Clearly

Today, I went to the dentist. I go to the dentist a lot. I have a very positive attitude about the dentist, despite a few bad experiences and an overwhelming number of visits. This summer marks the beginning of the end of all my dental work, and it's looking to be a year-long tooth-a-thon.

So far this summer, I've had:

- 2 teeth drilled into

- 1 temporary cap placed (permanent will come in a week)

- 2 holes drilled into my jaws

- 2 posts driven into those holes

- 2 instances of numbing

- 4 stitches removed from my gums

- 4 prescriptions related to dental work

- 8 X-rays

- 7 different people stick their hands in my mouth

- 4 nightmares related to my teeth

- Around 8 hours sitting in a dentist's chair

It's been a month, but a lot had to happen all at once. After next week, it's all going to get chill until about August, when I have a final round of appointments to confirm scheduling and make sure my teeth aren't rotting from being in such a middling state of repair. And then it looks like this will all happen again this winter, and finish forever next spring.

My appointment today left me a bit traumatized. It was going to be a consult, but I ended up getting two of my molars drilled into for about three hours. Okay, that's a slight exaggeration. More like 2.5 hours of solid drilling. My teeth were chattering by the end of it. Normally I'm super lax about dental work. But I went from thinking I had a nice empty day to having two different procedures done at once. No chance to mentally prepare myself combined with the weird emotional state I've been in apparently leads to me getting shaken. I'm not feeling so hot at this moment.

I'll get over it and move on, but man. It was rough. I hope it never goes this way again.

Digitized

Things. I've got 'em. And now, you're going to feel weird reading this list of things that I've got. Because it's probably not the sort of thing you're thinking of.

I've got a thing for men in fine suits.

I've got a thing for men with slender, but strong hands. Like you'd find on the cellist for a string quartet.

(I guess this means I've got a thing for cellists in string quartets that wear fine suits.)

I've got a thing for the bandaged invisible man look. Complete it with a nice hat and a fine suit, and I'm happy.

I've got a thing for nice hats.

I've got a thing for books bound in leather.

I've got a thing for maps and globes. The older, the better.

I've got a thing for masks. Every mask, every time.

I've got a thing for dice. Every number of sides, every possible color and size.

I've got a thing for sleek ties.

I've got a thing for heavy pieces of paper.

I've got a thing for playing cards.

I've got a thing for magic tricks.

I've got a thing for things that have faces on them, but normally shouldn't.

I've got a thing for plush animals. Or plush anything, really.

I've got a thing for knick-knacks.

I've got a thing for pinstripes, and demand they be in style.

I've got a thing for leather shoes.

I've got a thing for feathers in bright colors, especially red, yellow, and blue.

I've got a thing for the color combination of green and black, but I try to use it sparingly.

I've got a thing for drawing supplies.

I've got a thing for writing utensils.

I've got a thing for Batman.

I've got a thing for fish and birds.

I don't know what I'm doing anymore, I'm just listing things I really like. I was going somewhere with this, but I've forgotten.

Insomnabulist

I've never been very good at sleeping. I can't get a full rest in eight hours a night. I'll either take a long time trying to fall asleep, or I'll sleep the solid eight hours and feel like I've been up all night. On weekends, I'll sleep for a good 14 hours, and the only reason I get up is because I don't want to waste an entire day. I've even been known to do weird things, like hold conversations in my sleep, or fall asleep with my eyes open.

Once a year or so, I begin to wonder what is wrong with me. I'll do a bunch of internet research, decide that I have ____, and then continue on with life. I won't see a doctor because they'll prescribe pills, and I don't like pills. Sleeping pills only make me tired, so none of that.

I've always thought insomnia was my thing. I mean, I'm awake late into the night whether or not I am tired, so it makes sense. When my dad was diagnosed with a bad case of sleep apnea, I wondered if I had it, too. Quite a few times I've been falling asleep, and I've caught myself not breathing. Sometimes I wonder if Americans just have a poor understanding of how sleep should work, and it's actually super normal to be unable to sleep for eight solid hours. I even read an article once that said everything we know about good sleeping habits is wrong.

