Welcome Back

A solid first day. Gorilla Coffee and Bageltique. Interminable line at the post office. Long walk ended with an afternoon whiskey and tea at a friend's apartment. Dinner at the Oyster Bar, A Prairie Home Companion at Town Hall. Walk through Times Square and down to to Chelsea. Strange and probably illegal party in the soon-to-be-demolished office building of a friend of a friend. Of a friend?
A solid second day. Long sleep. Brunch in Prospect Heights, the Brooklyn Museum, a walk through Prospect Park. Delicious treat at the Cocoa Bar. Soon dinner and bars in the slope.
I am pleased and nostalgic but generally balanced. I am staying in my old room and tomorrow we are having a party. How fun is that?

DTW

Blogging to you from outside the NWA World Club at Detroit Airport... mostly, just because I can and I am kind of pleased with the cleverness of stealing internet here.
So far this travel as been notable for a few things:
1. There were 3 people, not traveling together, with Downs Syndrome on the flight from Madison to Detroit. I found this curious.
2. The flight from Madison to Detroit is also curiously short at 42 minutes. Lake Michigan foils us again.
3. Another good thing about Madison is the 15 min and $10 it takes to get to the airport by taxi. Also, because Madison has shared taxis (not just for the developing world, anymore...) I was also treated to a conversation between the driver and another passenger, both pretty thugged out which was basically "cold enough for you?" Except using different words. I found it funny that all small talk is the same, no matter who is doing the talking.
4. Having finally figured out how to rip movies onto my ipod, I watched the first 20 minutes of Ferris Bueller on the flight. Unnecessary not only because I also had my computer with me, so I could have just watched it on there. But also because at this point, I pretty much have the movie memorized, so I could have just played it in my head and not had to turn it off once we started our descent.
5. I was also thinking about phases I go through in air travel. Like whether I'm in a tomato juice, diet coke or cranberry juice mood on the flight. Whether I do the crossword puzzle, whether to read, listen to music or, now, watch a movie. I always read the inflight magazine, though. And less Skymall than I used to. Or how I went for about a year really enjoying sit-down meals by myself at mediocre airport family dining-- highlights have been Harry Carey's at O'Hare where I got quite drunk by accident, a really good $15 hamburger in a restaurant at Bradley Airport (the name I can't remember) and too many Chili's Toos to name. Now I am more into exploring the airport, walking down each concourse and trying to find the secret things about that particular one. Like the free internet here, for example.

Home Alone, or, Props to Zoe.

I'm Home Alone. Which is kind of funny, since I live alone and am therefore always home alone unless I am lucky enough to have guests. This time is a little different, though, because I have no obligations and the town has emptied out. My actions might not be any different, but my state of mind certainly is...

And now onto Props to Zoe. My now-15-yr-old-sister and I had argument about a year and a half ago about which is better, Dirty Dancing or Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights. Since she hadn't seen the original (starring Jennifer Grey-- also coincidentally the name of the flight attendant who abandoned me at ten yrs old in O'Hare. And also, hopefully, the name of an unemployed flight attendant...) and I hadn't seen Havana Nights, the argument was limited to "is not" "is so" "is not." But now, now my friends, I have seen Havana Nights. And while I would not say it is "better" than the original... it's pretty good. Diego Luna is dreamy. The soundtrack includes the extent of my knowledge of Cuban hip hop, and before-the-remix of "Hips Don't Lie." Proving, once again, that Wyclef needs Shakira. And vice versa.
I also appreciated the more-or-less historically accurate representation of the Revolution.
Basically, the movie FINALLY combines "Nobody puts Baby in a corner" with "Hasta la Victoria Siempre." And I couldn't be happier.




p.s. I NEVER REALIZED THAT BRADLEY WHITFORD WAS IN ADVENTURES IN BABYSITTING UNTIL I STARTED WATCHING IT RIGHT NOW AND OH MY GOD. Or that Thor is Vincent D'Onofrio in a terrible blond wig? My world has been rocked. Rewatching the movie also explains why I am still so scared of those underground parking things in downtown Chicago.

This Christmas...

I didn't get a fimo model of my "brother" the small white dog. Although I did get a waffle maker, which for some reason I find almost as strange. I will hopefully be able to upgrade to some small appliance involved in cooking savory breakfasts... an egg poacher, perhaps?

