So, I was studying for my Nutrition exam today, when I happened upon an interesting statistic I hadn't noticed before:
"In 1902, diarrhea ranked as the 4th leading cause of death in the U.S., behind Tuberculosis, Pneumonia/Influenza, and Heart Disease."
Wow. I didn't know you could DIE from diarrhea. That's pretty crazy. I guess that's where the term "holy crap" comes from?
Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
faint
sometimes i wish things were different
sometimes i wish i could rely on other people instead of insisting on doing everything myself
sometimes i wish i didnt wear my heart on my sleeve
sometimes i wish i could be like everyone else and just blend into the crowd
sometimes i wish id learn more from my mistakes instead of repeating them
sometimes i wish i didnt care so much
And then, there are the times that I just shut up and move on.
sometimes i wish i could rely on other people instead of insisting on doing everything myself
sometimes i wish i didnt wear my heart on my sleeve
sometimes i wish i could be like everyone else and just blend into the crowd
sometimes i wish id learn more from my mistakes instead of repeating them
sometimes i wish i didnt care so much
And then, there are the times that I just shut up and move on.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
The Story So Far
It's almost been a week since I cut myself off from Facebook and it's still pretty hard.
In general, I do feel like I'm getting more work done. But when I'm bored (which is a lot!), I still get these impulsive urges to go check what's happenin' on my News Feed, then I remember I've Face-blocked myself, and I'll scrunch up my face in frustration. >_< Now I know what Dobby the house-elf felt like when he knew he did a bad thing and started punishing himself!
Or, sometimes, when I can't remember which web site I want to go to, my fingers start typing in "facebook.com" without me even thinking about it, and I have one of those "What the heck am I doing?" moments. Kinda feels like, say, when you catch yourself in the middle of throwing away your pen with one hand and writing using a ball of scrap paper with the other. Hah, coordination fail!
And now, for some breaking news: It's the night before my O-Chem exam; yet, I still get these Facebook twinges, to go chat with friends, playing the "study break" card. Hah, we all know what THAT really means! Reminds me of that KoRn song, "Coming Undone...." (Keep holding on when my brain's ticking like a bomb / Guess the black thoughts have come again to get me)
Just go away, Facebook. Shoo.
At this rate, I hope I never get hooked onto cigarettes....Tobacco is whacko!
In general, I do feel like I'm getting more work done. But when I'm bored (which is a lot!), I still get these impulsive urges to go check what's happenin' on my News Feed, then I remember I've Face-blocked myself, and I'll scrunch up my face in frustration. >_< Now I know what Dobby the house-elf felt like when he knew he did a bad thing and started punishing himself!
Or, sometimes, when I can't remember which web site I want to go to, my fingers start typing in "facebook.com" without me even thinking about it, and I have one of those "What the heck am I doing?" moments. Kinda feels like, say, when you catch yourself in the middle of throwing away your pen with one hand and writing using a ball of scrap paper with the other. Hah, coordination fail!
And now, for some breaking news: It's the night before my O-Chem exam; yet, I still get these Facebook twinges, to go chat with friends, playing the "study break" card. Hah, we all know what THAT really means! Reminds me of that KoRn song, "Coming Undone...." (Keep holding on when my brain's ticking like a bomb / Guess the black thoughts have come again to get me)
Just go away, Facebook. Shoo.
At this rate, I hope I never get hooked onto cigarettes....Tobacco is whacko!
Friday, February 13, 2009
Bye Facebook.
Today, I shut down my Facebook indefinitely.
It kind of started out as a thought experiment, but today I decided I don't need Facebook. I've changed all my email notifications, so there's no way Facebook can contact me. I used a special lockout program to block it on my laptop, and I locked the settings so I can't unblock it unless I uninstall the program itself. Among other things, the final nail in the coffin was getting my friend to change my password. Basically, I've done everything short of actually deleting my account.
How long this will last? I don't know. It's always so tempting to log on and check for anything new when I'm bored! It feels like I've finally gotten up after laying in bed for way too long. But I guess that's just part of the process. Hopefully it'll all be for the better.
If you really need me, just call or text. And then again, there's always email.
For now though, fuck you, Mark Zuckerberg!
It kind of started out as a thought experiment, but today I decided I don't need Facebook. I've changed all my email notifications, so there's no way Facebook can contact me. I used a special lockout program to block it on my laptop, and I locked the settings so I can't unblock it unless I uninstall the program itself. Among other things, the final nail in the coffin was getting my friend to change my password. Basically, I've done everything short of actually deleting my account.
How long this will last? I don't know. It's always so tempting to log on and check for anything new when I'm bored! It feels like I've finally gotten up after laying in bed for way too long. But I guess that's just part of the process. Hopefully it'll all be for the better.
If you really need me, just call or text. And then again, there's always email.
For now though, fuck you, Mark Zuckerberg!
