WHICH SURPRISED HER. (old lioness-pride blog)

This old blog has snuffed it, I'm afraid,

2006-10-29T17:35:00.000Z

Bang-bang...

2006-10-19T16:20:00.000+01:00

... you're dead.

Hi, My name is Uzi Saghi and I was hit by a tidal wave.

Which is a pity, bcs today you would have been 30 years old. I celebrated my 30th with you remember? You and your brothers threw my chair in the air, as Jews are wont to. You wore a black turtleneck and a ponytail and looked absolutely smashing, as you were wont to. You didn't even own a jumper when we first met and all of a sudden there you were, looking terribly European.

It is your birthday today and I think that is why my words have gone. I haven't had a lot to say in a nlong, long while. If I had words, I'd have to use them to talk abt you, and to tell people how I hoped I would be brave enough to face your photos this year so I could scan them, and show the world how absolutely beautiful you were, face of an archangel and the soul to match. I thought I might send them to your mum as well.

I cannot bear to look at them yet, I simply cannot bear to.

You would have been 30 years old, and now you are, what? Where? They have therapy on earth, which is a good thing bcs this little death of yours it doesn't seem to be getting any easier to accept. If anything, the feeling of unrealitty, of surreality has increased. Sadly, I should have been in therapy before your death, not sought it after it, for I flee and isolate myself when reality just doesn't live up to its expectations so I tend to only visit my psychiatrist once in a very irregular while. Not conducive to a greater well being but I am too weary to care.

Remember how your mum once gently urged me to not rely on my lazy ovaries to ensure I'd not get pregnant? It was a very horrifying moment, only surpassed by your sister explaining to your mum and I, using your penis as an example, how to apply one of those penile fishing flies or something or other we'd just come across in a magaine. Your mum was just so worried I'd get pregnant (ha!) and we'd have a baby (ha!) and your life woudl be ruined (heheeeeeee!). I suppose we all wish your life had been ruined, yes? It'd make missing you easier to bear.

Happy fucking birthday.

------------------

And look at what lovely Cat wrote. They share a birthday. She remembers.

NO!

2006-10-13T14:28:00.000+01:00

NO NO NO NO NO! Not fair, not fair, not fucking fair! I am so mad, so mad, so so SOOOOOOO mad. Bloody hell, they don't deserve this, they do NOT deserve this.

------------

And Uzi, Uzi would turn 30 in 6 days.

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Fuck October.

Intermezzo

2006-10-01T10:10:00.000+01:00

It's been quite a while hasn't it. Sorry abt that, it's so unlike me to not write for so long. I finished exams and started classes right away and classes, well, they are exhilarating, I think I might just have some fun this year. But the schedule is a bit mad and what with the bloody office organising (almost finished, don't want to post pics till I have the rug in) and my post-27-exams crash I basically come home and crawl into bed almost immediately, falling asleep entirely too early and waking up entirely too early as well. I have been waking up on my own at around 6.30 every morning for the past fortnight. I am tired all the time, not desperate-tired like during exams, just tired from doing a lot of new, big things at once. I barely check my mail these days and the same goes for blogs, I hope I will become used to this new life soon and my body will let me be more awake soon, I want to be able to see how you're doing again. Tired and hungry all the time gets old fast - and yes, am eating like a beast these days as well, seems I can never get enough, oy vey the arse. As I said, hope this changes soon.

I'm off to Barcelona for a few days, have never been there so am quite excited. Well, quite is a bit of an exaggeration since I am too knackered to muster a proper degree of excitement. But I've always thought I'd love Barcelona. Actually, have always thought a priori that I'd be mad abt Sushi, Barcelona and Boston. Was right abt the sushi, we'll see abt the rest.

An easy fast for those of you who'll need it and everyone, have a brilliant week.

BFR

2006-09-07T22:26:00.002+01:00

AM BACK FRM BEACH HOUS STOP WENT BACK IMPROMPTU T STUDY BCS FLAT MAD W NEW IKEA UNASSEMBLD FURNITR FOR BOOKS STOP ALL STUDYING UNWORTHY THO STOP YESTRDAYS EXAMS GHASTLY STOP WILL FIND OUT TUE HOW MUCH FUCKD UP STOP RECKON WHOLE BLOODY LOT STOP SCHOOL STARTS MON STOP ALL MUST BE TIDY AND ZEN BY THEN STOP WILL POST OFFICE BEFORE PIC TMRRW SO ALL CAN SEE WHAT DESPERATE SITUATION STOP KNACKERD AS HORSE STOP HAPPY AS PIG IN SHITE STOP NEW IKEA FURNITR FOR BOOKS STOP EXCLAMATION MARKS STOP

------------------
EH STOP LIKE IDIOT FORGT MOST IMP NEWS STOP QUIT SMOKNG 18 DAYS AGO STOP *AUTO-SMOOCH* STOP

Hi, dahlings!

2006-08-18T19:37:00.004+01:00

Yellow guys, I'm back, slimmer, tanned and fully rested. And tanned. AND, I am also tanned. TANNED, I tell you. See? That hasn't happened since the last century. Literally.

I know, I know, not the best photo. But I will post more and I do not look particularly tanned in those for reasons I can't understand so the mirror it is. Actually, what made me decide to post it was how much I look like my father in it, which I forget I do bcs my face lost its roundness. But I do still. Yey genes! In real life, though, my eyes are blue, not red, and I do not have a lightning bolt across the left pupil.

My afro and I had a fabulous time! [I did fix the orange hair and have now really dark brown hair in some strands, the darkest I've ever been. Lesson learnt.]

We had amazing weather and the sea was lovely, and in the late afternoon it even built a pool of sorts, with still waters. I had to battle a surprising wave phobia daily, and thought of Uzi daily as the waves crashed over me, but by the end of it I was able to turn the lead in the pit of my stomach into something Tigish, and therefore good. The beach was divine, we often managed to stay till 21.00 a few times, like this:

My friend and I loved our time there, and she and the dog bonded:

The dog absolutely adores the beach. She loses her mind when loose on the beach, first she runs around in circles barking dementedly and then she goes play in the waves. She also attempts to dig a tunnel to Tibet, her personal honouring of Prtachett and Gaiman's Good Omens. But she gets bored easily:

Teasing an exceedingly hysterical dog is almost too easy.

Sometimes she even needs to be restrained.

What one should NOT do, I learnt, is turn one's back on one's exceedingly hysterical dog, or this will happen.

She achieved full dental contact and there is still a bruise on my right buttock to prove it.

Shabbat shalom, you all, I've missed you!

Signed: She Who Survived 19 Days Without Internet, And Also She Who Passed Imagiology As Well, So Only 3 More Exams Till This Year's 17 Subjects Are Done.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

2006-07-31T15:36:00.000+01:00

Fuckfuckfuck I passed Biochem! I PASSED BIOCHEM!!!!!!!!!!!! I PAAAAAAAASSEEEED BIIIIIOOOOCHEEEEEEEEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I PASSED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I PASSED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I PASSED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Physician, heal thyself

2006-07-30T23:06:00.001+01:00

And I did! I just did!

WARNING: if the mention of flesh + cuts makes you queasy read the psoriasis bit only bcs I just took a blade to myself, in the best possible way. Oh yes I did! I'll tell you when to stop further down.

Abt 2 months ago I started feeling something hard on top of my ear cartilage, where it joins the head. It wasn't painful for a while but it bothered me just being there. Then it started getting bigger and squishy and it became obvious it was filled with pus. So one day I disinfected the whole area and my hands and gave it a few good, determined squeezes (it was quite deep), and pus did shoot out and the pressure relief was immediate. So I cleaned and disinfected again, and thought Now it will remain open and drain and that's the end of it.

How I sometimes manage to forget I have psoriasis even when I don't have any visible psoriasis is beyond me, truly it is.

So, to recap. I have psoriasis, have had it for 30 years (yey moi!). Psoriasis is a systemic disease and does not very pretty things to your body inside and out, and that is why I am barred - barred! - from giving blood bcs, it stands to reason, anyone who is given blood is in dire straits and the last thing they need is blood riddled - riddled! - with inflammatory cells, all mine, all ever-present. I entertained thought of being able to be a bonemarrow donor bcs, I was told, there was a friendly little machine that could filter the bad, bad cells and collect the good, good ones. As it turns out, all my cells are the omegas of the playground and therefore to be shunned - shunned! - at all times. In a country where so many should give blood and do not, and where even less are bonemarrow donors, this breaks my heart in a way I cannot even appropriately convey bcs I would, see, if I could.

Now, as far as diseases go, psoriasis is a little incompetent overachiever. Other people regenerate their cells in abt 28 days? We'll do it in 7! Sometimes 6! Sometimes 4! Hey, but what abt the cells that aren't quite dead yet? Never mind that, we'll just shove them up to the surface realllllly fast, and then they can all clump together and look reddishly half-alive in a most disconcerted way, and then we can call even more inflammation mediators - ooh, they're coming - and then the whole can look even redder! And scalier! It doesn't even look human anymore. And in the winter it will hurt like bloody hell bcs the skin barrier is broken.

And one of the - for you - hidden beauties of them is that no cut, however simple, is just that. You see, any skin wound turns into a love fest, no wound heals normally, it immediately turns into a psoriasis lesion JUST BECAUSE IT CAN. It's like cloning with a nudge. So pardon me if I am wary of thorns and claws [just made myself snort bcs avoiding claws is so bloody easy for a vet isn't it] bcs it's begging for trouble, one single scratch can make my dormant beauty wake up, stretch and dilligently go to work, not to mention that lesions are symmetrical, so if I get one on the left a new one will arrive without fail on the right side, approximately in the same place. It would be fascinating if I weren't the most unwilling canvas. It's called the Koebner phenomenon/isomorphic response, and I share it with sufferers from e.g. lichen, warts, systemic juvenile rheumatoid arthritis and something called molluscum contagiosum which, frankly, always - ALWAYS - makes me think of a randy little STD-dripping lobster with an Australian accent.

Back to the cyst/abscess/something, how silly of me to think it would stay open and drain. Of course it didn't bcs while squeezing I made the surrounding skin bleed the tiniest bit and what have we learnt? Koebner ensures it all becomes covered by a thick, semi-transparent slice of - whatever it is. It doesn't look like a psoriasis lesion, just like some very aggravated something in between. Wish I had saved it, I could post a pic, wouldn't you have loved that, my pretties? The end result was that it filled up again and there was no way that the pressure would be enough for it to burst through the skin. Removing the what-have-you scab doesn't work either bcs, of course, it just builds another one even thicker and faster. In my experience, if you keep pulling it it will eventually heal WITHOUT turning into psoriasis but that has only worked with very, very small scabs bcs anything bigger hurts and could get infected so I don't even try it.

THIS IS WHERE YOU SHOULD STOP READING IF YOU'RE NOT CUT-FRIENDLY.

Abt an hour ago I had a feel again and it was bigger and absolutely filled with pus, I could actually hear the sound of the fluid swishing around. My worry was that said pus would inevitably end up going inside rather than outside, and hallo, there's my inner ear right there, and there's my brain not too far off, and the pressure was driving me absolutely bonkers so it NEEDED TO DRAIN. All of a sudden I remembered I still had some unopened scalpel blades from when I used to dissect those poor sheep and I went hunting for one. And I found it. I cleaned the area just like they do in the hospital (hydrogen peroxide and then betadine), I washed and scrubbed and disinfected my hands and I positioned myself in front of the mirror. It's an awkward spot but was still very visible (it would, in fact, be very hard to miss it). The first tiny cut didn't hurt too much, it was more of an impression freally, but I realised that I was doing it too far below. I pricked the top and WHAT A RELIEF! This thickish chord of pus trickled down immediately, and I had my hydrogen peroxide-gauze ready to help it along with some gentle pressure (I also covered my ear, no worries). When it slowed down I enlarged the cut and some more pus came out. And then I disinfected the whole thing again, and applied a plaster over it so the betadine-soaked gauze ball could work its magic some more, and I am hopeful that, bcs it's a deeper, larger cut it will not close again and that this will be the end of it. Also, I will be bathing it in salt water regularly for the next week/fortnight. And finally, I will be going to the beach with Shrimpy's Tweedle equivalent who became my friend as well, and she too is a Dr. How practical! How terribly clever of me! The only way I'll become ill is if I a) avoid her eagle eyes and b) cannot be done at all. So it all seems to be going well, and I am EXTREMELY proud of myself! I didn't expect it to hurt loads so it's not a case of my having been exceedingly brave but there's still a bit of horror involved in deep-cutting your own flesh. But the relief, oh I cannot begin to describe the relief! It is stinging a bit but well, it's just been cut open and liberally doused with H2O2 and betadine, what else could it be doing.

I lanced my own abscess, people! *pats back*

So yes, off to the beach tomorrow where, alas, I'll have no internet connection. It's positively primitive but it can't be helped. ?

On a fluffy note, yesterday I took extra care of my hair, then exfoliated and then exfoliated some more, then applied some self-tanner (Kanebo, I've found Kanebo here! *SWOON*), and re-applied again - and I now sport a very healthy glow. Also, lost my mind completely and bought Estée Lauder's Perfectionist CP+ bcs all the fashion blogistas I read rave abt it so much. It costs 100 euros here, ONE HUNDRED EUROS. It's obscene, thoroughly disgusting. Am still in a bit of a shock, to tell you the truth, but sometime life needs to be shown what we want rather than holding out till it is the way it should be for us to actually get the things we want to. Yes? And the serum DOES make your skin immediately velvety, so I am hopeful I will come back looking fabulously rested and fabulously fabulous.

I'mgoingtothebeachI'mgoingtothebeachI'mgoingtothebeach!
I'mgoingtothebeachI'mgoingtothebeachI'mgoingtothebeach!
I'mgoingtothebeachI'mgoingtothebeachI'mgoingtothebeach!
I'mgoingtothebeachI'mgoingtothebeachI'mgoingtothebeach!

YEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Housekeeping

2006-07-28T01:51:00.000+01:00

Hi.

I'm feeling better.

All right, better might be stretching it a bit, what I am is not caring abt the amount of exams that will await me in September. Imagiology went abysmally, the exam was much, much more difficult than the last one. In a few hours (less than 9) I will be circling random letters again, for the most part. Crop circles but not a good year for wine at all. I cannot bring myself to study one iota more bcs everything becomes one big word after a very short while. Enough. And bcs I do not feel like reading [not one bit, serioulsy] [and this is as bad as it gets] I have been watching series and films.

The Matrix Revolutions? Bros on crack. Oh! Have just realised, bcs I was skipping forward the boring parts (movie went rather fast at that) I managed to miss the infamous highway scene! What I like are the machine fighting anyway so all's good. But eh, rather poor film, what could they possibly have been thinking. [And when did Jada whatchmacallit Smith become a tiny, muscled little man? Her facial bones are broadening for fuck's sake! Get off the exerciser bfr you grow a penis, woman. ]

Am thoroughly in love with Cesar ... - eh, forgot his name. That dog chap, The Dog Whisperer. I'll have a small Californian moment now [hi, V.]: he has such good energy. That man sparkles inside out and it makes me all woofy to think of those dogs whose lives he's changed so radically, so much for the better! I believe I will apply some of my new-found knowledge to my dog - she needs it. Er, I need it. We all do. It is true, he trains the owners, and rehabs the dogs. I cannot believe the gift that man has, he is absolutely the canine Monty Roberts version. [If you haven't read the book or seen any of his work STOP NOW and go get them. Run! He tames wild horses with nothing but his voice, a towel, a riding hall, and abt what, 40 min? Mind-blowing. The first part of the book is utterly fascinating.]

I am not seriously worried abt myself. I mean, I am. My life isn't really good,a nd I have two more years of this madness. But I can still throw in words like procure [why didn't anyone call me pedantic? No fun this way.] so am not too worried. I would never leave vet school, ever. It might kill me but if it does it'll go down with me. I haven't been sacrificing myself for the past 5 years to abandon it all, I have the rest of my life to look forward to. I have what I think are very valid fears regarding the vast expansion of my ignorance and don't see how that will ever, EVER be any different. How on earth will I learn outside of school everything I should have learnt IN school? Bleak.
Went and got my new car [Got to the April archives if you want to see it, it's within the post in small font that tells the story of my miscarriage, I think. Too blah to go look and link]. My new car kicks ass, and the dog, to my humungous surprise, rides much more quietly in the back. rides quietly, full stop. And said back is now covered in brand new rubber - rubber! - mats, to which NO HAIRS STICK. Sadly, the back and the sides are covered but NO HAIRS ON THE SEATS. None. It's like - it's a bloody miracle, that's what it is.

Oh, another good one - Child of Our Time. It is what happens when BBC excellency [well, here at least] meets Prof. Robert Winston. Google it now. One of the things I want to do while I'm away, without my beloved internet, is to write a post abt the series, it should be absolutely mandatory for anyone who is a parent, plans to be a parent, wants to be a parent, works with children, is interested in boy/girl development, to watch this. Again, mind-blowing. Again, so funny how so many so desperately want to make the cultural bit be responsible for all that we are [and of course, how funny the opposite]. Expect loads of bio-antropological bruaha when I come back.

[Oh Udge, what I meant was, it can be said in English but it's one of those situations where one language is particularly adept at conveying the exact emotion and that'd be German this time. Just like Ihr koennt mich alle mal, no good way to really translate the feeling as brilliantly and elegantly as this in English. I use it often.]

- Millan, Cesar Millan! He also has the most darling accent ever, and usually I don't find the Spanish one all that charming. And his English mistakes - oh he's just adorable.

And you lot? You kick ass even more than my sexy car does. Thank you. Smooches to all.

What you want from me?

2006-07-26T01:31:00.000+01:00

I don't know what to do. I stopped studying abt 3 h ago bcs I couldn't stand it anymore. I couldn't, and I can't. I simply cannot bear to look at the same sentences over and over again to have them not be memorised. What the fuck am i doing w my life? I am 35 years old and live like an empoverished student, will it be worth it? What if I find out that a) I am not a good vet after all, wouldn't that be a laugh and/or b) I hate it, absolutely hate it? I see students from other universities whose vet degrees are shaped like human medicine, like the things you see on the telly. They have clinical rotations. Their programs are serious, they are taken seriously, they take themselves seriously. Me? I feel like a fraud. Our university is proudly said to be the glory of the country. I think glory got mixed up with cesspit, I am in the 3rd year and what the bloody hell have I learnt? As good as nothing. We are not taught to think as doctors, we are taught to memorise and spew and forget. I don't understand how I could have had 12 exams last semester in close to 3 weeks and passed them all, I truly don't,a nd this semester I have far less and am failing abysmally. This semester I am tired. I don't want to do this anymore, not like this, this is too hard, this is too little. I had 7 subjects this semester, which makes 11 exams. [Oh wait, 11 exams? Really? Well, still.] I passed a few and then - Biochem (8 out of 20 which isn't bad considering most of it was random circling); Imagiology - no time to prepare whatsoever bcs we had 2 days in btwn exams so welcome to a 6, lovely grade, the 6; I didn't even attempt to write Anat Path II bcs, again, no time to prepare bcs was desperately trying to intuit which of the 400 pages i should devote myself to in the 2 or 3 days I had to study; didn't attempt Pharmacology either bcs am absolutely lost w the calculations for prescriptions and besides it's 3 exams in a row, from 9-14h, and then from 14-16h there was Biochem so I chose Biochem instead and cannot even ironically say Well chosen bcs of prescriptions and had I failed that one and passed the other 2 with smashing grades I'd still be forced to re-write them all bcs the grades are not kept for the September exams, how lovely. Did go to the 2nd Biochem exam again but really, this time I don't think I have managed more than a 6, this season's numerology session brought to you by What Was She Thinking When She Thought She Could Be a Vet. I will be writing Imagiology in a few hours and really, why even bother. I will go but what's the point. And then I have 2 days bfr Path Anat II, and although I find it interesting it's one of the hardest for me to study bcs we do not have a book, it's basically notes written by the teacher and by some students, and I have the sort of brain that needs context to memorise, otherwise there is no earthly reason why impetigo cannot be intertigo and vice-versa. So that too shall be fun.

I know this semester was made worse bcs I had the miscarriage and it took me forever to recover, and bcs I wasted all that time on the stupid translation, sod the man, for absolutely nothing, but what's the point of knowing why? I am tired, tired, tired. I have been studying for 5 years and have not had a holiday the whole time bcs August was needed for the September exams. I am, obviously, reactively depressed. I know this shall pass. But fuck me if I have the strength to really believe in it, it's a dark, dark tunnel from where I am standing. I still have not passed this year, need to pass one more subject bfr that happens. If I fail Biochem (and a miracle would be needed for me not to have) I will leave it for next year bcs this September will see following subjects: Path Anat I [1 exam] (the last of the 12 exams was on a Thursday, a Biochem-related subject though less difficult, Path Anat I was the very next Friday, I did go and circle random letters but we know how lucky I am with that don't we); Pharmacology [3 exams in a row]; and if I fail Imagiology tomorrow and Path Anat II on Frid, add those as well. So anywhere from 4 to 6 exams in any period from a few days to a fortnight.

My new car, the one my parents bought me for my birthday, the one whose deal was signed around the day I had my miscarriage over three months ago, that car will arrive this Thursday. Don't even ask, this is yet again one of my country's equivalent of my vet degree. On Mon I will go away w a friend for 8-10 days, to the beach. I have downloaded films and series and am procuring books from my library-friend (the one person I know who buys as many as I do). And yet I am not even looking forward to it [what I want to say is kann mich nicht mal drauf freuen] bcs I don't think I can feel all that much anymore, am strangely depleted. The one thing I can still feel is a quasi sense of relief bcs Uzi most absolutely cannot be killed in the war. Thank you, tsunami motherfucker, for the almost gratitude that I can at least be be spared his death now.

Am tired, is all. Wish I were my dog.

I never really laugh out loud while reading but, by golly!

2006-07-24T02:38:00.000+01:00

Don't worry, I have not been assaulted or robbed or anything else that would result in a police report. It was the weirdest thing---I was reading in the window seat, and this rather large-bottomed woman boarded the train and made these elaborate preparations to sit down next to me. She pivoted so that she was perpendicular to the seat, backed up very very close to me, and slowly started to lower her ass down. I had time to think, "wait a minute, this chick is going to sit on me" and also to think, "I am being paranoid, people don't just deliberately sit on other people" as the ass descended and then boom, it happened. I made some noise, halfway in between "oof" and "what the fuck?" and sort of pushed at her with my forearms, and she very calmly said, "Oh, I'm terribly sorry" and moved over to the empty seat.
And I sat there angry and bewildered and WHY DID THIS PERSON SIT ON ME. Does a fully-clothed, public-place, sitting on people by "accident" fetish exist? Could a spatial-perception disorder or severe nearsightedness really make someone misjudge a distance that badly? Had I briefly turned invisible?

What to do when you're worrying abt living friends, dead ones (though less bcs it's a bit redundant), exams and the size of your arse

2006-07-19T02:26:00.001+01:00

Hallo! It's 2.35 am! GUESS WHAT?

Quite.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I was abt 15 I started carrying a little book around with me so I could write down the inanities I heard bcs some things were simply too funny to be forgotten. Funnily enough I figure prominently in it bcs I was the one variable that never changed and no one forgave me a single inanity. [I disbelieve what a bleeding idiot I can be at times.] One day, when I feel up to writing my Kibbutz Volunteer Memoirs, I'll go foraging for the relevant one bcs there was one volunteer in particular who was very, very blonde. The a-tad-unwashed sort at that.

Fortunately, Kuhn was right and I have just found a site that emulates that fine spirit of yore. Sadly, it comes with headlines but stick to the post itself and you'll find your slapping impulses greatly reduced. But look, LOOK:

Saleslady: Where are you from?
Tourist: Kansas City.
Saleslady: There's a city in Kansas? Like with buildings?
Tourist: Yes.
Saleslady: Tall ones?

Just like The Little Notebook!

Now I won't have to resort to becoming a drunk, will remain awake and worried but too entertained to care.

Am I going mad? or what to do when hallucinations start

2006-07-18T11:53:00.000+01:00

I was watching the BBC coverage of the matzav yesterday and there was the slightest hint that Israelis might just not be, I repeat, might NOT be pigs.

I am watching that nice, well-spoken Saeb Erekat being interviewed from Jerusalem [is that Prada?] and my mandible has joined my toe ring, the journalist is scolding him - scolding him! - bcs the Palestinians did elect Hamas for the government willingly and what did they expect from the Israelis then. And now the journalist is berating the Palestinians again! [Erekat's response: in their defence, Hamas has not fired a shot against Israelis all year, one shot. I think these Palestinian leaders think our leaders divert humanitarian money into their bank accounts as well and we are too starved and uneducated to think properly. I am so relieved Hamas has only been suicidebombing Israel, if they'd used guns they might have injured someone.]. And the journalist is now calling the Palestinian Gov powerless in a most disapproving manner! [Response: Abumazar's hands are tied and frankly, no one is helping him much are they. I mean the Israelis... And the Hamas... What's one single man to do under these circumstances.]

Personally, I think if the Israelis had a modicum of strategic sense they'd have celinedioned the region long ago and we'd have had peace for a good while now.

[Notice how daftly I have avoided mentioning all sorts of liquidy news that start with a T. Did you notice then? I AM that good.]

(And I agree with Imshin.)

Bcs I feel like screaming but am afraid I'd never be able to stop if I started so went and found manageable horrors.

2006-07-17T15:54:00.001+01:00

*sigh*

Now go read David. Again.

Israel at war??

2006-07-12T20:13:00.000+01:00

Oh no, where have I been all day?? Lebanon's attacked Israel! I cannot believe this. Oh yes I can, only too well. The first thought that popped into my head was that at least I don't have to worry about Uzi being killed. But I have to worry abt his brothers and everyone else really. I feel paralysed.

Of course israel is being criticised by Europe for, what's the word I am looking for, right, PROTECTING ITSELF! I suppose if any other country had their soldiers kidnapped and their towns bombarded by missiles they'd just say Those boys... and dismiss it w the wave of their hands. Fuck. FUCK FUCK FUCK!

Go to Treppenwitz's, I'm too mad to make any sense and don't understand it all yet.

Abandon Hope, All Ye...

2006-07-12T16:54:00.002+01:00

This is my life.

I cannot believe this is my life.