New York

I am so excited to go to New York, its palpable. I miss my life there rather profoundly. At times every thing seems to disparate, my life in college feels so distant from the first 18 yrs which feel so distant from my life in New York which in turn is so distant from what I am doing now. Its a weird feeling to be generally satisfied with life but still yearn for something that may never have existed. Everything would be so much easier if I were miserable, but I'm not. I like it here and I have stumbled through. Its funny, because there are a number of people in my class who consider themselves "from New York." From my personal bag of tricks I like to pull out that a) I lived in New York for at least as long as many of them. And then when they talk about wanting to go back, they talk about bottle service at clubs and a kind of New York I was never involved in. What I miss is the largest concentration of my favorite people. And maybe at this point its kind of like being nostalgic for study abroad- its not the place, its the people and the experiences with the people. But still.
To add an extra degree of weirdness, in terms of this nostalgia... I met a guy tonight who is my friend from camp's friend from high school in Madison's love interest. He graduated from Wesleyan in 1994 and then UW Law. His RA from Butt B also went to UW. He was nothing like me. I honestly didn't believe he went to Wesleyan until he said "Butterfield B." Maybe I am an ass, this is a constant worry.

Anyway, Merry Xmas and Happy Chanukah ( I don't really know when it began, I've been a little out of the loop.)

PS. I sang a lot of karaoke tonight, got rave reviews for "Drops of Jupiter" which is only appropriate since I've listened to it a lot recently. Also, there was a friend of a friend there who has looked at me on Friendster. And I have looked at him. Once again proving that although I like Madison... it's very small...

Still tired, still not mad.

Although I am 1/6th of a lawyer now. Yikes. And thank goodness.

Something funny happened this morning before the test, someone asked if I was drunk... which was just funny because of the rumor my high school spanish teacher/slacker started the year after we graduated, telling the class under us K and I were drunk for our IB exam. "You could smell the whiskey on their breath." I kind of like rumors that make me sound more badass than I am. So far I've been "drunk" for IB Higher Level Spanish and Contracts I... I am so much cooler in reputation than in real life.

Promptly after the test, I did get drunk. And once the novelty of being drunk in early afternoon wore off, I came home and slept for 3 hours. And now I am up, and ready for round two and karaoke. But not before some of the last Trader Joe's pizza.... because, you know, I am still on a diet.

Speaking of Cheese Curds...

This is a major problem.

A friend made the point that this part is particularly gauche:

Commercials promoting the state’s cheese industry aired across the country, including in Wisconsin, featuring cows in green California pastures and the slogan, “Great cheese comes from happy cows. Happy cows come from California.”

Because we're not running ads in California about how happy movie stars come from Wisconsin...

Diet Tips

As a public service, I'm going to let you in on what I've learned over the past couple of weeks.

If you buy a pair of jeans that don't quite fit, try this 9-step diet:

1. Enroll in law school.
2. Workout 6 times during the semester, hopefully in spurts. Like, two days in a row, then not again for 6 weeks, then another two times. Eventually, just give up.
3. Wait until classes end.
4. Eat half as many meals as you normally would, mostly due to consistent nausea, but ensure that at least half of those are Trader Joe's frozen pizza. BBQ Chicken or Spinach, preferably.
   
5. Drink at least 2 soy lattes and 4-5 diet cokes per day and generally 1-2 glasses of wine per night to counteract the caffeine.
   
6. Sleep alternately very little and a lot.
7. Avoid fresh vegetables.
8. Do not avoid fried cheese curds, in fact, try to eat them every time you eat out. If you're in Wisconsin, this should be easy. If you're not, Mozzarella sticks are an acceptable substitute.
9. Spend all of your time either sitting or laying down. When you must, choose baths over showers to avoid any unnecessary standing.

If you follow this carefully-- your jeans should now fit well. Congratulations! Its a little expensive and counterintuitive... but nobody said looking good was cheap or easy, my friends.

Note: Although the jeans may fit, you will feel like shit, your skin will become sallow and you may develop dark circles under your eyes... just a warning.

But what if...

They took 3/24th of your pie... would you be mad then?

Only a little, mostly just tired.

Just because

Every so often, I like to actually read the news.... I also like to pass it on to you.

So Laura Bush is not only married a man after knowing him for 3 months (kicking yourself yet, Lo?) But also has cancer.

I appreciate the parallel drawn between LoBu's cancer and Dick's hunting incident.