Showing up is half the battle
Ever hate it when you're about to sneeze, and you wind up for it, you get your elbows bent and your hands in front of your face, you close your eyes in anticipation, you take a deep breath....and then it never comes? And then you go, "What the hell?" And then sometimes you'll pull a take two a second later when you're not expecting it? Yeah, I hate that too.
The same thing happened today with my Biopsychology exam. A little background. For the first time this semester, I stayed up late. This actually means something, because I do NOT stay up late. I make it a point to get 8 hours of sleep a night and to go to bed by midnight. I can't function without my beauty sleep. Instead, I spent the late night hours studying, going over notes and recordings, poring over flash cards, all until 3 AM, then showed up to 10 AM class all wired up and ready to go....except the TA wasn't.
For some reason, the TA didn't have the tests, didn't copy them, was hung over from a wild Thursday....something, anyway, the TA had the tests and didn't show up. Professor Lee (who's normally a very kindly woman) looked PISSED. She was furiously working the phone trying to grab a hold of the TA.
We all sat around for 10 minutes, and by 10:15 it had sunk in that we weren't going to be hazed today. Even if the TA came, there wouldn't be enough time. Dr. Lee profusely apologized and told us she would reschedule the test for Monday.
Lots of people looked like it was the second coming of Christ. People like me, on the other hand, were pissed the fuck off. I had done all this preparation coming in and I do NOT want this exam hanging over my V-Day weekend, especially with an O-Chem exam next Thursday.
The funniest part was when I stayed behind to talk to Dr. Lee, and the last thing she said before I left was, "Next time, I'M bringing the exams."
The same thing happened today with my Biopsychology exam. A little background. For the first time this semester, I stayed up late. This actually means something, because I do NOT stay up late. I make it a point to get 8 hours of sleep a night and to go to bed by midnight. I can't function without my beauty sleep. Instead, I spent the late night hours studying, going over notes and recordings, poring over flash cards, all until 3 AM, then showed up to 10 AM class all wired up and ready to go....except the TA wasn't.
For some reason, the TA didn't have the tests, didn't copy them, was hung over from a wild Thursday....something, anyway, the TA had the tests and didn't show up. Professor Lee (who's normally a very kindly woman) looked PISSED. She was furiously working the phone trying to grab a hold of the TA.
We all sat around for 10 minutes, and by 10:15 it had sunk in that we weren't going to be hazed today. Even if the TA came, there wouldn't be enough time. Dr. Lee profusely apologized and told us she would reschedule the test for Monday.
Lots of people looked like it was the second coming of Christ. People like me, on the other hand, were pissed the fuck off. I had done all this preparation coming in and I do NOT want this exam hanging over my V-Day weekend, especially with an O-Chem exam next Thursday.
The funniest part was when I stayed behind to talk to Dr. Lee, and the last thing she said before I left was, "Next time, I'M bringing the exams."
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Mightier Than The Sword
I was at PCL studying today, and needed a pen. I realized that I had left my pens and pencils at home, so I went to the librarian's desk and asked to borrow one. She gave me this look like "Sure, you're going to borrow it" but gave it to me anyway.
Ten minutes into using it, the ink ran out. Lame! I wrote on everything I could to resuscitate the pen: paper, folders, my hand, whatever I could find. I pounded dents, tried scribbling loop-de-loops, straight lines, you name it. I was getting frustrated.
Finally, after another ten minutes of doing everything short of taking the pen apart, I returned the pen to the librarian: "Hey, sorry, I think your pen is out."
She took the pen in her hand, looked at it with quizzical doubt, and quickly scribbled on a sheet of scrap paper.
It wrote perfectly.
Son of a bitch.
The librarian looked up at me like she was about to bust out laughing, her eyebrows slightly furrowed above her square-rimmed glasses. She tried writing some fancy curly lines to test it one more time, then held out the traitor pen for me to take.
Mouth agape, I protested, "That didn't happen before...that couldn't...you know what, never mind."
I took back the pen and what was left of my dignity, and went back to work.
Ten minutes into using it, the ink ran out. Lame! I wrote on everything I could to resuscitate the pen: paper, folders, my hand, whatever I could find. I pounded dents, tried scribbling loop-de-loops, straight lines, you name it. I was getting frustrated.
Finally, after another ten minutes of doing everything short of taking the pen apart, I returned the pen to the librarian: "Hey, sorry, I think your pen is out."
She took the pen in her hand, looked at it with quizzical doubt, and quickly scribbled on a sheet of scrap paper.
It wrote perfectly.
Son of a bitch.
The librarian looked up at me like she was about to bust out laughing, her eyebrows slightly furrowed above her square-rimmed glasses. She tried writing some fancy curly lines to test it one more time, then held out the traitor pen for me to take.
Mouth agape, I protested, "That didn't happen before...that couldn't...you know what, never mind."
I took back the pen and what was left of my dignity, and went back to work.
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