nerves

in my throat,
in my stomach,
in my hands,
in my jaw,
in my feet,
in my brain,
in my heart.

nervous!

Dramatic Irony.

i am bored. that's right. bored out of my freaking face! my roomates have all left me. it's a friday night. everyone i know has left the campus. it's snowing. i have no money. and i am bored out of my mind! on the other hand this is leaving me ample opportunity to do nothing but surf the web, and perhaps catch up on some reading for leisure, as opposed to the reading for leisure...class. alright i think that i am finished talking to myself, so i think that i'm going to hang out will all of my adoring male fans up there and be witty and tell them lots of funny things. things so funny that you will wish that you were here with me hearing all of the funny things that i am saying. and i know that as you are reading this right now you are longing to be in my company...but alas you are perhaps a state away. and the knowledge of our distance is tearing at your heart right now. i know that you are having feelings of suicide and that it is becoming difficult for you to read this....the words are getting smaller....you find yourself walking away from the screen....you are creeping closer and closer to the window...PLEASE MY FRIEND DO NOT JUMP!....if you are on a tenth floor walk up the impact will surely maim you...if you are in a single floor ranch inspired home, the rocks from the garden in front of your window will surely impale your rear...so please my friend i beg of you push those brash thoughts aside and be at ease. for i am a caring human being and i could not in good conscience entertain my male fans if i knew that it would cause you or your bum such misery. fear not! i will go and be alone and read one of my new books...for you!

A Rant: in four parts.

PART I:
i wish that i had something more interesting to talk about. but i don't.
i wish i was an interesting person.
i wish i was doing something tonight.
i wish i was done with this place.
i wish i was a 95 year old black man from montgomery, alabama.

ok so maybe i don't really want to be a 95 year old black man from montgomery alabama. however if i were, i think that would explain my addiction to big band music, and my love for ella fitzgerlad. if i were a 95 year old black man i could think about being in love with ella fitzgerald and her amazingly hypnotic voice. but as it is i am a 21 year old female WASP from oak harbor, ohio. and as it is i don't contemplate being in love with ella fitzgerald, but i am in love with her amazingly hypnotic voice. i can't get enough.

PART II:
i think that if i were to perhaps listen to her enough, then maybe somehow i can be transported to another time, to another place, to another culture. one that i am far more equipped for. one that i fit into. one that i would love. back to a time when amateur night at the apollo was more than a stop on a japanese tourist map, but a launching platform for some of the greats, like miss ella fitzgerald. back to a time when modesty and fashion were interwoven. but as it is i resort to obnoxious copy cats like american idol, and i applaud women who were a bra, and some how over look the fact that they forgot to wear a shirt.

PART III:
it seems that our culture has lost something over the past 75 years. i am terrified of the world that i will raise my children in. thanks to opera and montel i know who lingers around the corner of my child's school. i can name at least 7 different types of household molds that could possibly kill or at very best seriously mame my child. thanks to television i am also terrified of ANGRY CANADIAN COWS, and a small pox epidemic that i was warned about on that one doctor show...i'm not sure which one it was but i know that i saw it on like four different stations so it must be a real threat. i'm also terrified a terrorist coming to oak harbor with blue prints of the nuclear power plant, but don't fear PETA will be satisfied because then Davis Besse won't make any three eyed fish like i saw on that one show...what was it...oh yeah the simpsons.

PART IV:
ugh. i don't even know what i am typing about anymore. ok i don't want to rant anymore about things that have been said a thousand times. especially when no one actually cares about it. i suppose if we as a society actually cared about the deterioration of our civilization we would take some steps to rectify it, but as it is i don't see that as the case. so i suppose that i will simply do as i'm told:
1. Be angry with the deterioration of our moral values.
2. Be sure to immerse myself in enough evil that i will be scared shitless.
3. Speak loudly and carry a big stick.
4. Don't Do ANYTHING.

three hundred and twenty two

i love to read.

i never knew it before. or maybe i did and i just forgot or something. i have spent so much time reading for pleasure that it will be nearly impossible for me to want to stop when spring semester starts in a few days. i really want tot go to some sort of used book store. some place that thas all of the amazing books that i long to read, without any of the amazingly high prices that i don't want to pay. i think that over j-term break i'm going to drive around fort wayne with a phone book until i find a good used book store.

Books i want and want to read again and again and again...

David Sedaris-- ME TALK PRETTY ONE DAY; DRESS YOUR FAMILY IN COURDOROY AND DENIM; HOLIDAYS ON ICE;

Augusten Burroughs-- MAGICAL THINKING; SELLEVISION;

George Plimpton-- THE MAN IN THE FLYING LAWN CHAIR;

Chuck Palahniuk-- STRANGER THAN FICTION;

Jincy Willett-- JENNY AND THE JAWS OF LIFE;

David Rakoff-- FRAUD;

James Frey-- A MILLION LITTLE PIECES;

Nick Hornby-- HOW TO BE GOOD;

Bill Buford-- AMONG THE THUGS;

blah. j-term

ah J-Term. my favorite time of the month of january. i suppose that if i'm going to be forced to come back to school and take a completely frivolous class, there is really no other class that i would want to take. or actually i suppose there is. whatever. this is dumb mediocrity and no one wants to read about it anyway.