FEMA is bringing back AID!!!... and this is also of personal interest. So glad they're putting the rationale in "easily understandable" letters. Maybe they should just quote Kanye. Speaking of New Orleans...

Then there's the whale vomit.

Enough Already

So the consensus seems to be that two and half weeks and four finals is basically a slow death. Enough already, let me out! There is nothing interesting to say at all... um, I made some turkey chili, it's good. I just superficially cleaned my apartment due to a possible parental stop-by on Thursday. Not like I am trying to be anything I am not, but you never want parents worried you'll be found some day, dead in your own filth... you have to worry about that for yourself.

Oh yeah...

24, Season 5. Awesome as ever. I'll concede that some of the plotlines are getting repetitive, but gall darn, that Jack Bauer is one hell of an American and its as compelling as ever.

A few points:

I like that the same actors have been on so many of my favorite tv shows. Making the jump between LOST and 24, we have Desmond/Theo. Then, completing the ultimate circuit between LOST, 24, West Wing and the OC... Caleb Nichol/Charles/Jim/Mitch. Wow. A truly enviable career in network television, do Emmys have lifetime achievement awards and how do I nominate Alan Dale?

I love Jack Bauer.

Much as I cannot watch Law & Order now that I live alone on the first floor, because I get scared of rapists and murderers... when I get really into 24 I become a little paranoid about terrorism, espionage and getting grabbed by the neck until I pass out.

And, again, I love Jack Bauer.

The other implicit benefit in watching 24 on dvd... no matter how long you're watching, you always feel like you're beating the clock. An hour in 42 minutes? That's the kind of bargain I love,

And one more time, I love Jack Bauer.

Halfway?

Which is why its ok that my civ pro final paper is either really good or really bad and I'm too far gone to know the difference? Right? Yes. The big news today nerdy, but I'll share anyway. I appear to not still have a cholesterol situation, and I got my #1 choice kick-ass schedule for next semester. Both good things...

When Masturbation's Lost Its Fun

Well... let's not go that far.

But in a lot of ways this period is like depression, but other people are going through the same thing and there aren't any drugs for it.
I keep having to force myself to do "relaxing" activities. Like drinking wine and watching 24. Uh, this used to be my FAVORITE activity-- whats wrong with me? Anyway, since finals started I have taken a bath every day (so this is good for my hygiene since we all know I am not normally a daily bather... or showerer, for that matter.) I don't know exactly what it is, I told a certain former roommate/current denizen of Los Angeles that in some ways I feel like I've never worked this hard and never been so unsure of the result.... I mean, let's be honest, self-discipline is not my strongest suit. One of my interests on myspace is "skating-by." But all of the sudden I feel scared and nauseous all of the time (although perhaps there are a number of reasons for that) and like I should always be doing something I'm not and will never have time to do everything I am supposed to. I am abstractly afraid of failure and in constant doubt of my intelligence and grasp of both the material and anything at all. So in some ways it is like depression, except its not something entirely within my head, its actually mostly in the external world. So thats kind of weird and different.
My newer theory of law school is that the whole point is to take a bunch of really smart people, work them to death and make them doubt themselves and their abilities for as long as possible. And then release them on the world and make jokes about how they are all assholes. It's like some sick social psych experiment.

Anyway, just a week to go until 1/6 of the pie will be gone. And then I'll be PISSED.

Also, to come, a full review of Season 5 of 24. Because I have pushed on and now only have 5 episodes left. For now, I will say, I still hate Kim.

Sarah Leisure

Just because I've been spending so much time in coffeeshops in the middle of the day recently, I've gotten really curious-- who are these people and why don't they have jobs to be at? I remember walking around New York over my lunch break and being confused by the number of people who seemed to spend their days eating leisurely lunches and shopping. And here, a number of them are students of various kinds, but a lot of them are just people who are enjoying each others company over a latte. The real point of this is not that I think they should be at work just because (Protestant Work Ethnic? Um, I got skipped on that one.) but more that I want a job like that...

1/24th

I guess now I am 1/4 of 1/6 of my way to being a lawyer... 1/24th? If you had a pie, and someone took 1/24th of it, wouldn't you be mad?

Um, no, not really.

Irrarazaval con Pedro de Valdivia

That's how I used to get home in the shared taxi... like that isn't a mouthful.

