One Norwegian Alaskan in Madison.


Wow, I just woke up from a dream about the Polyclinic down the street, and it was pretty sinister. I rarely remember my dreams, but just now everyone doing human research there was young, smokin hot, and diabolically inclined. In the elevator on the way to the fourth floor the women took no notice, so I guess my badge from work made them think I belonged. The closed/cocky expression in everyone's eyes made me uneasy, but I wasn't there as a test subject, so should be ok. I don't remember why I was there, actually.

I walked down a corrider past offices with heavy doors that gorgeous men in lab coats rushed through, and as I passed a few just-closing doors I caught glimpses of naked subjects strapped down to exam tables inside. The rooms were dark, save for the single light on the subjects laying there. The corridor opened into a large atrium at the end, with stained glass and pews. In place of the pastor's podium, though, was a platform bed front and center, with a microphone aimed at one end of it. As things get a bit hazy, I remember an old naked man was being brought up the aisle toward the platform. After that it's a mystery.


I came home 30 min ago from flogging the O Chem horse to find my bedroom door locked.

Crap! Especially bad since I was the one to lock it earlier in the day, only to forget about it and leave the door open with the handle locked...

It gets worse, however. Rachel had shut the door to just before the point of latching, which I found out when I tried to turn the knob and accidentally pulled the door ALL the way shut. Fuck! Who the hell locks themself out of their own bedroom? That would be me.

Thankfully, I used my previously concealed ability to pick locks to fix my problem - no way in hell was I going to sleep on the couch when my futon was just inside the damn door. Christ. I need to go get my head examined.

Not only am I pulling stunts like that, I treated a good friend of mine like crap tonight and have generally been acting unsocial to the rest of my people. It's crunch time in my classes, and I've chosen my priorities. I'm off my stride, I've lost my groove, and I'm cutting out those who I don't need the most to get by. Knowing that full well, the ugly truth is that I don't care as much as I should.

Work makes my oligocytes dissolve...


Have registered for Bloomsday!

Also, have been beaten to the punch on creating a delightful, itemized living will in event of falling into Persistent Vegetative State. Highlights include willingness to remain in PVS if US Government redirects efforts to enacting:
  • Debt Relief to Impoverished Nations
  • Nuclear Disarmament and De-escalation
  • Humanitarian Foreign Policy
  • Environmentally Sensitive Policy

Sweet! Genius, I say.

Also, synthesis is sexy.

Hurly-burly bread is my new best friend


Many things. Many, many things.

Numero uno. My roommates. I do love them so. One just finished admitting some previously concealed relationship details to the parentals that got pretty emotional, and I respect her for that. We talked afterwards, and while I would suffocate in her family, I kind of envy the close tabs they all let each other keep on...each other. I don't confide in my family. Hell, I didn't really confide in anyone before I got to college and formed the relationships I have now. It's a new thing, and I respect her need to be on the level with her parenthood.

Numero dos. Living wills. My ethics prof gave us each one to fill out at our discretion as we left class this evening. I'm not indecisive about the will itself - I will be filling it out and stuffing it in my freezer (Where all important documents go. Please look there first if I am in a persistant vegetative state.). No, the indecision for me is in which box to check: yes or no for life support in the event that I'm hanging in there while "in a terminal condition or in a permanent unconscious condition". I'm leaning strongly toward no life support, but I'm not ready to sign on it yet. Also, I should get an organ donor card and let my parents know. So should you.

Numero tres. The Shins. My ticket came in the mail today! Sweet, man. Sadly, this will be my first show in a very long time.

Numero cuatro. Chemistry. Specifically, organic chemistry. I'm kicking ass, ladies and gents! I went from zero to badass in about 2 days for the exam I took this morning. At least I think so. More info to come. I'm in lab 20 hours a week these days - that would be all weekday afternoons sacrificed to the Chem Gods. I kinda like it... ;-)

Numero cinco. Sign Language. I'm learning it! I've got an evening ASL class going on over at SCCC, and it's as much about culture as language. My language geek side is in heaven! The next step would be to suck it up and branch into the non-Romance languages...or actually achieve fluency in one of them...

Numero seis. Running. I haven't been. Not since running stairs with my lovely next-door neighbor last week. It's either chemistry or working out, I say. This week it was chemistry. The Bloomsday race is going to hurt, I can tell already.

That is all for now. Thank you for reading thus far. You really have stamina, you know? Props to your mom.

Holy Batman!


You may think the Pope needed more cowbell, but not any more, baby! Meet the Popeman. So fucking cool, you'll be wanting your own pair of green chastity pants within a week.

About me

  • Homebase Madison, Wisconsin
  • I was raised in Alaska, am the shortest person in my family, and I can wiggle my ears.
  • My profile
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