Welcome to 1st semester Biochem, and part of Microbiology [to note: Bacteriology, Viroloy, Immunology]. I've saved everyting that may one day come in handy - which means the whole of Biochem lies in that pile, along with my soul. This semester's Biochem pile will be even lovelier, 400 plus pages of absolutely useless information that I will never, ever need. If I ever manage to pass it that is. I swear I'll set them on fire when the day comes. And I shall howl and foam at the mouth and cackle madly and let my inner Biochem troll dance wildly abt the flames, like a very, very wizened faun. This is my nemesis, it's not even a language I understand. It is so much worse than bones. AND WE ALL REMEMBER THE OSTHEOLOGY NIGHTMARE THAT I CALLED LIFE FOR SO LONG, YES?

[I've just re-read the comments, look for mine, #11, oh the mirth, the mirth! Lioness, The Will-To-Live-Slayer-cum-Toothsayer.]

Pathological Anatomy tomorrow but LALALALA MUST READ INSTYLE NOW.

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

This post brought to you by Smoked Reindeer Meat

2006-07-10T23:04:00.000+01:00

A bit of an oy va voy really, now that I'm chewing it. Too fatty, too salty, oh nothing good could ever come of snow [snow! *snort*] and I should have known better. Horrific.

[Was just reminded of a story abt how there was a song called I should have known better eons ago and how my mum won a radio contest bcs of it but it's funny and and I am fully determined to write a depressing post.]

Biochem exam on Friday was quite horrific, Imagiology today equally horrific, the thought of having to ever look at those particular textbooks even more horrific. There are other adjectives but they too are horrific, everything is, so why bother. I was determined to write it down within a post, biocontainment of sorts. I thought it might not seem to hopeless then. I was so very wrong. It now looks hopeless in writing as well. Horrific. I have two days to memorise all things anatomically pathological bfr the next exam on Thursday, TWO WHOLE DAYS. I am so mad at my colleagues for being the greatest amoebas that ever breathed and only waking up to wring their hands and wail in the mailing list, and for ensuring we're treated with such respect - so mad, in fact, that I've emerged apathetic from the other side. Sie koennen mich alle mal.

And do you know, Uzi is also horrifically dead. And I know that bcs I am watching an Ally McBeal rerun and I cannot ring him and tell him abt it so we can laugh together. I could, and I am quite sure his answering machine would talk to me again and I don't see how that would be any less horrific. Watching Ally McBeal on the kibbutz was a humungous production that required gallons of coke, garinim galore and at least 5 people piled up on every flat and not so flat surface. Lila used to say she reminded her of me - not bcs we look alike but bcs our faces are equally mobile and mine gives me away equally often. So yes, Ally McBeal, which I've been desensitising myself to watch again bcs I simply need to be able to watch it bcs now I'm doing it for two. HA! A bit like a Pregnancy From The Crypt.

And do you know what a man said to me today? He said I don't understand how one person can need so many bags. I repeat, I don't understand how one person can need so many bags. I said, quite calmly [Which Surprised Her For He Was Blasphemous] You are a man [bless], how could you possibly. And he [bless] said Even if I were a woman I wouldn't need more than two. Bless him.

The miscarriage that keeps on giving - UPDATE

2006-07-07T00:43:00.001+01:00

RE-UPDATE IN BOLD SO EVERYONE SEES IT AND RELAXES - I am fine. Really, I AM FINE. If it weren0t for your comments I'd delete this demented post, I sound demented. Blood flow diminished so, sadly, this does indeed seem to be the new pattern, which will heavily curb my ability to leave the house in the first few days. Fun and practical. [Kathzinha, birth control in use but condoms sometimes pop goes the weasel, hence the possibility] Stilnox left my stomach sensitive all day, am still feeling a bit nauseated and brewing a fine migraine. Biochem exam was a disgrace, very, very hard. I didn't write Pharmacology at all bcs the colleague who was going to explain Recipe Calculations to me decided at the last minute she wasn't going to write it - and since we have 3 exams but if you fail one the other grades are thrown away w the bathwater as well there was no point in doing it today. Will write it at the end of July. Am exhausted, my hair is orange, my ass is horrid, my car STILL has not arrived, the exams are destroying my will to live - why must every bloody one be so bloody hard and why must the teachers be this unfair?? Say, you take 3 exams, pass 2 w excellent grades, fail the 3rd and are forced to re-take EVERYTHING? Not to mention the 3 exams in one day scenario. Welcome to vet school, highly legal and motivating. Tnx, cannot find it. Should be studying Imagiology now but will instead curl up on sofa and maybe sleep a little, maybe the stupid migraine will stay away then. Am quite the little Calimero today. *SOB!* Yeah, yeah, shabbat shalom.

----------------------

Blah. I am tired of blood. If you object to clots stop reading now. NOW. It won't be pretty, not the clots in bidets, not the clots on floors, not the clots slowly sliding down my legs or the toilet bowl and don't even ask how they got there bcs I. DON'T. KNOW.

It is so bad that I am actually wondering whether I should buy a pg test tomorrow, could this be a miscarriage again, of the friendly variety this time? I have had to throw the pyjamas in the wash every single night since i got my period 3 days ago, and I start bleeding out of the bad after maybe 40 minutes. One of the reasons for this is that the stupid people at E*vax decided to change the material and the blood that used to be contained for the 1st time in its life no longer is. But this is my 2nd period post-miscarriage and I still am not back to the old pattern, I bleed to much even for me and the clots have taken a life of their own and now proudly sport bungee jumping certificates, I ran to the bathroom a while ago to unveil yet another clothing disaster and there was a family of four slithering down my right leg, in tandem.

Am also high on drugs, literally, took a stilnox - finally after talking w Manuela bcs we laughed so hard I decided it was a good sign and I could sleep tonight and so I took a stil*nox but i have my principles and so washed it dopwn w a c0oke and I want to explain this properly but I can't righht now bcs shit, i'm really feeling woooozy and want to finish this bloody business first, if I can.

So the clots slithered down my leg and then I lifted said leg and placed it over the bidet so they could jump to their deaths while I dealt w the other leg and knickers and when i lookd around a while later there was - when i was a child I had a rubbery octopus that I absolutely loved, you'd get it wet and throw it at the wall and the tiny octpuss would cling to it and gracefulkly make his way down, a ballet of tentacles, I loved it, am less in love w clotty creatures sticking to ungodly places, I keep finding new spots and darkred carcasses even after I've cleaned and looked arounf, i dont undretstand it al all.

Wow but this thing works fast.

Part of me thinks i cannot be p+gnant bcs i am not in excruciating pain and the ibuprufen worked, whcih it didntn for my miscarriage so i cannot even assess cranping, althoutgh my cramping only evolved into real klabour contractions the night bfr I miscarried so -

am lost again, fuck.ç..

ªcº

am afraid this might mean there's ssomething not right w me, not necessarily a miscarriage thogut how dould i know, i dont feel pg nopr do my boobs hurt as they did but if tjhois is going to be the pattern of my period from now own I'll really need to get one of those rubber cooter cup thingits bcs i'll need to be able to assess how much i'm losing and it takes a vessel to cointain all the blood I lose and to think it's all wasted, blood inside is psoriasis-tainted, blood outside obtained vaginally, not the best of eitehr world.

If this is whowi will bleed from now on I will be roayyalluypissed off, it's not practical and it's not fair that i0m forced to think Now,this clots outbrust was not normal, am I just the owner of a makeover where things went awfully wrong ansd instead of the Frindly Clot, known each other for years, I get Rodney in The 5th Element and - oof, hard to think, never mind, carry on,

also, what is puxzling is that I found amidst the clots - i always feel around, to make sure, lestb the past repeats itself on the unuawaare - i found something that lood like a pouch but filled w an ai buibble, small thing, sie of a small pinkie nail, and is that a normal clot? things dont get better tomorrow will b uy kit and pee on it w a vengeance, i think, unless it laughs back at me but i cannot be pregnant, certainly not pg and miscarrying again so swiftly. Well fuck, mouth is all dry and mind is gone so will reread tomorrow and edit, am sure this makes no sense, must lie down now bfr i topple over

------------------------------

UPDATE - Oh no, you were worried! I'm sorry, and apologies for the post as well, I sound drunk but was simply inane from the sleeping pill. A bit genuinely worried but that happens after a miscarriage, I suppose. If you'll remember, last month was the same thing bleeding-wise and if all goes according to plan by this evening the blood will have stopped muchly, which is bizarre but happened last month - in fact, no ruined sleeping apparel tonight. If it hasn't I'll call the Dr., promise. I just hope this is merely the lining still recovering [SEE, LOREM?][Then again, mine was scraped clean, never mind] and not a permanent rearrangement.

My biggest problem now is actually the bloody Stil*nox made me feel scarily woozy all of a sudden, for a nice half hour I was wondering if I was going to puke as well and then I had bad dreams, let's hope I don't lose my beloved sleep inducer or things will take a turn for the so very worse. So, apologies again for having scared you - oh and my mucosas are fine and pink and I am no more tired than is expected after a series of nights on little and bad sleep, no anaemia. In fact, bad dreams and all this morning I feel more rested. I'll now go study for the ONE exam I'll write today, explanations later.

Sightseeing in Tel Aviv, HELP!

2006-07-03T14:53:00.000+01:00

All right, this is both for Beth and for Shrimpy, whose friend/brother are going to be in TA soon.

I really don't know TA all that well.

Sorry.

[Do bookshops count?]

Yes, yes, I was a kibbutznik [MUCH better fashion sense though] [eh, not that it takes much] [er, sorry]. I loved being away from the madness of the city, loved stepping out of the room and being amidst the birds and trees and shrubs and Palestinian Mole Rats (an actual animal, don't be silly). I even loved the refet smell, what you want from me? I dislike Techno and the other lovely musical style whose name I cannot remember, that alone severly affected my noctivagal habits. The best fun I had clubbing in Israel was actually dining-rooming, a few stacks of hay to protect against the cold, an 80's DJ and let's show these soldiers-to-be off properly! Fun, fun, fun. FUN! Also, going to TA w Uzi meant book-hunting, full-stop, that's all we wanted really.

Other than Yaffo am a bit stumped. Not to mention restaurants and such. Will even allow anon comments for this one, and tnx in advance.

HELP!

We made a grown man cry

2006-07-01T21:12:00.000+01:00

I give up.

I am now, officially, a bloody supporter of the bloody World Cup.

There, I've said it.

[*SOB*]

The reason I found it so bloody annoying is, we are a disgrace as a nation. Our economy is in shambles, our life quality is distressing (we pay as much taxes as the Germans and make 40% less), our social and moral values are fickle (we are the European country that works the longest hours and produces the least, lovely work ethic) , our drive, as a people, is non-existent. And we're PROUD of it.

Except, find 22 men and a stupid little round ball and every Portie who finds it too exerting to walk a few metres to throw his wrapper in the rubbish bin, thereby being forced to just weakly let it float to the nearest piece of ground available, will get off his arse and become energetic and make sacrifices and - do you know how many men flew to Germany for the cup? How many men from not so well-off families? We'll be forced to eat pasta w olive oil till December but by Golly I'll be there to support our men! !!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We have an identity now, and it's centred on a little rolling piece of leather, and it vanishes the moment the more recent memories of the Cup do. And that breaks my heart and makes me mad, it makes me so bloody mad bcs we could be better than this, we used to be better than this and where did it all go, exactly?

The Porties, the Seafarers, could now circumnavigate their home sinks, maximum, and even that might prove too taxing. I have long been ashamed of Amnesty in Portugal, and recently of Amnesty as a whole. That isn't all, sadly. [Maybe I have a lower disgracefulness threshold?] When I say that we are the greatest nation in the North of Africa - that is no joke. I am ashamed of my country as well. I wouldn't be if we were poor and helpless and trying. But we're not. We're poor (yet expensive), and weak (except re little round ball) and trying? Wha? What others think of us is terribly important, what we think of ourselves - well, as long as we still manage to fly to Cuba every year all is well. Nacional-porreirismo is what we call it, no easy way to translate this. Porreiro means cool, good. How are you? I'm porreiro, pá, and you? How's the job? Porreiro, pá, they don't give me much grief. And there's a fair amount of shrugging involved, Shoulder Shrugging elevated to an exact and multi-faceted science, with many a gradation. You could go for a minute without needing to actually speak. Basically, national-porreirism is the quintessence of Portieness, and it amounts to I don't care what happens as long as it doesn't happen to me, and even if it does doing something abt it might just be too much of a bother.

So.

Football, as the very last bastion of our national identity, is a depressing sight. But there is a certain beauty to how much they care, and to, during the Cup, having the bloody little round leather ball approach either of the goals. Even my heart skips a bit, and Loverboy's misses an MI for reasons not yet understood. So, yes, I hope we win. It would make my men happy, and we haven't fucked with the Brazilians in centuries. That isn't right. [Note: we'll have to kick froggie ass now, Brazil's just been eliminated. Oh well.]

Plus, today we did make the Brits cry. HA! Nothing warms my heart more than teary hooligans.

Oh oh! Almost forgot, the hooligan bit reminded me, this is the best, di absoliute bést! One of the neo-na*is I wrote abt in April is actually my neighbour. Porreiro, yes? A few weeks ago I was grocery shopping and what do I see? Said neo-na*i in full regalia, i.e.:

- Black t-shirt
- Black combat [ha!] pants
- Black combat [ha!] boots
- Bad hair
- Short stature
- His mummy

That's right, that fierce example of humanity was CHOOSING PRODUCE WITH MUMMY, isn't that adorable? I love my neighbour as myself.

[Excuse my absence from blogs, exam Monday and 4 more on Friday. FOUR. On Friday. 3 Pharmac, 1 Biochem, latter will attend to circle random answers. Too ominous. Also, anon commenters no longer allowed, sorry, bcs some people STILL have not realised I find them ugly and vulgar and wish for no part of them on my blog, no matter how disguised they think they are.]

Done, done, DONE!

2006-06-28T01:17:00.000+01:00

Passed Immunology yesterday, passed written lab exam today, slept a fab total of 7h these past two days BUT: Virology (Part I) + Immunology (Part II)+ Lab (Part III) = Microbiology, which is interesting to learn abt but an absolute bitch to memorise, BUT:

THE BITCH IS NO MORE,

NEVER AGAIN!

DONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Please stay tuned while we study for seven more exams over the next fortnight.

[This is to blame for my recently acquired orange-y hair. Mirrors hurt.]

Everyone shut the bloody hell up!

2006-06-25T22:11:00.000+01:00

Portugal just beat the Netherlands, 1:0. Not only was I made to jump out of my skin on a regular basis throughout the game, what with the fans sitting outside watching the game in a cafe that seemed to be located right in front of my window, but I am now forced to listen to the honking and yelling on the streets, I NEED TO STUDY, IT'S ONLY STUPID FOOTBALL, EVERYONE CALM DOWN.

They are exhausted. Exhausted.

Freaks.

Still cruelly busy boning up but converse w my Id in the meantime

2006-06-24T21:08:00.003+01:00

Go here (found here).

PS- Just found out, passed Monday's exam, PASSED VIROLOGY! And with a bloody good grade as well, one of the best ones, 16 out of 20.

*faint*

[Now, isn't it funny how I can go from Thank God, a 10, done! to What, only 16?]e

Oh, and a Will and Grace rerun can always be counted on too!

2006-06-19T15:12:00.002+01:00

Did my exam, am sure I passed. Wrote loads on distemper, who knew I knew? Next comes Immunology and the lab exam and THAT, along with Bacteriology which I already got rid of, ends the disgraceful trinity we call Microbiology *oh furball*.

The problem is, now more than ever, I seem to have non-stop exams. I went to lunch with Ana just now and she said that simply hearing abt it made her nervous bcs how can people live like that. The obvious answer is they cannot, not very well, or at least not w any discernible quality of life. I have great hopes that next year will be better bcs I will have got rid of the subjects from previous years that were making my life hell, and bcs the subjects are generally more interesting. But we will still have long exam periods (including the studying which starts in earnest a month or a month and a half bfr the actual exams) and exams in btwn bcs they've shortened the evaluation period in such an effective manner that now all exams do not fit in and some have to be done bfr that. And I need to find ways to deal with the stress that do not involve regression and peaprincessing bcs it is not bery grown up is it and besides the only foot I shoot is mine, and overall my pride is hurt.

As for the other things I have to fix:

- Switched cat food and J.I.P. loves the Ecstasy in it but she is adamant that she loves me far, far more, and that she must follow me everywhere and lick my eyelids to wake me up at 5 am and obstinately be in my face when I am studying, rubbing her jaw on every available centimetre and thus effectively blinding me and making me eat hair when I'm trying to study. It is so bad that I try to never make eye contact when she's quiet bcs then she remembers she must love me, deeply, visibly, at all times.
- Hum-Hum, the three-legged one, is now positioned behind my hair trying to bite off and swallow as much of it as possible bcs her furballs, of which there have been legion, especially at night, on the bed, are not impressive enough. She's aiming for a cross-species breed. When that fails, she licks my jumper, lick lick lick, non-stop, I move it and she folows, three legs and all, and when that too fails she licks available CDs and I have an inkling why and let me tell you this cat food will never be bought again, in fact, we might just have to buy some and mix both bcs this is beginning to look too much like diet-induced dementedness.
- My hair, I'm surprised Ana didn't faint. I need to have it cut, I need to have it highlighted, WHERE TO GO? I was even forced to hold it back from my face with two barrets and THAT is not a look I've ever sported, I look rather - un-me-eish plus hair is too thick and they keep being pulled outwards, like hairy head wings. Still, she liked my Lioness shirt. I bought a Lioness shirt, I now own a Lioness shirt, did you know? I am far too pale for it just now and it makes my boobs mysteriously smaller but - Lioness shirt! Here:

And now it's time to lie on the sofa with Good Omens [How obscene is it to have bought it almost a week ago and not have gone past p.25 or something. And it's brilliant, too! Will fix now.], and there's a medical program on with real surgery and cases, yey, and tonight we'll go for dinner at my friend Manel's and then maybe we'll watch Inside Man if we don't come back too late and I'll pretend I don't have to start studying something vile again tomorrow.

Thunder. Fuck.

2006-06-14T02:43:00.000+01:00

I know thunder storms are natural phenomena but I am, understably, less than filled with admiration, yesterday I was up till 8 am, 8 afuckingam, bovinely I waited for sleep without even the strength to do anything abt it, insomnia's little pursed gift, you don't half lose your mind, I've been meaning to take a Stilnox for a good while now but the thunder is scaring me to death, as it always does, and it's coming closer, and I feel I must keep watch, the whole house just shook and the dog flew from the sofa and I know just how she feels bcs I feel my eyelids straining from the pressure of having my eyes too widely open, I know I should be grateful for the rain, maybe our forests won't be as ravaged this year, our farmers as ruined, our people as homeless, our animals and wildlife as burnt to death, but I cannot ever be grateful for rain in a storm, I know some love to sit in their gardens and enjoy the show, the bleeding idiots, I see the blue lightning out of the corner of my eye and keep expecting us all to just burst into flames and oh don't tell me I'm quite safe, I've always feared storms and people tell me how lovely they are, just like fireworks and idiots, I am afraid of those as well, [I swear the glass will break, I swear it will, but now I have to be strong for the dog, who looks at me in a panic to see what my reaction is every time the foundations and the bloody glass panes shake] and they explain to me in detail how perfectly silly I am, just as they used to explain to me, after I'd explained to them what it was, that my tsunami phobia was perfectly silly and now they're strangely silent on the subject, and speaking of Uzi, he has been on my mind a lot these days, on a level higher than he one I usually allow him, and maybe I am not sleeping bcs not only does it mean I relinquish control ~~over things I cannot much control anyway~~ but it further separates me from him, and maybe it's very fortunate that I have an excuse not to sleep after all, and isn't it funny how no matter what fears, no matter what pains, they all coalesce to form the darkest, most vibrant core of us, and the core is one, and sometimes I wish I'd been born disconnected but that would feel too much like sleeping, it occurs to me, and it subsequently occurs to me, therefore, that I might not want it all that much after all

Eat his, Bette Jane

2006-06-05T18:25:00.000+01:00

You think you're so smart, don't you. You have this humungous congress and know exactly how much they knacker you and so you arrange to spend the weekend at your best friend's place so you can thwart your insomniac tendencies by actually managing to get a good few hours of sleep.

First day ends, you're knackered. You go to your friend's place and, bcs you were daft enough to become your friend's personal shopper, she actually develops a fashion sense, starts knowing what becomes her and decides to model her entire wardrobe bfr you so she can prepare for the summer in all their combined glories. You finally manage to shut her up, force her to cover herself at last for fuck's sake and both leave to go to your friend Shrimpy's for dinner. Once there you choose spaghetti bolognese, strong in the knowledge that your iron-clad stomach thinks nothing of pasta at 22.30. Both your friends are enzymatically exuberant and think nothing of downing several alcoholic beverages and a few cups of coffee. Tweedle then decides that, bcs she had coffee, she should drink some more so she can fall asleep. Shrimpy doesn't sleep anyway (people think your insomnia is vicious, it's a duckling in comparison) so what the bloody hell, care for some more Port?

At abt midnight you head back and go to bed. Tweedle is tossing and turning, alcohol didn't do its trick after all, the woman is wide awake and STILL TALKING, so you offer her one of your beloved Stilnoxes. She asks Are you sure, you only have a few left and you say Go ahead, it's all right, and she says I'm pretty sure I won't be able to fall asleep anyway even with it and promptly starts snoring. You were already finding it hard to get comfortable, a strange bed is always the pits, but this? And she hasn't been taught to roll over on command either. After a while you get tired of getting up to rearrange her on the bed, twat snores in every position it would seem, so you get up and shlep pillow and duvet into living-room, where you spend some fun 10 minutes trying to increase sleeping surface by strategically positioning stools and chairs right next to the very minute sofa. After another good while you find yourself remotely comfortable even if it involves one leg half on the table, and are beginning to believe you will fall asleep after all when you start feeling a bizarre vibration. Oh wait, not a stampede after all, got it. There is a tiny communicating space up on the wall btwn bedroom and living-room and you've never felt more grateful. Disbelievingly, you waddle into the bedroom and there she is, on her back, snoring like a lumberjack. You can hear it everywhere. Well, fucks very much.

You finally realise that, at 2.30, there's noting left to do but pack your bags and return to Lisbon. Which you do. Twat hasn't budged the whole time, AMAZING HOW THAT STILNOX DIDN'T WORK AND SEE IF I CARE THE NEXT TIME YOU CANNOT FALL ASLEEP, BEYOTCH.

You are beginning to think everyone else on the planet can metabolise alcohol. You get home and it's almost 3.00, and your pasta is also very much awake. See, one of the good consequences of your miscarriage was that a) your progesterone went through the roof and now your iron-clad stomach is no more and you have reflux, and/or b) lovely Helycobater pilorii has taken advantadge of your immuno-suppressed status, God knows your plicae have never seen such fun bfr, and now your iron-clad stomach is no more and you have reflux. Did you just bend over? NEVER BEND OVER, your rectum will fall out! At around 5 am you start getting sleepy even though the aggravation of knowing you will in no way be able to get up at 8 am and will therefore miss the entire morning of Saturday slightly gets in the way. Most of the windows in the buildings are out. Sleeping, seriously, isn't everyone?

On Saturday afternoon Tweedle rings you, very much unaware of the fact that her life is in danger, silly cow thought nothing of the chaos in the living-room, or the fact that her keys were on the table, or the fact that your things are gone. She becomes very embarrassed and apologetic but you don't care, you're still not speaking to her. And you'll certainly never share your drugs again with the unworthy, you've learnt your lesson. On Saturday evening you decide you hate Anthony Kiedis bcs he is preventing you from sleeping. Again. You actually like the Red Hot Chilli Peppers but not when it feels as though they're screaming right outside your window even if they're half way across the city. Bloody live concerts.

You have also decided you will name your daughter Cândida [you do have such a name in Portugal], should you ever have one, and you hope she marries a Dutchman so she'll end up calling herself, say, Candida Kooter, and her sultry remake of Yeasterday will hit the charts at number one all across Europe bcs, seriously, the amount of damage one single, semi-detached, Northern-exposed embryo can do even after it's gone is beginning to be utterly ridiculous and now there's fungal war in your nether regions as well. You suppose it still wants your undivided attention. [Undivided = non viable, get it?][Yes, one of your best ones, you know.] The Dr. took a look today [ute and ovaries are perfectly fine] and said Yes, definitely a Candida. See? Your daughter-to-be's fate has a medical stamp of approval.

You have also properly bonded with the Dr. At the end, as you were already standing, she asks you Any final questions? You say Well, I just want to be sure you'll never blow on my cooter. She says I beg your pardon? You say Your colleague did once, she was a bit demented, I fear. She hurt me by mistake and blew on my cooter to make it all better. It still haunts me. She opens and closes her mouth a few times and says I think I can promise you I won't. You say I think we'll get along famously then.

Dinner is served

2006-06-01T13:23:00.002+01:00

Had an exam last Friday. Had an exam last Monday. Will have Virology as well, soon.

Had bad insomnia today, fell asleep around 6 am maybe. Read 2 books in one day, maybe I overstimulated my brain. Has been known to happen but after 2 exams I needed a reading frenzy. Twice. So make that 2 books in one day on TWO consecutive days. Serves me right. Am now studying Virology and Immunology and have very definite opinions on what icosaedric symmetry and cytokines can go do with themselves. Have major congress this weekend, will stay over at Tweedle's house (it's outside Lisbon) and return Sunday.

Have been cut off from world bcs my telly sprouted more cable channels and the universe was displeased so it took away both the telly watching and the interneting. Took a good while to sort out, I kept finding the digital boxes on their backs, little rigid legs up in the air, very dead. Then a neighbour decided he could maybe swap his cable for ours and presto, he'd have free internet and cable, we'd have nothing, seems fair. I've just found out, technician was here. He fixed it (swapped cables). Then fixed it some more (added one more slot so Dishonest Git could have his daily fix). Then left. Then I called him back from the window bcs remote had just died in my hands. Only it hadn't, digital box simply needs to be rebooted every so often. Techno S&M. Love this armpit of a country.

Speaking of which, technician had vile ones. Don't understand why cablemen are prevented from showering. Well, they are prevented from coming round to the client's house earlier (12 o'clock) instead of at the set time (17.00 onwards) even if they happen to be free and we happen to be desperate. They can actually be fined 500 Euros. so mum's the word. Which makes sense, bcs a customer that has faster service will be absolutely livid at being allowed to leave the house earlier, how dare they. So it isn't so far-fetched to think they may also be prevented from partaking from ablutions. The living-room now smells of rancid sweat and even had to lock J.I.P. in the bedroom bcs she was so fascinated she kept sniffing the man (he was on his knees) and at one point attempted to climb onto his knee so she could get a better scent leverage point. Kept telling her [in Hebrew, thank God][was learning it when she adopted me and now it not only feels silly to use any other language but she actually understands and mostly obeys] [except for when fascinating pong occupies the room] to stop it but she was entranced. Dog was sniffing him very intently as well but she is easier to manage.