Ever since my senior year in highschool, I've been wondering if I'm narcoleptic. I don't suddenly fall asleep at inappropriate moments, but I will feel incredibly sleepy at intervals during the day. All I'll want to do is lie down, and it lasts for one to four hours before I'm okay again. It's usually during this time that I fall asleep with my eyes open. Doing research on it tonight, I realized that I have a lot of the symptoms associated with narcolepsy. But something in me doubts that I'm actually narcoleptic.

I'm finding out a lot of neat stuff about sleep disorders, though. Apparently it's weird to dream before you fall asleep? I always thought that you knew you were about to sleep because you were having a half-awake dream. And carrying on conversation in your sleep is entirely possible, so I'm not mistaken when I say I talk to people in my sleep sometimes. I can't find anything about how I'll fall asleep, but still look fully awake. I must just be weird.

Sounday

Ahahaha, it's one of those weeks where I don't know where I'll find the time to do everything, so I hardly do anything.

I may or may not be going crazy from stress ffffffffff I probably just need more sleep and a better diet. Actually, less sleep and a better diet. I didn't get out of bed until 1pm today.

If I can get one big thing done tomorrow, I'll feel a little better. If I can get two big things mostly done, I will feel back on track! Too bad I have three big things to do! Four big things to do? Six, if you count the next two weeks!

Bah! Pah! Bah! This is going to be the most incoherent Ubiquity post I've made yet, I think.

This is the most upbeat cartoon character I've ever seen. I don't know how he does it! Maybe he's been hit on the head too many times?

No worries, daughter Eliza! So you ran off into the Andes mountains by yourself shortly after tricking me, and then climbed too high and fainted from lack of oxygen! During a snow storm! And I had to build a snow house out of my own two hands and save you from a certain death! I probably would have done the same thing as a boy! Don't tell your mother. Good show.

Oh my! We seem to be sinking in quicksand! On our anniversary! In complete isolation from the rest of the world! No worries, it's still romantic!

Would you look at that! My oldest daughter drove our home off of a cliff and into a riverbed during a flood! Welp, I'm just gonna build a silly little boat! Nobody's in trouble at all! And while I sleep that night, all of my children will disappear! Smashing!

But his spirit breaks when he has trouble tracking an incredibly rare animal that is hardly ever seen by humans. This man is my hero.

Lid it Up

I have this really big pad of old newsprint that my mother bought when I was little. It's like two and a half feet long, the pages are huge. And then I have a smaller pad that's only a foot and a half long--But that's still pretty big. Whenever I do a project that might be messy, like painting something, I lay down a piece of this newsprint paper. I'd rather lay down regular ol' newspaper, but that stuff is hard to find. So yellowed newsprint it is!

I taped a sheet down onto my desk the other day because I wanted to paint some felt. I haven't bothered to take it off, because I love having paper on my desk like this to write and take notes on.

Anyways, I drew a bird on the paper:

That's the whole point of this story. I wanted to show somebody this bird I drew, before I inevitably rip it off my desk by accident. I love this bird, it looks great in real life. It's also sideways, and about six inches long.

I don't know why I drew it sideways on the paper.

I also drew it all in pen. Colored it with colored pencils.

This is how I spend my time.

I wish I had a better camera.

Yams

I can't seem to stop laying in bed. I went to bed at eight last night, and then woke up around noon today. I then spent a better part of the day laying in bed with my laptop. I finally got up when a friend wanted me to come visit. I am so tired lately. My blood doesn't seem to be flowing the way it should. Maybe I'm depressed? Let's hope I snap out of it soon.

I've been having trouble drawing things. What is this, an eight year artblock? I think that lately it's less been an artblock, and more been a loss of skills due to lack of practice. I've been doing what I can to overcome it, but without much luck. Every so often I seem to be in the zone to make something, and I treasure those few times. But I've had to cut corners each time. I haven't drawn a complete face in a very long time.

I wish I could say that I've had a lack of ideas of interesting things to draw, but that just is not true. I've actually been posting ideas of interesting things to draw on my cork board. There's some good stuff up there. But I can't seem to get any of it out. Maybe because they're all different people?

