For the first three people that reply to me and re-post this challenge, I will send you something.
It might be something I've made, or something cool from my hidden stash, it might be a mix CD, or a rubber duck, a book I think you will enjoy, or something else that is awesome. Whatever it is, I promise that I will get it to you in 365 days or fewer.
The only thing you need to do in order to participate is to be one of the first three to reply to this, AND post this very same thing on YOUR LiveJournal - cause it's fun to give people stuff.

Simon died on Tuesday.

I can't believe how horrible my memory has been concerning that fact - about five or six times a day, I'll think something along the lines of 'I'd better go make sure she's eating,' or 'maybe it's a good time to take her out in her ball.' The sight of her empty cage made it worse, so I put it and her hamstery accoutrement away, all except the little wooden house. And, for some reason, I felt compelled to rinse out and keep her two antibiotic medicine bottles. I don't know why. Maybe to remind myself that I tried really hard to be a good pet owner, and to take care of something that trusted me.

I liked having her around. Of course, I loved her because she was a sweet hamster, but I also really liked her company. I was never alone in the apartment because she was there. I know pet owners tend to project more cogency onto their animals than they actually possess, but she used to come to the front of her cage when I said her name, and she'd listen when I practiced. Hamsters don't like to be handled in general, but I think (I hope) that she didn't mind trundling around on my legs while I was at the computer, or sitting in our hands to eat apples and tomatoes. She especially liked tomatoes, it was one of the only things she could stomach towards the end. Poor thing.

I think it was a combination of being relatively old for a hammie, and all of the health problems she'd had over the last few months. The abscess came back last month, and although we caught it earlier this time and had her on stronger antibiotics, she just wasn't the same. In fact, we'd been on our way to the vet when she passed - she'd been scaring me with her shakiness, and the amount of weight she'd been losing. A was amazing, assuring me again and again that it wasn't my fault, and I'd been good to her - he even called his parents, who allowed me (very kindly) to bury her in their backyard, and dug the grave itself. She got a little marker under a yew tree. And of all the ridiculous things, even though she was absolutely not alive when I put her down there, I panicked inwardly when they started filling the hole. The dirt was too heavy, I thought. She's so tiny, it's too heavy for her, it'll crush her.

She was tiny, and no matter how ridiculous anyone finds this, she mattered to me. She was a part of my life, and she's gone now, and she's missed.

In other, better news, A and I went to the big E on Sunday, and started our winemaking venture this evening. The job isn't grindingly depressing, the flute lessons are going well, the relationship is full of smit, and while school makes me nervous, I think I'll be alright. More on all of that in tomorrow's entry.

I'm a little frustrated today. It's not at anything in particular, though I could probably pin it down to three or four things if I tried. No, it was just a faint ache of frustration that dug at me occasionally during the day. One such incident was trying to paint tonight - my layers came out all gummy on one canvas, I still can't get the right coloring or pattern on another, and I'm so scared now to mess up the things I like on the third that I can't bring myself to touch it. My group critique is on Monday, and while it's not meant to be totally finished by that time, I'm still anxious about it. Apparently, I'm anxious to the point of messing up, repeatedly and irreparably. Maybe it'll look better by tomorrow. I hope.

Another dig was being put on the registers again at work. It's actually a favor on the part of my company - rather than sending me home when there aren't any hours available in the frame shop, they put me up front. I do like money, and I appreciate the consideration. I just can't shake the sullenness, though, the mobius thought of 'this wasn't what I signed up for, this wasn't what I signed up for.' And the funny thing is, I wouldn't be so upset about it if I'd been warned. As it is, I'm consistently disappointed by how right I am when I say that the job you end up with is rarely - if ever - the job they offer you at the interview.

There were good points to the day, naturally - not every day is a total toss-in. My guy did a great job of recharging my batteries, for instance. No-one can hug like him, so I soaked it up for a good five minutes before I even got my shoes off after getting home. I'd been needing one of those for about the last five hours. The dinner out with his parents was nice and relaxed, and I got to re-watch an old movie I'm fond of. Little saving graces, I guess. I only wish I was able to shake bad feelings like that.

Wow. I haven't posted in so long that I don't even really know how anymore. As the incomparable Ze put it, "that was a long time not to see each other. How do I do this? Is this a show?" Exactly, Ze. Exactly. A and I are trying to get back into the journalling swing of things, and I'm betting he's on his zillionth paragraph by now, while I'm still staring at my first. It's after midnight, and I feel like my brain turned off the 'open' sign about an hour ago.

