I'm Still Alive!

HI. SORRY. I kinda dropped off the face of the earth, there, didn't I?

I wish I could say my life has been hectic...Well, it sort of has. Between vacationing at Cape Cod and home and getting ready for school, I've been kind of busy.

In the span of two weeks, Sorella applied, got accepted, and left for college. We're all very excited for her. She left on Friday, just in time to meet Hurricane Irene on the coast. She lost power, but last I heard didn't need to be evacuated.

Hurricane Irene was a bit of a let down. Everyone hyped it up to be so big and horrible, and yet all we got was some heavy rain and wind. I'm actually disappointed. With all the time I spent tying down lawn furniture and getting candles and food in case we lost power and prepping the house...Incredibly disappointed. No loss of power, no flooded basement, minor debris...

I have many large, old trees around my house, most of which have branches that hang right over our bedrooms. Mater and I evacuated to my Aunt's house, just incase a tree should fall and destroy the house. As you can guess, that wasn't the case.

Pater lost power some time around 11 am this morning and has yet to get it back. Otherwise, everything is uneventful.

Last Sunday, a very dear woman became my Goddess mother. It was a wonderful ceremony, full of laughter and tears and vows and I'm so incredibly lucky to have this woman in my life. I'm sure Whimsy will agree with me.

I've gotten very absorbed in Doctor Who lately (yes, Whimsy, feel proud). It's on instant watch on Netflix, so Mater and I have been watching it almost nonstop. We're currently in season 3, with 1913 England and the Doctor having amnesia and prep-school boys and evil scarecrows. I don't know the episode name or number, can't you tell? So far, it's pretty good. Amnesiac Doctor is insanely adorable, I want to cuddle him.

It's still possible for me to hit fifty-two posts by the end of the year. Wish me luck!

Wander safely,
Arc.

CHICKENPOX?!

As many of you recall, I'm nineteen years old, and like most kids, I had the chickenpox when I was little. I didn't have a raging case like Sorella and unlike Fratello, the freak of nature, I didn't have it twice.

Until now.

I came home from Collegeland and within six hours, I didn't feel good. I had this pain behind my ears that we deduced to be swollen lymph nodes, and I starting having a vicious cough. My energy was sapped. I have really bad sinus to begin with; I have to take medication from October to May or I get sick about every six weeks (I'm allergic to dust and animal dander). So, going from an open, relatively dust free college dorm to a closed up, dust infested home of two cats isn't the best idea.

When I woke up on Monday with a swollen eye, Mater sent me to a walk in clinic. The diagnosis? CHICKENPOX.

Or, more accurately, Shingles (the adult version).

.....WHAT.

I have no idea how I contracted it. According to the clinic, you don't need a sick kid. When you're little and get the chickenpox, you assume you're safe from every having it again, and so your parents don't get you the vaccine. Bad idea.

The chickenpox virus is like a sleeper solider; it stays in your system even after you're cured. Then, it waits for your immune system to be weak, and it attacks. This explains how Fratello had it twice.

As far as sicknesses go, it's really not that bad. I'm not sapped for energy and I can breathe through my nose. The sucky part is the swollen eye, the intense pain in my eye muscles, and the headache. It trumps all headaches I've ever had. I'm ridiculously sensitive to noise. Example: Pater keeps the TV volume anywhere from 35-50. For me, anything about 12 is too loud. It sucks ass. Worse than that, if I move too fast or cough, it feels like my brain is trying to explode out of my skull.

Oh, and the most entertaining part? Chickenpox and cold sores are variations of the Herpes virus. In order to get better, I'm on Herpes medication. They're freaking HORSE PILLS.

Wander safely (and don't get the pox!),
Arc.

I am a Pack Rat

Packing for college is hard. Packing to come home is harder. Over the last year, I amassed so much stuff in my dorm room. Extra clothes, trinkets, text books, papers. It was ridiculous.

Upon returning home, I started to wonder how I was going to fit it all in my room again. Over the winter break, my room shrunk to about a forth of its size from my college boxes alone because I was switching campuses. At the moment, most of those boxes are in the garage. However, something possessed me to think it was a good idea to clean out my room.

BAD. IDEA.

I HAVE SO MUCH STUFF.

I have a fairly large room. I've been aware it was getting close to bursting. But right now? I've only cleaned out my closet and my dresser, and that turned into eight bags of clothes for Salvation Army and about five bags of trash. I had stuff from my elementary school field day. Clothes from middle school. And I haven't even TOUCHED my desk.

