Do you dance, Mr. Darcy?

Margaret and I went to see Pride and Prejudice tonight at the Wilma. So beautiful. (Big, dreamy, contented sigh.)

crazy hippies

I just got home from taking Luis to the airport. The trip was so typical Missoula. Here's some highlights:

1. We got there at 4:50 for his 6:00 flight. Northwest's ticket counter wasn't open yet.They didn't show up until after 5:00.

2. Out of the 300 or so people at the airport this particular morning, I knew three of them. I've only lived here for two years - this is a small town.

3. After we got Luis checked in, we went in search of food for him. The (yes, the - as in the only) restaurant isn't open that early, but they had a window selling coffee and muffins. As Luis bought his chocolate muffin, a man's voice made the following announcement over the intercom:
"Would all passengers please remember to take their drug paraphernalia out of their checked luggage before bringing it to security."
The woman selling coffee didn't seem surprised by the announcement, but rather she just made a mellowed-out face and quipped, "But dude, that was my favorite pipe..."

Crazy.

So now I return home to a Luis-less apartment, and after finishing my oatmeal, I'm going back to bed. I'm always sad to see him go, but at least I get to sleep kitty-cornered. Or kattywhompus, Luis likes to make fun of me for saying. (That means diagonal, to those of you non-midwesterners.)

*Yawn*...Goodnight.

Strange things, and a conscience.

My anatomy final was this morning at 8:00. Along with a surge of relief, it brought with it a strange chain of events...

When my alarm goes off at 6:15, I'm jolted away from a dream about brains. In my dream I was holding an intact human brain, and the cerebellum started falling away in sections, dangling from the brainstem by its arbor vitae (which I don't think is anatomically possible, but there you have it). Awake and confused, I get out of bed and putter to the kitchen for a clementine and a glass of water, and a spot of review before heading off to the test.

I get to Urey just before the test starts, my stomach in knots. Dr. Westphal is known for giving ridiculously hard exams. I get my copy and look through the first few questions. They're different from those on earlier tests. I'm dumbstuck - these questions are so much better than we've had in the past! It's really almost like someone else wrote the exam. A flood of relief comes and I get to work.

After finishing the test I head over to the health sciences building to pick up my graded lab practical exam. I check the sheet hanging on the bulletin, and I'm floored to see a 94 next to my id number. I'm usually a little giddy and disbelieving when my grade is higher than I anticipated, but this time I'm sure they messed up my score. I go in and pick up my exam, and sure enough, I got an 84. I recount the points several times, and double check the posted scores. Definitely a typo. The only hard evidence of this is clutched in my now sweating hands. This extra ten points could all but ensure me a 'B' for the semester. This class has been unfairly graded all semester, and it's caused me endless hours of fretting and misery. And now, someone has inadvertently handed me a better grade. So what next?

I walk into the room, head shaking in mild disbelief. I hand my test to Dave and tell him my score is wrong on the spreadsheet. He asks what is posted, and I tell him. He looks at me like I'm sprouting antlers, and says that my honesty kills him.

Yeah, it kills me too.

If, at 1:30 this morning when I was feverishly cramming for this final, you had asked me what I would do in this exact senario, I would have responded (without missing a beat) "keep my mouth shut".

It's nice to find out you're a better person than you think you are.

Musings

It's unfortunate when one has tired of winter by early December, particularly when one lives in the Northwest, where the prospect of snow continuing into May is not unheard of.

I'm a dynamite whistler - Patience by Guns N' Roses came on the radio while I was driving home, which is an excellent song for showcasing my mad whistling skills. (even if I'm alone in the car...)

I don't like to kill bugs (particularly ones that crunch). I'm more from the "trap-them-with-a-cup-and-a-magazine-and-free-them-outdoors" school. I used to just roll up the magazine and take care of them the old fashioned way, but that was before I encountered the stink bug. This is the most revolting creature I've ever seen. Not only are they creepy looking, but they smell to high heaven when messed with. We have vaulted ceilings in our living room, and this fall I spotted one of these guys up near the rafters. We didn't know what they were at the time, and Luis and I made the mistake of using the vacuum attachment to suck it down from the wall. The apartment smelled for hours. Ew.
(The bug story started because I just had to kill a spider. He was too high on the wall to trap in a glass.)