It was a crisp and sunny autumn day with just the right amount of breeze, a great day to twenty-six, which A did. Of course, we didn't get to enjoy most of it because we were inside slaving away for The Man, but we still managed to have a plummy time of it. Good food, good cuddles, good company, good gifts, good conversation, good art, good music, good evening. I enjoyed myself thoroughly, and it wasn't even my birthday. Also, it must be noted that I love the little 'eee!' sounds A makes when he's really pleased with something. There was a lot of 'eee!'-ing going on tonight, so I must have done something right! Happy birthday, A dear. You're absolutely lovely, and I love you absolutely.

Status report: I am now on job number 5,000,000,000 in 2007 alone, this time as a frame shop flunky at a major art supplies store. It's awesome. I get to nance around with color swatches in the front, and then play around with power tools in the back. It has its downsides, like every job ever in the history of ever, but the advantages outweigh the suck for the time being. Also, I get a twenty-five percent employee discount on all the art supplies in the store proper, which has already proved useful. Several times. Oh, and best of all, I get to see my boyfriend from time to time, now that I have some daytime hours during the week. Here's hoping the honeymoon period for this particular job lasts a few months at least.

I'm three weeks into classes now, and I'm past the initial period of stark terror. In math, I'm discovering the joys (doing homework in jammies) and frustrations (periodic wireless outages) of taking an online course. In art, I'm working on a re-imagining of Velasquez's dwarf series to great effect. It turns out I can paint, who knew. Tremendous fun, and I feel like an Actual Artist thanks to juried show assignments and free studio time. In biology, the geek in me has asserted itself full-force, to the point of actually asking the professor to do a research paper on Hox genes. Because I think they're nifty. He kindly agreed, and then let me talk his ear off about sargassum. I like science.

In Other News, I found out that while my name doesn't turn up any results on Wikipedia (no surprise there,) it will turn up some funny approximate matches. Here is a short collection:

Schizoglossa gigantea
List of keyboardists
Genie Award for Best Achievement in Costume Design
Columbarium spiralis
Shine On (Pink Floyd)
1997 Toronto International Film Festival
Superbrands Council
United States at the 1996 Summer Olympics
Western use of the Swastika in the early 20th century
List of golfers

Picture of the Day

Things About Me, and a Little About You

1. Name: Carin - it's a Gaelic name that means (according to the hospital baby book,) "the keel, the fifth star in the constellation Orion."

2. Birthday: June 11th, 1984. Born on the same day in different years were Jacques Cousteau, Hugh Laurie, and Gene Wilder.

3. Place of residence: A nice little apartment in a quiet Connecticut town, which I share with my manfriend and my hamster and an assortment of dust bunnies.

4. What makes you happy: Good political and artistic discourse, healthy competition, the advancement of the arts and sciences, creme brulee, cats, libraries, fine art, amateur photography, body comfort, Welsh mythology, Firefly, bowler hats.

5. What are you listening to now/have listened to last: I'm in a Regina Spektor phase, with a fondness for Rufus Wainwright and Harvey Danger.

6. Do you read my (wendolen's) lj: You're on A's friends-list, and I enjoy it when an entry of yours pops up.

7. If you do, what is particularly good/bad about it: It is insightful and level, mature without being stuffy. The only bad thing is that you're too concise.

8. An interesting fact about you: At age seventeen, I was the third best instrumentalist under twenty in the United States. Also, I have a matching set of moles on both sides of my face.

9. Are you in love/have a crush at the moment: Oh, very much in love. It's fun, I'm having a good time.

10. Favorite place to be: This is going to sound corny as hell, but in general I really like being anyplace when I've got my partner in crime with me. Tying in second are Des Moines and Chicago.

11. Favorite lyric: "We hit the wall, it was not resilient/ She said that she was hungry and I was brilliant."

12. Best time of the year: Fresh new springtime.

13. Weirdest food you like: Pickled ginger.

14. Do farts make you laugh: If I can identify the key they're in, yes.

Recommend
1. A film: The Imposters, with Oliver Platt and Stanley Tucci.
2. A book: Me Talk Pretty One Day, by David Sedaris.
3. A band, a song and an album: I don't really 'do' albums, but if you haven't checked Regina out yet, I'd reccomend you do.

Me
1. One thing you like about me: Your user icon where you're smiling.
2. Two things you like about yourself: My artistic ability, and my teeth.

Looks like I'm a little better at playing catch-up these days than actually updating. Ah, well - it reads better this way. Or, at least that's what I tell myself.

In the entry before last I wrote a little about my hamster, Simon. She wasn't doing very well at the time, so I'm happy to report that a massive change for the better has occurred. After two and a half weeks or so on the antibiotics, the swelling around her eye (which recurred somewhere around the ten-day mark) is completely gone. There's still some evidence that trouble occurred, but she's regrowing the patch of hair that had fallen out, and she's happily active. You know what's funny? I've been bitten by her before. A lot. But ever since the veterinary clinic visit, she hasn't bitten me once. Hasn't even tried. She's done some bad-tempered twisting about when the medicine dropper comes out, but ... how forgiving must this little creature be?