There is actually a lot to say about Pinochet's death. I mean, I've spent a lot of time and energy and brainpower reading and talking about him in the past 5+ years. But, there was this picture on bbc news, which completely encapsulates Chile.


It's a little hard to explain to other people, but the Chilean contingent seems to be in agreement that this is basically the country in a photo. There's the Che flag. There's the cuico blonde dude, there are the other Chileans... with the terrible 80s haircuts, and there's the military police guy in the foreground. There's the drinking and smoking, naturally.

I've been feeling really nostalgic lately. For New York. For college. For Chile. For how fucking funny we were in high school even though we were weird assholes and its surprising anyone even talked to us...

But my relationship to Chile is different, for obvious reasons. I think wherever you have your first/most significant international experience, you have a lot of affection for. I can't believe it was five years ago. I can't believe I lived with that family for 5 months. I can't believe my lifestyle, I can't believe I passed those classes. I can't believe how much I learned, the people I met (many of my still favorite people in the world.) Some things are so clear and I think about all of the time, other things feel like things that happened to other people. I have such a strong affection for a place I don't "like" and I may never go again.

When I think about that time, I think about Felipe-the-law-student telling me he had glaucoma and that's why he was high. I think about sweating waiting for the bus and trying to sneak on as a "student"to save 40 cents. I think about Bar Central and Plaza Nunoa and having my first real conversation about feelings and politics in Spanish. I think about Rodeo Pizza and the creaky gate that let me into the house. I think about ringing in my 21st in Argentina, about being too sick to leave my bed in the highest city in the world in Bolivia. I think about watching Spiderman four times and the Chileans laughing at Thanksgiving each time.

I think the most significant thing was this new awareness that I could go anywhere in the world and... be... ok. It's very liberating, but also a little isolating. People ask me relatively often if I'd like to work abroad, which I would in theory for awhile, but I think I've reached a point where I don't feel like I SHOULD do something just because I can-- living in another country alone would make me sad, why would I want to be sad? And I like it here. Because you can't walk away from something with so much unrealized potential. The US is like a family member in that way.

I realized this summer that I am not a forever traveler. I mean, I love going places and hope to always... but being gone for two months, I was ready to come home. I could have stayed in Africa, I could have made a life there-- and Chile taught me this-- but I don't have to just because I can.

None of this even has anything to do with Pinochet, really, except that you can't separate him from my time in Chile in my head and again, I am feeling very nostalgic lately.

Pinochet

Just wanted to note that he is dead. There goes the relevance of my graduate study...

Torts this Semester: Severely Lacking In Hobo Examples

Ex: D's train fails to stop at the station and the conductor negligently tells P to walk home. To get home, P must walk back through a "hobo encampment." The criminal rape of P by a hobo is foreseeable, and D would be civilly liable for the rape.

Um, class was severely lacking instruction in liability to and for hobos. Also, I am pretty sure this example is offensive and we're not calling a hobo a hobo anymore. Next up: Torts and orientals.

Please Learn from My Mistakes, It's What I'm Here For

No matter how bored/dissatisfied/overwhelmed whatever you are in your life... it is not a good idea to dye your hair yourself 3 times in 6 weeks. It is a bad idea. It's the kind of thing magazines and moms probably told you, but if you're like me, you think your strong, healthy hair and the shelter of youth with protect you. Not so. You will start with soft and lustrous hair. And, if you're like me, end up with dull and crunchy hair that looks exactly like it did before the whole process started. Except for the dull and crunchy part, obviously.

I have learned some things about home dyeing-- a) that shit stains and b) unclear whether you get what you pay for. This last round was a $3.99 variety which smelled exactly like Downy, but left me with the closest match to the box. Then again, it also left me with dull, crunchy hair.

Additionally, no matter how tempting it is... do not try to "fix" the situation by cutting your own hair.

Larger than Life

So the potassium supplements to stop the weird heart beat are actually as large as the grand canyon.

Sorry, I know that was kind of a stretch. There aren't a lot of funny anecdotes from life lately. Mostly because I haven't had a lot of interpersonal interaction... but so it goes, I guess.