Look at that disaster, and imagine all the stuff in the drawers.

I've dug such a grave for myself. Maybe one of you can throw Arc a rope? Pretty please?

Wander safely (and don't be a pack rat!),
Arc.

Winding Down

In just nine days, I will officially be a college sophomore.

How weird is that to think about? I'm almost done with my first year of college! I mean, I have to haul ass because I've got so much to do between now and then, but that's not the point. This year went by so incredibly fast, particularly this semester.

Between now and then, though, I have to:

- Read four chapters for Parapsychology
- Write a short story for Parapsychology
- Read six chapters for Propaganda
- Finish a take home midterm for Juvenile Delinquency
- Finish an Italian composition

And then there's all those finals themselves...Oh, the hole I've dug for myself. And we all know how well Arc does with procrastination (as proven by this post, which is taken the place of school work, and eating, seeing as the food here just doesn't appeal and I've only got nine dollars left on my meal card).

Then there's friends, and a boy, and Beltane is this weekend...I'm so screwed.

Wander safely (and say a prayer for me, I'll need it XD),
Arc.

I'm the Green Fairy

This is a story piece written especially for you all, based loosely on real events. Enjoy!

x(X)x

It was actually pretty stupid, if you cared to stop and think about it. You’ve known the boy for all of three hours, when Orchid decided he was your ride to a meeting you were already late for and honestly didn’t want to attend. Three hours of sitting next to each other, making stupid faces and wishing the “we-don’t-want-to-attend-but-Orchid-has-this-way-of-twisting-you-into-doing-anything” meeting would go faster. 

He had this way of catching your eye every time you glanced up to make it look like you were paying attention, and god did he have a nice smile. It lit up his whole face and it was just so sweet looking. And you’d smile back, then scrunch your nose and purse your lips to show your disdain for budget approval when you couldn’t actually vote on anything because you weren’t an official club yet, and you didn’t think his smile could get any bigger as he stifles a laugh. You’re suddenly incredibly glad you aren’t prone to blushing.

And here you are, three hours later, sitting in his dorm room and sharing a bottle of absinthe, the green liquid swirling in real glasses you made a special trip to his house for, because “you can’t drink absinthe from a plastic cup; it’s disrespectful to the liquor!”. And you know you shouldn’t be this stupid. He seems nice, sure, but so did Ted Bundy (not that you think he’s a serial murder, but a girl can never be too careful).

He has this habit of rambling, but at least he rambles about something intelligent, or at least funny. Like the time he and his friend agreed they weren’t going to get smashed, yet end up needing several people to retrieve cars just to get home, because god only knows where he ended up (he certainly didn’t). 

He teases that you drink too slowly, and you tell him he drinks too fast, already pouring himself his second class of absinthe. You toss him the partially frozen bottle by your feet and he mixes the two liquids together. He’s surprisingly coherent for starting his second glass of 140 proof liquor. More coherent than you would be, but he’s got two years and at least 30 pounds on you, so that’s to be expected. Absently, you wonder how on earth you’re going to write your paper (or exactly what you’ll end up writing) if half a glass of now more-blue-than-green liquid leaves you this light headed. The room already swirls if you move your head to quickly.

You hear your phone ring from your bag. Dad lights up on the screen, the little picture flashing with the music. “Oh, hell,” you mutter.

“Think you can pull off sober?” He asks, laughing softly.

You return the grin. “We’re about to find out,” you say before accepting the call.

He pulls out his laptop while you talk to your father, fingers only slightly clumsy on the keys as he searches for “the most beautiful music video I’ve every seen, you have to watch it”. The video leaves tingles down your spine, but you’re not sure if it’s the music or the alcohol. 

He’s sitting next to you now, instead of at the other end of his bed. You can’t help but notice how his arm rests on your knee so he can reach the mouse (you don’t understand how he can hate the trackpad). The previous uneasiness returns, but you can’t help but feel a little giddy; it’s been a long time since someone was interested in you, much less a guy. He keeps it casual, though. No bubbles invaded, just an arm resting on your knee and his shoulder against yours (but that’s more your doing than his. 140 proof liquor makes it hard to balance). 