And in the previous entry, I spoke a little of my new job at Whitehall. It's been about two weeks, and I'm still not very sure what to make of it, simply because if my supervisor is to be believed, I seem to be extraordinarily good at selling jewelry. At least, for someone of my experience level. I'm not sure if she's trying to be extra-nice or what, but not a shift goes by when I don't get some sort of compliment on the work I'm doing. This is an alien land, but I can't say I don't like it. There are, naturally, flaws. If there weren't, I'd really be worried. Some of my co-workers just don't get along with one another, and a certain amount of trash-talking takes place, reminding me just how much I want to avoid getting on anyone's bad side. In the meantime, the money is much-needed, and the work is interesting. Oh! And I have to wear suits. That's certainly gotten interesting.

On the art side of things, I've been flexing my figure-drawing muscles a bit, as well as trying my hand at tattoo design. My friend Katie held obligingly still for me after our dinner party last week, and A has sat for me more than once. The results have been promising, as they actually sort of look like them. See, I'm great at drawing the people who wander in and out of my head, but when it comes to drawing what's in front of me, I usually get stuck. Progress! And as far as the tattoo designs, my sister actually got one of mine done on her. Permenantly. Her friend got one of mine as well, which just has me floored. That someone would find my drawing fitting enough to have it drawn indelibly on their body ... if you haven't tried it, trust me, it's really amazing.

Speaking of amazing, A is. I just had to get it in there somewhere. Don't mind me.

Off to try to do something vaguely creative with my day off! Ta-ta!

This edition of Did You Know brought to you by my training manuals, courtesy of Whitehall Jewelery Co. - enjoy!

Did You Know:

-The definition of a gemstone is "a mineral or other natural material that is used for personal adornment or for the embellishment of personal possessions." To date, over 2,000 minerals have been discovered and catalogued. Of these 2,000, less than 100 are considered true gemstones.

-Sapphires range in color from the iconic blue to the inexplicable pink (which is known as a padparadscha sapphire, the name of which is derived from the Sinhalese word meaning 'lotus blossom.')

-The species of gemstones are corundum (examples, rubies and sapphires,) beryl (examples, emeralds and aquamarines,) quartz, and chrysoberyl (examples, cat's eye gems and alexandrite.)

-Unusual gemstone names: bixbite, goshenite, helidor, sard, and prasioloite, to name a few.

-Official birthstones for those of you out there who don't yet know:

January: Garnet July: Ruby
February: Amethyst August: Peridot
March: Aquamarine September: Sapphire
April: Diamond October: Opal
May: Emerald November: Citrine
June: Pearl December: Blue Topaz

-If you heat amethyst, you can change its color from purple to pale yellow or green, reddish brown, or white.

-Apatite is softer than topaz. Peculiarly named scales of measurement include the Knoop Scale (indentation,) the Pfaff scale (abrasion,) and the Rosiwall scale (grinding.)

I don't talk about my hamster, Simon, very much. She comes up if people ask, but I don't bring her up on my own, like people do with cats or dogs. Simon is a bit of a fixture, more fish-like than hamster-like. She expressed displeasure for being held very early on with a stapleresque bite that I discovered only on bringing her home. I didn't feel a bond. Nevertheless, I tried all my tricks. I fed her with my fingers to get her used to my hands. I took her out in her ball routinely, and kept her cage clean. I talked to her sometimes, and sometimes she seemed like she was listening. It's just random rumbling to her, but I thought it might connect us. It didn't, and a year and change passed in this way.

I bring her up now because she is sick.

She'd been a little more secretive than usual for a few days, and I've learned not to poke at her nest when she's napping, so I assumed she'd been coming out at night like she always did. A and I were getting ready for a dinner party we were hosting, and I'd stopped in the room to pick up a towel for my shower. Simon nosed her way out of her shavings, and I ran into the kitchen, gasping and screaming. The entire left side of her head was grossly swollen. A had the sense to look up the number of the local animal hospital, and they referred us to an emergency clinic a half-hour's drive away. I cried the entire way there, her cage on my lap, feeling like a despicable human being.

A held my arm during the ride, and kept a reassuring grip on my shoulders while we waited for an eternity for the rodent specialist to show up. Simon was really still in her cage, resting unnaturally in a corner with her good eye only partway open. I was convinced she was dying. Our vet was chirpy and lighthearted when she came in, babytalking my hamster like nothing was wrong, and I hated her a little for that. Hate turned into alarm, though, when she caught Simon and wrapped her in a towel.