Said J.I.P. jumped onto my chest yesterday and as she started to position herself for a sound nap blobs of diarrhoea fell out of her bum onto my thankfully solidly-covered boobs. Upon quick sniffing bcs it didn't quite look like poop, however liquidy, more like pale chocolatey milk with small chunks of thick cream in it, Dx was found: anal glands inflammation. Now you know. A small but elaborate dance followed where I jumped off the sofa and tore the shirt off me bfr it soaked through, then chased cat around so I could properly express the glands and get rid of obstruction should there be one. Cat was very displeased and kept screaming and contorting and trying to spray tiny bits of gunk around the bathroom but vet students perform restraint miracles with a towel so she couldn't. For the most part.

Went to the dentist yesterday, to finally [let's not discuss insurance companies now, see armpit above] fix the mess created by that other dentist which culminated in a truncular anaesthesia site hurting fro 10 days straight and THEN an otitis with eardrum perforation. The filling had broken and the damage was vast so she had to destroy even more of the remaining healthy tooth (by remaining picture a crater bcs that's what was left, only the sides) and I am now sore. The receptionist cum assistant yaps away nonstop in the most annoying manner and (this for Portie understanding only) uses the "D.ª", despite knowing I have a degree and my mother having berated her on both our counts. But no, she's as dense as the brain matter she lacks. She also has medium yellow hair with short dark brown roots, in a funky hairstyle that surely causes her to get up at least 1h earlier so she can beautify herself that way, a sort of Cornrow For The Honkey. Also, the Dr. was late and didn't apologise. I learnt, bcs I coulnd't help it, she went away to the country for the weekend and was very unnerved bcs there were loads of flying little spiders with webs attached and an entourage. Unnerved. Living things, in the country, crikey! Eh.

Received anatomo-pathology report, it seems I had a miscarriage. Shocker. They found tissue compatible with 1st trimester pregnancy but no embrionic tissue whatsoever. Which either means that a) that unbelievable amount of clots I passed had the embryo in it, wich turns said embryo into some sort of an elevated escapee bcs it was able to rupture the sac and slither out unecumbered, yeepee let's see them try and find me now; or b) the mothership needed it back so they beamed it up. Bcs I DID see an embryo on that US. Twice. Or maybe c), I am a hybrid species and do reabsorption well.

Anonymous and Oblivious from last post left another comment. It said: What about gay penguins and dolphins? To which I can only say, I hope they're happy little buggers.

And if brains were pasta you'd feel hungry all the time

2006-05-18T13:49:00.000+01:00

A long, long while ago I thought it'd be fun to write a series of posts on what makes us distinctly human. I may be in vet school now but am also an Anthropologist and find such things, indeed, fun. I asked readers to be my think tank and leave their thoughts in the comments section so we could build a list and start from there. This is what it looked like when we were finished:

1 - Orgasms, oral sex + missionary position + sex toys

2 - Abortion
- Homosexuality
- Language (not simply communicating)

- Insomnia (how could I've missed this one!)
- Art
- Self-recognition
- Humour/laughter
- Killing own species’ members for no apparent reason
- Culture
- Mourning the dead
- Burying the dead
- Active teaching
- Religion
- Racism
- Revenge
- Tools (makeshift and use)
- Vanity
- Greed
- Imagination
- Clothing
- Intuitive thinking
- Ritualisation
- Awareness of impending own death
- Sense of time (past, future, memories, expectations, learning and planning)

- The Means to Conceivably End All Life On This Planet [just because, there’s no out-arguing this one really]

The first two, sex and abortion, are numbered bcs I did wrote abt them, here and here. But then my insomnia became really bad, and then my world collapsed under liquid pressure, and those were the only ones I ever did write.

Now, remember the very first post was simply a collective brainstorming. It received a new comment:

"Killing own species’ members for no apparent reason " Im no expert but I'm sure that other animals kill their own kind. Your post has an anti-human tone to it, I'm not sure what thats about, but I have to argue
that not humans don't kill each other for "no apparent reason".You also included greed, but don't animals eat until their appetites are fully satisfied. I'm sure they don't eat to just sustain themselves. I also don't think that alpha-male animals will allow less dominate members of their group to have sex withtheir mate. I dont know where you got racism from, that just seems to come out of left field. Your giving something distinctly human, and applying to animals.All in all I think this article is poor and should be backed up with evidence, not just what you think makes us human.

And this took close to 17 min to be written as wel. A Canadian from the Ontario area, you might be happy to know. *sigh*

Theory 1

People who feel very inadequate in real life see blogging as a sort of therapeutic, egomegalotistic power trip where they are entitled to say what they please as they please without being constrained by details such as common courtesy or any social rules really bcs, after all, if we didn't want people to read it we souldn't have written it now should we and I'd be hard placed to find a more inane argument. I think, broadly translated, this means I am allowed to take an ax to the furniture when I go round to someone's house and find it displeasing. My quality of life has just been vastly improved.

Theory 2
Many people feel that it's perfectly all right to finish I don't know how many years of schooling and still not master their mother language. That commenter above doesn't strike me as dyslexic and so I am left feeling pissy. Which adds to the pissy I already felt regarding theory 1.

Theory 3
Anonymous commenters choose to be Anons, not even boothering to choose an alias, bcs not only are they sexually confused but they suffer nominally, in its literal sense of in name only. They look at the little comment box and when faced with the millenary question Who am I? what can they do but whimper. Anons are legion, groinless and encephaless, and out of respect to their predicament I shall refer to my commenter as an IT.

The truth is, I absolutely don't know what the bloody hell IT is talking abt. HELP!

1) Is IT really calling a post that is nothing more than a list an article?
2) Is IT saying that not humans (non-humans, I surmise) do not kill others just bcs? [Warn chimps and bottlenoses quickly!]
3) WHAT exactly is IT saying regarding greed? In one sentence, many worlds. I could cry.
4) Is IT saying Alpha males are omnipotent and ubiquitous? [Warn sea lions quickly! Or most Alphas that turn their back for far too long really.]
5) Is IT really saying I'm racist bcs - I compiled a list? I don't know, I still don't know what he's talking abt.

I am starting to smell a foreign speaker (I smell human flesh, as the Giant in the Bean story says in Portuguese) - well, I smell something malodorous in any case, which leads me to:

Theory 4
Very Stupid People are attracted to me bcs I am kind and gentle, and I handle imbecility so very well.

Anti-human? Absolutely, anon. Three-penised aliens do it that much better.

I don't even know what to call this so make up your own title

2006-05-15T03:23:00.000+01:00

It's 4.30 am and I am not sleeping yet, again, maybe I shouldn't have re-read all of Cancerbaby archives but can't be helped now, and now am fed up with reading and watching TV and decided I'd ~~maim~~ meme myself. Feel free to join me.

Accent: I suppose a Portuguese one but not really the typical Portie one. You who have heard me IRL, what do I sound like? (Be polite now.)

Booze: Caipirinha, but really weak and really sweet and don't let my inevitable alcohol-induced lisp bother you.

Religion: Jewish

Chore I Hate: Honestly, all. Oh, except for shoe shining, which I love. Other than that, long live the housekeeper. I should have been born rich. Alternatively, I should have got an anal-retentive man.

Dogs/Cats: Yes, bless them. My dog, Papoila (= Poppy); 2 cats J.I.P (Jewish Israeli Princess) and Hum-Hum, The Tripod One.

Essential Electronics: My wireless laptop, Moshe The Malfunctioner, and the telly. Would not know how to (or want to for the matter) live without it.

Favorite Perfume/Cologne: Laura Ashley's Nr. One. Discontinued. DISCONTINUED. Help!

Gold/Silver: Silver, white gold, platinum, never ever gold.

Hometown: Lisbon, Portugal.

Insomnia: Are you asking if I indulge in it? *cackles* *CACKLES!!* Re-read the 1st paragraph or bathe in my Insomnia category.

Job Title: Dismayed vet student, dismayed freelance translator

Most Admired Trait: Languages are like birds, they come terribly easy.

Overnight Hospital Stays: Being a preemie ensured a few, and having ear/nose surgery two decades later for preemie-related repairs added another one, and then some stupid twat drove her car into mine and nicked my 3rd cervical vertebrae which required a CT scan and an overnight stay IN THE PSYCHIATRIC WARD bcs all beds elsewhere were full and being unable to move your head was a fucking joy in that environment, let me tell you, especially when the girl in the bed next to yours peripherally looks demented, which is a suprise in that ward, and you end up having a fight with that aide person who was adamant abt your having to relinquish your knickers bcs it stands to reason that if you were to, say, become paralysed from the neck down the way to your vertebrae would most certainly be through your cervix. That was one exceedingly long night and this was just the surface.

Phobia: This meme is absolutely priceless, oh the memories! FUNNY! All together now: tsunamis! Tsunamis have been my greatest phobia for as long as I can remember. I could write a poem.

Kids: *cackles, again* Ahh, so much mirth, so little time... I slightly miscarried my 1st pregnancy abt a month ago. The answer would obviously be a resounding No.

Quote: "In life pain is unavoidable, suffering is optional." No idea who said it first, wish it had been me.

Time I usually wake up: I love to wake up early but it depends. I need to sleep a lot [see Insomnia above for a hearty chuckle] but usually sleep rather badly and wake up a tonne of times per night [see Cervical Thingy above for another good one] and well, it's a misery really.

Unusual Talent: I can curse in six languages. This comes in handy more than one would expect it to.

Vegetable I refuse to eat: Dill. DILL. Dill is the work of the spawn of Satan's worms.

Number of sexual partners: Pre-marital sex is the work of the spawn of satan's worms' spawn.

Worst Habit: What the fuck could I possibly write here? Bloody hell but this is a difficult one. *ahem*

Yummy Foods I make: Oh shut up. [Oh wait, gizzards! I actually make fabulous gizzards and liver.]

------------
[Meme stolen from Stacey]

This isn't fair!

2006-05-10T22:12:00.000+01:00

Through Grrl I found Cancerbaby and have been reading her for months, and checking for an update anxiously. She is dying, as we feared. She is dying and I don't know how to explain how this death is affecting me. Her words are so powerful, so raw, they bite through your soul and expand it. I never cry reading blogs and I am in tears now bcs of a woman whose real name I don't even know. A woman who actually made me cry when she wrote this. All I know is that she writes beautifully, extraordinarily and has thus changed my life, given it more meaning, all I know is I want her to live. She is absolutely magnificent and I cannot believe she will be no more. It really doesn't seem to be abt fairness does it. Fuck if I know what it's abt. I will remember her always, and always with gratitude and wonder.

-------------------------

Update: She's gone. Her name was Jessica, and she was 33.

[If you want to read her, which you should if you want to see yourself turned inside out and enriched in a way you didn't think possible, in a way that only words accomplish, that only some words accomplish, heartbreaking as it is, her archives only show until June. But while inside the June 2005 archives, at the top, you can see a link for May and so forth till February 2005, the beginning. This woman was a true gift.]

How Lil' Lioness went and got her arse shrunk

2006-05-08T12:21:00.000+01:00

Lil' Lioness has had the Buttocks Blues.

She quit smoking ages ago, always a mistake as it turns out, and gained 4 kg (8.8 lb). Lil' Lioness being the focused sort, she’d apparently focused on gaining them on her rump. Not her face, where they might do some good. Her rump. Said 4 kg stayed put upon resuming smoking. Smoking isn’t merely stupid, it also lets you down.

Rumpy-not-so-little-anymore Lil' Lioness suddenly didn’t fit into her pants, oh the horror. No really, THE HORROR. She was hoping it was a phase, and well, it was. A phase borrowed from some universe where days last 72 h and phases stay put.

Lil' Lioness bravely hit the shops, and the adjective is sadly accurate. Bravery was what it warranted. Lil' Lioness cannot see the point of having yellow lighting in a country of sallow skin. [Oh all right, some are olivey but they too look icteric.] Lil' Lioness cannot see how carnival mirrors help sales, sobbing women are less inclined to spend money plus they need the bills to pay for the therapy that comes after retail therapy. Lil' Lioness and her friend actually physically recoiled from their reflections when they unexpectedly came upon a mirror. Her friend does not look like a cube in real life, nor does Lil' Lioness actually look like a wine vat. When you see women stumbling out of a shop, white-faced and anguished, please be kind, they went in to try and find pants. They are shell-shocked. They will be thinking But I look awful, why hasn’t anyone told me bfr that I look this awful? And now Summer is coming and I can no longer walk around wrapped in a blanket and tell people it’s the latest trend in the Appalachians!

No amount of male flattery will help these women, they’ll just snarl at the well-meaning souls as their pupils become elliptical. They know, see. They saw it. They’re broken.

Eventually, they’ll forget abt it enough that they’ll think it’s safe to venture in. Again. It is not that women cannot learn. They simply have a had time believing the universe really means to bugger them. Personally. Surely it can’t be that bad. So in they go and the lighting, the lighting, oh how it hurts! Courageously they stand bfr the pants wrack, elegantly wondering What the fuck is fashion coming to and who chooses these models bcs, see, they were sure the 80’s were over and the torn jeans look were sort of passé even then, how can one be requested to give 30 euros for something that looks like it was not only white-washed but personally chewed and spat out by the friendly foreign workers? And this is Portugal, my friends, not Belgium, not Scandinavia, Portieland, where the men are short and the women shorter, where they typically have short legs and fertility-inducing arses and, dare I say it, a touch if the belly, who could possibly have decided to send boot cut (good), low-waisted (nightmare, a nightmare, some of us dislike the thought dialysis!), tight (aaaargh!) models to the Land Of The Stumpy? [Lil' Lioness seems to have had an infusion of foreign genes for she is taller than most and doesn't look Portie but even she goes in and comes out stocky.]

Thus one cringes often when walking the streets, praying for Trinny and Susannah to fall from the sky. They are needed.

So.

Lil' Lioness.

Now recovered from her little What, a cub you say? For me? Surely you jest Ah Ah AHAHAHA. Now attending classes again. Now on the streets again and not in that way, though it’s not unfair to say the harlots seem to dress better than she does right now, nor that they’d surely have more clients. The bleakness of it all.

Yesterday Lil' Lioness dragged a friend to an impromptu pant hunt. She needed someone to physically carry her out when she passed out from shock and hit her forehead on the stupid mirror and bled all over it and by Golly it would serve them right. The landscape was fraught with the usual perils, the ones that left her blind [OHMYEYESMAKEITSTOP!] and the ones that left her wanting to curl up into a ball and weep in the changing room.

And then, and then!

And then she had a brainstorm. Man pants. In she went into a shop and look, lovely army-green cargo pants. And look, they fit! And in she went into another shop and look, lovely dark-blue cargo pants, and look, they fit as well!

And thus our Lil' Lioness learnt that Portie men are more femaley than their women bcs the pants were wonderfully cut in a feminine way, normally-waisted (actually, thin-waisted), needed no belt and they were magical as well - you step into them and half of your butt disappears. HALF. Lil' Lioness was beyond herself and actually couldn’t speak the first time she put them on and stepped out to show them to her suffering companion, she could only stand there wide-eyed and point at the previously vast region of her derrière. It was gone! GONE! In a parallel universe a woman was surely screaming upon waking up and finding she no longer fit into her pants and where had THAT come from overnight and she should never have stopped smoking.

Lil' Lioness is the cold-hearted sort and is simply happy that THAT went somewhere.

Lil' Lioness now has the ButtRocks Swing, sistahs!

Soooooooooo.....

2006-05-04T14:21:00.002+01:00

That translation job, the one I've been slaving over since the beginning of March for up to 14 h a day? Through a series of incredible fuck ups not of my doing it fell through. Long, miserable story but all it's all bloody gone.

The (----):
That work, all that sacrifice has been for nothing, it will not be used at all. Nor will I get paid, can't be helped. Also, *hums Pink Panther bars* skin most displeased with it all and hands simply had to have a bit of a flare up. Their opinion on the whole thing, I presume.

*MOTHER OF ALL FURBALLS*

The (+++):
I will now have time to study, which dramatically increases the odds of, say, my not failing this year. Am falling in love with the liver and its enzymology as we speak, hepatic encephalitis? Sexy little thing! [Liver also very tasty when fried with onions and rosemary. A winner all around, YEY LIVER!] I, as of now, also have time to be with E. I seem to recall he has blue eyes, which means our children [HA!] are doomed [no pun intended] but can't be helped either. Finally, the probability of my throwing myself in the river ou of translating desperation has been greatly diminished.

[Oh, quick detour on insomnia for the blissfully unaware. My falling asleep early and then waking up at 4 am IS, in fact, still insomnia. It's simply the sort I rarely get but one I'm nevertheless familiar with. It is actually one of the first words I bother to learn when learning a new language. And my becoming comatose easily these days doesn't translate into god sleeping either bcs my dreams are mad and I wake up entirely too bloody often. Sleep disorder still very much alive. Fell asleep after 4 am last night, see how I never disappoint?]

While comp cleaning last nigth I came across this post I don't even remember, from those ill-fated Krav Maga days and I thought it would provide a much needed cheery note. That's my alter ego, cheery:

He showered in the morning.
And then he showered right bfr Krav Maga.
And then he showered right after it.
And then he said My skin feels so dry and funny.
And then he said You know, it's not very nice of you to laugh.
And then he said Oh stop that.
And then he sulked.

Lioness Cheery Boom-bay!

Happy 58!

2006-05-03T13:00:00.000+01:00

Yom Ha'atzmaut, Independence Day in Israel. A day for barbecues outside, for family and laughter, for remembering, for missing those who can no longer sit in the sun with us.

I am no longer in Israel but there's a flag outside my window. At all times, it would seem. May you all ba'aretz have it wonderful. Some days away are harder than others.

Did I just hear Donald Trump say...

2006-05-01T22:39:00.000+01:00

... My true apprenti??

Apprentus, apprenti - that's hysterical, what a brill sense of

(I ישה ישהק)

ככככככ !!!!!
חישעגד א5$#
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

----------------------

As you have NOT noticed then, I had a bit of a problem yesterday, i.e. my keyboard suddenly switching into Hebrew without any reason I could discern since I was inside the new post, writing it, and my not being able to change back into our alphabet at all so there was nothing left for me to do but publish and hope you'd all understand something was amiss, I thought it'd be obvious something was considering the very sudden lack of any sense whatsoever [say, What a brill sense of - and then the vortex], plus the Hebrew on everyone's screen but, apparently, I am thought to be the sort of mad as a hatter person who regularly breaks into foreign squiggle typing and loud exclamation points and very soon I'm bound to give in to the pressure and sTArT talKInG LIkE tHis, 2darling4words, and you'll have no one to blame but yourselves.

Bugger.

So yes, The Apprentice. I'm currently watching S5, don't know how many there are, and I'm addicted. Watching is a loosely-employed term considering I don't have time to do much other than watch it in bed and fall asleep in the middle of it. The translation job? LALALAICAN'THEARYOU. Can't be arsed to talk abt it now, am valiantly trying to make it all go away. GO AWAY.

Thank you.

Trump's hairstyle and colour + rosebud mouth cause me pain though. Physical pain.

Oedipus, pass the fork please.

2006-04-29T23:53:00.000+01:00

My only consolation.Maybe.

I don't think scrotum fold intertrigo is too much to ask for. That, and some mites.

[And this is how you scare them all away]

2006-04-27T01:02:00.000+01:00

Of pachiderms

2006-04-25T12:11:00.000+01:00

Nothing much to see here, words behaving like birds today.

Sleeping is still a problem, or rather, the waking up after a few hours is. A few days ago I was woken up by a furballing cat on the duvet at 4 am - always at 4 am - and couldn't go back to sleep till 9 am. Does wonders for my intelligence and wit. I promptly opened up a new post window and stared at it for abt an hour. I was trying to address D.'s comment but I still cannot, other than to say, it wasn't abt taking the high ground at all, sure, we need to fight back but I don't see how actually fighting with them when there were more of them than us, when our group as a whole doesn't know how to fight - are you joking? Take a look at the photograph again, do we look like we can kick any ass other than our own? I had to quit my krav maga lessons bcs they all came from martial arts and the pace was unbelievable so I ended up sparinging something every single time and only learning how to actually have the shit beaten out of me by someone who wasn't actually trying to hurt me but there you go, that's the sad amount of my proficiency and fitness. Also, they carry knives they are wont to use, we do not. Believe me, I have been thinking abt it and daydreaming of physically hitting them. I might never but I would dearly have the skill to, that'd give me some more security, that would give me a mental edge. As it is, how should we have handled it? I'm not being snarky, I really want to know what you think we could/should have done. Sad as it may be, if I ever got in a fight with some low-life neon*azis and managed to break a few noses and cause a few hard-to-heal bruises and verlasting scars - it'd be lovely! You think I'd feel bad for my fellow humans? Er, what fellow humans would that be? As it is, unless we decide upon an essay contest or wit, I will lose, easily and fast. My being stabbed or beaten into a pulp WITHOUT THE SLIGHTEST CHANCE OF FIGHTING BACK, and this is the important thing to remember, won't do much to bring us out of the ghetto as far as I can see.

The title is not abt my cervix, all seems to be healing well. Experienced quite a fair amount of discomfort all of last weekend, unable to stand for long periods again and generally achey. My most excellent and knowlegdeable doctor friends told me it's a good sign, means the endometrium - which was scraped raw, all squeaky clean - was regenerating. Kudos to my endometrium then. I mean the other sort of elephant.

I haven't been mentioning Uzi a lot. I still think abt him so often it surprises me but no longer speak abt him here all that much. I feel like it's all been said bfr. More than that, I think I have lost the ability to say it. I'm often left staring at the screen. But I had this miscarriage and I couldn't tell him. And I know he'd have said at least 2 wrong things bcs he'd be tripping all over himself in his haste to comfort me, and it would have shocked the bloody hell out of him (though maybe it'd have enticed him to send me some garinim) (oh and books) - but I don't care. I don't care much what happens after we die, we cannot know for sure and by the time we do it's all a bit moot. Maybe I'll see him on a higher plane and we'll travel together as blue light blablabla. Maybe I'll reincarnate as his mother, sister, dog, owner. Fabulous. How does that help me? How does that help me now? I want him now, I need him now. NOW.

As I said, nothing much to see here.

-----------------------

I may be even dafter than I fear, I very effectively forgot to write abt the most important thing: my dreams. Fitting theme for today. My dreams have been populated by babies, it's a constant pregnant landscape. I am either fleeing trying to save my babies or someone else's. People are wonded and dying and dead and as a bonus often have pieces of their faces missing, and I talk incessantly in order to convince them to help me. I run all the time, renn Lioness renn, and wake up fragmented. The most telling dream so far was one where I ran and ducked and held guns and used them and dodged bullets and looked among the ruins for survivors (gorillas take a long time to die, I'm afraid) and then finally managed to have my baby - but Uzi was too late to witness the actual birth of our child. Often when I dream of him I know he's dead and therefore spend most of my time trying to squeeze the life force out of him, as it were, trying to hold on to him, to memorise his voice, his laughter, the way his shoes sounded on the pavement, the way he walked and smelt. I have often not been able to listen to what he was saying bcs I was trying too hard to keep all of him in. This time I didn't, and from within the anger that I feel over how the whole miscarriage process was conducted - very incompetently at times, I'm still putting it all together -, from within the loss that I came to feel, this is what stands out the most, the old one, the pervaisve one, the abrasive one. I am still whole but there used to be more of me, THERE USED TO BE MORE OF ME. That embryo might have been something but it never was, it couldn0t be, I can let it go peacefully. Uzi was everything and I sometimes sleep throug it. THIS is still what hurts the most.

It doesn't much matter what you lose does it. At the end of the day, all pain gathers together namelessly in the pit of you, dragging you down, dragging you down...

Cooter-wary

2006-04-17T14:39:00.000+01:00

Went in for my post D&C check up at the public hospital, all is well. I also didn't pay for this one bcs, even though I am no longer pregnant, I am recently miscarried enough that I am still exempt from paying, as all pregnant women are. Losely translated, I suppose this means I am hanging to the sisterhood by a pubic hair and not the sort that gives your nether regions that tight, fluffy, composed look. No, rather the appalingly long sort that your elderly Aunt Jane is bound to find imbedded in the soap while visiting you oh dear. That sort of pubic hair.

As for my entrails, uterus back to normal size, no pain, cervix firmly closed, slightly bloody mucus but hardly any bleeding left (more like a bit of spotting really, almost non-existent). Also, there was a med student there this time who couldn't stop staring at my knees. I am a bit sorry I didn't do pointing motions while enunciating clearly Cooter WITHIN. Maybe he simply could not believe his luck, Ob/Gyn AND Dermatology. Hope he has a blog. Ha, hope I find it.

The dr. said I need to take some iron tablets and need no more antibiotics or anti-inflammatories (we will see abt these last ones, Saturday was rough). She also said there can be no shagging for a whole month since I had to have a D&C. Which surprised me.

DEAR BARREN BITCHES/MEDICAL READERSHIP:

Let's have an academic discussion, shall we? Literally at that bcs I am too busy peeling myself off the floor every day to even contemplate sex [unless it's like in the monkey and the pachiderm joke], but. BUT. I must admit I was a bit thrown. No man is a human-elephant hybrid. [Taking a brief moment to thank mother nature for this fortunate state of affairs] My uterus lies behind a thoroughly inaccessible cervix, yes? I should expect no sex till all symptoms are gone and I am fully healed (oh and sleeping, sleep would be good), let's say 2 weeks - but 4? What am I missing, have I led a too sheltered life? Or, on the contrary, does she think I am the lithe guru little Thai women flock to with their pingpong balls and tamed doves for further enlightenment on All The Things You Never Dreamt But Nevermind, The Tourists Will Never Forget It?

Ye Gods. Nu?

----------------------

Allrighty! Have given up my hormones, am thoroughly fed up w having them. Have proclaimed moratorium. As of now, am the proud owner of none, YES I AM. This morning after seeing the dr. I went to buy some groceries. After a while I couldn't stand it anymore so I came back w only half the things I wanted. I am craving Mexican food these days (try and understand my having cravings now, hysterical, yes) but was unconcerned bcs we have Uriad beans (or something) and they're black, albeit tiny, so they'd do. Besides, aren't the spices the thing that gives it the ethnic flavour? Ok then. I didn't have much for lunch bcs I couldn't eat, was slightly queasy due to lack of sleep, [NEEDED CENSORING, SORRY ABT THAT!]