I'm just bitter because I tried to draw some clouds the other day, and they turned out terribly. They used to be the one thing I was good at, and I totally failed it. Total stab to the ego.

The Perfect Perfect

It is Saturday.

Saturday means a few things for me:

- I won't do any homework

- I probably won't eat a proper meal

- I won't get out of bed until well past noon

- I won't get dressed until about 4pm

- I won't shower unless I am literally leaking grossness

- I won't accomplish anything, not even fun stuff

That is, until about 5 or 6 pm, at which point I suddenly clean up, polish my mind, and go play DnD with some friends. But yeah, except for that, I like to waste my Saturdays doing nothing at all. Sometimes I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling for hours. Often times, the only things I eat are a cup of tea and a few handful of almonds. I've heard of people going on eating binges on the weekends, but I pretty much do the exact opposite. I'm just not hungry on the weekends.

Anyways, last night I had a dream about DnD, pirates, and hugs. We were playing an epic game of DnD and it was great. Then I lost a special dice mean for a special someone (just a d8, actually), and I felt awful about it. It had fallen overboard off the pirate ship we were on. I required hugs to feel better. Then another friend of mine found it, and I required hugs to thank her. Then I gave the missing die back, and required hugs to apologize. Then a large tsunami wave came to kill us all, and I required hugs for protection. We all survived, but out pirate ship crashed. We had a group hug.

For some reason, after waking up, I felt like I could really use a hug.

3229

That terrible feeling you get when you completely disagree with somebody's actions, but for some reason or another you can't let them know about your feelings on the topic, eventually you end up helping them because they can't do it without you, and at the end of it all they thank you for everything you've done and you feel sick.

I think the word for this one might be regret, but that seems far too vague.

I think sometimes that I'm in the wrong major. I have a lot of hobbies and interests that I enjoy doing, and I could turn them into legit jobs if I wanted to. It would be an absolute dream to go to school and study material sciences, and then go on to become a prop maker for big-budget Hollywood movies. I would thoroughly enjoy studying anatomy and art, and becoming an illustrator for medical books and diagrams and whatnot. How neat would it be to study psychology in school, and then become an expert on the subconscious mind and dreams? I could become a novelist, or a computer programmer, or even a musician.

But I treat all of these things as hobbies. I can always make things in my spare time. I draw whenever I feel like it. I dream every night. I can write, code, or play music any day of the week.

So why don't I feel like it's worth my time to make any of these things more than a hobby? I've picked a major that is pretty much none of these things. My major is something I would never do in my free time. I mean, I find what I'm studying to be interesting. But wouldn't it make more sense to study something I have a passion in? Something that I'll take home and work on, whether or not it's been assigned? I'd like to rewind a few years and pick a school better suited to my tastes. I thought I knew what I wanted, but it seems I've changed my mind.

Granted, though, I'm a terrible musician. I don't think I could actually turn that one into a job.

Unbegrudged

That feeling of picking up a new craft with cumbersome tools, and thinking that there must be a better way of doing things, and as you work you can think of only improvements that can be made to these tools, but after years of work there is a general complacency as you learn how to use to tools effectively, and eventually you forget any and all innovations and just use the tools the only way you know how.

I feel that way about web browsers, keyboards, carving wood, acrylic paints, the US government, web forums, IM clients, clay sculpting, video games, and silverware.

I can't even begin to think of a word to describe this feeling.

All Of The

There is a very important thing that I need to get done this afternoon, but for the life of me I can't remember what it is. I'm pretty sure it has something to do with how my mother's birthday is tomorrow. All I know is, because of the importance of this thing, I am procrastinating like crazy. I'm putting it off and I don't even know what it is.

I just got back from spring break. Kayla and I went on a road trip. We saw Mount Rushmore, shopped at mall of America, checked out Lake Superior, and drove a lot. Lots and lots of driving.

Mount Rushmore is creepy during the off season. Entire towns pretty much shut down. Closed For The Season signs on every door.

People in South Dakota have no idea how to drive.

Minnesota has the worst laid-out highways I have ever seen. Especially near cities.

Lake Superior is actually pretty nice, but I got the feeling I wasn't supposed to be there and someone was going to kill me in my sleep.