She started making these noises. Like someone squeezing an empty shampoo bottle - high, raspy, and angry. I thought she was choking, but she was actually howling furiously at the vet for touching her. My little fighter. The vet took her away to have her wound flushed and cleaned. Apparently it was an abcess caused by a cut just by her eye, which had filled with fluid. I now give her strawberry-flavored antibiotics by dropper twice a day, and I hold her while A pats the drainage hole with a warm rag. I have to wrap her in the towel to get her to hold still long enough to administer the treatment - she hates hands even more violently now, and I don't know what to do.

I feel the same sort of helpless worry and tentativeness I used to feel when one of the cats became ill, and I wasn't expecting that. I check on her often. She's not cleaning herself, but I anticipated that. She's eating the slices of washed grapes I give her as a treat after she gets her medicine, and she's drinking. I just want her to be okay. I know it's not as easy as that, but like anyone who's done something wrong, I wish it would just go away. That I'd wake up tomorrow morning, and her swelling would be gone, her fur smooth. I know what happened to her probably wasn't my fault, but this little creature was and is in my care.

Despite the fact that we don't get along, I want her around. Not out of a sense of responsibility, though that does have a little something to do with it. She's always been this philosophical little presence in my room, occasionally trundling around with me while I did chores. Even though she's the most adversarial pet I've ever had, I'd miss her if she was gone.

I like to call this third and final section of the Birthday Post "loot n' props." This goes out to everyone who made my birthday a great day, and let's start with the main man himself: A.

Anyone who says that men are inconsiderate hasn't met A. A, who used to visit me during closing shifts bearing jokes and my favorite Godiva truffles. A, who was there every minute he could be when I was so ill with vertigo that I literally didn't know which way was up. June 11th was no exception to the trend. He'd scored the day off of work (and here props go to Brian, his boss,) and after getting to laze about for the first part of the morning, he drove me to Manchester. I'd only been there once before, so getting to go to Natori Sushi that day was a real treat. We got a Windsor Roll, a California Roll, and a Monster Roll, all of them delicious and served in a timely manner. We talked merrily about zombies and politics, as we'd been listening to World War Z on the way up.

Following a brief stop to the nearby JoAnn's, where I spent a little birthday money on bristol board and canvases and the like, we visisted Wickham Park. Naturally we couldn't stay for long, as it was oh so very hot, but we got to do my favorite park things: take stealthy pictures of the frogs, scare the ducks, and sit in the shade. It was a hot drive back home, but an air-conditioned apartment was waiting for us, and we got back just in time for Mail Hour.

Here I'll diverge into the 'loot' section of things. I got a call from every one of my immediate family members in turn, and had a lovely long chat with them all. Because of the far-flung nature of our family, my presents arrived by FedEx, and here's the inventory: from Caitlin and Chris, a beautiful genuine Venetian mask; from Dad and Scottie, some panpipes, costume jewelery, a tiny beaded change purse, scrapbooking paper, and a very generous gift card to Borders. Mom's package is still in the mail, bless her. A joined in the fray with a beautiful vinyl portfolio, a book that tells you how to make t-shirts into just about anything, original comic strips from the creator of Bruno, and guava-flavored dark chocolate. The man knows me, what can I say? Also, in the middle of the day, he took the time to tell me that he is happy with me, with our relationship, with our living arrangement. To know that the feeling is entirely mutual is a gift in and of itself. So thank you, A. Thank you.

It wasn't over yet. We went over to A's parent's house, where they had set up a little festival in the basement, complete with fancy dinnerware, candles, and best of all, birthday Tiramisu with strawberries and biscotti. They sang Happy Birthday to me, and I just about cried - I haven't had the best relationship with A's parents in the past, all entirely my fault, and to get to this point with them again ... well. It warmed my heart. They gave me art supplies, useful art supplies. That tends to be my largest student expenditure outside of textbooks, so they couldn't have chosen better. What wonderful taste. And the Tiramisu was to die for.

Thanks to Nate, Rick, Andrew, David, J.S.B., The Cat, Katie, Courtney, Meagan, Uncle Bob, and M for your sweet birthday wishes. I love you all.

I have found a way to accomplish something and waste time at the same time. And it is to post this entry. On the one hand, I'm helpfully recording my birthday events for posterity. On the other hand, I'm sitting around in my pajamas, and continuing to not clean my room. How's that for duplicity? I am just that awesome.

And, persisting in the theme, I'm going to start at the middle whilst also starting at the beginning. The middle being the middle of the day, and the beginning being my birth, the story of which my mother called me up to tell me mid-afternoon. She does this every year, and somehow, new details (or forgotten ones) come up every time. I never get tired of it. So, as closely as I can remember it, here's the story of my arrival.

