sad that this has been such a great year; I'm sad that I finally feel so comfortable here, like I truly belong, that I am moved with the rhythm of Northland.

I was thinking of writing home to my high school English teacher, Mr. Hager, though I don't know if he'd remember me. It's been five years since I graduated there, and he's seen a lot of kids passing through his rooms in that time... lots of names and faces.

I was thinking of the idiosyncrasies of this college and the quirks I've developed by being here, and how I would try to explain them to someone who's never been here.

There's a baby grand piano in the corner of the cafeteria, and every so often someone wanders over and attempts to play. (The Chinese girl played tonight; she was very good-- she played "Que Sera, Sera." Seems appropriate to me.)

People bike in the snow-- that's most of the year-- and play ultimate frisbee and soccer and lacrosse on the Mall when there isn't snow. It's ok to sunbathe topless, but if someone does complain, you can get away with simply sticking band-aids over your nipples and calling yourself "dressed". There are drumming circles at the firering and political debates in classrooms. The psychology department demonstrates it's theories by having the students have snowball fights and playing with dogs. After a few weeks of -40 degrees, 0 feels like a heat wave, and everyone wanders around smiling and commenting on the warm weather.

I address the president of the college by her first name, and she inquires about the health of my rats... said rats that I keep in my closet of my no-pets-allowed dorm room. My professors regularly speak at the Unitarian Universalist meetings that are held on campus, and not a small number of them showed up at the drag show that was held a week ago. We have a Madagascarian French woman who teaches English and Spanish (but not French)-- figure that one out. It's not unusual to go down to the Deepwater Grille and Bar and end up drinking with your chemistry, religion, philosophy, english, or art professor. Hell, a few profs regularly attend Queeb and smoke up with students.

I came here from degrees in Biology and Chemistry and am leaving with one in Writing. In the last five years, I have learned how to do loom beading and applique; I have learned to shoot a bow an arrow, develop my own black and white film and make prints, and how to successfully and healthily breed rats; I've perfected my fish-tickling skills; I have tried to teach myself Latin, Kiswahili, and Japanese; I have fallen in love with anime, sociology, history, and Stuart Davis; I have become Unitarian; I am aware of socio-enviro-political problems and various debates; I have swum in Lake Superior.

("The water is awake / The water is alive / Dive...")

I have cut my hair, and dyed it all sorts of strange colors. I got a prison tattoo, and got my nipples, eyebrow, and labet pierced. Five years later, I still wearing the jade fish necklace that my first roommate gave me the first day she met me. I am occasionally seen in jeans that have more patches than denim, my "punk" light army jacket (with "Master of Evil" written in kanji down the front and a patch on the back with a biohazard symbol, among other things), or in a little sundress that barely covers all that it should in order to be decent. I have a giant catfish pillow named "Freud" and a friend who's a werewolf. I have another friend that, when we meet, we can (and sometimes actually do) converse in snippets of no less than five languages.

I've played frisbee at one o'clock in the morning and lain out on the icesheet covering Lake Superior watching meteors showers; I've played with real, live wolves and foxes; I've seen the Northern Lights burn the sky with ethereal fire for hours, the music of the spheres singing in my head. I've listened to Arun Ghandi and Greta Gaard and Winona LaDuke; I remember an African dancing group that invited the Red Cliff natives to dance with them in regalia during the last performance of the night-- the dark skin and grass skirts of the dance group preforming an African corn dance contrasting against the buckskin and fringed shawls of the Red Cliff dancers stomping to a simple drumbeat, heart of the earth. I've been in sweat lodge and Grandmother Moon ceremonies; feasts and storytelling circles.

Life doesn't really get much weirder than this and stay coherent. I've loved every minute of it.
lykomancer: (Default)
Just got back from church.

On Unitarian Universalists, weepy psychology professors, change, death, and rebirth. )

Maybe I'm just feeling better by daylight. Maybe it's the large amounts of cold medicine I consumed earlier with the liquid sugar I call tea. Maybe the pseudo-Christian part of my mind tripped over and has convinced me that today is a day of second chances. God only knows.

I still don't feel like writing that history paper. I feel like crashing somewhere and watching Saiyuki and Chobits until my brain explodes... maybe even while getting my Christian Thought homework done.
I have to remember that I have to call that woman who's giving me a ride to the Cities on Tuesdayish, and to check with Daysha before then to see if she can take me over to Duluth for Sunday. I also have to remember to maybe study a bit for finals, find a place to dump the rats for two weeks, and pack up for Tom's.
Ahh, Tom's. Where I plan on sitting on my ass studying astrology and Japanese for a full week, and life will be good.
lykomancer: (Default)
I had chicken for supper (thank you, Barbara), and sat around Kris's house watching Daysha's copy of Pirates of the Caribbean. Now, I'm sitting here at my computer (thank you, Tim), drinking Chai latte (thank you, Angela) with a splash of vanilla schnapps (thank you, Ed) and eating a piece of chocolate cake (thank you, Crystal), while listening to strange foreign music (Angela again) and wearing my nice red housecoat (Crystal again). I need to call that strange woman Tom hooked me up with so that I can get a ride down to his place for part of Spring Break.

Independent adult?
What's that mean? Certainly it doesn't mean me...


lykomancer: (Default)

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