Yesterday I cried watching V for Vendetta.

And just now? Just now I went into the Haagen-Dazs site so I could check the spelling and found out you lot have BLUEBERRY CHEESECAKE ice-cream and we do not, and it will take ages till we get it here, and I am so fucking unhappy over that I could say I could cry but that'd have a literary effect only if I weren't already.

*sigh*

Shittier than not

2006-04-15T20:49:00.000+01:00

I barely sleep these days. When this all started, abt a week ago, I'd fall asleep easily and wake up too early. Now I fight falling asleep, have bad dreams, sleep lightly and wake up every time I blink, it seems. Stupid cat pawing things off the nightstand all night long isn't helping much either. And I'm weak, I can barely walk small distances without having to rest for a bit. Meh.

Last night saw a flurry of tears bcs I still don't fit in all my clothes (also what happens when you quit smoking and, in my case, what continues happening after you resume smoking), my hair looks disgusting, no one seems to understand Portuguese when the time comes to highlight it, plus I seem to have managed to expel an embryo in the course of a week and not very proficiently at that.

I am more exhausted now than right after the D&C. Bloody hormones.

------------------

PS - Bulls and Jesus seem to go hand in hand here, bullfighting is rampant in the country and why not add some spice to your bloodless Easter. A bull escaped in a city in the Algarve and roamed the streets for a good while. Cars were damaged, a few people were lightly hurt, the police ended up having to shoot the bull and managed to graze a civilian as well. This was a gentle bull [cabresto]. Now tell me I do NOT live in the armpit of Europe. Go on. I'll wait.

Closer To Fine

2006-04-13T08:44:00.000+01:00

This is rather long, I wrote it mostly to purge, to lay it to rest. It is also decidedly unpleasant. If you can't be bothered to read it all it's all right, we are both fine, the worst is over, skip to the last paragraph.

On Tuesday we had planned on going for the 2nd beta at 1.30 pm but E. received a call for a job interview at 10 am and they wanted him at their offices bfr 11, and so, bcs the hospital is nearby, we decided I'd drop him off and drive there and he'd come join me and then we'd come back home. Bcs there wasn't a lot of time left, he walked the dog and then she came w us (she is used to waiting in the car for us, asleep). I dropped him off, drove to the hospital, parked in the underground garage, walked up, asked where the lab was and by that time I was slowly shuffling along the corridors, holding my belly w one hand. When I got there I could barely sit and I had at least 15 people ahead of me, so I asked the lady at the counter if they could speed things up. She took one look at me and the reason for the blood test and I was the first one to be called in. The technician who saw me assumed I was going straight to the ER from there and frankly, so did I. It had become literally painfully clear that this miscarriage was going to happen, and sooner than later. I shuffled all the way to the ER, was sent up almost immediately, and then tried to sit in that waiting room until I felt like I was going to faint. I couldn't find a position that didn't hurt, the contractions were very painful, I felt absolutely nauseated and slightly disoriented and decided to get up and ask a nurse for some sugar to place under my tongue. I then tried to go to the bathroom (yes, constipation makes the pain much worse, I learnt that basically with my 1st period) where I found I was passing clots again and more blood than the days before. I went back to the waiting room (dragged myself there from wall to wall) bcs I was afraid I'd pass out if I stood but I truly couldn't stand the painof sitting, or even reclining, so I went back to haunting the corridors. At this point I was near tears and I think I'd have cried if I hadn't been concentrating so hard on not passing out. I coudn0t sit and I couldn't stand and I couldn't call for help and the corridor was deserted but for 2 drs. who'd been talking and laughing for what felt like a good while and I was feeling absolutely desperate when one of he drs. saw me - hard to miss - and asked me if I was waiting for something. I whispered A miscarriage, he said I needed to be seen immediately and asked if I could walk to the examination room, and I slowly shuffled there, so relieved someone was going to see me. I was in too much pain to climb onto the table on my own, and wasn't by then really too surprised to hear him say It's a retained miscarriage (don't know what it's called in English) and then i asked if the pg was absolutely not viable and he said it absolutely wasn't, but the sac was intact and they thought it'd all come out whole, and then he told his colleague I looked too pale and they should keep me there anyway and had I had blood drawn and I whispered Beta, he said I'm afraid we don't need that anymore, and his colleague said Yes but we have no beds and he said Let's put her in the recovery room with that other lady who miscarried as well and they said tehy'd be back in a minute and I said I cannot move and so I remained perched at the end of the table w my feet on the dr.'s stool and head btwn my knees, feeling wave after wave of nausea and pain and wondering when I'd topple over and then I decided I'd feel more comfortable if I wasn't bleeding on me anymore so managed to get up and put knickers back on but then sat on the stool and held on to he stirrups for dear life and don't know how long i was there but pain got worse, nausea did too, i was shaking and sweating somuch I had to removemy jumper, and then i saw 2 feet near mine and a woman asked if i was all right and I said Miscarriage, she asked if I'd been seen, I said Yes, she called a nurse to bring a gurney and fluids and painkillers, we waited, thegurney arrived and I climbed onto it somehow and just lay there, sideways on my belly, and while the nurse tried to find a vein in my wrist to draw some blood and then set up the IV drip I felt my mouth fill with saliva and I actually thought Vomit centre activated and then I started spitting the saliva onto the floor bcs I cannot really vomit, seems my body doesn't know how to even when it's needed, and really, it's amazing what happens to your sense of decorum when you're in that much pain bcs you will puke, spit, moan and nevermind who sees your bare arse or that you're causing a mess, you're beyond caring, and at that moment the other 2 drs returned and the 1st one, the one w the 2 feet whose face I hadn't seen yet and never would said I saw her as I was walking past the door and she looked terrible, she needs a room and they said they'd gone to find one (still think I shouldn0t have been left alone while bleeding w low blood pressure atop an examination table w my head forward) and then they wheeled me there and the ride didn't help the nausea much, and I asked if I could have something for the pain and they said they'd given me something and was I not better, and I said no and asked for something stronger, an then I crawled onto the bed on my hands and knees bcs it felt less bad then rolling on my back, and then they gave me something more but it didn't help much, and I had to try and ring Emanuel and my parents bcs I'd forgotten my mobile and the dog was still in the underground garage and no one was answering, and finally I managed to reach E. and tried to give him directions for the car but he was so panicked he kept interrupting and saying I'm on my way and I had to start from the beginning bcs I needed him to contact my parents as well, and then I was given an anti-emetic for the nausea and more painkillers and the pain diminished a bit and I dozed off and then I felt a touch on my leg and he was there and I thought he was going to faint bcs his face was absolutely white, and he could barely touch me bcs he was afraid he'd hurt me or give me an infection and he told me the interview had gone very well [when my father came round yesterday he exclaimed But you look much better! and that's when I found out that even when the analgesics were working my face was dead white and my lips were bloodless the whole day till I came out of the OR, and my mum was so concerned bcs my eyes were sunken in and when she told me this it occurred to me that I must have looked like one of our cows when they're very ill, and then yesterday also I found out I was anaemic, had a low HT but normal Hb and a definite leukopenia which now has me on antibiotics, but all things considered I'd say this isn't bad at all]. Then my mother showed up, my father was in the garage w the dog, and then Emanuel got a call saying he'dpassed on to the 2nd phase and they wanted to see him at 3 pm and he got white again and sat down and held my hand and all he could say was Too many emotions today, too many emotions and then E. left and I went to the bathroom bcs I could feel my sphincters contract just by looking at the bedpan, no way ever, and as I sat there I realised I could vomit after all, and I did, repeatedly and neatly into the conveniently positioned bidet (and you wonder why we love them) and then I felt a bit better but it didn't last, bcs then the analgesics wore off and so did the anti-emetic and my poor father came then when I was at my lowest and really, this is what I'd been trying to spare them from, I don't think it does them any good to see their child, no matter how grown up, in that much pain, moaning and trashing in bed bcs every position hurts and makes the nausea worse and by then I couldn't not do it, and then I turned on my belly again and I found out I was a repeat vomiter after all and I only had time to throw the vomit bag onto the ground bfr I was wracked bt a series of vomits that left me disgusted and depleted, but the nausea was a bit better, and then i asked my parents to bother the nurse till i was given more Primperam and pain killers, and the nurse said they had and now they couldn't anymore bcs the Dr. was going to do a D&C after 4.30 pm and I asked why so late and it turns out I'd eaten a small flat biscuit and drank a coke at 10.30 and now needed to regain fast status for fuck's sake and no more meds till then and was I all right with the D&C and I told the nurse I didn't care if it was invasive, I couldn't stand that much pain anymore and they could take my spleen as well if it helped, just make it stop and the time from 3.40 pm till 4.50 pm was truly horrendous but they must have given me something bcs the pain got a bit more manageable, and I remember the woman in the other bed saying You haven't had any children yet have you and I said No and she said I know, you were unprepared, this is what labour feels like and let me tell you right now, right now nothing could be further from my mind than being pg again, I'll need to forget abt the pain first, and then I got up to go to the bathrroom, my father had gone home to bring the dog and only my Mum and E. were there, and some other dr. showed up and gave me a pill that is actually designed for stomach trouble but can be effective at inducing miscarriages, and after abt 30 min I felt that solid gushy feeling and this amazing, AMAZING, UNVEBELIEVABLE coagulated mass rushed down (and E. nearly fainted) and I thought I did it, it's over, and I couldn't believe it, and the nurse came and called the dr, and she came and took one look and said No, this is just blood, and she felt my cervix (and fuck, painful!) and said it was softening a bit but I'd never make it on my own so let's get her prepped for a D&C and I thought Fuck, ONLY blood, how can that be and how long did the blood have to pool to create an amount that fits in my cupped hands only, and then they came to wheel me away to the OR floor, and I was beside myself bcs there was an end to the pain in sight, and I was placed in a corridor just outside the newborns' room, I actually think it may have been the prematures but I couldn't see very well, but I did see one tiny baby with flailing arms and legs suckle for the first time, and I could hear them meowling in their tiny voices, and for some reason I found it deeply comforting to be surrounded by live babies and live mummies and really, this is how it should be for everyone but since it isn't, this is how it should be for the majority, my own pregnancy had made me so ill, E. sat by my side still holding my hand very lightly so as not to infect or break me, and he mumbled I hate hospitals and me, I love them, I'd not have survived as a baby without them, or as a child or adolescent for the matter, and now, without a hospital I'd have suffered and suffered for days, probably not passing the sac bcs I apparently do good implantation and that ~~blighted ovum~~ embryo was firmly put, and by then the infection that was just starting would ravage me and I'd die, how could I NOT love hospitals, and then the pain was gone, they ust have given me something stronger in preparation and I quietly lay there listening to the babies and mothers, and then the nurse came and helped me to the bathroom, she pushed the saline on wheels and I held onto my flapping hospital gown bcs by then I gave a shit again who saw my fat white arse, and then I shocked her by asking her how many D&C's Dr. Jorge [NOT LIKE SPANISH! Sounds like "gorge" but the J is like the French one, ok? Jór-j.] had done, and had he ever left a tiny leg or arm inside and she sniffed and said she couldn't answer that but hey, it's my uterus and my life, and then I was wheeled in and the thougth that I'd not feel that pain again was exhilarating, I couldn't care less abt the anaesthesia, and I'd made my peace with the end of this pregnancy, that embryo was a very ill one and I hope had not developed enough to experience pain but it was sick and it was impossible and one of us needed to come out of this whole and so I let it go, and I asked Dr. Jorge to please keep in mind that I still intented to put this uterus to good use so would he pay extra attention, and then the Anaesthesiologist started talking to me and injecting stuff and asked me if I felt any difference, and I said no, and she said All right, let's give her Propofol now, and I lay there annoyed bcs I couldn't remember whether Propofol was a beta-receptor blocker, or an alpha-receptor or what and I should know it, and then I felt the induction which is as anguishing as I remembered it bcs you feel you're dissociating from your body and I always think this is how dying must feel like and the Anaesth. asked if I felt anything and I said I certainly did and either I was dying or being induced and she actually jumped a bit at my cheekiness or what have you and told me not to even say that word in there, and then the last thing I remember is discussing sushi, which is not a bad last memory at all, and then I was woken up against my will from a very deep and comforting sleep during which I even dreamt good dreams, and the first thing I noticed was that my lower back wasn't hurting and it was the first time in over a week, and then I noticed I didn't feel any pain whatsoever, or nausea, NO NAUSEA, NO PAIN, and I was starving and felt alive for the first time in a long time, and they asked me how I felt and I said Splendid, when may I go home? and they laughed and wheeled me out and I saw my parents and E. and cheerily waved at them and then a nurse came into the recovery room, where I was w 2 C-section mothers and their little newborns and she said I cannot believe this is you, you look so much better! and I stared at her and realised this was my nurse, the one I'd had in the other room and I hadn't recognised her, and she said You went through such a rough time, poor thing, I’ so glad you’re feeling better, every time I came in you were on your hands and knees rocking back and forth and do you know I barely remembered this but it's true, she kept telling me to lie on my side and I couldn't even be bothered to answe after the first few times bcs THAT DIDN'T HELP EITHER and I'd assume the position that felt less excruciating at any given time which isn't saying much, and then I needed to pee and I wasn't allowed up so I accepted the bedpan and peed and peed and peed and it felt wonderful, and then I remembered I'd also been desperate to go to the bathroom while in the OR and they'd told me they'd express my bladder after I was under and I assumed they hadn't but nurse said they had and would you believe I lay there and wondered where on earth I was finding the fluid to make all that urine and later when I told E. abt it he looked at me like I was mad (the look he reserves for when he has to go hunt for my keys, or my glasses or etc bcs I can never find or remember anything and he always does) and said They have been relacing your IV bags for hours now, you've had so many! and true, I had an IV drip (which has given me a fine, big hematoma), and I waited and waited for E. and my parents and one of the husbands even went out into the halway to see if they were anywhere to be seen (they all felt awful I think, the nurse had walked up to me and cheerily asked Normal birth or C-section? and I'd answered Abnormal miscarriage, normal D&C, and they all looked away but seriously, the babies, all those new lives were comforting, and besides, I'd been thinking E. and I had got into this quite ambivalently, I mean, being a parent is the scariest thing, and this had turned us into 2 people who knew w absolute certainty that this is what they wanted, regardless, and for that how could I not be grateful), so finally one of the husbands lent me his mobile and I rang E. and he said he’d made everyone stay away on purpose so I could rest and I told him I felt wonderful and was bored and please come, and then they all came, taking turns, and E. kept remarking that my heart rate and respiratory frequency were normal, did I hear that, they were normal, look how normal!, and I was told I’d be released later that evening, and then the nurse told me patients usually went home after abt 2-4 hours in the recovery room but my family had felt that that was too soon and I said WHAT?!, and luckily for me and sadly for him Dr. Jorge was walking past the open door and I called him and asked him to please not be swayed by my incredibly catastrophe-fearing parents and he said You’re doing fine, I’d let you go home now, it’s the anaesthesiologist that needs convincing, an by then it was 8 pm already and the story was, usually the anaesth. wants to wait 2 h, TWO HOURS, but my parents had apparently talked to her and since they were still afraid I’d exsanguinate, and bcs they couldn’t forget how I’d been a mere hours bfr they couldn’t believe I’d be in any shape to go home so soon after all that, EH. Then I sent everyone home to rest bcs it was ridiculous, E. had a test the next day and my parebts looked absolutely knackered and I’d be released in a few hours anyway and would give them a ring so they could come get me, and after a batlle of wills they all went home and eventually I was moved to a new room, given food, pestered the nurses to call the Anaesth. every so often in the hopes that’d make them want to get rid of me faster, and finally one came and pronounced me fine and I dove for the phone and asked my parents to please fly back to the hospital, and then I got dressed and felt no pain whatsoever, or nausea, and I walked up and down the corridor bcs I couldn’t wait to be out of there, an the nurse who’d sniffed and disaproved smiled at me politely and then did a double turn and said It’s you, I cannot believe it, you don’t look like the same person at all! and I laughed and that didn’t hurt me either, and then my parents came, and we drove to the chemist’s for the antibiotics, the 2 sorts of pain killers and the pill that is to help shrink my uterus and get it back into shape, and then I was home, in my home, on my sofa, with E. and my pets, and I was giddy with lack of pain and I couldn’t do anything but revel in it, absolutely nothing hurt except for the IV drip vein but that hardly counts [actually counts a bit, can be unbelievably painful], and then I slept and woke up at 3 am or so and tried to write a post but couldn’t bcs was still high from lack of pain and exhaustion, and then I slept some more and yesterday when I woke up I felt exhausted still and could barely move w tiredness, and I tried writing that post and answering emails but I couldn’t so I watched Bend it like Beckham, Nanny McPhee and House M.D. and started re-reading David Nobbs’ Pratt of the Argus, and then I fell asleep at 10 pm and woke up at 4 am and then went back to sleep and 5.30 am or so, and woke up abt an hour ago and decided I needed to write this for me, so apologies for length and detail, I dare say not many made it this far.

I want to talk more abt everyone who helped me so much but that will be for another day, I’ve written enough as it is (I wish I knew how to do the Continue reading link but I don’t). I am in no pain physically [UPDATE: am now a bit, sharp pain on right side that comes and goes, still manageable, I suppose it's to be expected], ibuprufen w every meal and paracetamol every 8h. I feel my uterus and my right ovary region at times but it’s mostly harmless. I'm barely bleeding. I’m still pale and tired but everyone pronounces me positively rosey in comparison, so that’s fine. I have come to terms w the fact that this pregnancy was not viable. Don’t know if this is the total amount of digesting I’ll do but I’ve learnt that in life a) shit happens and b) pain is unavoidable, suffering is optional. The first beta at 6w4d was 1654, remember? At 6w6d it was 535. Poor thing never really stood a chance. I was watching E. sleeping tonight, and early this morning (still wake up a few times during the night), and was thinking how bizarre to have been pregnant at my birthday and to not even know it. This has made me realise how much I do want children. I’ll be all right.

HAG SAMEACH.

UPDATE: E. has just rang me, he'd gone out with my father to buy me this very car in Panther Black today (remember it was supposed to be for my birthday) and got a phone call, HE GOT THE JOB, he got the job he wanted, and it's well paid as well! It may not seem quite like it but our life is most definitely changing for the better.

Lioness

2006-04-11T21:20:00.000+01:00

Hi,

Lioness had an small operation to extract the embryo. She's fine and will arrive soon at our home. She will post all the details when she feels better. Thanks for your comments and support.

Shalom
E.

"And sings the tune - without the words, and never stops at all"

2006-04-10T22:11:00.002+01:00

I have hope. This is what it boils down to. The beta has spoken, the dr. has spoken, the blood I am still losing and my almost pain-free, visibly smaller boobs speak to me daily, and yet, I have hope.

Hope and I, we know each other well. I always seem to be able to cling to it long after all the facts say otherwise, yes? I always seem to ride it wildly in the face of death.

I told my mum, actually right after I wrote my last post. She rang me and all of a sudden waiting for that 2nd beta didn’t seem to make much sense. I know. They are worried and mostly want to make it all better. Ha. Wish someone could.

I cannot talk to E. abt this, not quite. Well I can, as long as I don’t say death, dead or dying. He is waiting for the 2nd beta tomorrow to allow himself to believe the unavoidable. He hopes, as well, against all odds.

There is a not so wide gap between an embryo and a baby. In my mind, I have crossed it. Maybe it’s not quite a baby I am losing, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that it wasn’t planned, it was very much wanted, in abstract, and now in concrete. I did it all backwards, first thinking I’d miscarried, then the u/s showing it might still be alive, then realising with the beta that it is dying. It didn’t help. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter how or where you started, it doesn’t matter how you got there, it doesn’t much matter what lay in between. I still want it to live. It is still mine, it has become mine despite its impossibility.

I am losing the potential of this baby, and it hurts like the bloody hell.

---------------------

Some of you have asked abt the beta and how I am, physically. Blood should be drawn tomorrow at around 2.30 pm, and the results are ready within 30-60 min, so I should be posting them btwn 4-5 pm my time [when it's midnight here it's 4 pm in Berkeley]. I will wait for the dr. to come give me the values, in the little Enya-infested waiting room. Physically, I am in no pain, no cramping anymore, just a vague and rather alien feeling of pressure, of stretching, weight, in my uterus from he ovaries to the pubic bone, on the sides. It is so uncomfortable in a painless way it bothers me when I speak in a more enthusiastic tone or for longer periods of time, like I'm pulling something. Nothing can be growing in me right now so I can't very well think it's round ligament pain. Oh, my lower back does hurt all the time. I am still bleeding a bit every day, not much, and the blood is rather bright but no clots. I am surprisingly weak and tire very easily, especially when I stand for a while. My belly still looks the same - it was beginning to depress me, the fact that I seemed to all of a sudden be gaining weight on my belly, and I couldn't think of a reason bcs I wasn't eating all that much more. E. would sometimes remark I looked pregnant - but then he says it often, it's wishful thinking on his part. I am often thirsty (a very rare thing for me) and drink loads of fluids these days. I'd fall asleep easily at night bcs I get so tired from doing basically nothing and then become slightly feverish and sweat a bit around my neck and chest, the same odor-free sweat I produce when I am normally ill and feverish (haven't had a fever in 3 days). I wake up often during the night, often after only a few hours, and then it takes me forever to fall asleep again. I am also constipated. And now I must drink some more tea again.

Ps - Couldn't be bothered with the exam, didn't even go.
PPS - Woke up at 2 am cramping, still at it. Also, sharp piercing small pain in right ovary area. Who wants to place bets it's only gas? I know what will inevitably happen but I almost considered going to the ER just to have confirmation that it's started. But no bleeding. I NEED YOUR HELP HERE, if anyone knows: how long after you'd started feeling this way did you miscarry?

The Pride Proudly Presents The Abysmal Beta

2006-04-09T16:06:00.000+01:00

Now we know we have The Little Embryo That Would Never Have Been Able To.

6w4d post conception date: 1654.0

For those of you who don't know what I'm talking ab, the value should be btwn 15.000-200.000. See the humungous difference? Small matter of a decimal, or two.

I did go to the private hospital bcs, even though I do live in Europe's armpit [and Kath has just decided she lives in its nasal passage, Kath Kath Kath, why am I not surprised that you are hilarious], it was my fault. See, I used the old card. The dead one - no pun intended. *Self-kick* I am feeling very guilty bcs I lied to the dr so I'd get an u/s and a beta, I did. I set the dates back 3 days and told him I had been running a high fever the night bfr and had passed a clot again but surprise, my cervix? Firmly closed, thank you. This Little Embryo That Can't doesn't seem willing to give up just yet. We also couldn't see it so well, whereas yesterday we could. Now, maybe that's the machine, the dr. did say the ecograph was just for emergencies - whom do we have to sleep with to get a good u/s is what I'd like to know - and its resolution wasn't the best but I doubt it. What do I mean I doubt it, the beta has spoken, the end. Or on its way there.

Also, our waiting room was the passage to the new babies ward, and my infertility blogs propensity has taught me that that cannot but be an absolute mind fuck for women who didn't know there was a problem until something starts going wrong, who have been trying, who have maybe been going through hell to get a positive test. As you can see, my lovelies, I am fully educated. No pictures of babies, I'm happy to report, just tasteful flowers. Oh, and bloody shmaltzy Enya - on repeat, I was ready to start banging my head against the wall to drown it out. How is that soothing?? And not one trashy magazine to be seen.

[The ashamed bit has more to do w exposure in general than the miscarriage itself. I have always feared exposing myself and blogging has taken care of most of those irrational fears. No one has been less than kind when I reveal things I find profoundly shameful. This comes to mind. In a way it's been just a matter of extending what I'd learnt abt psoriasis to all the rest of my life, carrying your fucked up genetic code for all to see either breaks you or teaches you it is not something you have to feel guilty abt ~~all the time~~, often both. In one highly particular way a miscarriage is easier to handle, people don't literally step back afraid you'll infect them w he same vileness, less potential for feeling like the village leper and wondering when the natives will start offering little bells for you to ring at crossroads. ]

The funny thing abt this is, I know, I KNOW that so many of you are feeling worse than I am right now, and I feel like a bit of a fraud bcs I am not feeling much really, and I am more pissed off at failing the exam tomorrow (that is an absolute certainty) than anything else right now, and I am sorry if I've caused you pain in any way - bcs I seem to be able to get pregnant, and it was oopsy of sorts and I know how hard for many of you that was, or bcs I've reminded you of your losses. I am all right, I really am (will tell parents after 2nd beta on Tuesday, might as well be able to tell them w absolute certainty so there's no room for their hope). I don't know if I'll remain this kind of all right till the end, or if it'll eventually sink in much further but for now, the closest I came to crying was when I saw the beta levels, and even that was more bcs of the embryo than bcs of me, poor thing, nowhere to go but down and still hanging on by the skin of its neural tube. Even our non-viable offspring are stubborn.

Fag, anyone?

----------------------------

UPDATE: Oro has done it, Oro has made me cry with her kindness. Fuck. So maybe this miscarrying thing is harder than I thought it was going to be. Maybe I shouldn't be suprised but I am. I am beginning to think I may be the only one surprised, maybe it doesn't matter so much whether you were trying, maybe a loss is a loss is a loss.

And Then There Were None

2006-04-08T22:11:00.007+01:00

This post and the info within may surprise all but the Barren Bitches Brigade, except for the small fact that I am the one writing it. It certainly is not for the faint of heart. Blood and Clots of an unpleasantly suspicious nature will be mentioned, often in the same sentence. Fuck and its derivatives will figure prominently. Etc.

Also, in honour of my conversation with David, which was an eye-opener [he rang me – he rang me, how sweet is that?? - from Israel bcs of this. Well actually not, that started out as the greatest motivator but then the rubbish behind this very post happened and then he rang.] – anyway, if you are a religious Jew, I will be immodest.

