Tomorrow, the internet leaves the house, so this is the last I'll be posting unless the motels we stay at have free wireless but I highly doubt it.

Next time I post, I'll be back on Long Island!

Play me off, Keyboard Cat.

GUESS WHO'S BACK



Highlights of the trip include:

Turning 21 (legally able to get blargetyschlarged now, thanks)
Going to the theater I used to act in, and seeing a crowd of people waiting for me
A bachelorette party in which I got a bit blargetyschlarg
Seeing my friends!

Photos will be uploaded later.

I am so glad to be back! Stay tuned for when I move away in two weeks. :D

The big day was today, and the cat got his two infected canines removed. He was less than pleased upon returning home. For the next week, it's antibiotics, painkillers, and mouth rinse. Have you tried sticking a syringe into the mouth of a cat who doesn't want his meds? Even when they're doped up, you have to break out the Russian Wrestlemania moves to pin them.

( Homecoming photo under the cut. )

GOODNIGHT, SWEET PRINCE'S TEETH, AND A FLIGHT OF ANGELS SING THEE TO THY REST.

To the individual who left a block of wood in the middle of the highway just behind the top of the hill, so I couldn't see it coming until it was too late:

They might as well just call Doubleshots "canned happy" and be done with it.

Pointless bawwing entry deleted. I think I should focus on my archaeology exam instead of spite on people I shouldn't be investing my time in anyway via cryptic entries on LJ and obviously the best way to do that is by typing up a new entry on here. So how about that cold-hammering metallurgy?

So Target's running a sale on TF: Animated figures and the Animated TPB came out yesterday. Hooray! I must go throw more of my money at Cartoon Network and Hasbro. And let's be honest, I was only ever going to buy Optimus "Let's Go Watch The History Channel" Prime if he was on sale.

T-minus two months for California. How exciting! My first orders of business upon arriving are to go swimming, get melanoma, and bother ko_pilot.

We're performing Thriller at my dance recital. Doubly exciting! I appreciate being able to make a total fool of myself in front of my parents and the parents of people in my class.

So I got a comprehensive tour of SUNY Buffalo's biological anthropology department. Here are the reasons why my day was probably more interesting than yours:

-I got to hold a walrus skull.
-I now know what monkey soup smells like.
-I got to see dissections being performed on a macaque, chimpanzee, and a human (WHICH WAS CRAZY AWESOME LET ME TELL YOU INTERNET).
-I was holding and gesturing with a human hip bone as I talked to the grad student showing me around.
-I got to see tons upon tons of monkey fetuses in varying stages of development.
-I got to see human skulls with various cranial defects.
-Embalmed things smell funny.

And it was just me and the grad student. I felt like a special pretty princess for an hour as we talked about tuition costs and what my study path should be if I choose UB for a grad school.

Man, but the dead guy's skin resembled a pile of wrinkled wet flesh-colored towels with toenails.

So, uh, spring break.

I flew up to Buffalo on Friday after completing my forensic anthro midterm. The first flight, from Albuquerque to Atlanta, was spent in nail-biting terror, but I grabbed some Dramamine at Atlanta International so the flight from there to Buffalo was spent in doped-up bliss. I got to my aunt and uncle's at midnight, and got up the next morning to go to this place here and hang out with dytabytes, who is easily one of the nicest and funniest people I've ever met. I'm still coming down from the epic girl squee that left me with, but going back to the southwest is going to suck a whole lot more now.

No but seriously she is you guys it borders on freakish how absolutely wonderful she is.

I also got IDW's Transformers art book there, since the sketch sections of the trade paperbacks were my favorite parts anyway, and the art book for the Watchmen movie. And I found Universe Prowl at this really nice comic shop, but he's in... Sunstreaker's packaging. Somehow, Sunstreaker's backing was put on Prowl's box, and I almost don't want to take him out because it's easily the most insulting thing to Prowl in the world.

Alas, I'm back in Buffalo now, and today I'm going to SUNY Buffalo so I can see how good it would be for me as a graduate school. Ultra-conservative religious relatives will be coming over to visit Wednesday; I plan on stuffing my face with wings and pizza to make sure I don't engage them in battle.

( Spoilers and various unordered thoughts under the cut. )

In summary:


Also, I have new people watching this journal! 'Sup, guys? I hope you'll let me continue to bore you with talk about college and robots.

In other news, EEEEE ONE WEEK UNTIL I FLY BACK TO NY AND I'M GONNA KICK IT IN CANADA TOO I AM SO EXCITED and also hoping that I don't die in a fiery plane crash. Okay, enough out of me. Back to copy editing I go.

Feeling sort of better. After that charming meltdown I had, I went home for break and I've spent the last couple days doing a generous amount of nothing, except for some baking. My dad's getting a consultation for his surgery soon; something's floating around in his spinal column like the Stinky Diver and they need to get it out before it gums up the works any more. He's got nerve damage in his right arm too, so he's losing his strength in it. He couldn't open the door to the house Thursday. My poor dad. :(

He is facing the situation with his usual snarky optimism though, which is at least keeping me from having a total breakdown.