And so it goes. Music video after music video, balance slowly getting worse as you get closer and closer to the end of your glass. But it’s okay, because he sways just as much as you do. At some point, you decide it’s high time you start that paper (it’s due in three days anyways). Despite your inebriated gyroscope, you mange to give him a hug (though by the way he titled his head as you got closer, you think he might have been expecting a kiss), and despite your overly-intoxicated fingers and blurring-if-it-moves-too-fast vision, you type your number and spell your name in his phone without too much trouble. You make an off handed joke about hoping you make it upstairs without cracking your head open, and he calls you a lightweight. You call him an alcoholic. 

You only almost fall down the stairs once and don’t fumble with your keys for too long before you’re in your room. You’ve had a horrible case of the munchies since the night before, but honestly, the idea of six flights of stairs, one of them spiral, just to get food doesn’t seem like a particularly feasible act right now. Instead, you steal a soy pudding cup (though it tastes just the same) from your suite-mate’s fridge, and laugh at yourself when you realize you really aren’t stealing anything; you bought the damn cups and they let you keep it in their fridge. 

Pudding is apparently a good way to sober up. You keep that in mind for the next time someone offers you a sober-coffee. Although if you’re more thoroughly smashed, a sober-up pudding might make things worse.

Later, when you figure you’re more hungover than drunk because of the massive headache you’re sporting, you can’t help but find it a little pathetic that you’ve gotten drunk and sober on a Friday before 9 pm. You smile, though, as you think about the last thing he said.

“We should make this a regular thing.”

x(X)x

Wander safely (and I mean safely. The above story really wasn't all that safe),

Arc.

It's a Really Good Excuse, I Swear!

It is! It really is!

I know I've been painfully absent to my imaginary figment readers, but I didn't mean to! I went home for the weekend from the 7th-10th because my grandmother isn't doing well, and, upon returning to school, I discovered what nightmares are made of.

I left my computer charger at home.

Do you understand how horrible that is? I was suffering from withdrawal, people! It sucked so hard! I mean, this doesn't excuse why I had no post for the week before this (it got started but never finished), which means I owe two more posts after this, but hey - One's already started! Whoo!

There are only a few pieces of technology I really need. The computer and the iPod. Now, I've been grounded off the computer when I was younger, and those were dark times. But honestly, being without the iPod is worse. Much worse. I've gone through a total of four iPods, and every time I suffer some sort of withdrawal. I get irritated and I start constantly humming things, moving my body to the beat. It's actually pretty amusing if you think about it.

But, as you probably guessed, the computer charger arrived at school on Thursday, and so here I am! And with more things to follow!

...Please don't hate me :(

Wander safely,
Arc.

Time Management: Come Again?

New Year’s Resolutions: a time of reflection, to better yourself, to change what you don’t like...A time to make many claims you won’t follow through with.

I never got the point of New Year’s Resolutions. Why wait for January first to change something about yourself? Is it supposed to make it a more credible change or something? I bet you won’t be surprised to know that more gym memberships are made in January than any other month of the year.

I don’t save my resolutions for New Year’s. I don’t believe it has special powers, or will make me a better person. I make me a better person any day of the year. On this particular day, I think I need better time management, especially with a new semester approaching fast.

I’m a horrible, horrible procrastinator. I write papers due at ten am at two am, or sometimes even two hours before class. I once spent nine hours in front of a computer the day before a massive research paper was due because I hadn’t started it yet. I think I made Mater fear for my sanity that day; we’d be sitting in a silent room, both of us working away, and all of a sudden I’d scream at the top of my lungs and slam my head into the desk. It happened many times.

My poor time management is not a new thing. When a teacher says, “This isn’t an assignment you can do in one night”, I think; Challenge accepted. Bring it on. While this mindset makes it incredibly impressive when you get your project back with an A-, and you can state proudly, “I did all of this the night before”, it’s really not fun. It’s nerve-racking, painful, and exhausting. It only gets worse in college. 

So, with this lovely BOW’11 challenge, I am attempting to manage my time. At least this way, I can do it with something. For example, it is currently January third at 8:43 pm. It was originally going to be posted on the tenth, but I felt like posting something funny (see that last pretty post down there?). LOOK AT ME BE PRODUCTIVE!

...Yeah, productivity isn’t a strong point of mine, either. Sure, I could write my term paper, or I could read fanfiction. I could read the required chapters for English, or I could crochet a hat. I could do my Italian homework, or I could knit. You see where this is going.

Scratch that; I am productive. I make a lot of hats, scarves, and hand warmers. I teach people how to knit, crochet, and I maintain a job. I’m just really, really bad about my homework.


The highlight of my first semester at college? I crocheted EIGHTEEN HATS.

Wander safely,

Arc.