TUESDAY, CLOSE TO MIDNIGHT
Awaited period arrives in all its glory as I stand outside a Catholic Church, during a wake. Never one to miss potential symbolism, I promptly decided it would be quite like the Pope [especially this one, have you taken a good look at his face? The Huns, The Huns, RUN LITTLE ONES, RUN TO THE FOREST AND DON’T LOOK BACK] to somehow arrange for occult sects to invoke something or other or pull a lever or other and have me exsanguinate to death right there on the steps. I say my goodbyes as I feel the blood literally gushing out of me, and then a solid gushy feeling, as if a a ~~murder of crows, an unkindness of ravens~~ a band of clots had fused together and slithered all the way down my wapooha. When I got home I had blood halfway up my crotch, and the solid feeling had been caused by a clot colony that was humungous and could easily fit inside my palm (what I usually call the size of a small African nation but a bit too big this time). I also had blood trails all the way down into my socks. I took 2 Ibuprufens and went to bed, and

WEDNESDAY
I was supposed to go meet my friend Shrimpy so we could work together, and I didn’t manage to leave till 3 pm or something bcs I bled through 2 pairs of pants and the bathroom, good grief the bathroom looked like a CSI scene, there were even droplets on the mirror, the let’s-perch-on-the-bidet manoeuvre seemed to have been a bit too much and the blood felt too liquidy. Those of you fortunate enough to have bidets (don’t see how the rest of the world can live, truly I don’t), do you know when you’re washing yourself and the cold water eventually stops you from bleeding for a little while, so you can quite easily get your knickers and the new pad? I soaked in cold water for 15 minutes and kept on bleeding, and this is when I first thought something wasn’t right. When I got to her place I felt that solid gushy feeling again only more so, so I rushed to the bathroom and the clots/clots/clot colony was so big I felt it could be something else, so I called her in and she took a look at it – she’s a dr. – and said: “Hmm yes, looks like you’re miscarrying.” “It does a bit, doesn’t it,” I replied. There was even a membrane surrounding it, oh well. I was still a bit incredulous bcs this is me, and everyone knows my ovaries don’t work, and the dr. keeps reminding me I will very probably need assistance to get pg, so I was dreading a tumour or myoma far more.

THURSDAY
I’d managed to make an appointment yesterday so went in to see Dr. She too thought cyst and myoma, especially after feeling my uterus. As an afterthought she said, Just to be absolutely safe buy a pregnancy test and I said All right and left thinking what havoc a myoma could wreak and would I have a womb/tubes/ovaries at the end of it all. So I drove to the chemist’s and had this conversation with the woman who spent at least 4 years in the university bfr being able to have it:

She: But are you more than a few days late? Bcs this test doesn’t read “early late” so well.
Me: It’s all right, it won’t make a difference.
S: Well it will, it won’t pick up the HCG (Human Chorionic Gonadotropin) if it’s only a day or two late.
M: It really doesn’t matter, I don’t need to find out whether I am pg, only whether I was, see?
S: ?? But how does that work?
M: Could I just have the test please? I simply need to find out whether I’m miscarrying, thank you.

She was unconvinced but did fetch the test. And the test, ah the test showed 2 pink lines immediately, lightning fast. My first, isn't that a moment to remember, and I, I unhinged my jaw and made it terribly hard for myself to give the good Dr. the news, and she, she unhinged her jaw and stammered Well, this changes everything, forget abt all the ultrasounds and regular checkups I ordered, come see me on Sat at the hospital, we’ll see if you’ll a need a D&C – and this is where I entered a parallel universe where I actually am treated as someone who conceives something other than notions. I was shocked as the bloody hell bcs fuck, I do not do pregnant, at all. And I had, obviously. Only too late now, gone. Or going, at the very least. And you know what the truth is? The truth is that, amidst the shock, part of me was just relieved and grateful bcs I’d smoked a lot the previous months, and taken a fair amount of anti-inflammatory for my ears, and my folic acid reserve must be non-existent bcs I was on the pill all those years to give my ovaries the chance to rest and reabsorb the cysts that lived in/on them – and sod it if it didn’t work! – and I kept forgetting to take it and we all know what happens to folicacidless embryos, and I felt like I’d barely avoided giving birth to the new Miles Vorkosigan, with the distinct disadvantage that this child would not be protected by being a Vor, and we’re a few centuries behind so no synthetic legs etc, and the meds, have I mentioned the medication and the smoking and the stress and the late nights working? So yes, relief. E. was somewhat happy, strangely enough. He told me At least we know we can make babies. I didn’t have the heart to detail the fact that getting pregnant and staying pregnant are two very different things, who knows. Immediately the horrid humour began, with my telling him it was his turn to clean the litterbox bcs I was too busy miscarrying, or that he should save me the last cookie bcs I was eating for one and a half. WELL, I think they are! [A while ago E. said something beastly and I said something nasty in return and then went out again to go exchange 2 books bcs if there was time when I needed books, this is it. I am now back and E. and I are not talking to each other right now. As a matter of fact I have not seen him since I came back.]

I went to Shrimpy’s to work but at around 10 pm or something my lower back was killing me and I was feeling very tired so I came back home. I had barely bled all day, and there were no clots anywhere – not the pad, not my legs, not my socks as sometimes happens. Good. BY the time I got home I was shaking w cold and tiredness and was a bit feverish. I took one Ibuprofen and fell asleep easily and early, and woke up at 3.30 am and couldn’t fall back to sleep again so got up and emailed a few women asking if there was anything natural I could take to ensure all would come out and I would not need to have a scientific-looking sort of spoon up my cooter, forcibly into my womb to then literally scrape it raw – and I am not too sure we are given general anaesthesia for it here, and btw, I do not not not want a GA, they make me want to die and I cannot even puke and it takes me at least 6 h to be able to even lift my head and speak. Sadly, and as expected, mostly you need to cross your fingers and leave your cervix wide open, if you personally can manage that little trick. I also emailed Persephone and David bcs I wanted to know if there was a special prayer to be said when miscarrying and well, in Judaism we’re not even supposed to truly mourn that which quite wasn’t, and the modesty bit got me thinking a lot [and basically maybe I should have emailed David’s wife Zahava but I’ve never even talked to her so I couldn’t very well address her directly plus I didn’t think asking it would be considered inapropriate by religious Jews, so sorry David - he was nothing but sweet and great and Treppy-like, as expected, this guilt is all my own bcs I should have known better] and hell, it’s just another bloody mess I choose to ignore right now.

FRIDAY
In the morning I realised I’d bled again but not as much and still no clots to be seen, so that reinforced my notion that this was the last stage of this miscarriage. In a way I felt also lucky. See, I never found out I was pg, I found out I’d been, no hope to cling onto, no fear to cling onto for the added 8 months, just a Never Would Have Been presented to me as painlessly as possible. I am not making loads of money while in vet school and E., who is an archaeologist, has been looking for work for a while now, has even branched off from his area of expertise – and nothing. It is my firm belief that you cannot simply want your children, you must prepare for them, economically more so than emotionally (I’ll never be prepared emotionally). I believe the parents must be the ultimate providers, as much as the family might be delighted help theirs is not the ultimate responsibility, and no one should embark upon parenthood bfr they’ve amassed at least a fair amount of money (read also: ensured they can put enough away every month), in case things go awry for some reason during the pregnancy or the first year. So, on our own we have my money and his savings – thank God he is the organised type! – but this was definitely not the time to get pregnant. I cannot imagine being pregnant and fretting over money – along with fucking vet school, that’d be enough to kill an embryo – and well no worries, I’ve done that already.

Also, I felt lucky that this was such an early loss bcs see above, attachement, what attachment?, Wham Bam ByeBye Mam, those last clots had membranes, and the heavy bleeding was gone, if you’re going to have to lose a baby you might as well do it as swiftly as this. I know, with absolute certainty, that this pregnancy cannot be older than the 25th of February due to E.'s minor surgery recovery. I don’t know if it’s a 7-day week or an 8-day week but yes, Feb 25th is the earliest it could be.*

[Make no mistake here, this is what’s been solidifying within me, it doesn’t matter that we didn’t know early enough, that it is too early, that it wasn’t viable, it doesn’t matter that there is more shock and surprise than sadness, this could have been our baby, this gave wings to our diffuse idea of what having a baby is or could be like – and we lost a baby indeed, bcs otherwise it would be born and we would have it, as we want to. May be a minor loss but a loss it is.]

Friday was a shitty day, with fever in the afternoon and evening and general feelings of shittiness and vague pain even after 2 Ibuprofens, and I slept restlessly again.

SATURDAY
We went to the hospital at 10.30 am w a friend of E.’s and then I waited and waited and waited, and then dr. came and wanted to do an US but couldn’t bcs THE ONE MACHINE THAT EXISTS FOR ALL PREGGOS AND MISCARRIGOS IN THE WHOLE HOSPITAL WHICH SEES A TONNE OF WOMEN A DAY WAS IN USE. So I waited and waited and waited and then the US machine was returned to us and I was called in and she gelled my belly and I was so sure my uterus was void I said It’s empty, right? and she said Er, no, it isn’t, and I thought Fuck!, I thought it in English as I often do, and I lay there and wondered how it would be with the D&C and how soon I’d be allowed to go home, would it be early or late afternoon or would my having eaten be a problem and such was my fervour I almost didn’t hear it when she said, In fact, I’m wondering whether it could still be alive and I said WHHH??? and she turned the screen towards me and there was an embryo inside me, INSIDE ME, this is mad, this is demented. This is what pelvic and vaginal probing have taught us:

- Elongated gestational sac (bad sign)
- Heavy bleeding and clotting of course, and then some more bleeding, albeit less due to:
- Partially detached placenta, quite visible, as well as underlying hemorrhagic area
- Decreased mammary tension (boobs hurt far less than 2 days ago and seem smaller as well)
- Vitelline sac (nourishes embryo, is a sing of embryo vitality)
- Embryo measures right on target, of sorts, at 6W3D [*unless it's prior to Jan, 30, which would mean those 6W3D measurements are scary as hell and this is a very well-preserved dead embryo, which Dr thinks is not the case but at this point what do we know]
- She tought she saw a heart beat. Oh no, wait, Oh there, look, did you see that, it looked like… Oh no it wasn’t, oh maybe I’m seeing what I want to see, we’ll have to wait a fortnight for a clearer picture, come see me again on the 17th. TWO WEEKS FROM NOW.

I lost a tiny bit of my sanity when I saw that embryo INSIDE ME, the bit that is in charge of asking What part of the uterus did you say it was implanted in? and I’d like to have a beta now and one again in 2 days and so on so we know if it’s going up, which it won’t, or down, which seems natural, or staying put, which also seems natural, instead of waiting 2 weeks to find out what we already know, so if we know it now we might as well be sure of it sooner than later, yes?, and I was actually thinking too bad I cannot blog abt this bcs bloody hell, did I name my blog aptly and then I realised I could blog abt this, and then I realised I needed to blog abt it bcs I need you, much as I did when Uzi was missing and then dead, and I don't want to act like miscarrying is something I should be ashamed of, ever, though it is ugly and lonely and morose, and anyway tiny bits of sanity are all I’m prepared to lose this time, so this is my truth as we know it.

We went to my private insurance hospital later which is as crème de la crème as they come, and there I was told the communicating entity that lives in the printer was spewing the words Client To Be Refused A Doctor At This Time, and the lady at admissions couldn’t tell me why and suggested I should have come bfr 2 pm and I snarled I’ll try to time my miscarriage better next time, how does that sound you bitch?, only the bitch part isn't true though it happened in my mind, this is how it is goes: you can ring their number Mon–Sat till 2 pm, after that time you’re on your own but you’re welcome to pay 123 Euros for the appointment alone, not to mention all the blood testing and US etc, even though the reason you got the medical insurance in the first place was – ARGH! I’ll ring them on Mon and if need be Shrimpy will order me a beta which I’ll pay for out of my own pocket if need be as well. I will know what I can know as soon as I can know it. (This is also why I don’t want to tell my parents anything till we know for sure what’s happening, no need to place them in pseudo-grandparental agony. Do you think it’s wrong? I have learnt in an amazingly short amount of time the difference btwn knowing the pregnancy is gone and experiencing the pregnancy as it withers and dies. In degree of lacerations I'd much rather they merely experience the former.)

Want to hear the funny, the truly hysterical in all senses, bit? Theres's some small piece of my soul that is still feeling tender and bruised and dislocated: after the US I went back to the Admissions counter so I could pay. The nice man said Oh no, you don’t have to pay anything. And I said But this is a hospital, I’ve never heard of such a thing, there were some exams involved, are you quite sure? I always have to pay! And he shook his head and said No no no, pregnant women don’t pay –

- and fuckfuckfuck, this isn’t me, this cannot be me, this is all wrong ARGH!!! And I badly need a fag and yet I am not smoking – and really, WHY THE BLOODY HELL NOT?

And so we wait.

-----------------------------------------------------------
COMMENTING RULES – please pay attention, I mean every single one of them:

1) If you know me in real life, please keep this to yourself. If I want anyone else to know I will tell them. It is and remains my choice. Also, it is not necessarily a good idea to talk to me abt this. Writing and talking are not and will never be the same.
2) Think twice bfr bringing God into this if it’s going to take the form of This is God’s will unless you are a) mentally ill and b) God himself. Other than that, you cannot possibly know what God wants or is, and therefore kindly refrain from inflicting inanity upon me.
3) Along the same lines, sentences like This is all for the best are best written somewhere else. Again, unless you’re mentally ill, God or a psychic refrain from bizarre quasi-retrospectively futurology.
4) I would truly appreciate your opinion, an honest one, be it good or bad. As I’ve had the chance to repeat ad lib last year, to me not knowing is far worse than any catastrophic scenario you may provide me with. Had I had the imagination to imagine today’s scenario, I’d have been much better prepared, and I might even have had my beta. I repeat, DO NOT FEEL AFRAID TO WRITE ABT BAD EXPERIENCES YOU'VE HAD OR HEARD ABT. They will help me know what to expect in all its different ways, I promise. [Also, I don't mind mentions of all things baby or pregnant - if you are pregnant and happily so, GOOD. That's exactly as it should be].
5) That being said, please DO NOT write anything along the lines of: I am sure…, or I just know that..., or anything that means you have access to information you cannot possibly have – we’ve discussed this above
6) Don’t say anything imbecilic. Don’t tell me to relax – it never changed my psoriasis, don’t think it will magically transform that which is shrinking as we speak into The Little Embryo That Could; don’t tell me we’re young; don’t tell me we can try again; you get the gist of it.
7) Morbid, dark, inappropriate humour welcome (Soper? Anyone?). Really.
8) E and I are talking to each other again. Neck-nuzzling known to occur.

Birds of Pray

2006-03-26T12:03:00.000+01:00

[Thank you all for birthday wishes, station wagon is indeed the present from my parents, which will fulfill the dream of not asphyxiating in dog hair every time I enter the car but it is still not here bcs I still have not decided which one to buy. Eh. So, Skoda Active, Peugeot 206 Sw or something, or some other make? Car buying is the pits. THE PITS.]

Was assaulted yesterday by a few, birds of prey and others. Took first-Aid for Wild Birds course, very interesting. We have a rehab centre in the middle of the city, in the woods (oh the difference in smell, OH THE DIFFERENCE IN SMELL!) near the university actually. A very poor centre and yet highly resourceful thanks to the commitment of a few, especially Dr. PM, I should think. I entertained dreams of volunteering in the 1st year, and then vet school happened, and then I didn't. Was hoping I'd somehow manage to this year but, wouldn't you know it, virology exam in a fortnight. Also, comp dying several times a week, if i ever write that saga I promise you will die of fright. Also, translation job, words fail me.

So these were the beauties I worked w [images may be copyrighted etc], the top ones alive, the last one very dead, which was fortunate bcs sad little bird had re-invented cachexia (which comes after emaciation) and a) I am not so good at this bandaging thingy yet [but do you know how hard it is to bandage birds' feet? Ends up looking like a cute Vet-Wrapped pompom but dead, sticking-out feet weren't helping much] [LOVE Vet Wrap though, and Vet Lite], and b) sad little bird kept threatening to come apart - literally - in my hands. Now, injections I'm good at, got my intra-ossea (??? IO injections, Diana?) ones right immediately, both the ulnar one and the tibio-tarsic one.

Curvus corone

We got them all from the non-releasable cages, there was a vulture that wanted to make friends - I didn't know this but vultures are highly imprintable and this one was a human-bonding poster child, very much wanting to jump into our laps if given half a chance. In the Grackle enclosure I went in w a colleague, up the slippery slope w the catching net, we were not allowed to bring in wet animals and that was a shame for there was a little, cutey, bald and dripping one that was also majorly imprinted and kept following us, barking very accurately. Hallo, look at me, take me, taaaaake meeeeeee! WOOF WOOF! But we had to break her heart and choose the ones that could actually fly and were not amused. Smallish buggers but their beaks can hurt like the bloody hell.

Buteo buteo

Then we moved on to the Common Buzzards, the biggest of all the animals we handled. They were much easier to catch than the grackles. Flying into the wire and becoming disoriented and tired helps every time.

Falco sparvarideo

Finally, the kestrels. Don't be deceived by the pic, they're actuallly quite small. Full of tricks though. There is a pair that has nested near my building. I actually saw the female tring to claim a flower-vase-space-thingy outside the window of a 6th floor (no, come to mine, bird, come to mine!) and the stupid human saw her and opened the window and broomed her away. HOW BLOODY INANE CAN ONE HUMAN BE??? A kestrel pair nesting by my window, that'd be a horror indeed. Stupid ignorant cow. I know they were kestrels bcs I got my bicnoculars and the bird guide and ID-ed them. Then one day, as I was opening the window upon waking up, the male suddenly flew up, belly parallel to the building wall and IN MY FACE, close enough to touch, and we both retreated in shock - it was absolutely one of the beautiful high points of living here.

I worked on these and the grackles in the clinic. Kestrels are a bloody pain, let me tell you. They use their beaks and sharp tallons as a weapon and complain noisily the whole time, even w a covered head. Ours was, to fit in with the theme, a bit on the emaciated side. His feet also were'nt as yellow as they should so I will wildly guess this bird wasn't in the best possible shape. Falcony birds have a claw in their wings, very cute. Anyway, it was my turn to do tyhe clinical examination and my colleague was supposed to be keeping the bird still and harmless within his leather gloves and bcs he was feeling a bit insecure abt it the feet and head kept moving and we spent more time extricating sharp, little strong tallons from my dermis and me replacing latex gloves than examining the beast. [We wear latex gloves bcs 50% of humans carry some Staph. strain in their skin and birds don't and you see how that could end well for the avian contingent.]

Egretta garzetta

Then we moved on to the corpses and my Little Egret was, as mentioned, almost coming apart in our hands. It was funny to see the 2nd year students diving for the needles and syringes (we don't have much of a hands on approach till the 3rd year so they're famished.) If my bird had been alive we'd have had to stick a cork in his beak bcs, have you taken a good look at it? Piercing! This bird was in such poor condition he had barely any muscle left.

We were working outside and it was getting dark and cold and damp and by the time we were finished the birds looked delapidated and so did we, and it was absolutely brilliant and fabulous and I remembered why I must become a vet bcs there's nothing quite like the sight of a released bird flying back into the wild and knowing you helped make it possible, you are one of the few who are not powerless due to ignorance and therefore knew what to do. [This is, incidentally, also why I could never be a nurse or a vet tech. To think I may actually know better than the doctor what should be done bcs I am more experienced in that particular thing or he is incompetent AND YET he is the doctor and his world is law - no no no, MY word will be law and I will be more than happy to be counselled by all but no helplessly standing by while an animal is butchered/maimed/killed for me.]

This post is called Birds of Pray bcs I did remember, see, and every so often I need to. I do have that untimely exam in 2 weeks and feel not in the least like studying viruses right now but every exam brings me closer to being powerful in the proper way. Those are my foundations, they will be the ones who make the difference, and it's perfectly all right if I feel overwhelmed and fed up and tired and frustrated with how bad it all is if I also remember to be appropriately grateful.

And grateful I am.

Dearest child,

2006-03-18T00:21:00.000Z

Enjoy:

Love,

Your parents

--------------------------

And yet.

And yet, I still cannot believe the phone isn't ringing. Again.

Lioness Was Here

2006-03-10T01:19:00.000Z

And this is why one should never devote it its own category

So, this sleep thingy? Apparently gone. I am torn btwn maybe gratitude and the feeling of ridiculousness that comes with thinking it may be insomnia when it's only 10 past midnight. The gratitude bit -

*GAH*

Look, I cannot write anymore. Seriously, I CANNOT WRITE ANYMORE. I seem to remeber how to, vaguely, but it's mostly gone. As we can see from the dearth of posts. This is exceedingly not good. Writing is like a mirror, and if a Johnny falls in the forest and there's no one to type it, does the Johnny make a bloody sound? I cannot even muster enough energy for a fuck! these days. I know what I want to say, but the words keep not getting in my way. F!

See?

*/GAH*

I have just deleted another paragraph bcs, I think I should mention it, this stringing of sentences? Rotten.

Let's try the diagramatic approach, which works so well for school [btw, passed 12 out of 13 exams, which is astonishing in itself and especially so if you consider that we're talking abt me, so thus we learn that all one needs to do well is to have a massive exam overload, someday I'll post the schedule so we can all bond over that and a cuppa, no time to properly study for all of them, or even any of them, become ill right in the middle of it, and presto, you're done. The 13th exam was no great surprise, I wrote it on a Friday, the last exam bfr that had been on the previous day so I decided exam season was officialy over and went to bed w a book and circled random letters under the guise of answers w the usual result - for me, my colleagues often are quite lucky - that I failed it. I actually like that subject - anat. path. - so the thought that I will have to re-take it in Sept isn't vile at all.][And here's another bit of sageness, when no words are to be found on a particular subject, veer off in an absolutely unrelated direction and they will show up, if discombobulated.]

Diagramatic Approach Then

Insomnia = no sleep = loss of sanity = more loss of sanity = why the bloody hell was I born and why the bloody hell can everyone but me fall asleep and hallo, the sofas have started talking to me = maybe I'll just obsessively write posts bcs the amount of things I find to occupy myself with at 3/4/5/6 am is surprisingly small and if I have to read yet another book or two per night I absolutely will barf my brains all over myself ==== insomnia sucks rock majorly but by God is it inspirational, if often void of quality.

Remember how it is when your father borrows your car and returns it having forgotten to fully close a window in the middle of a much needed monsoon and the much needed rain finds its way into your car seats and the very expensive vet book lovingly forgotten on it, so that the next morning you find a partially rain-munched book w the pages all glued together in the most unflattering manner, but of course you cannot tell your father that he has just comdemned several beloved Woofies and Meows to a completely avoidable death bcs he is a darling really and is always buying stock and insurance in your name and trying to give you money and offering to take your car for some industrial hoovering, even though this last one could be construed as an insult were it not for the fact that when your father exits your car he in fact sports whiskers*? Do you? That is exactly how I feel these days.

I have tried replying to comments but when you open your own comment box and all your fingers can come up with is, STILL, Lioness Was Here, while your brain screeches NOOOOO, YOU KNOW WHAT YOU WANT TO SAY, GO ON, JUST GIVE IT ANOTHER TRY, THERE'S A GOOD GIRL, OH BUCK UP FOR FUCK'S SAKE, well, some of the magic is ruined. Also, if you've emailed me, see paragraph above. These are not happy times.

*The Bright Side

Some families have curses, others have cursetesis, which is the anthitesis of a curse, ours materialises in car parking, no matter how busy and impossible the area is we always find parking very near the place we need to go to. I mean, ALWAYS. People scoff in beginning, then they're aggravated as we invariably find the cosmically appointed parking place. A lesson in humility, they should all be this elegant.

The How The Hell Have I Missed This For So Long??
Have fallen hopelessly in love w Grey's Anatomy. And ADORE Christina, Sandra Oh-Oh indeed! What episode do you have now? (Didn't care much for The Constant Gardener though. Or at all. Yeah, yeah, see if I care. My Name Is Earl is great, as is House - as in Dr. House. And Veronica Mars DEFINITELY jumped the shark. A Port-Jackson one, my favourites, but there you go, jumping was done.)

The Unbelievable

I mentioned I wrote a paper for Bioethics abt schechitah, the ritual slaughtering of animals for kosher meat. One day, when I'm in the mood for a) some flaming; and b) revisiting of ~~sad~~ said subject, I will write a post abt it. Now, this was a subject that was divided into two, Bioethics and Deontology, so I wrote that individual essay and did a group presentation - loads of work, loads of fun, we did cartoons, got a miser 15/20 for it bcs blahblahblah, deontology is too serious for there to be any humour in it blahblahbla, anyway, bcs there were two teachers involved w different evaluation methods a Statistical Correction was applied to the grades (this is how you must think of it, capitalised, bcs it is that serious) with the result that some were given 2 extra points and 2 had 2 points taken out of their final grade. Guess now. Oh go on, I'm making it so easy! Yes, well, both works fell into the latter category, so we received a 15/20 when we in fact had a 17, and for my Bioethics essay, the one in which I seriously kicked buttock? I received an 18/20. Believe me, an 18 is the sort of grade that, should you accomplish it in my vet school, leads you to prostrate yourself on the ground and praise the holy scalpel. But. BUT. The teacher that gave us 15 told me, he actually told me this, that it was a shame that things turned out that way, next year it will be done differently but yes, shame, bcs my actual grade was 19.67. I repeat, boldified: 19.67. Do you know what this means?? I could have gotten a 20. Out of 20. In vet school. In a country where teachers so often tell us that a 20 is only for God. Me. Those of you who know abt jugulars feel free to avail yourselves to mine in the most goreish manner.

The Intermission
Cat, it's not enough that you flew down a 6th storey window and nearly killed me with fright, it's not enough that your lost leg has added a never bfr dreamt of scatological dimension to our lives, or that you wake me up regularly at all hours of the night by jumping three-leggedly onto the bedstand and pawing out every movable object, inluding lamps, oh no, you need to add trying to devour every stupid plastic wrapper that crosses your determined path to your repertoire. Cat, you're a cat. Cats have furballs, it's one of your most endearing qualities. They will come out eventually, as you well know, on the freshly- cleaned rug, ocasionally on the duvet on special occasions. In the meantime, please do your best to not have your bowels surgically re-organised. Also, chewing the phone chord as I type these very words does not much benefit this relationship. Nor does aiming for your owner's testicles in general, though any man who decides to play with a cat while naked clearly has some learning to do, and those dangly bits, well Cat, I can see your point. And it's not like he has only one so he can afford to be generous.