So I'm doing better (good enough to focus on my work, at least), though not good enough that my appetite's fully returned. I suppose this is one of those "one day at a time" ordeals. At least I'm not as bad as I was in high school, though I'll have to wait until tomorrow to see if this is permanent, or I'll slide right back into my depression hole when I go back to my dorm. One of the biggest problems for me hasn't been resolved yet.

In conclusion:

Tomorrow I have a map test, a midterm, and then I get to rescue my car from the parking garage and go face down I-25 so I can pick my dad up from the hospital, take him home, and then run back to campus at six so I can get to music theory on time. The past few days have been taking their toll on me; I'm stressed, miserable, snappish, I have been crying at the drop of a hat, and my nerves are shot to hell.

This is an accurate depiction of my mood at the moment:



THIS IS THE WORST WEEK EVER, AND IT'S ONLY TUESDAY.

oh and sup extreme emotional issues left over from high school I see you have decided to stop by again

John McCain spoke at our campus today! I was bummed that I didn't get a ticket to see him (I may not agree with his politics, but a presidential candidate on campus is really exciting nonetheless), but it turns out that the Obama supporters were rallying outside of the building, and that made for a much more interesting afternoon anyway. I got major LOLs at some of the signs there.

( They were speaking loud and fast through a haze of noise and heat, and the smell of sweat and anger in the air. )

I think Obama's due to speak here soon. I want to go so badly, you have no idea. I'm probably going to have to get up at four in the morning to get tickets, though.

There's a bunch of things I was expecting when I decided to go to UNM. Bad food. Drunk people on my floor. Bad teachers. Skateboarders.

Attending a school-endorsed ritual effigy burning was not on the list.

( A very picture intense report of Red Rally. )

I originally had a big entry in the works about my adventures playing Hipster Bingo in my music theory class. That's sidelined, however, for this news:

I'm the new fiction editor for the literary magazine of the University of New Mexico, Conceptions Southwest.

An editor. I thought I was just going to be on staff, but I'm an editor, which is certainly a very nice feather in my cap. Now I just need to prove that I'm deserving of such a big responsibility. It's certainly going to be a load of work, but I'm so excited to start this and show everyone that I'm going to be good at my job, and certainly up for this. I'm going home tomorrow to pick up a bunch of editing books from my dad to brush up.

Bring it.

(But not right at this very moment, as I am writing two papers, re-writing a third, and studying for two tests for the coming week. Eh-heh. I should probably get used to that.)

I came home for Labor Day weekend! I'll be sure to type up another report about the dorms sometime soon (and an incident involving the disposal of garbage, specifically), but right now I'm more preoccupied with altering some tee-shirts, eating pizza, and snuggling with my animals.

Oh! Another cool thing: I'm collaborating with momotouchesduck on a TF: Animated comic. She's accepted me on board as the writer, and I am absolutely thrilled to be working with someone as talented as she is.

Okay, time to wash my greasy little paws and get to altering some shirts.

So I moved in today.

( My half of the dorm room! )

And I'm all tuckered out from moving. But I'm amped for classes to start! I'll do a campus-wide photo post soon. :]

GOIN' TO COLLEGE, BRB

http://www2.timesreview.com/NR/stories/T081808_nasta_den


He was not just a "popular" art teacher. He was a man who went above and beyond what it is to be a teacher; he genuinely cared about his students and drove them to succeed and better themselves. He attended all of the high school's drama productions, and even assisted with set building and design. He stayed after school with the students who wanted to continue life-drawing, and had sessions with them. He was the only teacher who I remained in contact with after graduating. I had known him since tenth grade.

He ate lunch with us in the art room. He let me sneak into his class during study hall. He got pizza when he and his students set up for the art show. He helped me during one of the most difficult portions of my life. He introduced myself and my friends to House, citing it as the "most unintentionally funny show ever." He loved The Soup. He illustrated books. He worked on Ren and Stimpy. He had a sense of humor about absolutely everything. He was a teacher in the truest and most unadulterated sense of the word, and as of Sunday, August 17th, I am more hollow on the inside. Vincent Nasta was what I can only aspire to be.

Rest in peace, sir.

A word about my cat.

Buddy (or Butty, as he is sometimes called due to his bootylicious posterior) is a drooler, who is apparently thrown so deep into bliss at having his ears scratched that you might as well have turned on a faucet. Buddy's breath, however, is perhaps a concentrated dose of the worst stink I have ever come into contact with, and I don't say this lightly. I worked as a shit-shoveler for horse stables, I have poked the bloated corpse of a drowned vole with a stick and popped it, and yes, I have eaten Taco Bell. This, however, takes the cake. The vile, repulsive cake with brownish green frosting.

Buddy, who was apparently just so pleased that he could sit on my bed as I worked, shook his head and sent several drool-grenades flying everywhere. ( Here is the aftermath. )

(He also hates Coldplay. I put on "Lovers in Japan" and he started mewling.)

Disheartening event of the day:

In my search for the light bulbs, which are ever-nomadic because my mom enjoys moving stuff around without telling anyone, I thought to myself, "okay Colleen, think like your mother. If you were a woman who disregards her daughter's indignation over her homophobic remarks as 'over-sensitive' when you yourself raised her to never use the word 'retarded' in a frivolous manner because your sister has Down Syndrome, where would you put the light bulbs?"

And then I remembered that she keeps that sort of the stuff in the kitchen drawer.