Because in those days ultrasounds were a first trimester sort of thing, my mother was dead certain I'd be a boy. I was her second baby (my sister was her first) and because this pregnancy was so different, she assumed by process of elimination. She was also so huge that, were it not for the aforementioned ultrasounds, it would have been her assumption that I was twins. Indeed, whenever anyone saw her, that was their guess as well. "As huge as someone can get and still be upright," as she put it. She had a name picked out (Andrew,) and had merrily decorated my baby room in trains.

June 11th arrived comfortably. It was assumed I'd be born within a week or so, so Grandma M was there to watch after my sister, but considering the uneventful start to the day, Mom felt sure there were another few days left at least. In the late afternoon, though, she started feeling different. Not in pain, not really labor-esque, but different. The instant my dad got home from work, she met him at the door. "I think the baby's on the way," she said calmly. "Oh, okay!" Dad said. "I'll just go and change ..." "NO." I was really on the way.

I was so on the way that the force exerted by the rising elevator at the hospital nearly had me out on the floor. Mom's doctor had just left the hospital when she arrived, prompting him to turn right back around. "He didn't even have time to change into his scrubs. He just put out his hands, and you were there. 'It's a girl,' he said. I asked, 'are you sure?' 'I've got one of two choices,' he replied, 'and I think I'm right!" Thus, it was all of twenty minutes from "I think I'm in labor" to "it's a girl!"

I was a sleepy, happy, cuddly baby. According to Mom, I smiled earlier than either of my siblings, and I wrinkled my nose when I did it. I teethed so early that I would drop drool bombs on Dad whenever he held me above his head so I could smile down at him. I loved to be held, so much so that when Mom was in a bad mood, she'd go 'take a hit off the baby' - just hold me until she felt better.

I still love being cuddled, and yes, I still wrinkle my nose when I really smile.

More on the actual day later! Responsibility calls!

Four more minute left until it isn't my birthday anymore! So I'll make this post! And write more about the day either later or tomorrow! Agh!

ON JUNE 11th

Events

1580 - Juan de Garay founds Buenos Aires.
1774 - Jews in Algiers escape the attacks of the Spanish army.
1935 - Inventor Edwin Armstrong gives the first public demonstration of FM broadcasting in the United States, at Alpine, New Jersey.
1962 - Frank Morris, John Anglin and Clarence Anglin become the only prisoners to successfully escape from the prison on Alcatraz Island.
2004 - Cassini-Huygens makes its closest flyby of Phoebe.
2004 - Ronald Reagan's funeral held at Washington National Cathedral.

Birthdays

Ben Jonson, English dramatist
John Constable, English painter
Millicent Fawcett, British suffragist and feminist
Richard Strauss, German composer and conductor
Jacques-Yves Cousteau, French explorer and inventor
Fabiola de Mora y Aragón, Queen of the Belgians
Gene Wilder, American actor
Frank Beard, American drummer (ZZ Top)
Hugh Laurie, English actor and comedian
Shia LaBeouf, American actor

Holidays

Kamehameha Day, official state holiday of Hawaii, United States, in honor of its first monarch, celebrated with floral parades, hula competition, and festivals
Roman Empire, Matralia in honor of Mater Matuta
Roman Empire, fifth day of the Vestalia in honor of Vesta

My Saints

Saints Barnabas, Eskil, Onuphirus, Reimbert, Aleidis, and Blesseds Flora and Tochumra.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MEEE
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MEEE
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR ... MEEEEEEEEE
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME GOODNIGHT!

I have decided that Boston Legal is awesome. Yes. Yes, it is.

Speaking of Boston, we're going there tomorrow to celebrate the birthday of one Rek. She is the friend of many of the friends that I have, most of them Oberlinites (Oberlinners?) or closesly associated to Oberlinites. I've met with her twice, and the overwhelming impression I've had of her is that she's someone I'd like to be friends with. I don't seem to be very good at making them, though, and we definitely got off on the wrong foot when I hugged her the first time we met. I used to be a very huggy person, but I didn't realize that she had preferences as far as boundaries went, and that not everyone likes to be plastered-upon by strange people. Embarrassing. Still, the gathering tomorrow sounds like it should be fun, and I hope the weather cooperates. I also very much hope that she likes my present.

I should learn not to moan about how all my creativity's dried up. It makes me look indecisive when, mere days after the complaint leaves my mouth, I proceed to complete two flash sheets, one comic strip, and an 11 by 15 brush pen rendering. Oh, and four drawings of A, who obligingly sat still for me for half an hour. I put on a movie for him (Boondock Saints) so he'd stay still, and it worked remarkably well, though stretch breaks were necessary. I do enjoy figure-sketching. Very bracing.