The Seriousness

Have tackled translation job for the first time since exams ended. Or started, that works as well. The sheer dimension of the job has me squealing with joy, positively squealing with joy. Like this: hee-heeeeeeeeeeeeeee! HEE-HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

The Maybe Cheating

I've been on holiday from school after a particularly gruesome 7 weeks of non-stop impending dementia and we all know what to do when on holiday from school, BUY BOOKS IN ENGLISH. So I went back a few days ago and got two more. And read them. And thought they were alright, but not quite a bit of alright. So I went back there and exchanged them for two new English books. Loverboy thinks this is cheating. Books were returned in pristine condition. I suffer from a book affliction, my bones ache and turn into dust when I cannot read. it's a medical thing really. I have not read, properly read, in over 7 weeks. I deserve the new books, they're mine. MINE! BOOKS! STAY OUT OF THIS! Cause enough for separation, I shouldn't wonder.

The Irony

Went to bed early. Yet, here I am, performing typing of sorts. Do you have insomnia again?, you migth ask. What, YOU THINK? Classes in 7 hours.

Here, please.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Hey, wasn't that URLhysterical? Did you notice it? I KNOW!]

All 13 exams now DONE!!!

2006-02-25T09:53:00.000Z

Bip bip!

The pink elephants in the room are a river in Egypt

2006-02-20T17:33:00.000Z

Let's see if I can write this post [don't want to write this post] without mentioning said elephants.

So. February, yes? February, whom I've been studiously avoiding for the past week.

[don't want to write this post]

Remember him? The slightly less famous one. The event mentioned in the before-last sentence of the 2nd paragraph happened on the 7th. As luck would have it, today would have been his birthday [don't want to write this post], today, the 2oth of February. [I think I hate February] It has since been a tradition that his pseudo-harem (i.e. tweedle, my friend Shrimpy, my friend B., T. - another former President of AI whom I've mentioned bfr, myself and a few other Zémanoupies) meet for dinner on his birthday. Today. While I was in Israel I missed all these dinners, obvioulsy, and then some years it wasn't possible, and then last year I was otherwise engaged - this will be the first time I will actually be able to attend.

As luck would have it, remember him? [don't want to write this post][hate my archives] Yes, as luck would have it, little elephants everywhere a year ago today.

People find it odd I can't be bothered abt Valentine's Day. I've always found it a bit daft, truth be told. Everyone, love your partner today! Now! No. But, as luck would have it [don't want to write this post], guess when I learnt this? Good thing I never did enjoy Valentine's Day.

Well fuck this, time to say Voldemort.

VOLDEMORT

There.

As luck would have it, both Uzi and Zé Manel are dead, in case there were any remaining doubts, and both would find it very funny that Voldemort means Flight of Death, though Zé Manel falling must have been more like the crumbling of a chain of mountains and I can't still believe I didn't feeel the vibrations all the way across the earth on the kibbutz, , and my Tig never did stand a chance with this fight or flight thingy. [Tsunami, flee - get it? Ha! Hysterical, I know.]

As luck would have it, am still sick. Had a fever again last night. Want to hear something funny? Funnier than the tsunami/flee thing, even. Remember the kaddish? Ah, we've all met my psyche and my psyche was most displeased with the schedule. At exactly 7 pm I started shaking and shivering and all of a sudden I had a fever and would you know, I could NOT go? Isn't that the most amazing coincidence? As luck would have it, bcs Uzi was not buried within 2 days of his death it's the funeral date that counts for the Yahrzeit and that will be the 11th of March. Psyche or not, it will happen. As will tonight.

So I will be going out in a while, and we will remember Zé Manel and eat more than we should. He taught us well. We will laugh and tell stories and be sad and very happy we had him, and then we'll curse loads in his honour and make him proud of us. And Uzi will be there as well, as he is always, nestling somewhere beneath my solar plexum, in the very core of me, my centre where all else is peripheric. And he will be toasted and remembered as well, and they will be remembered together next year, and the one after that, and the one after that, for as long as we can, and after we no longer can I'm sure we'll find a way.

And my Porties will know exactly what I mean when I say that my elephants, even the pink ones in the room, are so very worth it, and I will sing them with my words, with my actions, till my voice aches, from water lilly to water lilly, AMEN.

Sicker and boreder,

2006-02-18T20:57:00.000Z

so turned to him for comfort.

He never disappoints.

Too dumbified to think of a title

2006-02-17T14:29:00.000Z

Am still feeling rather rotten, would you believe I re-took an exam today to improve my grade, gave up on studying last night and went to bed thinking sod the grade but woke up on my own at 7.30 so why not go, shivering and all. So I did, and I think I improved said grade (that 12/20 in Microbiol. that was one of the best grades. Ha.). I have been passing ALL exams so far except for Cell Molecular Biology bcs it's tonnes and tonnes of DNA and I didn't have time to read even 1/4 of what I was supposed to. I had 9/20, can you believe that? 9.5 and I would have passed. So will retake next Thurs, and have Microbiology lab exam on Mon, for which I dearly hope this stupid virus will eventually let me study AND I also dearly hope my shaky hands will not set anything on fire, and then Pathol. Anatomy on Friday which will be a joke, let's all share a hearty laugh now, bcs I will have had exactly one evening to study. Skin, male + female reproductive tract, urinary tract, neurological diseases, avian diseases and am forgetting 2 others. One evening. HA. It's multiple choice etc so will close my eyes and circle random numbers. Worked really well last time I did it. But look, I was sick as the bloody hell when I tool all three Pharmacology exams and I passed them all, yey, AND didn't maim the poor dog for life either (IM injection)(haven't I mentioned this bfr?). I think I passed Medical Semiology (theory, already passed stable exam) and Anaesthesiology, results still unknown, but I think I've passed them. Regardless, next Frid it will all be over, for a little while anyway. Oh the luxury of having time to study AND understand everything! Er, and read. Talk. Go for coffees. Fix hair. See family and friends. Good times ahead. *cough cough*

Found the cutest, most egotistical little thing over at Beth's and thought I'd give it a try. (There's something I wanted to post, the story of the first - well and only - time I watched a pig castration. But it lies dormant in my comatose old computer and till i find a way to fish it out this is all i have. This, and a viral overload. All I need now is for a dying stork to land on me.)

Anyway, cute egotistical thing, it's called a Johari Window, as in: The Johari Window was invented by Joseph Luft and Harrington Ingram in the 1950s as a model for mapping personality awareness. By describing yourself from a fixed list of adjectives, then asking your friends and colleagues to describe you from the same list, a grid of overlap and the difference can be built up. See? You can go in and assign character traits to me. [have removed link] I know, I'd be excited as well, you can't very well you pass it up now can you. Go on, am sick and bored and dense, it'd be the kind equivalent of buying a box of matches.

Sir.

I've just spent 20 min online trying to create my very own tartan.

2006-02-16T22:06:00.000Z

Can find no explanation for it.

Because She asked and one does not disobey the Queen, especially when She can take us to their master

2006-02-11T18:37:00.000Z

DM (and Beth, of course), for your pleasure:

Sunny Three

The Grooming Factory Line

[Look at Hum-Hum's tiny pink tongue!]

Bliss

I could eat her

Her too

Oh and the dog, they are all so cute!

Must fix hair, looks demented.

Bloody February.

Yes, yes, we're rather dull these days and the heartbreak doesn't vary much either

2006-02-06T00:28:00.000Z

I could talk at length abt the latest Islamic insanity, i.e., *enter Calimero-esque voice* Oh we're offended, we're offended, we're so very hurt bcs you depict our prophet in compromising positions, you may mock all religious figures, we couldn't be bothered abt the others, but not our prophet so here's Hitler in bed w Anne Frank - *covers mouth* eh eh eh, SEX! - and we'll see how you like it, you bloody Jew pigs, damn you and the mare you rode in on.

*YAWN*

Yes, scary, yes, expected, yes, demented, yes, hardly surprising. Don't feel like talking abt it, couldn't even if I did bcs HAVE INANE EXAM SCHEDULE, in case you had forgotten. Actually passed the exam I was sure I'd failed. Actually had one of the best grades. Said grade was a sad one really, 12/20 - exam was bloody awful, the failure rate was 63%, terrifyingly, but the teachers fully took the blame which is always a refreshing thing to have happen in my faculty. More often that not we are called lazy and stupid and it's all our fault and no, am not joking.

Also.

Got to the end of my binder just now and there was a blue sticker w a phone number on it which was very familiar. Took me a moment to place it, it was from our kibbutz room, when I still lived w Uzi. Punch to the gut, yes, hardly surprising but still, here we are. I rang him, how could I not. Just to see if the number was still working, just to see if I could still reach him, symbolically speaking. Well, he didn't really answer, death being in the way, the phone rang for the longest time and then the voicemail came on, after all this time, and all of a sudden he was talking to me and God, I know his voice so well. Worse, there was a beep and he told me I could leave a message if I was so inclined.

On the 20th it will be a year since he was buried. Already. Already a year since I last set foot on Israel, not that I have good memories from that time, or many for that matter, I seem to have surpressed most of them, Lisa keeps telling me abt things I don't remember we talked abt at all. My Tig, my Tig, my Tig is buried, my Tig is STILL buried and yet he still talks to me when I ring him, echoing the voices in my head that whisper his name constantly.

I left a message.

Bugger her.

2006-02-03T12:17:00.001Z

Noorster tagged me. Meh. Just wrote 1 exam and 1 test, got 18/20 in the test, am sure failed exam so bugger that too. Don't even know how the others went, no grades yet. Meh. So, boringly as it is:

Four jobs I've had in my life:

1. Animal keeper (penguins and alcids mostly)
2. Ethology researcher (bottlenose dolphins)
3. Student jobs
4. Proofreader and translator, still at it

Four movies I can watch over and over again:

1. Matrix
2. The 5th Element
3. Au revoir, les enfants [Louis Malle]
4. Four Weddings and a Funeral and the likes (Bridget Jones, Love Actually, Pride and Prejudice, etc)

Two places I have lived IN:

1. Lisbon. Eh.
2. Germany
3. Israel, Kibbutz H.
4. Israel, Eilat

Four TV shows I love to watch:

1. CSI
2. The Gilmore Girls
3. Anything by Dr. Winston/BBC Documentaries (e.g. Child of Our Times, Human Instinct, The Human Body)
4. Vet/rehab/medical shows

5. Cheating now, must add: Stargate (SG), love it love it love it, and also Firefly (love it love it love it) and Andromeda.; and What Not To Wear, BRITISH version w those 2 goddesses. *sigh*

Four places I have been TO on holiday:

1. London + Paris + Southern Germany + Liechstenstein (Liechstenstein, eh, London, ab fave]

2. Morocco, all over
3. USA, NY + New Haven
4. Canada, Montreal + GTA

5. OH OH! Brazil, must include Brazil, bloody brilliant! Brazilian men don't hurt none.

Four websites I visit daily:

Daily? Sad.

1. Technical websites (don't ask)
2. Gmail for latest news on exam-related thingies (don't ask)

Meh.

Accurately so

2006-02-01T21:39:00.000Z

(Word cloud with my blog's word frequency)

[Found via Persephon e]

Nether here

2006-01-30T21:54:00.000Z

E., just now, looking at the cat curled up on the sofa with a very puzzled expression on his face:

E.: What is that? Is that her vagina or her bum?
Me: If anything, that'd be her vulva but -
E.: *panicked* WHAT?? She doesn't have a vagina??

[enter mirth]

E.: What?? In cats it's a triangle isn't it, that's the vagina. You know how it looks right? It goes like this: *makes descriptive hand gestures in all seriousness* Must I draw it for you?

[unmitigated mirth]

E.: What?? Why are you still laughing? Stop it. Stop laughing.

[miiiiiiirth]

E.: What are you writing now? Oh don't be childish.

Snowing in Lisbon

2006-01-29T16:29:00.000Z

I ask you! HOW???

Very bad news I'm afraid, very bad cold wave, there's no central heating in our houses, in our schools, buses - AT ALL. I'm freezing here, can't imagine the poor things up North [actually, just found out it's colder in Lisbon]. People will die, people will surely die. It's heartbreaking

Oy.

It's truly bad, it's snowing in the deep South, it's snowing in coastal towns, it snowed on my parents on their drive back from the beach, the snow will turn to ice, Porties don't know how to drive anyway, add snow and ice - expect madness and casualties. And all I can think of is the elderly, the ones who receive a pension of 100 Euros a month and can barely stay alive, the ones who often starve to deah out of pride , bcs they do not want to say they are hungry and dehydrate so fast, the ones who are alone and have trouble moving and live in decrepit houses. And the homeless, I hope the tube is left open for them.

And because I have a stupid exam tomorrow, and a stupid exam on Wednesday, and a stupid exam on Friday, I cannot even drive around w hot, sugar-loaded tea, cannot try and find extra blankets to distribute among our very own who live inside cardboad boxes on doorsteps of our lovely, bountiful city, more than you would believe, all I can do is wring my hands and foul-mouthedly curse those who think their actions, ecologically speaking, affect none, not even them, those who do not care abt what world their children and grandchildren will leave behind, those who view such concerns as paranoia, lack of proper education and evidence of lefty beliefs.

WELL. I cannot stand the communists and am as fine and sane and educated a snob as you could ever hope to find - and I DO care, and I DO worry, and it's MY water you're fouling, it's MY air you're thickening, it's MY natural resources you're depleting, it's MY health you're harming, the earth is round and exceedingly small in some vital matters, you bloody self-absorbed, navel-centric, minor pan-lords .

This is a disaster, futuristically speaking, I cannot believe this. This is frightening. How are we as a country ever going to be able to handle such humungous weather changes?

Long Live Laika, yes?

I DID IT!!

2006-01-25T22:36:00.000Z

I finally did it!

I bloody shagging sodding fucking did it!

Not only did I actually manage to be there for a change, but - I PASSED BONES!

Bones, Bones, bones, bones, bones!!

It feels even better than this - and believe me, it felt fabulous!

I PASSED BONES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I tore all the stupid, imbecilic, inane pages into small pieces and let them fly out my car window, all of them, not bothered abt littering for once, I needed to be cleansed of all the rubbish and IT FELT SO BLOODY BRILLIANT, who cares if the transversal process of the 6th cervical almost has a ridge instead of a blade-like ventral surface, who gives a bloody damn abt the shape of the sacrum in all species, in what demented world will I need to know how to assemble carpal bones for fuck's sake, and what good will knowing 19 very long and deranged anatomic laws and principles and how many types of rays fish fins have and how they are [2, dull] ever do, and I will try my utmost to forget abt the stupid mesoplagiomeric and mesacromeric and meselcsimeric planes and how their segments and what have you are SO VERY HELPFUL IN DESCRIBING HERMAPHRODITES (sic) and also VERY HANDY TO DEFINE FISH FILETS (sic)- the Theory bit was all bollocks and perfectly useless and dreadful to memorise, the Practical-Theoretic exam (learning ALL things boney abt 9 sodding species, Chicken included) almost had me in tears, the Practical oral exams throughout the semester were a nightmare, I look frightful, have been underslept for ages, am utterly knackered and always short of time, am more than a bit dense with exhaustion and actually forgot my own name a few days ago - but IT'S OVER.

Two exams down, ten more to go.

As good as it gets and that ain't saying much

2006-01-21T21:37:00.000Z

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Lioness!

Lioness will always turn right when leaving a cave.
In Eastern Africa you can buy beer brewed from Lioness.
Only twelve people have ever set foot on Lioness.
The canonical hours of the Christian church are matins, lauds, prime, terce, sext, none, Lioness and compline!
Ancient Chinese artists would never paint pictures of Lioness.
If you lick Lioness ten times, you will consume one calorie!
Lioness can use only about ten percent of her brain.
It takes more than 500 peanuts to make Lioness!
Lioness can be found on a Cluedo board between the Library and the Conservatory.
Antarctica is the only continent without Lioness!

1) , and yet she gets lost every time
2) but it tastes meaty
3) but she insisted on them wearing a sock
4) , this is her way of boycotting the Catholic Church since she can’t find the switch
5) because she doesn’t much care for ethnic art
6) and more than your fair share of phucking DNA
7) on a VERY good day
8) , she calls them Dozers. They're happy peanuts.
9) putting up posters against Kosher food
10) and it shall remain so bcs it’s too bloody cold for as long as global warming sees fit to keep ice more than a memory.

10.1.) Thinking of drowning bears and starving penguins is making Lioness feel ill and laika-ish all over again so this will be it. Lioness is fine but still very inadequate with words and reading and keeping up in general, plus Lioness has exams Mon, Tue, Wed, Fri; then Mon, Wed, Thur, Fri; then Mon, 2 on Tue, 2 on Wed, and Thur, and then maybe rinse and repeat – so, Lioness is out of here again, where it doesn’t feel as home as much as it should but this too shall pass [and there is that Kosher horror thing that needs to be discussed] and fortunately there’s no time to worry abt this so Lioness leaves you w a word from our sponsors:

In the year 2006 I resolve to:

Sell myself on ebay.

Get your resolution here

(Still no words,

2006-01-17T00:24:00.000Z

but they have them.

Oh d thye hev thm.

I ADORE them.)

The Bloodgates of Hell

2005-12-30T12:45:00.000Z

I am taking my leave *curtsey*

I do not feel like writing. I do not feel like reading. I do not feel like doing much of anything, so I suppose I'll just carry on writing reports for school and studying as well as I can.

The 27th was as expected, which left me thinking the worst was past and it had been worse to fear it than the actual day itself. Here, experienced, gone, goody. but no. the 28th caught me by thr throat in a manner that scared me. The Corpse Bride was the trigger I suppose but on the 27th i had a nightmare, i was in a space station w the furry ones and there was an earthquake and the whole station turned on its axis - I once dreamt I was in a bombing and itb was synaesthesic, there was this profound lavender-coloured feeling, most nauseating, this was close to it. After it was over i knew there was no food for the pets and i was in despair over how to feed or carry them. and then something i cannot remember and then a rebel Jewish faction was shooting and killing my friends. psyche knows no bounds. That day in the evening i went to see the Corpse Bride, it's so beautiful as to rob one of one's breath at times. that would have been enough but there was also the beginning and the ending, and if you read me and have seen it, yoiu'll know. plus i am obsessing abt Laika, even bfr the movie started i was thibnking abt poor poor Laika, hhow she must have felt so alone and terrified and how she must have cried all alone in her little space shuttle, millions of years away from any other living being, and slowly starved and died of thirst, all alone up there, not even knowing why it was happening, it breaks my heart so much i become paralysed. laika figures in my thoughts a lot these days and while replying to an email from Manuela (Thin Pink Line) it clicked, Laika and the space station in my dream, don't even need my psychiatrist for this, plus the nightmares every night now, the phobic thoughts i'm having while driving, only while driving, as in "i need to change lanes, i'm going to die" etc, several times a minute, very disturbing and upsetting but not really bcs i know what's causing this, it's like post-traumatic stress disorder minus the trauma of sorts, so,

all this to say i sometimes click on my blog and am actually surprised not to see a new post, i've discussed how well i do this schizoid thingy so no need to delve deeply, but if I do see one it won't be the one I'd like to see, i need to stop this blogging thing bcs everything is driving me mad now and i feel depleted and tonight I'll stand up in the synagogue and say Kaddish for my best friend and i don't see how i will do that in a way that will honour him if i burst into tears which i am praying won't happen but who the hell knows these days, and i don't feel like writing, or reading, or anything really. I know I'll be back, much like the plague, we can all depend on both of us, could even be tomorrow for all I know but for now i need to be away from this for a while, yes?

*curtsey* and Portie smooches all around. I hope 2006 is a kind year for all of us.

The way in which we're fortunate

2005-12-26T10:13:00.000Z

LUIS, se leres isto manda-me um mail por favor, lionessblog@gmail.com

Do you know, I have been ensconced in my news-less fortress for quite a while now, to avoid Tsunami references. I forced myself to stay up really late last night hoping it'd make me sleep longer and make the day shorter. Ha. Didn't. I slept only a few hours and have been fumbling w the computer not knowing quite what to do.

Then I turned on the telly.

See, all of a sudden I wanted to see what kind of ceremony was held for my Tig, and all those thousands who died w him. I wanted to see it, since I could not be there. (I close my eyes every time they show images of the Wave, as I0've read somewhere In life pain is unavoidable, suffering is optional). What I saw was good. Proper, I suppose. Dignified. It’s horrifying to look at the ground he walked on but also heartwarming. He was surely having the best time, lizzarding in the sun. If we are going to die anyway, then enjoying it till the very last minute is surely a Very Good Thing. They are now showing images of Khao Lak, where he was staying, where we think he was killed. I’ve seen relatives and friends of the victims. Wish they blogged. There is a brand new Tsunami warning system in Indonesia. Do you know how many lives this could, probably will, save? Uzi would be so pleased. Now they reporter is being daft and questioning whether it’s not too soon to do it, whether this may not be construed as being abt rebuilding everything for tourism rather than those who died. I have been avoiding the news everywhere especially now but in general I stay away fropm them, especially on the telly. One hour and a half of misery, and misery portrayed in such a manner as above, is both choosing and taking advantage of suffering and I refuse to.

It has now been exactly a year. As much as a part of me wants the sky to turn black etc – kindly refer tp previous post – I know it is a good thing it doesn’t. I know that life goes on and, more importantly, I know it must go on or else we are killing those we loved again, and this time deliberately. They are dead, we are not, and us remaining standing requires rituals that provide us w the foundations for said verticality. One of those is acknowledging their deaths on the day of their deaths. The exact day, yes. More so when it’s been exactly one year only. So no, it’s not too soon. Surprisingly, the timing is exactly right.

I was talking to my friend G. last night. She said something that warmed my soul, she said thanks to me people will probably remember Uzi long after they’ve forgotten abt me. This has been playing on repeat inside my head. Yesterday something else made me smile. I’d forgotten all abt my Guest Map and then I remembered and clicked on it. Some people delurked there. And that’s why I wanted to tell you, again, there will be times you will be confronted w someone else’s pain and you may not know what to do or say. You may feel it will never be right, never be enough so why even attempt it. But see, those lurkers delurking weren’t even trying to make me feel better and yet they did. You never know. And telling someone you’re sorry they’re hurting and that you’re thinking abt them could never be wrong, no matter how inadequate you may find it. And talking abt those who died is actually a relief to us, bcs people so often avoid mentioning them in case they hurt us. You could never remind us of something we never forget. That you don’t forget either is cause for joy, I hope you see that. Do not underestimate the power of small things. Do not underestimate small words, small gestures.

And why are we fortunate? There was a woman in Thailand holding the pictures of her two children and showing them to people who might have seen them and know where they are. Bcs they are still alive, see. She simply knows they are still alive. And then, with a schizophrenia so familiar it made me shiver, she added that if no one comes forward within the next month with news she will accept their death. But for the grace of God that could be me. That would be me. Remember my February posts where I was still loudly banging the drums of hope, lalalaIcan’thearyou? There are close to 40.000 buried in mass graves, close to 40.000 who never were identified, close to 40.000 who never came home to rest. Uzi is home on the kibbutz. Uzi is home, we can go visit. Or not. But he is home, he is right there, he was returned to us. The alternative is too horrific to contemplate. I may still struggle to bring home the drowned gorillas of my dreams but when I wake up the nightmare stops. Reality is its own nightmare of sorts but this one I can live with. Not having had his body found and returned to us – I cannot even imagine what that must feel like. Must feel like insanity, and this sometimes feels too much like it already. Those poor people.

A few of you asked abt Tzedakah, whether you could donate something to a charity of my choice in his name. I couldn't think of this bfr but I think it is time now. I think he’d like that. Magen David Adom is an organisation that provides first-aid training and medical aid, here:

1. Providing auxiliary service to Israel's Army Medical Corps in wartime, including providing emergency medical care for the wounded and war refugees
2. Providing civilian emergency, medical, and first-aid services and temporary shelter in emergency situations
3. Maintaining a blood bank for civilian use.

This is the site in Israel, the US, in the UK.

But it doesn’t have to be money, it doesn’t even have to be Magen David Adom. I’d love it if those of you willing to donated blood and enrolled in the bone marrow program closest to you, people always forget abt the bone marrow. There never is enough blood in hospitals, never ever. And every year so many people, so many of them children, die bcs no matches were found even though there are billions of us on this planet. Nowadays if you turn out to be a match all they do is draw blood to get your cells, it’s no longer painful. You could be saving someone’s life. You could be saving a friend’s or a relative’s life. I have psoriasis and my most personal grievance is that I cannot do it, my blood is so filled w inflammatory blood cells it’d do no one any good to receive it. If you do do it, I'd love to hear abt it, anonymously or not. I know Tzedaka should be nameless but this is abt Uzi and I think of it as donating a nice, visible plaque. His full name is Uzi Saghi, btw.

And if you’ve read Silwormks you will not be surprised if I tell you that I will now go out and buy a book for him. And then I will come back and watch the Gilmore Girls, which always makes even my innards smile. And I will lie on the sofa and will his death to move over a bit so I can see his life better. And I will cry and I will sob and I will smile and I will gag and will be headbutted and scent-marked by little furry heads, it’s been going on for a while now. But I will go out and buy a book for my Tig and I will read it and I will bloody enjoy it, rest assured.

[Boyfriend’s just rang me and told me to go and get the book, yes, it would be his gift. And could I buy something for him as well? I asked if he meant something for Uzi as well. He said buy it as though it’s for him, only you give it to me. And then we can open them after lighting the 2nd candle tonight, did I see. And I do see. Uzi touches even those who never met him, which didn't surprise her at all.]

Yahrzeit

2005-12-18T09:26:00.000Z

My friend V. is amazing and is arranging things so we can have a Yahrzeit ceremony for Uzi at our synagogue. That is actually what I needed but I couldn’t bear to do it myself. The media references have started so no more radio for me while driving - no more much of anything related really till this is all over. Thank you all who’ve been writing and commenting to say you’re thinking of us now, it’s lovely to hear. I know Uzi won’t be forgotten but it’s lovely to hear how much you’ve made him yours as well. I’ve finally written something for his memorial next Friday:

In the very beginning of our relationship my boyfriend won me over completely when he told me I want you to know you can always talk to me abt Uzi, I understand and I'd never be jealous. And only you could make me start writing something for an ex-boyfriend by quoting the current one, you two'd get along so brilliantly - though what I remember most abt you and I is that you still are my best friend. Today, maybe as Lila stands here reading this, we will be lighting a Yahrzeit candle for you at our synagogue. I don’t know what happens after death so I’ve decided you are sitting outside with Yaniv, laughing, drinking beer, greeting passersby with “alan”. I am so sorry that I never found you among the pictures of the victims, I would have liked to help bring you home sooner, that much I could have done. Some people were horrified that I could look at them for a week, others were surprised I flew to Israel for 4 days only to be at your funeral. Some people, apparently, have never had someone like you in their lives. Haval. I would do anything for you in life, how could I not say goodbye to you in person? This past year has been absolutely horrendous and I very often still don’t know what to do with myself. I still sometimes dream I am underwater saving lives. It’s usually gorillas I save, for some reason. Or at least I recover their bodies so they can be returned to their families. (I know you would find this gorilla obsession hysterically funny. Actually, I hope you were around when Lila, Zohar and I made all those terribly morbid jokes, you’d love them. God I miss your inappropriate sense of humour.) But see, I may not know what happens after death but I know what happens after your death. I promised a year ago that I will have as good a life as I possibly can, not only bcs you would hate it if your death broke us, but bcs this is my way of thanking Life, The Universe and Everything for having given me you. I still think that your being dead is obscene and we shouldn’t be standing here, the earth should stand still and the sky should turn black and dragons should come screaming to wage war against all worlds bcs you cannot be dead. So I think about you, I miss you, I am sad every day, but every day I am more grateful than sad. How could I not be?