Although it might be uncool to admit it, I am kind of liking this time. I mean, I wish it didn't culminate in finals... but I like not having other obligations and being able to design my day myself. Maybe there's also the fact that I may be coming to this from a different place from other people. I mean, I would like to do well. I won't lie. And maybe for the first time in my life, I would like to get good grades. On the other hand, everything is a trade-off. I am not willing to kill myself and I don't believe that killing myself will even improve things in the long-term. Additionally, maybe after a 17.5 years of formal education and not caring about grades and 25.5 years of living ungraded, these ones I know do not determine my worth or intelligence. Or abilities. Or what I will do. In the sense that a higher GPA means more options, I'd like one... but in the sense that I have different goals and orientations that a lot of people who are stressed about grades... in some ways I'd rather let them have the A if its going to make or break them. I've seen the big firm. It sucks and isn't a lifestyle I am interested in. So... take the grade and learn that for yourself, folks.
I think I also feel ok about it all, because things have worked out pretty well for me thus far. I am very lucky and the way I've gone about things so far hasn't steered me so wrong. There is quote from some book I never finished, about how in retrospect, the path of our lives seems guided by a divine hand. And its true, being a generally fortunate person, it's easy to look back and see that every choice was inevitable to lead you to right where you are... right where things are generally ok. Even during finals.
The other element, I think is that studying for finals has helped me see how much I have learned. From the beginning, I knew this was a process that deconstructs you and rebuilds you differently, to think differently about a truly huge body of knowledge. And while, obviously, that process isn't over, its a little fun/exciting to see the effects of it. How things relate to one another and can be analyzed.
I mean, maybe its the surge of potassium in my bloodstream talking, but I am just fine.

Add this to "interests"...

Fetus in fetu has taken over. And personally, I can't get enough of it. Just think of all the cases of Fetus in Fetu we don't even know about. Like Chimeras. Jesus christ.

Huh.

1. Library: Yesterday. 12:45 pm. I have been there since 10 am. Friends left an hour earlier, came back ten minutes earlier. As we're whispering, a girl at the next table says, "You have been talking the entire time I have been here. Please stop." I mean, I know people get angry when you point out their rude behavior (which is why I never want to... because I know it makes me resent the person and for whatever lame reason, I don't want the rude person to resent me?) BUT. This girl was totally off base-- it was patently untrue. Besides, as the signs at Olin would remind us, "THIS IS NOT A SILENT STUDY SPACE."

2. On the bus coming home: Yesterday. 3:47pm. The bus is crowded and bunch of more people are trying to get on. There is a small amount of space I'd have to step up to occupy, this girl says, "Um, you need to step up." So I step up, the person in front moves a little more in, and I say, "Oh, do I NEED to stand here now?" She gives me some lame blabber about how her coworkers are getting in a few stops and it would suck it they couldn't get on the bus. UM.... a) "you need" is how you talk to children. I know, because this is how I would talk to kids the preschool-- "you need to sit down for snack now." b) screw your "coworkers," there are a lot of people who are actually here who may not be able to get on the bus. c) COWORKERS? Listen, you little jerk, I'll tell you about jobs and coworkers and your lame-ass after school volunteer job does not count. d) Don't tell me how to ride the goddamned bus. I know how to ride the bus.

So Minnesota-nice may stand, but Wisconsin-nice is bullshit. And, despite my aversion to confrontation, apparently there is enough New York left in me to allow me to get really, really angry about things like this. Can't these people see I am a 1L on the verge of a nervous breakdown? I should have crushed their skulls with my Torts book. For the law students among us, we can now all have a nerdy little laugh at the irony of that. For the non-law students, I can explain it later. Once I figure out what a "tort" is.

I also saw Borat last night, which was really funny. Not sure how the jewjokes played to the drunkish outstate Wisconsin undergrad crowd (Madison actually does have a respectably-sized Jewish population, considering.) But I liked it. I was also reminded of how law school ruins everything because running through my mind the whole time were the contract suits brought by the frat boys and the town... but, whatevs.

Madison crime update, after watching the local news this evening.

A woman has been going door-to-door at night and asking people to use their bathroom. When she emerges from the bathroom, she has a knife and steals their stuff. So apparently the Madison police do have something else to do, but more importantly-- DON'T LET STRANGE WOMEN USE YOUR BATHROOM. In the words of amazingly aptly-named Police Chief, Noble Wray, there are plenty of public places in town for people to use the bathroom, they don't have to use yours.

... isn't this kind of refreshing? A real old-fashioned-type robber?

Two things I've learned recently:

One from studying/finally reading Crim, one from TV.