Whilst driving around and running errands for tomorrow, A got me started on 'World War Z,' a book that's recently taken the literary world by storm. We're listening to the audio version. It's a series of anecdotes, told in the first person, concerning a global epidemic of zombie infections. And it's very naturally written, especially considering the subject matter. Shaun of the Dead did it first with "don't say that." "What?" "That. The ... zed word. Don't say it." I like seeing an expanded and global version of the theme, and I'm interested to see where it goes.

I called Gloria Jean's today, and it looks as though Friday really was my last shift. Steph informed me that I'd been written down for the upcoming Tuesday, but it was crossed off, and there was nothing else on the schedule. Since it was Mike's discretion as to whether or not he'd have me stay on for this week, I don't feel bad about it. And I certainly don't feel bad about having the week to myself, especially with this latest creative streak. I'm looking forward to doing things like setting up an account with Bank of America, arranging the road trip to Chicago next month, presenting my flash sheets to area tattoo parlors, and making peanut-butter cookies with actual peanut butter in them this time. And real flour.

Today was my last shift, but probably not. I say that because Mike has a talent for being secretive about the schedule until the last possible moment - either I will be working until Wednesday, or this will have been my last day. I checked my timecard before I left, and I put in forty-two hours since the last pay period. What a number, huh? There'll be a nice fat paycheck waiting for me on Thursday.

A and I just finished watching Pan's Labrynth. Everyone I know who had seen it had told me "it's REALLY GOOD. And REALLY DARK." And I assumed, given the fact that many of my friends and associates are known to weep at Disney movies (myself included,) that this meant there would be a little blood. Maybe. Having now finished it, I will conclude this: it was REALLY GOOD. And REALLY DARK. As in, smashing-faces-with-hammers dark. But it fit the story by serving the purpose of being realistic and shocking, and the movie had a theme that I find somewhat universally attractive: fairy tales aren't always pleasant, but they are always powerful. An example of this is the mermaids in Peter Pan (the J.M. Barrie version.) Beautiful, yes. Mythical, yes. Dangerous, oh yes. That's what this whole movie is like. And I loved it. Better yet, it delved into the more obscure fairy stories, which gave me a geek happy. I must add, as well, that I liked that they hadn't dubbed over the original Spanish yet. It's such a beautiful language.

I actually got to tell that to a native Spanish-speaker, in Spanish, at work today. She was having a lot of trouble with her English, so I switched into my rusty Spanish for her benefit. She said she was taking English classes, but wasn't very good, and I said that I'd taken Spanish classes, but wasn't very good either. Somehow, in a mishmash of both, we managed to have a very nice and understandable conversation. She enthusiastically complimented my pronunciation - "perfect," she called it, which is a bit of an overstatement, but I glowed nonetheless. We made fun of American-accented Spanish for a few minutes, it was very amusing. We promised to practice our respective languages with each other when next we met.

I feel a little off these days, which is largely in part due to the job transfer, and partly to do with little things: it's A's finals weekend, for example, and I never know when to stay discreetly out of the way or when to show up for comfort food and political discussion. It's not that he's touchier than usual - in fact, he's been admirably calm - or even that he demands space to himself. I just remember it being an issue in the past during times of stress, and I'm trying very hard these days to avoid repeating my mistakes. It's all in my head, naturally. I'm waiting for normalcy to settle in again.

The Birthday draws ever closer! A, my hero, got Monday off of work so we could celebrate the day together. It'll be a good day for the both of us - A will be done with his finals by then, and I'll know what my schedule is for the upcoming week. You know, it's funny - I almost feel the need to make sure my regulars are well-taken-care-of when I'm finished at the coffeeshop. Like I should leave a little pamphlet of instructions:

"Always have decaf ready for Slyvia and Jeff - Sylvia likes it steamed to 160 or 170, depending on whether she's put milk in it yet. Tom takes three Splenda in his coffee, Steve only takes a half-packet in his tea, Vicki likes a ton of sugar in her medium iced mochas, and Sarah likes her white chocolate mocha with extra white chocolate, and not too hot since she gets it on her ten-minute break. Be nice to all of them and ask them how they're doing, because more often than not, they really do want to talk about it with someone."

My eyeballs itch (tired) and I'm feeling random (and tired) so I thought I'd write while the mood was still actively siezing me. I keep trying to convince myself that a regularly updated journal is useful in many ways, but the post-semester slump seems to have had a larger effect than previously calculated. I guess, while I certainly complained enough, I didn't really realize how tiring it was until I actually tried it. "It" being working and studenting at the same time. In the fall, I get to try being a full-time employee and a part-time student. I know I can do it, it's just a matter of preparation.

