Just A Leech On The Groin Of Society

Mrs. Nator surprised me yesterday. She told me that she'd been working out some figures, and decided that it would be better for us to take out another loan until I graduate, rather than having me find another job.

Do you think it had something to do with the hour-long crying jag/anxiety attack I had that morning?

Yes, school has been more intense than I ever imagined it. "A two-year degree at a community college," thought I. "How hard could it be?"

I did not realize that the reason they have about a 100% rate of graduates passing the licensing exam and getting jobs immediately is because most of the students wash out before graduation. Nor did I realize they essentially cram three or four years' worth of information into two straight years, with almost no break, since we have summer internships. Finally, I did not realize how the thought of possibly screwing up and hurting an animal - as I nearly did by mis-placing my first solo endotracheal intubation into the dog's esophagus instead of her trachea - would raise my already high anxiety generator to nuclear meltdown levels.

So, thank you Mrs. Nator. What's another few thousand in debt when at least we haven't defaulted on a mortgage or lost our shirts in the stock market? Now, I hope, I can focus on studying, rehabilitating my leg, and learning how to meditate the stress out and the confidence in. I'll make you proud, I promise.

Life Is Like A Roller Coaster

Lately, with my knee injury and trying to stay in school and find a new job, it's felt that way to me. My first memory of a coaster, however, is a little bit different than most. I've carried to this day a visceral but clear memory of in my head of the first "big kid" coaster I ever went on when I was probably no more than five. It wasn't a traditional coaster, but a toboggan that when vertically up a dark tube, then out into the sunlight and down and around in spiraling turns to a few gentle dips at the bottom. For some reason, the period in the tube, tilted onto my back staring up in anticipation, is the part I get visions of every now ant then.

That ride in Wildwood, NJ, is long gone, but thanks to the interwebs, I've found POV footage of an exact replica in Altoona, PA. Watch and enter deep into the recesses of Da Nator's mysterious psyche! (Or is that id? Apply your own school of psychology!)

What strikes me most about this now is how much it mimics being born. Seriously, you're put in an uncomfortable position, faced with an irreversible path into the dark where you don't know what will happen next, thrust through a scary tube into blinding light and whirled around in a vantage point you've never seen before. No wonder it's stuck in my subconsciousness!

That or, you know, it was just something I'd never done before and a very cool ride. Here's hoping your coaster ride doesn't malfunction and throw you off into space...

The Great Schlep

Sarah Silverman often annoys me, but this video (and idea) is the shiznit. L'shanah Tovah!

Time Wasters, Inc.

Mrs. Nator is in the Dirty South for a week, and what do I do? Do I clean the house or get started on my Fall semester reading? No. After I finish my term paper, I go out to lunch with a friend, take myself to a movie (Wall-E, did it make anyone else cry?) and out to dinner. Oh, and buy and play around with the Spore Creature Creator. All in one day.

This is my first Spore video. It's a fairly simple dragon-like creature dancing. I know, it's no dancing penis monster, which seems to be the thing to do, of course. People are so creative, don't you think?

Anyway, I can't get the shadings quite right, because my cheapo computer has a chipset instead of a video card. I hope I'll be able to play the full game when it comes out.

Do you think Mrs. Nator will be happy when she comes back to find the dishes and recycling piled up and the cat litter unchanged, but a full planet's worth of creatures on our computer?

Gooooo, Team! Or Not.

Having finally made it into the 2000nds, I now have a camera in my cell phone. Which makes it possible to share exciting moments like this with you.

On the way to the dentist, I stumbled upon a typical summer brouhaha at Rockefeller Center. I paused to see what was going on, and it turned out they were announcing the United States Olympic men’s basketball team. I came in just at the end of the introduction of the members, and the announcer was trying to get the crowd fired up.

Announcer: "Now let me hear you chant for them: U.S.A! U.S.A.!"

Crowd: "Meh."

I just love it when dunderheaded nationalism fizzles.

Why do I?

...stay up all night so I feel awful the next morning? ...take every mistake I make to heart and beat myself up for it? Judge simple, impersonal circumstances as mistakes I made or faults that I have? Worry so much about people disliking me, betraying me and hurting me? Shut out the fact that I am loved?

Why do we make life hard on ourselves? I've reviewed my issues and the childhood experiences I've had countless times. I've gotten better at taking care of myself, but it still does not come easily, naturally. Is it the personality I was born with, or how I was raised? Do you do the same things, too?

I know that most people do. Remembering that makes me feel less faulty and alone. Too bad my memory is so bad... especially when I don't get enough sleep!

Homebound Lesbians

It's that time of year - it's sit on our asses time!

Yes, we always plan to do festive stuff, but it seems that every year we are so exhausted from the stress of finishing stuff up at work (or school), that at least one of us gets sick, and we both lie around like cold-stunned sea mammals, intent only on resting and building up our blubber.

Despite our limited budget, we found a cheap performance of the Messiah to go to last weekend. But we ate the tickets, because Mrs. Nator didn't feel well. Then, this weekend, we had tickets to go see Jollyship the Whizbang do a dirty pyrate-themed holiday puppet rock opera. But we are so brain dead that we showed up a day late.

It's Christmas eve, and we don't even have a tree, yet. Mrs. Nator is starting to sneeze. And we keep turning to each other and asking, "do you want to do something," or "what do you want to do," and then replying "I dunno... (snifflemopeshnort...)"