I used to have a cat that I brought w me from Eilat. He’d been very ill, lost an eye, had a broken pelvis. He loved to chase butterflies on the lawn. He was killed by 2 kibbutz dogs and after that, whenever we saw a butterfly we decided it was his way of saying “hallo”. A few months ago I had a particularly bad day and didn’t see how I would survive any of this with my sanity intact. I asked you to please find a way to let me know that you were all right, that you weren’t too sad you were dead, that you weren’t too worried abt us. I barely slept and when I got up, very early in the morning, I went into the living-room and found a huge yellow butterfly trapped between the window and the netting. Just like that. There was no way really it could have got there but there it was, and it was absolutely perfect, like a headbutting from a silky cat. I have a place where I write things and people can comment. I have been obsessively writing abt you, and people from all over the world have prayed for your life and think of you now when they see butterflies. They even send me reports and pictures from their gardens. Recently someone who never met you (or me) wrote something amazing, something which encapsulates it brilliantly, something I know many of them feel: Everyone who reads you misses Uzi. And this too is absolutely perfect, the sort of beautiful only you could inspire. You are remembered.

You are still my Tig, I am still Pip, only the rules have changed a bit.

[This still reminds me of him and forever will, 2nd link in this post. And Lamb's Angel Gabriel.]

Veronica Mars, S2E10

2005-12-14T10:06:00.000Z

CRASH! - (n) Bleak, cartilaginous sound made by a show jumping the shark.

Sad.

[PS - No one will ever convince me that Veronica could actually find rectangular, wooden Duncan cool or sexy after having a go at Logan, whom I found ugly at first and now find rather tasty. So there. Plus, Duncan's real name is Teddy. Teddy. I ask you.]

And a Salivating Hannukah for you lot as well

2005-12-09T18:18:00.000Z

HALLO! Good God but the man was lekker! Found via Lorem Ipsum, may she be rewarded forever and ever and afterwards as well, AMEN.

The Big Wave That Ate My Best Friend, now in a theatre near you

2005-12-07T12:59:00.000Z

So it begins.

Remember my very healthy dislike for all things Decemberish? And remember my countdown thingy? We have officially entered Tsunami season.

I've just received an email from Lila. I have been dreading receiving such an email bcs it was rather obvious that it would, and now I have and now I - .

Kibbutz memorial service on the 23, I am to write something pleasepleaseplease. Again. Let's all get together and collectively remember how very and horribly dead he is. Last time, at least, we still had hope. Of sorts. I don't think this will be very good. In fact, I have just caught myself rocking back and forth. I know I will do it, I know I'll survive it but I don't see how I will manage to write something even half meaningful. I wanted to, I wanted it to honour him. I don't suppose I can have Lila hand out the link to my Uzi category, though that would be fine by me. Peruse the hundreds of posts or something and pick what best suits your mood.

You want to know what's really killing me? After Uzi was killed everyone pretty much was told or found out, one way or the other. Mostly not by me, I don't think. I vaguely remember having my Tweedle ring people for me and spread the joy. I don't really remember a lot abt those months, my psyche has served me well. back in the Summer I went for a coffee w a friend of mine. Not exactly a friend, maybe. We once had boyfriends who were brothers and spent a lot of time together. I really like her and I know she likes me as well but we have never got really, really close. I mean, she's not the one I call when the sky falls on my head but I very much want for her to have a fabulous life and enjoy her loads, and I know it's the same for her. So we were sitting at an outside cafe and I realised she didn't know. I certainly didn't know how to tell her, it's been months since I'd last been in that position. Above all, I didn't want to tell her. To her Uzi was still very much alive and gorgeous and a part of me wanted it to remain so. But something had happened to me a few weeks earlier and that was a horror of such epic proportions I knew I didn't want to risk it happening again. See, I wrote a post abt going to the beach house w my Tweedle for a few days, remember that? While we were there we went for coffee w a former professor of mine, w whom I became friends and Tweedle got to know as well. We were sitting there, enjoying our drinks (going for a coffee might involve all drinks but coffee here, so it was Caipirinhas for them and Coke for me) and all of a sudden he asked How is our Israeli friend? I couldn't think of whom he meant and thought he might mean some Criminologist in israel, I remember trying to look someone up for him the first time I was there. But I was wary and so I said What do you mean? And he said That Israeli boyfriend of yours that I met, he is amazing, remember you came round to see me, how is he doing? And I simply sat there, horror-struck and couldn't even breathe and I remember Tweedle looking panicked and him asking What's wrong and later she told me I looked as though I'd been punched in the gut and went white but my memory of it is slightly worse than that and I sort of remember trying hard not to burst into tears while Tweedle told him and he must have been shocked and said the things you say at a moment like that but that's the last bit of our reunion I remember. My psyche, it serves me well.

So I didn't want to risk that happening again, over coffee (coke and juice), again, and so I said You remember Uzi, right? And she said, yes, of course she did. And I said Well, he was in Thailand in December and she looked at me blankly and the sky did fall on my head then bcs see, too many months had gone by and even though to me the Tsunami was a daily experience it no longer was for the rest of the world, and that little sentence had always served me well, people immediately knew what had happened but it was no longer so and I was going to be forced to spell it out so I sat there and started crying and said He was in Thailand in December when the.. When the... and then, I think mostly bcs of my tears she finally understood and her eyer were all of a sudden very shiny, which didn't help me at all, and I also don't remember how the rest of it went.

People have forgotten, people will forget even more. When Yaniv died the first Jahrzeit loads of people showed up at his Mum's. The next year there were a bit less. And so on and so forth. I don't want that to happen to my Tig, I want the world to stand still, the earth to abruptly come to a screeching halt with objects flying off shelves and dragons flying in to wage war bcs it IS the end of the world, it is, IT IS.

I don't see how I will find the words.

And now, bcs it's Wednesday, I must go and be trampled further by some big animal, or worse, be forced to inject some dog intraperitoneally. I'm in the mood for a fight so I hope it's the bloody donkey and Donkey, be warned I'll be the one doing the kicking today.

------------------------------------------------

UPDATE: it was the cow, the cow that usually is meek and patient, the cow that today started kicking the manger and us the moment we walked in the box, the cow that decided this morning she'd had enough of being pierced by incompetent hands. There was ass-kicking done, as Cow literally kicked my colleague in the buttocks. It hurt. Cow also slapped me with her ears a few times, also not pleasant, and managed to slap my cornea with the ear plastic tag, which was even less pleasant and made me go blind for a short while. The highlight of an otherwise lovely day was when Cow, huge Cow, all 650 kg/1400 lb of Cow, stood on my foot, for many seconds, while I screamed for my colleagues to move her. When they did she lifted the other foot thereby increasing the pressure some more. I am now limping and foot hurts like the bloody hell, taking off galoches and putting on regular shoes was memorable. One colleague remarked I looked as if I were in labour but that was a tad exaggerated. With a bit of luck nothing was broken and I can avoid the ER. So I am icing my raised foot (frozen peas work the best, FYI, bcs they adapt to the shape of whetever it is you need to ice, much better than icecubes) which is lovely bcs really, this heat wave was driving me bonkers, and Voltaren was duly swallowed. But I won bcs I did manage to engorgitate the vein, at the expenses of a formerly healthy left wrist, and inject her jugular and the needle stayed put and then I screwed in the syringe and did it and so did my 2 colleagues, and we are proud bcs the cow kicked and rolled and shook and tried to horn us and moved the whole bloody time and us with it and one of my collegues is huge and tall and really really strong and he was seating too from the exertion, and the teacher later told all of us she isn't worried abt us, most big animals we will come across in the future will not have any behavioural vices and will have had very little contact w humans so by the time they realise what is happening it should all be over, from her lips to God's ears, see, we are the lasts shift, by Wednesday afternoon the animals have been inaptly poked and pierced till kingdom come, they are fed up and sore and frankly, I'd be too, no ill feelings, I think it's only fair. And it only took us an hour and a half and some monor injuries! Cannot wait for the stable exam.

Now with pink hair.

2005-12-07T01:05:00.000Z

Of sorts.

Pinkish.

Was fed up with my hair, see, and walking past that aisle...

Oy.

Bad idea. Bad, bad, BAD idea.

Lurkers, come closer

2005-12-02T10:44:00.000Z

I have just taken this test that I found over at Beth's, who's sadly still busy reacquainting herself w her commode. Beth, Beth, quit drinking so much. Oy.

The test, it characterises one's humour. I must say I am flabbergasted, how could they have described me so very well? It's a bit eery really, judge for yourself, underlining's mine:

The Ham
Your humor style:CLEAN SPONTANEOUS LIGHT Your style's goofy, innocent and feel-good. Perfect for parties and for the dads who chaperone them. You can actually get away with corny jokes, and I bet your sense of humor is a guilty pleasure for your friends. People of your type are often the most approachable and popular people in their circle. Your simple & silly good-naturedness is immediately recognizable, and it sets you apart in this sarcastic world.

Aren't you proud of silly-silly, simple me? My sense of humour sets me apart in this nasty sarcastic world! Bad sarcasm, bad bad bad. I frown upon it, rearranging my cute, clean features in an appropriate manner. I also skip when I walk.

Now that I was reminded of my bitchiness, let's tackle lurkers shall we. The laws of average say I have some. Udge has recently intimated them to come out and amazingly, they did! That's bcs they are good lurkers. I know people lurk for a reason and, annoying as it is, I understand. *sigh* I do it as well. Lurkers wouldn't be called lurkers if they commented, now would they. So I'll tell you why I lurk where I lurk and MAY I ENCOURAGE YOU TO DO THE SAME? I come bearing long swords. [They are Portuguese swords. Bcs I am Portuguese, not Israeli. I was born here, my soul was born in Israel, see? Some of you get confused.]

I read some IF blogs where I hardly or never comment. Infertility blogs are fraught w perils and it is very easy to say the wrong thing without realising it. On any site, if I leave a few comments and they are not acknowledged in any way whatsoever, I assume it's the blogger's polite way of saying I couldn't care less abt what you have to say, you funny Portie person, go away. And I obligingly re-lurk again. I also lurk at sites that have far too many commenters bcs really, after 276 people have said their bit, what could I possibly add? The pleasure of seeing my name on the list as well? On a personal level, I will never be able to really understand the thrill of being first (First! First!) and I never tend to worship said bloggers, so some of the mystique is lost on me. There are also some blogs that I read only infrequently and then I feel stupid abt leaving a comment but maybe what's stupid is me thinking that? I wouldn't be offended it they did that here so I don't know what I'm talking abt anymore. Finally, there's Paul and Dale, though that's not really lurking. And Paul is blogging again and I barely know what's happening w his life, and I don't know how Dale is doing either bcs well, I've talked abt this here. Their writing wraps itself around some heart branches and they make me feel things. For almost a year now I have been avoiding them and then going back to read them in vast gulps on a regular basis. I wish it would stop being so, I wish I could stop myself, I am crazy abt them and miss them terribly, I went in now to get their site domains and kept my eyes on the URL the wole time lest an exquisite sentence caught me unawares. I feel terribly guilty for doing this bcs it sounds absolutely inane even to me but I'd much rather live with the guilt that follows (believe me, it's no minor guilt, and even more so bcs they are unfailingly supportive and the whole thing makes me feel like an absolutely rotten person) than with the longing they make me feel for Uzi. Once again, this is my public apology to you.

[Detour. I very rarely receive emails asking for me to link to the person. Blog etiquette is a bit inconsistent yet but common sense and manners aren't, not really. It might be useful to read this bfr writing to me. And if you'd like for more people to read you and become so fond of you that they link to you, er, leave comments yourself. You know, participate. Work a little. Bcs an email coming from a stranger saying Hi, I love your blog ~~even though I couldn't be bothered to even comment~~, I have a new one, could you link to me will be treated as spam bcs as far as I can tell, that's what it is.]

I have an inkling that I may have neglected to reply to some new commenters in the past. Even bfr I started replying to comments individually I always answered those bcs, when you think abt it, it's not an easy step is it? Back when I started I found a blog that pretty much begged for comments, i.e., everyone! Comment! Love! Comments! Everyone! Welcome! Well then. To my great surprise I found that the stupid cow was leaving comments after mine saying things like Why is the Lioness stalking me? Please make her stop! WELL THEN. I deleted them and wholeheartedly hope the lady has seen fit to start intensive therapy. I have never went back to check. Anyway, if I did the same to you I'm sorry, I truly am, sometimes life gets to be a bit too much in the Pride revier and some fall through the loops. I also lost my bookmarks when my hard drive crashed and have been unable to find some people again. BCS THEY DON'T LEAVE COMMENTS. That's what happens. Sadness could be spared.

So. Lurkers. If you are one, could you tell me why and where from? How did you end up here? Are you a lurker bcs I make you uncomfortable? [Seriously, happens so often IRL I wouldn't be surprised if I'd managed to have the same effect on the ether.] Are you a lurker bcs you enjoy reading but, astonishingly, are left w nothing to say? Are you a lurker bcs you think I couldn't care less abt your comment? (Here you'd be wrong) For the love of God just tell me, I'm too curious for my own good, I may sprain a neuron trying to understand this. You may do it anonymously, of course. (Well not of course but I've turned anon commenting back on) I really, really, REALLY would love to know. I didn't feel much like celebrating my bloggiversary last August, consider this my wish list. Also, both my show and Loverboy's were aired. We were mortified, him for no reason whatsoever, hw was fine and looked edible. One colleague of mine actually only recognised me when I started talking. But that might just be a good thing. There could be pics but NOT UNTIL WE HAVE SOME ANSWERS. The Pride whole-heartedly embraces emotional blackmail (and it should be effective as well bcs people who never comment can just not comment again and we'll see who wins). And remember the swords.

--------------------------

UPDATE: Ed's comment's reminded me of something. I've been doing that a lot as well, staring at the comment window blankly and not being able to pull forth any words. Lioness Was Here seems a bit daft. I am not deliberately trying to lurk, am just struck dumb more often than not. So chances are, if someone from Portugal has been stopping by, it was me. Then again, there are loads - and I mean LOADS - of Portie bloggers and they do get around so it's probably not all me, maybe you're making some new friends. Also, there are people who link to me and have never commented - why? WHY? Now I don't feel comfortable commenting there either. See how silly it all is? Also, there is someone in Munich who's been here for 17h, 37 min and 22 secs. A slow reader, perhaps? German person, YOU LEFT A WINDOW OPEN! Close it off bfr it bursts into flames. (And introduce yourself, das waere schoen, gell?)(Blah ohne Umlaut sieht Deutsch total bescheuert aus!) And you in New Haven (which is gorgeous, I loved it!) of the 7 h, who are you? Another window left open? (Happens to me as well so I never get my knickers in an uproar imagining it's all love) And you, you in JERUSALEM, the place where everything starts and ends, who are you and why aren't you saying anything?? Stam b'yerushalayim, kacha. NU?? So not pleased with this. *slowly walks away w head down, shoulders shaking w sobs*

Dead bones do tell tales

2005-11-29T23:03:00.000Z

SETTINGS: Chez Pride, the living-room
ACTORS: Representative From Nice Cleaning Service + Lioness

Representative From Nice Cleaning Service: All right then, it's settled, the cleaners will come on blablabla and will blablabla and blablabla. Do you have any further questions?
Lioness: Actually, yes. *deep breath* How do your employees feel about bones? Around the house, that is.
R: Bones?
L: Bones.
R: *clears throat* Human bones?
L: Well yes, there is most of a skeleton in a bag. *rambling madly* It's Charles actually. The skeleton, that is. It belongs to a friend, she's a doctor, I'm just keeping it here for her.
R: *faintly *Charles?
L: *still rambling* Yes well, that's what she calls him but he should be gone soon. And the bones are in a bag, very discreet. You wouldn't know they were there unless you opened up the bag which I assume your people wouldn't do, privacy and all, I don't suppose they go around opening bags. I just thought I should mention it bcs hoovering will require lifting it and it rattles a bit and most people are uncomfortable around skulls anyway. I wouldn't want them to drop the bag and crack the bones.
R: *squeak* Goodness! There are... skulls?
L: *mentally wringing hands* Oh just the one. You know, Charles'. But as I said they're all in a bag, a very colourful bag, you wouldn't know it held bones unless - well, we've talked abt this.
R: I see. It's not something that's ever arisen before.
L: No, I don't suppose it has.
R: I, er, don't think it will be a problem.
L: Excellent. There might be other bones, occasionally.
R: Oh dear! More human bones?
L: No, these would be cow bones, or pig bones, maybe sheep. Rabbit, perhaps. Mostly, er, on the windowsill.
R: *very faintly* The windowsill. I see.
L: I'm in vet school, I use them for studying, see. I'm afraid it takes them a while to dry.
R: They're... wet?
L: Not exactly, they come from the butcher's still with tiny pieces of muscle and tendons attached, I need to get them dry bfr I can use them. They need to be outside, I'm afraid they give off a bit of a nasty smell.
R: Quite right, quite right, smelly, I should think so.
L: Well then, I'm so glad we've settled this, thank you for stopping by!

They're coming tomorrow morning. Of course they are.

Spot the beauty!

2005-11-28T14:57:00.000Z

Can you see it? Can you? Can you? Isn't it sweet? Melted my pericardium right off my, well, myocardium.

I loved it, it was the verification word over at Faggots on the Third Floor (BRILLIANT blog name, BTW, simply brilliant). And that is fine in so many ways, fine with a sultry US Southern accent, bcs, see, faggots? Faggot-y men? They wanted Uzi, my pretty boy, they dehydrated looking at him, such was the drool. They LOVED him.

Fuck. Who didn't.

On a happier note, bcs I can do that as well!

2005-11-23T09:53:00.000Z

1 - You have, again, saved my flickering sanity. THANK YOU. Again. I very much want to read blogs and answer comments, especially the newcomers', but see #2. I have done my share of copious crying in the car on the way to school but that's bcs it's the only place where I can bear to listen to Israeli music. I suppose it's a good sign that I can listen to it again. And we all know when you're sitting in a car you're invisible, ask anyone doing impromptu Pessach nasal cleaning. Also, my psychiatrist kicks absolute ass. That wa sthe best decision I ever made, if I hadn't started seeing her I think the tsunami may have made another victim, indirectly. It's horrific and unbelievable enough that my Tig was killed, I will not allow it to not allow me to enjoy his memory. AMEN.

2 - VET SCHOOL

2.1.- Academic life is cylindering me right now, as we say. The presentation went well, I did the Mandible (lower jaw, yes, WELL DONE Dana!) and my he-colleague did the Hyoid and the Pterygoids, and then my she-colleague did the Basisphenoid and I ended it w the presphenoid. Behold the beauty of my ppts! I was actually mad happy when during the Hyoid one colleague turned to me and whispered You didn't do these, did you?

[I have recently found out my he-colleague's mum has been in the hospital and truth be told, after those weeks of wasted time, he started working like a maniac and hasn't stopped apologising for the whole mess. She, OTOH... Ten min bfr we were due to start she was still inserting the captions bcs she had wanted to know what we thought bfr she did them. Captions are a bloody pain bcs of all the different views but both my colleague and I had finished ours already and so I told her I thought she'd better get started on them after showing up for the meeting an hour too late, this was her responsibility and we were not going to do it for her and that she dared to show up with unfinished work was beyond belief. She said That's life! and I said no, at the most that was her life, life is not being lazy, life is owning up to one's responsibilities and group work means EVERYONE works, did she see the beauty in that, and she said well that's not the way it was in high school and I said I couldn't care less abt her high school experience but actually that wasn't high school at all either, that was her and why was she talking instead of typing already, and then my colleague said he'd never work w her again and somehow everything was finished on time. I had to interrupt her once during the presentation to add something (bcs she'd neglected to say it, yes?) and she looked at me as though she could kill me. Truthfully, I can only wish she'd try, she can't dislike me more than I dislike her sorry disrespectful ass.]

We have these classes in an anfitheatre and the acoustics, well, I can barely hear my colleagues, so I decided I would speak louder and I did and kept expecting them to complain bcs believe me, it felt like I was hollering. Mouth-dried hollering at that, much mortification on my part over it. At one point I forgot what bones form the ethmoidal foramen (sphenoid + frontal + ethmoid), I knew there were three of them but couldn't remember the frontal so I just smoothly sailed over it and NO ONE NOTICED! After the presentation was over the Professor evaluated my colleagues' performance and then got up and started walking down the stairs to collect his laptop. I stood there, my body in the shape of a HULLO, WHAT ABT ME!, and I asked him if I didn't get an evaluation and he said No, we only do negative criticism, your voice projection was brilliant and your presentation was excellent, no need to speak abt you. Whatever works, dear teacher, whatever works.

*Start reminescence*

An Anthropologist in vet school may not make much sense to you if you are thinking abt Cultural Anthropology, which you shouldn't, ever, it is horrendous and you will be made to do field work in a very cold and ultra-ultra-ultra conservative Northern village where women smoking is frowned upon when you couldn't care less abt St. Sebastian of the arrow-riddled chest, really you don't, Catholic saints are very bizarre and somewhat perverse, you think, but there you go, there you are, going round being offered ALCOHOL for pity's sake and you can't say no to the natives so you probably ended up killing every potted plant in the village bcs you certainly are not going to drink beer-oh-blech, and your very mad - and the term is not used loosely - 40-ish colleague, your fieldwork partner, is sitting w you at the table in the home of the family that has most graciously offered you a bed to sleep in bcs the plan till then was to sleep in the village Chief's stable, yes a stable, in December, in Northern Portugal, no one would have been surprised to see the Angel of God come down and impregnate a woman AGAIN and, considering the rumours, it might have just been the Jewish female AGAIN and try and explain that to your family and friends and the TV crews, ha!, so yes, mad female colleague has just spent a good 15 min talking abt her several operations in great detail and also abt James, on and on she went abt James while you cringed bcs see, you know fully well who James is, and then the matriarch asks, full of village curiosity, Is James your husband? and mad colleague laughs and says Oh no, my husband's name is Felitius, James is my boyfriend and into the shocked silence that fills the ultra-ultra-ultra conservative Northern room so fast no one seems to be breathing anymore you gulp down a good portion of the horrible red wine and hope there will be an angel visiting indeed, the Death one, but it would all have been lost anyway when during the village dance she fled to Spain w a men she'd just met bcs she missed her children or something or other and who cared abt fieldwork, weren't people free to do as they pleased, the villagers would just have to understand, and you were the one left answering questions abt her absence bcs they were seen leaving, and then to top it all you ended up having to bitch-slap a man in the middle of the crowd when he drunkenly grabbed your ass and you must confess you didn't give a thought to the ramifications of said action to your fieldwork, you just reacted, what, he hangs on to your buttock for dear life and you stop and consider whether smacking a wanker across the mouth might be inconvenient?, hell no, so NO, Cultural Anthropology is full of perils and people, and you most definitely can't be bothered abt why they do the things they do, especially in a Catholic, pig-slaughtering environment (you were lucky to have just.missed.that), what you want is Ethology, animal behaviour, and you manage to work in the field, first in the Ocea*narium and then doing actual research in Israel w dolphins, no big leap really from there to realising that more than understanding why they do the things they do, which is quite interesting in itself, you want to make a difference in the animals' lives daily, you want to not be powerless, you want to *gasp* be a vet if it kills you, which it just mite. [Get it? HA! I kill me, as Alf says, albeit less delicately.]

*End reminescence*

2.2. - I have come to terms with the fact that yes, I WILL HAVE TO BONE UP LIKE A MADWOMAN to get this bloody degree. [As an aside, when I wrote that post I prepared myself for the ensuing slaughter. I truly expected many of you to say, as my American friends would put it, Get over yourself. That you didn't, and that you found it funny is still a mistery but at least you don't think I'm a rotten person. Yey!] I will have to work hard and no amount of running away or avoiding it will save me. I will, therefore, study. And behold! Last Sunday a colleague came round and we studied bones for 6 hours non-stop! I still can make no sense of the temporal but really, who can? The temporal is an experiment within an experiment designed by the white mice, see if I'm falling for it. We'll see who laughs last, white tossers, see you in the Bioterium, HA HA HA HAHAHAHHHHHHHH!

3. - I'll now go and try to inject a reluctant cow and that donkey in the jugular, wouldn't you know it. If they're anything like last week's sheep, well, what did they expect when we were given the only three sheep that have no jugulars? I swear it's true. Blood-drawing from sheep is a pain, they have all that fleece and you can barely see the vein engorging, and this is the best bit, for the exam you have to be able to walk into the pen, grab a sheep and haul her over and then have her literally sitting on her little sheep ass, with you positioned behind her, sort of sitting on her and holding her head to the side with one arm, and w your head hanging down and only one and a half arms and hands hold the syringe and the cotton swab, find the jugular, apply pressure on it, be so lucky as to notice it engorging, release vein, memorise its general vicinity, insert needle, stay inside the vein, check for blood, inject the fluid, stay in the vein, check that you're still there, inject some more, repeat it all, finsih injecting and still not have had your head exploding from the pressure or the sheep fighting you all the way.

4.- Go give Diana a hug, her dog is still puzzlingly ill. Diana dahling, we have your back, lean in.

Countdown

2005-11-16T10:40:00.000Z

I've just realised something. It's true I have been overwhelmed w work lately at at most I've had time to briefly check how you lot are but. BUT. I have been avoiding Israeli and Jewish bloggers. Also, I STILL have not talked to Lila, at all - that also has to do with the fact that she hasn't downloaded google talk yet, but mostly not. Also to do w the fact that she's to understanding to properly kiss my bloody ass into shape.