I've moved on to another job - yes, another one, but I miraculously managed not to get fired from the coffeeshop job. I'm actually doing what might or might not be my last shift tomorrow, depending on whether Mike needs me to work next week or not. It's clear he's only doing it because he needs me, not because he likes me, but I'm happy to say that it's the other way around with the new work. I'll be an employee at Whitehall Jewelery Co., which is, funnily enough, right next door to Gloria Jean's. My new boss reminds me strongly of my good friend from high school, Ann, and we've had all of three months with her as my regular customer to check one another out, as it were. She said that everyone she's spoken to about me has had nothing but good things to say. I guess maintaining an annoying level of optimism at work has really paid off. Literally!

My art. I'm not actually producing anything at the moment other than larger renderings of the little cartoons I slip into A's lunch, but I've been getting a rather startling amount of attention at my deviantart. I may actually post regularly. My parents are starting to follow it as well, and my stepmother was taken with the tribal art, while my grandmother loves the I Hate Everything comic strip series. Mom and Dad and Ron are fans as well, which is lovely and flattering.

I am so, so in love with A. I didn't even know it could get this damn good. More on that (much more) when I'm not falling over. Everyone go check out my deviant art page. And be nice. GoOoOOOoOodnight.

http://spectre-of-prague.deviantart.com/

The Stolen Car, Part II

Monday morning, A.'s boss offered him a personal day, so he could get everything squared away with the rental - mighty kind of him, and a good start to the day. There's this brilliant park up in Manchester that I'd wanted to visit ever since the weather got nice, so we planned to go up there for part of the day, and packed food/cameras accordingly after another scrumptious breakfast (scrambled eggs with Gloucester cheese on toast) headed out.

The rental car people were exceedingly nice. They picked us up promptly at noon and took us to the headquarters downtown, where they gave us a good deal on a small zippy well-functioning car. It was beige, but hey, whatev - I can deal with beige so long as it works. The papers were signed, the gas tank was full, and we were about ten minutes out of town on our way to the park when the cell rang. I answered it, because A. was driving.

It was Officer Curtis. "This is the Norwich Police. I found your car!"

When he'd taken the report yesterday, I provided several details as to how to spot the car when and if he should come across it. Among them was the NRA sticker in the back window that was put there by the previous owner. Though I'm not a gun-toter, I'd not yet bothered to remove. It was by this sticker that the officer recognized our car, which was found not five miles from our apartment complex by the side of the road in a bad part of town.

Apparently what happened was this: we left the moonroof open a little, and they jimmied their way in through there (as evidenced by the scuff marks on the roof of the car.) Once in, they ripped the interior light off and used a piece of metal inside to jam the ignition into starting. They got as far as Lake street when the driver's side tire blew out. It could've happened slightly before the point at which it was found, seeing as the rim was pretty shot - they must've driven on it for a while. They took everything in the back seat, neglecting the trunk, and made off with it. When Officer Curtis spotted the car, they were long gone. He made sure by parking up the street and watching it for a while before calling us.

I've got to say, I've never been truly impressed with our police force until now. He was actually out actively looking for our car, rather than hoping to stumble on it during his patrol. He was attentive to detail, and helpful to the point of using his police power to get a tow truck down faster than AAA could while making sure that AAA would cover it. I got the best service from them that I could hope for, and dangit, I'm baking the whole precinct cookies.

( The Rest of the Afternoon )

A lot has happened!

Sunday morning we woke up, lazed around in bed for a while, then enjoyed a hearty breakfast. It'd been an alarmless morning, so by the time we'd gotten dressed and formulated a plan for the day, it was around 11. We decided that, since I was working 2 to close, it would be a good time to take our cameras down to the marina for duck pictures. Happy, fed, and jacketless (April finally caught up!) we walked down to the parking lot.

To find an empty parking spot where the car once was.

All the right measures were taken. First we combed the parking lot to make sure it wasn't around. We scanned the area where the car was parked for broken glass, and there was none. A. was in shock. I got over my surprise pretty quickly, and began my usual device of repeating myself: "our CAR got f-cking STOLEN!" times hojillion. A. called the police and his insurance provider, and within twenty minutes, Officer Curtis showed up. He was frank, helpful, and realistic, which we appreciated. So was my boss, when I called him to let him know about the situation, and A.'s boss was very nice about it as well.

We mourned the loss of various things that were in the car - the CD player, my portfolio, his expensive textbook - but not for long. "It's just stuff." And the car had cost a paltry 900 dollars, so ... while the loss certainly didn't help, it wasn't a big one. A. put it this way: "It's not really the money thing, it's the 'someone stole my shit' thing." Not really knowing what to do with ourselves once all the necessary calls had been made, we settled down to a comfort dinner of Mac n' Cheese and watched the first disc of Pride and Prejudice, the BBC version. A. found it surprisingly interesting/amusing, which pleased me tremendously, seeing as when he'd first watched a bit of it over my shoulder, he had declared it unwatchable. Nyah!