North Dakota... North Dakota. What the fuck is up with your highways?! What were you thinking?! Were you trying to break the suspension in every car that drives through?!

A while ago, I was thinking about how well I can hear my neighbor through the wall when she's on the phone. Either she speaks super loud on the phone, or she stands and talks at my wall while she does it. And then I thought about how she must be able to hear me equally well. Now, I make weird noises and say odd stuff just to confuse her. Today, I'm watching some Let's Play of scary games on my TV, with the volume turned up loud enough to sound like the person is totally in my room. Lots of screaming and cursing. Must be confusing for her.

The other day, I played some foreign talk radios. Some language I couldn't even recognize. I would pause them and talk back at them sometimes.

I decided to make her think I was an alien, and would go around my room making beeping noises. "MISSION--ACCOMPLISHED COMMANDER. BIP."

And sometimes I just say weird things to myself, but now I make a point of saying them at her wall. "I'm sorry, theater makes me violent." "No, the owl does not belong in my boot." "Why am I making myself look like myself?" "There are no words on it! Fix that!"

Klacxion Traction

I'm supposed to be doing this easy homework assignment right now, but I keep putting it off. I was having some sort of creative rush, and I thought I'd do something related to that NaNovel I was writing back in November. I never finished it, but I'm not done with it. I haven't planned an ending for it yet, but it's headed somewhere and I'd like to get there someday. Today, I thought I'd just turn some of my favorite scenes so far into comics. Thing is, I don't really remember the scenes I wrote. So I've been wasting time reading it through. I'm at one of my favorite parts, and I seriously can't stop reading it. It's hilarious. It's interesting. The pacing is awful. I am definitely the target audience for this book.

Here, let me share some parts with you:

In this part, the main character is lying on the floor (out of boredom) while the captain, Jackson the dog, tries to clue him in on some things.

“So, those Klacxions are pretty weird, huh?” Jackson remarked. I guess small talk is allowed when Jackson does it, because the last time I tried to comment on something trivial he called me a snot face.

“Klacxions? What?” I’m not an alien, I don’t pretend to know this stuff.

“Baxter and Ethel. They’re Klacxions.”

“Oh, Klacxions.” Sometimes I do pretend to know this stuff. “Yeah, they’re a bunch of weirdos.”

Here, the main character, ol' Whatshisface, tries to avoid doing work.

Of course, there is nowhere to go if I’m not in the main room. So I walked circles around the hallway. I tried to think of it as getting some exercise. It was about as boring as walking on a treadmill, but I didn’t want to go back into the main room and have Jackson talk some more about his kitchen. I also didn’t want to go do anything resembling work.

Yes, this is by far the most exciting space adventure I have ever been on.

“Tommie, stop being an idiot.” Oh, look, it’s Baxter. He’s standing in the hallway, just like me. Yay, hallway buddies.

“I do what I want.” I said as I squeezed past him and continued walking. Why is he just standing in the hallway?

“Shouldn’t you be making beds?”

“There’s no rush—Augh what?!” During that last lap around the hallway, Baxter managed to take off all of his clothes. “Why are you naked?!”

Baxter frowned. “I’m about to check out the engine room, and I don’t want these clothes to burn.” Baxter placed his neatly folded clothes next to the door to the engine room. “You should stand back, it’s really hot in there and you might melt.”

I did more than just stand back, I went through the nearest door and got the Hell out of there. I don’t think I’ll ever take a stroll around the hallway again. If I ever feel like doing some exercise to avoid work again, I’ll just do sit-ups in my bunk room. I feel like I’m less likely to walk into a naked alien in there.

And then, this part here, the main character daydreams while standing around in a room he shouldn't be in at all.