1. One of the 19 yr olds I drove back to Madison from Minneapolis was right! His $350 ticket for underage intoxication is not a crime! Because it carries no jail time, only a fine. I still feel better that Madison Police have nothing better to do than ticket drunk kids waiting for the bus.

2. TNT is DANGEROUS, man! Between Dr. Arzt's unfortunate liquification on LOST and Elliot's untimely head wound this evening on SVU... jeez, louise. I am staying away from that stuff.

Not sure...

Why this strikes me as so funny... but it does.

It's amazing!

What an able mind will find to do in lieu of homework/studying. There's always sleeping... but I personally spent 20 minutes scrolling through the "The Way I see it..." quotes on Starbucks.com. I was a little inspired, although I recognize the whole thing seems to be an ad for XM radio.

This was a pretty good weekend in retrospect and more balanced than most for awhile. I had some fun, got a solid amount of work done and got a lot of sleep. Which didn't matter after last night because that stupid little bitch from upstairs woke me up again.

This brings me to a combined open letter to people I see everyday and the little bitch who lives upstairs.

Dear Friends, Acquaintances and the Little Bitch who Lives Upstairs,
I'm glad some of you have found the blog. Please understand I wasn't keeping it a secret on purpose, rather it seemed just too much to tell people about a blog I keep that is really only about me. In Erin's words, "I love the blog, but if I didn't already know you, I'd hate it." So maybe I wanted you to already know me before subjecting you to my dream analysis and huffy feelings.
I also didn't talk about it for fear I don't really have enough to talk about and I'd be in "um, yeah, you said that on your blog" territory which is only one step above "um, yeah, you told me that story already" in terms of places I don't want to be.
In any case, welcome, I'll try to keep a good mix between completely self-indulgent and things people might want to read about. I would also remind you, there is no obligation to keep reading if it gets boring. Really, no hard feelings.

Thanks, though.

Sarah

PS. Listen you stupid little bitch... you know I sleep on the other side of that window, I've told you. You are so stupid and I hate you and I am beyond wishing you would move out and into wishing you death and bodily harm. You have a stupid accent, you are dumb dumb dumb and I hate hate hate you. Stop it. You are going to force me out of this apartment, which I otherwise really like due to reaching toxicity of hatred for you. This afternoon I closed the storm window on my finger, the nail is probably going to fall off. I blame you. I also blame you for my constant state of nausea, my inability to dye my hair to match its natural color, the fact that I had to cancel my Sunday-only NY Times subscription because I don't read it and that Whole Foods Madison once again not carrying the chicken taquitos. In short, you are the reason for everything bad I can think of right now. If I should start to repeat stories, from real life or the blog and be called on it-- that would be your fault, too. I hate. Hate. Hate. You.

Once again

Once its in the NY Times, its old news.

"Maybe I should have read Crim..."

Self-portrait. 11:30 pm, Saturday night.

At least someone's looking out for me...

Maybe only my subconscious. The other night I had a very realistic dream that I was really pregnant, weirdest maybe in its authenticity because I could feel the weight of the baby. I was also freaked out because I had just realized I was pregnant, there was nothing to do about it. An online dream dictionary says,

To dream that you are pregnant, symbolizes an aspect of yourself or some aspect of your personal life that is growing and developing. You may not be ready to talk about it or act on it. This may also represent the birth of a new idea, direction, project or goal.

But unless I'm keeping this aspect, new idea, direction, project or goal from myself... I have no idea what it is. I don't really feeling in some kind of invigorating state of re-birth... I think its coupled more with an anxiety dream I had over Thanksgiving, that I got my class schedule for next semester and all of my classes started after 5:30pm. It wasn't so much the schedule, but the awareness that this would be the final straw of a slip into depression-- I'd never see anyone, I'd never be able to socialize and, knowing myself, I'd wake up at 2pm everyday. Basically, it would be like first semester sophomore year all over again.
So I think these are all ways my subconscious has come up with that could really screw things up. Maybe tonight it'll be dreams about prescription pill addictions and stealing cars. I think she's worried about me. Wait, I think she's listening right now...

In other news, finals start a week from Tuesday, I finally got some meds from health services, and also managed to freak out a very nice doctor not only by being honest about my lifestyle ("Do you exercise?" "Um... no." "How do you eat?" "Pretty poorly...") but by the return of the irregular heartbeat. Which isn't really a problem, but did concern the very nice doctor and we are checking it out, again. If it isn't one thing...