They found the car the next day: saga continued in the next entry following class!

I feel I should update concerning a few things.

1. My friend Katie, of Katie and The Cat, submitted a few of my cartoons to her law school newspaper. They want to use them, and might ask for more. She assures me that they're going to put a little copyright symbol and my name at the bottom of it all, and ... um. How excellent would that be?

2. The posters came in today, with my design on them. I cannot believe it.

3. I answered an ad for 'artists' today in the Advocate for an up-and-coming tattoo parlor in my area. I talked with Caitlin, the proprieter, and she said she'd love to buy some flash sheets from me. I also got up the nerve to ask about an apprenticeship, and she said she had a gentleman on staff who might consider the possibility. She's getting in touch with me this week. A great many things need to happen in order for this to come through, and I will not be surprised if it doesn't. Still ... still.

4. There are twenty fresh roses in the house.

Wow, do I have some disturbing dreams.

I dreamed first, as I often do, of my old friend Katie forgiving me. Katie and I were friends as freshmen at U of M, but my self-destructive behavior in sophmore year caused a serious (and justified) fallout. Anyway, I keep dreaming that we see each other again and talk over all the stuff that happened and reach some kind of peace with one another, except this time it was followed by a really bizarre sequence of events.

My high-school boyfriend, Andrew, rounded up everyone in this house we were in, and asked us a series of questions. Then, based on the answers we gave, he and his friends started killing all of us off. Each time someone died he'd assure us that no-one else would be targeted, but inevitably, we would keep vanishing. Finally he tried to drown myself and Johnny Depp (who was wearing a pink dress) in a shallow floor-pool. Since we both fought and survived, Andrew decided to drive me someplace more isolated in order to take care of the job.

I remember the car drive we took, and arguing with him as to why he shouldn't kill me. I don't think I've ever had to put that sort of argument forth before. We pulled up in a University parking lot - it was late at night so it was mostly deserted, but as we stopped, I noticed two girls walking along. One of them had a gun. I got out and ran, with Andrew hot on my heels, and that's when I woke up.

In real-life news, I have a biology paper to write. Wish me luck!

I have discovered the one disadvantage to my birth control pills. Or, rather, a new facet of a disadvantage I've known about for a while. There's a three-week hormone set and a one-week sugar pill set. During the first three weeks of every month, I cannot drink. Even a small sip of alchohol makes my joints achey, don't ask me why, I don't even know. This is, needless to say, hardly much of a loss, seeing as I drank about that infrequently anyway. It has become a disadvantage tonight.

I got steamrollered by the cold from hell today, and can anyone guess what the alchohol concentration of Nyquil is? The answer: A LOT. Definitely about as much as your average martini. Nyquil and I always had a wonderful relationship - it enabled me to breathe through the night during cold/flu season, not to mention it always put me to sleep during the long boring leg of train/Greyhound journies. Pass out in Chicago, wake up in Connecticut! Worked every time. And now, in my most desperate hour, a canyon yawns between myself and my consolation. As you can see, this cold has clearly addled my brain to the point of purple prose.

Also, incidentally, it has screwed me up so badly that I mix up simple things like "righty tighty lefty loosey," as evidenced by tonight's struggle with the gas cap. I thought you might find that humorous.

Anti-emo fact: got an A on my biology test today.

Oh! Oh! And there's this other thing! So. There's this artist based in the mall where I work - his name is Chen, and he does amazing photorealistic charcoal drawings. I mean, just phenomenal. So a few weeks back A. decided that he wanted to put in a request to him, in the name of supporting local art. I chose my favorite Velazquez painting, Juan de Pareja, and gave him a black-and-white printout since that's his medium. A. brought home the finished version today.

I'd spent the last two hours in bed staring at the exact same spot on the wall, and when he got back and showed me the expertly done 20 by 24 rendering, I smiled for the first time all day. My face felt funny for five minutes afterwards, and I finally understood why people collect art.

What the hell. I won.

So, um. I can't paint, this is established fact. However, I was made to paint for this poster assignment. We were to do a design for what would essentially be an advertisement for the upcoming student art show, done soley in acrylic paint. Said design would be on flyers, posters, announcements, and so on - great resume builder, great exposure to the local art community. The submissions from last semester and this semester would all be presented to the head of the committee, who would pick the one to use. I entered this contest fully expecting not to win, thanks to my painting skills, or severe lack thereof.

You know, I used to be a highly competitive person, but when presented with this particular challenge, I didn't even entertain the idea of winning. So I'm a little blindsided at the moment. Once I figure out how to put images up here I'll load a few. And I'm sure you'll be just as confused as I am as to how on earth I won.