I really want to know more about this computer. Do you think it gets some sort of galactic internet? I wonder if Baxter has ever used it to have video conversations with other people. I can totally imagine receiving a message from some Gorblaxian space commander on an enemy ship about to attack, telling us to surrender. And then Jackson would be all like “No way, fire the lasers!” And the entire ship would start to shake as the enemy fired back, and Jackson goes like “All energy to the shields! We will never surrender!” Pew pew pew! And Ethel, wearing a miniskirt, is all “Oh, save me, first mate Tommie!” and I’m all “You can count on me,” only I say something way cooler than that. And then Baxter and I grab our huge freaking laser guns, set our phasers to kill, and teleport over to the enemy ship to kick some evil alien ass. I totally save the day when I burst into the captain’s room and shoot his face off, and then rescue the hot alien slave princess—

“What the Hell are you doing in here?!” Oh, shit, Baxter is back.

And then, shortly after Baxter walks in on MC:

I scrambled back to my feet and grabbed the nearest things to me, while Baxter calmly stood up and moved toward me. “Stand back!” I warned. “Or I’ll… I’ll lick this book! I’ll slobber all over it!” Baxter grimaced.

“Put those down. Get out.” He looks so angry, but his voice is so level. I wish he wouldn’t move so slowly, it’s freaking me out.

“I’ll pee on this doll!”

“Leave.”

“Don’t hurt me!” I couldn’t bring myself to move. I think this is one of those fight or flight reaction things. Either my reaction would be to run away in complete terror, or stand there and try to fight. I can’t move, so I must be trying to fight. It’s sad to think that my idea of fighting is threatening to pee on dolls.

This one here is best without any context.

Oh God, Baxter is totally naked and on the floor right now. Everything is really awful in this room.

Okay, that's enough of that. All these scenes are from the same part of the book. Pretty much, all of this happened in less than an hour in-story.

Right, let's do that homework assignment.

Twelve Delegations

In every Sociology and Anthropology class I have ever taken, there is always this one person that sticks out. They're always a full-grown woman, of at least forty, who has obviously Returned To School. Probably to Finally Earn Her Degree. She always sits right up front, and she is never afraid to share her opinion of something with the whole class. Even though whatever she has to say is a huge waste of time. She will always ask about why whatever we're learning differs so much from her personal experiences growing up, and the answer is always that personal experiences don't always match results from large-scale studies. And then she will assert that her experiences are more correct, and probably tell us an anecdote about her son or daughter that is more or less irrelevant. After a few weeks, nobody sits by her anymore.

I only bring this up because there is a lady like that in my Sociology class right now, and it seems like my professor knows her type and doesn't like it. I find that hilarious. I could tell that my professor had her pegged after the second long-winded and ultimately useless question she asked, and stopped calling on her. But that doesn't stop this lady, she'll interrupt the lecture if she has to. When this happens, my professor gives off very strong (and very practiced) body language that says to hurry the fuck up and stop talking.

It's incredibly entertaining.

Best Western Europe

I'm supposed to be doing reading for a class (I am very far behind in reading in that class because I only just bought my books, despite this being the third week of school), but this current reading is boring to me. It is also 50 dense pages long. So instead I thought I'd read the professor's notes on it. Right at the top there, she wrote that this is a radical piece, and she really hopes that it sparks debate and discussion. I may not be very far into it, but I think I understand the main theme: Europe is not the center of the world, and most of the world is nothing like Europe.

Whaaaaaaaat?

I never would have thought...!

It probably does have a few radical ideas in it, but the ones outlined in the intro are pretty common ideas to anyone that has spent time talking to a foreigner. It's also annoying to read about how Europe is considered to be "The West" and everything is else everything else, and we're not sure exactly were Western Europe ends and oh, I guess America is sort of apart of Europe I mean it has to be apart of something. It confuses me that a power as big as America is barely even considered to be a Western culture by this guy.

But then again, I'm still not very far into it. Maybe he discusses other large powers, such as Japan and America, later on.

Do you think the radical idea my professor was talking about was that America doesn't matter to Europeans? I do wonder.

Clippers

Things I am missing:
- iPod
- Nail clippers
- Tapestry needles (3)
- Blue Scissors
- iPod connector
- Rechargeable batteries (2)
- Special pencil leads (3)
- Digital camera
- Thumb drive (4)
- Japanese-English dictionary
- Scotch tape
- Sharpie (2)
- Computer files (hundreds)
- Photoshop disk
- Flash MX disk
- Guitar picks (15+)
- Red bandanna

Where the heck are all of my possessions?