i think that someone needs to invent a photograph of the spoken word. something that perfectly captures the moment of innocence, or anger, or humor but without raping the moment of it's originality.

today i chipped ice off of my car. there was a lot. i enjoyed it. it was relaxing. like when you were in elementary school and you would spread elmer's glue on your hand and let it dry just so you could peel it off.

i think i'm only updating this because i fear for my life. i think that carla might slit my throat if i do not. but i don't really think that she realizes that i have not done anything since returning to school. at least nothing worth writing about.

i got an email from michindoh about a get together to meet the new guy up there, for staff who want to return. i'm not going back this summer, or next, and probably not ever again. it makes me kind of sad that i won't get the opportunity to hang out with some of my camp buddies, but honestly it's kind of liberating at the same time. i'm moving on. that's fun, and terrifying, and exhilarating, all at the same time. i'm pretty excited about the idea of working at a camp that i have never been to and do not know anyone who has ever been there either. i can't wait to be finished with school and official be free enough to be free. yeah.

i have an exam tomorrow that i haven't begun to study for, i think i should like maybe go prepare for it. or maybe go to bed or something. i don't know. this doesn't seem to be a good beginning to a new year. oh well i suppose that nothing ever really changes with me, and that new year's resolutions are just some sort of marketing tactic employed by walmart and target to try to get the american population to change what the don't like about themselves (and in some cases what the cherish most about themselves) by spending millions of dollars on equipotent, self-help books, and nicotine supplements. it's a good thing that i don't buy into like self actualization or like new years resolutions or like being the best that you can be. i'm too poor for that. instead i think that i will set a new years resolution to...to... to burn things.

another day, in another time, at this place, now.

i want to blog but i don't really have anything interesting to say.
i want to sleep but i don't know how tired i am.
quite the dilema.

guess what?

BANANA MANHATTAN!

december 29

december 29. it's been quite a cataclysmic week. not so much for me but for the world. but i don't really think that i need to get into that. i think that the media has been doing a fairly good job of keeping us updated on the carnage of the tsunami, and besides that who really wants to hear me bellyache about something else. i seem to be doing that a lot lately. cynicism seems to be my mode of transportation. i don't think that made any sense, but at any rate you know what i mean. so i really don't have anything meaningful to type and i suppose that if i don't have anything to type, then i don't really need to type anything at all.

december 29. only a few more days until i make my venture out to another state for the seventh time since i have been "home" on break. i've decided that traveling from state to state makes me feel like i'm a world traveler. and then i remember that i have only been in three states since june, and beyond that michigan, ohio, and indiana are practically the same state so i suppose i really haven't been any where at all. that's ok though, i'll have more time and freedom to travel when i graduate, and i won't be responsible for anyone but myself because...well let's face it, the likelihood of becoming an old maid seems to be much greater than getting married. but who knows what's in the cards for me....oh wait...is that like blasphemy or something. probably. good to know that i'm also very likely to go to hell. i guess it's a good thing that it's not up to me or something.

december 29. again i have wasted the day. it is 7:30 and this is the first time since monday evening that i have left the house. ha! i'm glad it is break and i have the liberty, otherwise i think that i would truly be a hermit. i wonder what it would be like to be a hermit. i know what it's like to eat a hermit crab, but i suppose that is an entirely different thing.

december 29. i have been thinking about how intriguing the metamorphosis of the marital bed has been over the past decade. now i'm not referring to sex in any way, but the actual bed that a married couple sleeps in. it's interesting how fifty years ago it seemed to be completely obscene that a married couple would share a bed, and now we find it to be completely bizarre and a foreshadowing of a ruined marriage if a married couple sleeps in separate beds. it seems to make a lot of sense to sleep in two separate beds. no kicking. no hogging the covers. no being farted on. but then again i suppose it makes complete sense to share a bed as well. intimacy, love, security and all that jazz. but then again it also seems completely possible that i have no right to have any of these thoughts since i have never experienced the pleasure of being cuddled or farted on by a husband. perhaps this is just another sign of my obvious old maid-hood, or a more specific sign of a mental break down.

an update.

i suddenly have the need to throw up. it's not that i feel sick, i just want to throw up. i think that perhaps it has something to do with thinking. more specifically thinking about how bored and alone i am. and now i want to throw up. why is my first reaction to guilt and stress to throw up? i wonder if i'd feel better if i suddenly became bulimic. i bet that i would look better, but then my teeth would burn off and fall out because of the sudden increase of stomach acid in my mouth. so perhaps that isn't a good idea. but i still want to throw up. eww.

i hate coming to the library to get online. i just heard a three year old say butt head. it seems really sad that society is taking such an evil secular turn. i think that perhaps it's even more sad that at this moment i don't really give a crap. i still want to throw up.

i think that instead of throwing up i'm going to go home, and work on the christmas presents that i said i would make this year. i hate christmas. i hate the over commercialization; i hate the family atmosphere that it exudes; i hate that i hate it; i hate that i have to spend it with my family that no longer exists; i hate that it makes me feel guilty; i hate that there is no snow on the ground; i hate that my dad doesn't have a christmas tree; i hate that i'm completely missing out on christmas this year; i hate that i have contradicting feelings regarding christmas; i hate that all of this makes me want to throw up.

ugh. i'm bored. i think the allure of being home has completely warn off. i'm completely bored and i have realized that all of my friends in this town are either married or don't live here any more. it's hard being a single college student with almost exlcusively seriously dating or married friends. blah. growing up for me is ok, but no one else should be aloud to grow up. people should also not be aloud to talk at all in the library. especially if you are in jr high and are currently dressing like a prostitute.

i need someone to come rescue me from this town. either that or i need to throw up.