But at least we're doing it together.

Here's some pyrate puppet ridiculous to cheer up your holidays. And remember, Santa likes rum in his milk.

Quandaries of a Privileged White Girl

So, the holidays are upon us. While I should be spending all my time looking for a job (okay, okay - I've started!), I am equally sentimental, hidebound and and premenstrual enough that I've decided to dedicate a few hours to making cookies.

Like many families, mine has a tradition of making Christmas cookies. My mother used to make dozens of dozens, filling large boxes full to send to people as presents (particularly the kids when we went off to school) and keeping plenty on hand to snack on for months. Sometimes there would still be some stored in the freezer by the time the next Christmas rolled around.

For a few years, I followed her example and would wind myself up into a tizzy of cookie making. However, eventually, she and I both realized that, while cookie making is fun in the short term, once you get past a couple hundred dollars' worth of ingredients and a half-day's worth of cooking, it gets overrated real fast. Neither one of wanted to have stress-related breakdowns over whether we'd get all the damn cookies done, or who burned what, or how to get them shipped in time, anymore. And so, every year we try valiantly to resist making too many cookies. Yet, every year, the urge to bake returns.

So, what to do? I want to make a few cookies - enough to make us feel cozy, indulgent and satisfied as we loll around over our break, despite not exchanging presents due to a tight budget. But which to make? When you have multiple kinds of cookies enshrined as family traditions, how can you choose just a few?

It's puzzling enough that Mrs. Nator and I are setting aside a particular time to talk about it. I happen to know that Ma Nator is making gingerbread and chocolate chip, and Sis and Bro-in-law Nator usually make pinwheels and ranger cookies, so those are out. For me, I think I'm going to set the rule that I am not going to make any cookies just because they're someone else's favourite. If the Mrs. & I can do without 'em, they're off the list. Also, we don't need multiples of particular flavours. One kind of chocolate item, like brownies, will do, as will one fruity item and one buttery item. And for heaven's sake, no kinds that have to sit around for several days, or be chilled overnight, or what-have-you, just to get done. Let's keep it simple, people. This is supposed to be fun and fulfilling, not a chore.

So, my short list this far? Brownies, macaroons and jewel brooches (a buttery cookie with jam in the middle). And possibly those white trash concoctions made of Saltines, butter, sugar and chocolate chips that my ex-roommate introduced to us. That's it.

Now watch me break these rules just because we "must" bring those pecan sandies and/or lemon cookies to Mrs. Nator's family in Atlanta, or everyone will cry and think we don't love them.

What are your holiday cookie musts?

Habblthy Habbloweenthbl!

Oceana.org is having their annual Halloween Freakiest Fish Contest. While I don't think any of this year's nominees are quite as disturbing as last year's winner, the Blobfish (aka Fathead, see above), it's always fun to see some of the alien life forms our deep seas have to offer. So, go vote. I'll let you know who I voted for, if you tell me who you picked.

P.S.: For some more fun, freaky fish fotos, check out the links from this page. The specimens seen are from deep-sea expeditions, not the tsunami, as labeled, but they are certainly interesting. My favourite has got to be the spotted pink gunard. How is that not an Sanrio character?

Please Pardon The Interruption

What kind of idiot mutilates herself with a granny cart?

I have a giant hole in my leg!

I am so behind on everything in school I am never going to catch up!

The universe is trying to tell me that I made a mistake in going back to school!

I don't WANT to have to go back to doing computer work to make enough money!

I don't deserve anything better!

I am a failure! And unlovable!

It's NOOOT FAAAAAIRRRR!!!

WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

Sigh.

Well. I wonder if that got it out of my system?

Your Dreams Explained!

1. If you dream that you are flying, but suddenly start to fall:
You are afraid of success, or that your success and happiness will end. Is there someone or something in your life holding you back?

2. If you dream about turtles:
You will make slow but steady progress. You need to slow down and pace yourself. Alternatively, it indicates that you are sheltering yourself from the realities of life.

3. If you dream about your teeth falling out:
Either you are feeling powerless, or you are lying. Cut that shit out.

4. If you dream there are rocks you must climb:
You are taking too much Prozac. Also, you have issues with shoes. Stay away from pigs, if you know what's good for you.

5. If you dream you are a pirate bearing an uncanny resemblance to Angelina Jolie:
Alright, now you're just making shit up.

6. If you dream you are suddenly back in high school, where you have to take multiple exams you didn't know about in those infernal blue booklets, and you are late for all of them and don't remember how to do anything, and all the kids are teasing you and trying to tell the teacher that you are cheating:
You have returned to school later in life, and most of the students are 20 years younger than you. You just had an unfortunate and unlikely accident with a shopping cart that kept you out of classes that, little did you know, were to prep you for your first Chemistry homework and your first Intro to Vet Tech quiz, which requires extensive memorization of medical terms. Also? You can't ever make up that lab you missed. Oh, and you're so stressed about studying that you're procrastinating my writing stupid blog entries. Nervous, yet?

Or, you will soon come into a big fortune!

Your mileage may vary.

Eau de Old Geek: Smells Like Burning Floppies

I am old, and I am geeky. Therefore, I found this rather funny:

The Sim City Board of Advisors

You mileage (to scale) may vary.