There is nothing slipperier than snow that has been trodden down to slush, which has frozen into a panel of ice, upon which a light dusting of powdery snow has fallen. Walking across campus, I like to count the number of people who lose their footing and slide around on the way to class. My solution? I walk in the snow. My feet may get cold, but I remain vertical.

Blah.

I was rear-ended on my way home. No damage done, except for scaring the hell out of me. Amazing how fast things like that happen. I was sitting at a stoplight, changing the radio station, then I was rubbing my neck and wondering why all of the papers from my little dashboard space were scattered on me.
Blah.

Dreamweaver

I've had strange dreams regularly for most of my adult life. They tend to intensify during stressful or particularly emotional times, but they're always there. Here are a couple bits from dreams I had this past week...

Saturday night: The world was in an apocalyptic state. Luis and I were living among the other refugees in filthy tunnels underneath the remains of cities. The survivors were trying to resume as normal a life as possible, but everything was in shambles; life was disgustingly dark and murky. Martha Stewart was there, and she was trying to show us how to make a delightful dinner out of these bilious green and yellow braids of an algae-like growth clinging to the ceilings of the caves we inhabited.

Monday night: I was visiting some people who lived in a small decrepit house out in the wilderness. The house had clearly been nice at one time, but had gone to seed over the years. Dirt and large clods of earth were scattered on the linoleum, and the paint was peeling away from the walls to reveal rotted and crumbling plaster. A scratching sound came at the back door and the man went to open it, saying it was their cat wanting to be let in. A large orange cat leapt in through the door and the man began yelling that it wasn't their cat, it was a killer jackalope. I ran to the bathroom and tried to shut the door, but the large cat pushed its way through. I quickly caught the animal by the neck and began choking it, and the man yelled that he was going after his shotgun. As I was choking the cat I looked at him - he didn't look like a killer. He looked like a friendly creature. I didn't dare release my hold on him, though, lest he try to eat me. I could see the fear in his eyes as I choked the life out of him. Just then the man burst in with his shotgun, and he made me hold the animal as he shot it in the head.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Good day sunshine

I'm only at the computer long enough to eat my dinner (peanut butter and banana on whole wheat - yum!), and then I have an enormous amount of studying to do...

We finally got some sunshine today. It's been gray and cloudy for weeks, and the overall mood around town has felt subdued and a little gloomy. I celebrated the return of the sun by going for a run - with my nano! Luis bought me one for Christmas (He's so cute - he always wants me to open gifts the second he gets them home from the store) and gave it to me last Friday. White, 4GB, and now loaded with a little bit of everything. I love looking at the artists' names side-by-side; in my nano, Barry Manilow can peacefully coexist with Avenged Sevenfold, Motion City Soundtrack and The New York Philharmonic can cozy up together, and Hoobastank and James Taylor are friends. I love the nano, although the complaints of it scratching easily have me a little paranoid. (Luis has had one for a couple of months, and his is a little scuffed.) I'm like the crazy old lady with the clear vinyl slipcovers on all her furniture - my ipod is staying in the plastic wrapper until the tube I ordered for it arrives. (I trimmed openings for the earbud plug and the hold button.) Go ahead, laugh. I don't care. My nano understands.

Well, my sandwich is gone, so it's time to study. Ugh.

This one's for Emo --

I'm learning the cranial nerves this week, and here is my mnemonic device.

On Occasion Omar Takes Trips And Films Very Good Videos About Himself.

I Olfactory
II Optic
III Oculomotor
IV Trochlear
V Trigeminal
VI Abducent
VII Facial
VIII Vestibulocochlear
IX Glossopharyngeal
X Vagus
XI Accessory
XII Hypoglossal

He's a smart monkey. :)

Why I love today

It's only about 30 degrees outside, but it's beautiful and sunny - the mountains are all snow covered and sparkling.

I found $10 earlier.

My skinny jeans not only fit again, but my butt looks good in them.

The radio station I was listening to in the car busted out some old school Beastie Boys.

No classes on Friday.

Life is good.

WTF?

Today I went to the Market to get a Diet Pepsi - their CO2 was out.
I stopped by the gas station down the street from my apartment to get my caffene fix - their Diet Pepsi was out.
It's 29 degrees outside.
I have an anatomy test in t-minus 79 minutes, and it's pretty much going to kick my ass.

Yep, today definitely sucks.