You know why, right? Well I do. It's been almost a year. I also realised I have started an inner countdown and quite frankly, am terrified. I know I will want to hide away but as luck would have it, it's right bfr the beginning of exams, which MUST go well this year. I know I won't be watching any news at all, or listening to the radio. It will come whether I'm ready or not and I know I'm not. Above all, I'm terrified of my lack of words regarding him, am afraid that I have buried him too deep to be accessible anymore, and that I have lost part of us, part of him, in the process. Most of all, I don't understand how he can have been dead for almost a year. I still dream of saving drowning people/animals (or trying to anyway, I'm never successful even w a wetsuit, even in my sleep), I think abt him every single day, several times, I talk to him - do you know, I knew I was going to earn some money in the game show bcs a white butterfly flew right across my windscreen when I reached the last roundabout. I just knew it. I still sometimes toy w the idea that it was all a mistake. I don't want him dead, I don't want him gone, I don't want the rest of my life without his smile and his voice and his faces. Last year, bcs I was still a bit ill and deranged w worry, I managed to fall asleep at around 7 pm and sleep through the New Year. I didn't want to be celebrating, I didn't feel there was anything worth celebrating, he was missing and I was missing him and fearing the worst, nothing else mattered really. I wish I could fall asleep today and wake up some time at the end of February, past most of the ritual horror. If I were very rich I'm sure I could. The first time that X, the first time that Y, am so afraid of it. There are decades worth of it awaiting us. How will I do this? And a bang on the ear.

[UPDATE - Well. 4.30 am is also called the hour of the dead. I'm right on schedule.]

A woman after my own heart

2005-11-14T11:20:00.000Z

The squeamish among you may wish to skip it. The squeamish AND curious among you - well, no need to blame me is there but let the comment fest commence anyway. [Aliteration, I know! Sophistication is the Pride's new motto.] The others may understand why I find it so instantly gratifying, I used to do it in Israel every once in a while when I was volunteering at the clinic. LOVE IT and can't wait to do it again - LOADS!

[Oh, someone I know won 200 E and came back feeling as stupid and ignorant as I did last week. Must be a game show feature.]

Bloody men

2005-11-13T13:44:00.000Z

Bloody, stupid men.

That is all.

And then the man as well! And animal bones!

2005-11-10T13:51:00.000Z

Oh, such fun! Remember The Vault from last post? Game show, TV? Weeeeeell..... I didn't make a lot of money this time, I was a Negotiator and they never make loads. I won 300 E which will pay part of the tuiton AND SOME BOOKS OH YES MAYBE EVEN MORE THAN SOME! I won't post the harlot pics as such EVER for ophtalmologic hygiene reasons; and there's no point in photoshopping them into B&W bcs what was amazing abt the look was what they did do to my face and hair and THAT only works in colour. So bite your tongues, o rushy ones! They'll eventually show it and I'll eventually tape it, w luck, and then I can photograph the screen and then I'll look at the professions to figure out which one I am [Anthropologist, *clears throat*] and then I'll photograph the screen. Are we cool? We're cool then. [Pardon my English, am still very much addicted to Veronica Mars, LOVE LOVE LOVE LOOOVE it!]

Am almost revived. For those of you with knowledge of the human skull, and particularly for those of you familiar with animal skulls, you'll be horrified to know that I have been working since Mon on a powerpoint presentation of the mandible of: Horse, Cow, Sheep/Goat, Dog, Cat, Pig and Rabbit. The Chicken is another group's as a whole. No, I'm not kidding at all. And then there were also the Hyoids and the Pterygoids, which my colleagues did. And finally, and this will bring you to your bloody knees, THE SPHENOID! YES! Still not joking! And did you know that there are a plethora of inter-species differences?? Yes there are! And what fun it was trying to understand exactly what hole/thingy corresponded to what foramen on bones that were so old they had sprouted EXTRA ONES!

GAHHHHHHH!

And the views??? We have to, aside from the .ppt pics for the actual presentation, photograph the whole skull, then the mandible, then the head minus mandible dorsally, ventrally, laterally, medially, rostrally, caudally - and THEN: rostro-caudo-lateral, rostro-caudo-medial etc. close to 300 pics altogether, it's all a bit of a blur by now. Presentation is tomorrow and my 1st year colleagues didn't really see the need to start photographing early enough OR to get in touch w me as I frantically left them messages on the noteboard and roamed the corridors trying to track them down bcs our originally presentation was scheduled for the 4th of November. So I showed up for class and told the professor I would be getting a 0 bcs *cringe* I couldn't locate my colleagues. When the blessed 18 year-olds finally showed up for class that day they told me our presentation had been postponed for a week and really, they weren't worried bcs they both knew, did I see, so it was alright. And I asked them if they didn't find the information worthy of sharing w me and BTW why hadn't I been contacted when I'd been leaving messages everywhere and they said Oh right, were you worried? Maybe we were naive? And let's just say I have been doing a fair amount of roaring and yet no hitting, sadly. That would vastly help my adrenal glands regain their normal shape.

So please, say a quick prayer for me bcs oral presentations absolutely horrify me and I can't think of anything I'd like to do less. Help!

Have you seen this woman?

2005-11-06T20:27:00.000Z

This is how this post would be: I'd write I have and still cannot believe what they did to me, and then I'd post a pic of it. I just came back from yet another game show called The Vault where I earned some money, yet again, and they made up my face in such a way that I could barely recognise myself, and if you add to that my revolting and absolutely vile new haircut which causes my wavy and really full-bodied hair to hang limply in the vicinity of my ears, WELL. But, alas, no batteries, no pic.

WAIT!

Actually, my knight in pajamas has just found the old camera which turns everything deep red, I'll try and see if DCE Auto-enhancer can make something out of these sorry specimens. Must rush anyway bcs am absolutely overwhelmed w work for the uni and will remain so till Friday, am also fabulastically knackered and shoulders are sore from keeping arms un-naturally raised on the table, they adjusted all chairs so we all looked the same height and.

WAIT!

Pictures ARE all red and I look like some tired Kurfurstendam whore w horrific orange hair so let's skip saving this particular look for posterity, yes?, but I'll try and tape the show in a few weeks and then maybe we can discuss this subject again. I kept starting whenever I caught a glimpse of myself - OH! This reminds me, when I was in that German game show (I swear I don't do this often, this was only the 3rd time) my mother walked right past me. Now, my mother does not see too well and they did give me curls, of sorts, and really brown hair but still, memorable. [My German audience - Hi Udge! - might enjoy this tidbit: during the casting I wanted to talk abt the dolphins Weibchen and instead kept talking abt the Weiber. Yes, yes, you may laugh, it IS hysterical. In my defence, I hadn't spoken German in ages, in fact I rarely ever do. Also gut, weiter lesen.] Now I will go and spend 10 min in the bathroom not so happily scrubbing away. Twas fun almost talking to you again. *sob*

The donkey and the cow and the pig

2005-11-02T20:35:00.000Z

The donkey and the cow trampled me. The cow shared her threads of saliva abundantly and took off half of my first skin layer, all 500 kg of her, bcs her tongue is a thing of almost-horned beauty. It turns out that pulling out and holding a cow's tongue may be all I need to develop my arm muscles, cramps and all. The donkey was a bloody pain in the ass [HA!] and it took 5 of us to manage to intubate the beast, plus the aid of a few choice instruments whose name in English I very much dis-know but it involved twisting his upper lip so he would allow us to get close to the nares, and then there was some residual bleeding even though we were really gentle but the donkey bit us and took us for a spin and stood on us and threw us against the manger and the walls and each other and blessedly seemed to have forgotten he could kick bcs the box is tiny and managed to injure himself in the process and I am sore all over and sporting lovely eau de bête, despite the coveralls, as the dog can atest to, sniffing and filing away for future use still underway. There was no pig, which is a good thing, pigs make excellent biters, I just added a pig to the title bcs I like them. I am knackered and can barely string 2 sentences together. I will answer the comments from the last post and address my fuguey psyche when I can think again, and will put together a post abt why for most of you it'd be safer to eat from your toilet than to use your kitchen utensils. Not kidding at all. Will go and vegetate now and pretend I won't have to get up in abt 10 h. Igit.

[DM, what the hell is a Lioness Lego/leggo??]

This is your microbiological public service speaking

2005-10-31T13:24:00.000Z

Hullo.

If you worry abt germs in your home and how to best get rid of them, you have come to the right place.

If you don't worry so much and regularly enjoy bouts of diahrroea, stomach cramps and vomiting, well then, YOU HAVE DEFINITELY COME TO THE RIGTH PLACE. Stick around. [Ha! ]

[QUICK NOTE: I will answer all comments on prEvious post and elaborate further. What I have a hard time understanding, though it delights me for your immune systems - i.e. laughter boosts it - is what you found so funny abt it. Could you point me towards choice sentences? I'd really love to see what SO BLOODY MANY of you are seeing.]

While you're at it, review this. I'm neurotic like that, yes, I am. But chances are I won't die if I step on a nail.

My Psyche is a Fraud

2005-10-28T12:09:00.000+01:00

I have just failed my exam. This means that I will have to study bacteria, viruses and immunology all over again. Plus the lab exam. I cannot stand immunology. Can NOT stand it.

Why did I fail my exam? I am so very glad you asked. Please read this first, it will help you understand. Seriously, it will. Then come back and I’ll tell you all abt the fraud.

Done? Good. See, that was not really my template. That was my psyche.

*Enter fluffy bunnies and frolicking sheep*

Once upon a time there was a girl, let’s call her Our Heroine (OH) who was really intelligent. REALLY intelligent. In fact, she was so intelligent that school had always been easy, too easy.

[Other than exact sciences, that is, Maths, Chemistry, Physics, Geometry - all very awful, her brain truly was not wired in a way that allowed her to fully grasp them. But she wasn’t worried, she wasn’t going to ever need them, right? [Ha.] And the way the educational system in her country was organised, she’d only study them till grade 9 anyway. Nothing but sweet humanistic subjects from then on: Psychology, Philosophy, Languages, History. In short, bliss of the highest degree. This was the sort of OH who till this day finds that doing grammar exercises in English is very much relaxing and GREAT FUN!]

OH went on to university and surprise!, it was all so very easy. An Anthropology degree? Please, daß ich nicht lache. She even got a 20 out of 20 in Maths bcs of her grade improvement paper on Alice in Wonderland and The Other Side of The Mirror (for Logic). Granted, studying the Omaha Indians kinship system was a bloody pain – and forever to be reminded as such - and it took her three whole hours to memorise it, can you imagine?? THREE WHOLE HOURS. All the rest was easy, even those subjects she couldn’t stand. For those she would read the absolute minimum and then make up the rest with general culture and personal inventiveness. It was perfectly all right to have 12 out of 20, gah, horrid subjects, she never wanted to see them again. The subjects she did like were something else entirely, it was a pleasure to read the course material, and well, it was all RATHER EASY. She’d more often than not NOT attend classes (unless she REALLY liked them, of course) and could also be found clubbing the night before the exams, much to her father’s dismay. Her mother never worried much bcs OH kept herself in the top 5% so the method, albeit puzzling, seemed most effective. And if she happened to have a grade she found UNWORTHY in the subjects she liked (e.g., Human Geography or Ethology) she’d retake the exam so she could improve it bcs quite frankly, 16 or 17 out of 20 were a bit shameful and why stop there when one can EASILY end up with a 19 or even a 20? Unsurprisingly, OH finished her degree with a 17 average and a 19 in her thesis.

*Exit fluffy bunnies and frolicking sheep*

Yes.

See, OH was luckier than she knew bcs it so happened that her brand of intellect was absolutely perfect for what this degree demanded of her. More understanding than memorisation. Emphasis on articulating related and sometimes unrelated bits and producing a coherent, innovative text. She loved reading and had read a million of books by then, many of them at a very inappropriate age, so her general culture was quite all right and she could, say, start answering each exam question by relevantly mentioning her mother’s sprout rice and Taran and the Magic Cauldron, respectively, thereby unwillingly but welcomingly impressing the pants off the professor. (Her antennae being what they are, OH knew exactly which teachers would value such things and which would not.) She loved writing, writing had always been her medium of choice, and she took full advantage of it. She was also quick to grasp everything and her intuitive mind, her greatest strength, allowed for leaps of thought that were convenient. And whenever she had to present something orally she’d find a way to have fun - much more bearable for all involved if, for her Tuareg presentation, she turned off the lights, turned on the desert music and entered the classroom donned in the garbs she’d brought from Morocco, carrying a tray with sweet mint tea for the front row. (Again, antennae, again, teacher’s pants.)

She was careful not to show that she thought it all REALLY, REALLY EASY, she’d found very early on that her little colleagues were not so fond of people like her. So she moaned and pulled her hair for all to see – and then went clubbing. Summers were always vast and worry-free. Life was good. OH was brain-spoilt, as it were.

Then tragedy struck. Shock, revulsion and horror, OH finds herself in vet school. VET SCHOOL! And pray tell, what the fuck is an algorithm? What the hell is the inverse of 107? Carboxyl what? What do you mean she simply must memorise 400 pp of rubbish? What do you mean, she must STUDY? As in what, sit down on a chair for hours on end, actually working at it? You must be mad, you must be deranged, this is OH you’re talking abt remember, OH does not DO studying! Go away you demented person, GO AWAY!

It is a fact that OH cannot memorise things in bulk very well. It is also a fact that Oh is very tired from 4 years of non-stop studying, no holydays, no rest. Furthermore, it is a fact that OH has an appallingly poor visualisation capability and is spatially at a permanent loss, as we know. But the deeper truth is, OH RESENTS all this… this… this effort, for fuck’s sake, it shouldn't happen to HER, and so she still hasn’t learnt how to study properly. She will focus on the bits she likes/understand better and more often than not hope for the best. The best in vet school doesn’t often come along and she is therefore often confronted with *shudder* her ignorance. OH should know better but she, pretty much like that template, is still stomping her foot [OH is nothing if not mature] and repeating But it’s not fair! in a most unbecoming manner, refusing to accept that yes, sometimes in life things - unlike birds, yes? - do NOT come easy, and sometimes in life we are expected to work very hard at things we find most unpleasant, and self-boycotting for whatever reasons should have long lost its appeal, and please stop this life is not fair idiocy, it really ISN’T, what part of it could have missed PH’s psyche really, and kindly BUCK UP AND DO IT.

So see, it’s all rather sad really. People keep telling OH that she is so strong and she therefore politely enquires What the fuck? Does this sound remotely like strength to you, this It’s too bloody hard I’ll just pretend it will be all right if I close my eyes and skip a few chapters, shhh, no one will ever know. So when she sees the exam and it turns out that the questions are not quite as expected BUT SHE STILL KNOWS ENOUGH ANSWERS TO PASS never mind that, her psyche quickly translates it into I knew it, I knew I could never make it, it’s too bloody hard, I knew it, quickly, here’s a MIND BLANK so you can escape. And poof, gone is the knowledge. In its stead we can find a scene worthy of the Petunia Vase and the Sperm Whale, i.e., What is a Baccilus, help?? There was that unforgettable moment a few years ago when the exam blank included the unforgettable OhmyGod, whatdoesapiglooklikeagain??

OH did go and get a book after the exam, as planned, alas for comfort and not celebration, as hoped. OH was tempted to buy another one but then thought Why yes, why not reward an imbecilic psyche with TWO books, there’s a punishment. And, as always, OH ended up agitatedly gesticulating and berating herself aloud, much to the surprise of at least 4 different people, as the answers to the questions slowly slowly trickled back to her, as always much too late.

So yes, strength. Gallons of. Oh and courage, loads of that as well. OH has vowed something WILL change, if it kills her. OH finds the whole thing disgraceful and cannot stand herself today. So she'll smoke ANOTHER fag and sod it all for now, bcs a strong will is another of her endearing characteristics.

Rosa Louise McCauley Parks

2005-10-26T11:28:00.000+01:00

This will restore the cosmic balance, yes? Writing this post after all that filth in the post below.

When Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat to a white man forty years ago on December 1, 1955, she was tired and weary from a long day of work.
At least that's how the event has been retold countless times and recorded in our history books. But, there's a misconception here that does not do justice to the woman whose act of courage began turning the wheels of the civil rights movement on that fateful day.
Rosa Parks was physically tired, but no more than you or I after a long day's work. In fact, under other circumstances, she would have probably given up her seat willingly to a child or elderly person. But this time Parks was tired of the treatment she and other African Americans received every day of their lives, what with the racism, segregation, and Jim Crow laws of the time.
"Our mistreatment was just not right, and I was tired of it," writes Parks in her recent book, Quiet Strength, (ZondervanPublishingHouse, 1994). "I kept thinking about my mother and my grandparents, and how strong they were. I knew there was a possibility of being mistreated, but an opportunity was being given to me to do what I had asked of others."
The rest of Parks' story is American history...her arrest and trial, a 381-day Montgomery bus boycott, and, finally, the Supreme Court's ruling in November 1956 that segregation on transportation is unconstitutional.
But Parks' personal history has been lost in the retelling. Prior to her arrest, Mrs. Parks had a firm and quiet strength to change things that were unjust. She served as secretary of the NAACP and later Adviser to the NAACP Youth Council, and tried to register to vote on several occasions when it was still nearly impossible to do so. She had run-ins with bus drivers and was evicted from buses. Parks recalls the humiliation: "I didn't want to pay my fare and then go around the back door, because many times, even if you did that, you might not get on the bus at all. They'd probably shut the door, drive off, and leave you standing there."

She wouldn't give up her seat on a bus and at the end of it all our world was cleaner and something we can be prouder of.

Rosa Parks

February 4, 1913 - October 24, 2005

Another giant gone.

Singing I believe the Children are our future UPDATE

2005-10-25T17:03:00.000+01:00

Took a break from studying for exam on Frid. to urge those of you with children to consider buying them this fine piece of - of- oooh, words fail me, here are some excerpts from a song so appropriately called Victory:

Soon will come a great war, a bloody but holy day. And after that purging our people will be free, and sing up in the bright skies, a sun for all to see……. Times are very tough now for a proud White man to live.
The women, they’ll smile, on Victory Day. And the children, they’ll laugh and they’ll sing and they’ll play. And the forests will echo our grace, for the brand new dawn of our Race…
You are my brother and in war we proudly sing. Our Cause shall never tire. Our gift to you we bring: A holy creed of Racial purpose, A mighty Race to defend. And when we fly our holy flag Their oppressive reign shall end….
And when we finally conquer, our people will be free. And all across this great land, the bold Truth we shall see. So as we march together, to avoid catastrophe, let’s remember always our sacred Destiny….

Oh, and that other song, what was it called? Ah yes, Aryan Man Awake.

Who sings this? The Children of the Corn, apparently.

Don't forget their DVD, PRUSSIAN BLUE - Blond Hair, Blue Eyes*. I'm sure the title is perfectly innocent and am inordinately proud of my phenotype right now. I so hope the little dahlings get their periods soon so they can start ~~fulfilling the prophecy~~ doing their duty. Can't you tell they'll be über**-fertile already? Yey! *claps hands gleefully*

-----------------------------------

* Pay close attention to a) their chosen name b)the header font and c) the little heart over the ii further down - worlds within worlds within worlds, <> A-DO-RA-BLE!!! < /strike >
** HA!

------------------------------

UPDATE: Oh it gets better and better. I made up that prophecy bit up there bcs it seemed, well, fitting. YES IT WAS! And DM pointed me towards this, Hitler Smiley T-Shirt. Caption reads: We thought these T-shirts in particular were funny. By golly who wouldn't! I'm laughing so much I'm near tears.

And Motilium is a girl's best friend - UPDATED

2005-10-21T11:36:00.000+01:00

- Feel much much better today, thank you all. The mention of crunchy nut cereal *gulp* almost destroyed me but no worries, gut mostly under control now. [And I know you meant well, dahling. Our tastes are just unfortunately very disparate seeing as mine are normal - crunchy NUT cereal?? Anglos.]

- Nausea induces red meat craving, which I otherwise never eat. EVER. But no point in depriving the poor bacteria of their iron [ferrous, of course] simply because I'm ill was there, Organic steaks wre bought. They were eaten slowly but surely.

- Today I crave the freshness of fish - sushi, if I'm up to it. If wasabi doesn't kick the out of control microbial flora's arse back into shape I'm a platypus! [UPDATED TO ADD: I am a platypus. Can't bear to think of it yet, will stick to mother's grilled sole and rice for now.]

- Watched Southpark's The Passion of the Jew yesterday. Yes, Mel*Gibson = mad as a hatter, we knew that. When I grow up I want to own my very own ~~church~~ synagogue too but mine will be INSIDE the house, see? Much more pious.

- A colleague of mine yesterday reinforced my conviction that you should never volunteer to help any colleague in charge of the courses' material unless you know said colleague EXCEEDINGLY well - oh the drama! Life is much more pleasant this side of the power trip.

- Another colleague of mine rang me just a while ago and announced that the Microbiology exam I should be missing as I type this (don't feel like linking, see post below) was postponed till NEXT FRIDAY. That means I may yet reduce my course load by three.

- Am still feeling surprisingly feeble and headachy. BEHOLD THE WONDERS OF TOXINS.

- Speaking of behold, BEHOLD:

SMART PALADIN
55% Combativeness, 33% Sneakiness, 58% Intellect, 61% Spirituality

Valorous! Noble! Or possibly just a self-righteous jerk (but with the brains to keep you alive!)... You are a Smart Paladin!

Paladins are holy warriors. They are valorous defenders of the light. Unfortunately, most of them are so ardent in their defense they tend to meet sticky ends faster than you can say "rampaging red dragon." Many people look up to Paladins, while others just consider them stuck up, overbearing, or self-righteous.

Fortunately for you, unlike most Paladins, you're pretty smart. Which means that you're more likely to fall into the "admired" category, rather than the "obnoxious" or "dead" categories.

Much like the crusades, you manage to combine violence and religion, though unlike the crusades, you add a healthy does of intelligence. You may be a staunch defender of the faith, a valorous champion of the weak, or the stuff that jihads are made of. Which ever one you are, just be happy that you’ve got the smarts to back it up and make it work.

The RPG Class Test

Aren't I awe-inspiring for a self-righteous ~~maleish~~ ~~androgynous~~ twat, despite the unbecoming colours? The stuff that jihads are made of- mother will be so proud.

Shabbat shalom.

------------------------------------

PS - Remember this? I've bought The Bone Collector. I'm so excited! And since I'm still feeling gutty, as it were, and cannot study (tiny, swimming letters), I envision a rather lovely soiree after kabbalat shabbat reading. Yey literacy!

PPS - DM dahling, please refrain from using the words cherry + flavour together, ichsa. Remember when Beth gave me those chewable cherry-flavoured thingies and I nearly died? Cherries are gorgeous, love cherries but much like nuts they must be eaten ON THEIR OWN.

PPPS - Do you lot know abt Postsecret? I must update my links to include it but go visit, I go every so often when I'm feeling not-raw. Very, very poignant. Bit sad, rather lovely.

Note to self-boycotting vomiting self

2005-10-20T14:17:00.000+01:00

All right, all right, I understood you the first time:

1) No writing the exam tomorrow [enter 3 extra courses for this year, I'd love to have the NEWLY EXTENDED Immunology one, yes, on top of repeating ALL Microbiology]
2) No keeping down the used-to-be-lovely-but-now-cannot-even-bear-to-think-of-it mint ice-cream [enter need for new comfort food]
3) No burying under books bcs vomit centre seems to be located along the ophtalmic nerve as well and see #2 [enter no escaping misery]

Now stop it. Don't think I don't know what you're doing. Vomiting simply makes me want to vomit some more because it is absolutely vile and YOU KNOW I can never get rid of it all. Next time arrange for the flu again please, much more bearable. Puke don't come easy.

Oy.

Please, PLEASE shoot me right on the 15. Can't wait for this bloody awful month cum year to be over.

19th of October

2005-10-19T03:32:00.000+01:00

fell asleep at 22.something holding my Microbiology book after 7 straight hours of classes and much bureaucratic running around

woke up now, 3.15, psyche won't be fooled

contemplating life and death, mostly the latter, moving on, nothing new to see here, psyche

jaw hurts a bit, must have been grinding teeth again

makes sense because:

dreamt of him yesterday, we were on the phone and he was pretty listless and seemed to have lost his ability to understand english, hebrew and portuguese bcs i kept repeating myself in all 3 languages in the hopes of something getting through. he was listless bcs his girfriend had died you-know-when. i had just been to eilat(!) where he now worked(!) on an animal shelter(!) and we'd missed seeing each other for some reason. i told him such a shame [haval][ha] that we missed each other. he said oh well and you could see his I-don't-care shrug through the telephone. i became upset bcs after all he'd been dead and i'd been desperate and now he was alive again and in eilat and i could have seen him again and he couldn't be bothered to even pretend he cared abt any of it - i said well fuck you, just like that, and then the housekeeper rang the bell and i woke up and then i was awake and rather mad at myself for wtf way to speak to people is that even in a dream, and this was him, and then i couldn't go back to sleep and was even madder bcs telling him to go fuck himself and having appalling conversations on the phone is so much better than my being awake again and him being dead again and i not hearing his voice again

[wish i could cry properly instead of all this is a river in egypt discombobulation of sorts]

i live in fear of losing my mobile, i do. i thought i had the other day and my stomach contracted and my mouth filled w spit and I thought i was going to experience the 2nd spontaneous vomit of my life. don't know how to upload the recording. wish i did. wouldn't mind paying a fortune to nokia if only they could help me. can't bear to ask in case they say they cannot

still haven't emailed lila. (created new skype account, in case you're reading, but have forgotten what username is again.) (and i'm sorry, i really am)(you know avoidance becomes me, yes?)

it's very hard to google old posts and then link to them and ensure nothing of said post is actually read by accident - accidents will happen

(thanks Udge but the whole category is verboten for now)

am trying to decide it's ll right not to ring his family today, will email instead

i really, really, REALLY, PLEASE NO! don't want to ring his family today, can't even bear to think of the conversation we would have. and it's not like it changes anything or even helps them is it. or me

have emailed instead

his older brother is getting married, his mum told me when i called a few weeks ago. i am also terrified we will eventually lose contact, see, i had to ring them to find out. if he were alive he'd have rung me immediately to tell me

there will be a wedding. a happy occasion. he'd have loved to see it. and then many a joke abt dysfunctional families and may this break the curse could and would have been made

his older brother is bound to have children himself - that would make uzi an uncle

except it wouldn't

(...) and all we need of hell