An Ode to my GPA

She seeks it here
she seeks it there,
that Jamie seeks it everywhere.
Is it in a tumbler?
Or is it in hive?
That damned,
elusive,
3.5.

****maybe it would help if i gave a shit....or maybe not.****

HUH???

today i realized why it is that i don't go to church when i come home.

it opened with a...."So my theory is that all this anti-christmas/christian opposition is stemming from the great pro-Bush christian turn out at the polls this year. The ACLU is making an extra effort by trying to ban Christ based Christmas songs and nativitys this year because never before have they felt threatened by Christianity"....i believe i whispered something to my little brother something about that being crap, and something about those thoughts being with the ACLU from it's conception.

the sermon was about keeping the spirit of christmas everyday. he opened with a "Now no where in the bible does Christ ask us to commemorate his birth, but his death...[with me mumbling..."and his resurrection...and his resurrection...and his resurrection!...again a chuckle from my bro]. Of course this statement was quickly followed by..."So when we celebrate christmas lets be sure to keep these 7 points in mind....oh and by the way it has nothing to do with anything that i wanted to talk about. (Ok so that last part my have been me...but it's really what he wanted to say!). half way through the sermon i realized that the church no longer partakes in the advent service any more....but the did have a lovely christmas tree! i believe that this realization may have spurred some comment about these people having their heads up their butts and being completely unaware of anything that is really going on. but don't worry i'm not like one of those cynical Christians who think or anything like that.

i stumbled across this post today. i find it rather interesting that someone else seems to feel somewhat like i do regarding some of these issues. i've decided that christmas is not only too commercialized, and too political, but the WASPs who are so pro-the reason for the season, seem to have forgotten what it is.

so as a result i have decided that in fact i am right. more right than some people and perhaps more wrong than others. but mostly right. yeah. and cheap so don't expect christmas presents. unless of course you get me something because then i will get you something. but don't worry my feelings will have nothing to do with the commercialization of Christ and or christmas, or of good will or love, but of obligation and guilt.

home sweet home.

i haven't felt that way in quite a while. actually i haven't even wanted to be in this part of the state since i graduated from high school. but i'll have to admit, there is something sort of relaxing and relieving about being back in Oak Harbor. Never ever in my entire life did i think that i would say that, especially in the past two years. crazy two years. that's how long it's been since my family has ceased to exist. but i find it to be kind of interesting how i seem to have a new family emerging. one with my mom. one with my dad. one with my brothers. one with my roomies. it's like i live four separate lives, and non of them can co-exist. it makes it kind of hard, but kind fun at the same time.

i spent last night with mom. we watched a movie at like (oh a cute little boy just looked at me...he almost ran into a book rack! ha! that would have been really cute...i hope that i have a kid that cute someday!).....where was i, oh yeah we watched the princess diarys 2 and talked. eric skipped his last day of school. something about his glands, or maybe it was something about my dad being amazing and letting him play hookie...i can't remember. that little kid is growing up too fast. i don't care if he 6'2" and 16 years old, he will always be my little brother.

dad and i are going to detroit to have breakfast with cory tomorrow, that should be fun. i miss that kid. i'm glad he finally decided that we were cool enough to be in his life! my big brother is great, i just never realized it before.

the trip back from huntington yesterday was by far the funniest trip of my college years. unfortunately think brett has finally realized just how unstable i am. and if someone could tell me why it is so funny to say BANANA MANHATTAN, i would appreciate it---*note*: to get the full effect, BANANA MANHATTAN must be spoken out loud in an accent. the type of accent doesn't matter...it just must not be in your own voice.---BANANA MANHATTAN!

ok enough of this jr. high diarying.

i think that when i become an axe murderer with a rusty spoon, i will not do this.

this one time, at this one place...

i've just decided that i am tired of hearing the same old things. i think that i'm going to start saying some new things; or maybe they will be the same things i have always said, just a little bit louder. i think that perhaps i could bring a new degree of craziness to this campus. too bad people don't want to take the time to listen to me. i'm a funny person. try asking me.

Santas on Parade

motivation is something that i seem to be lacking this week. i just want this semester to be over so badly that i have given up on doing anything. it's 2:00 in the morning and i just decided to review my stats for the exam tomorrow. it seems that i don't remember much from the beginning of the semester. i spent two and a half hours intermittently working on a physics study guide; i have yet to actually study it. i think i'll do that tomorrow between stats and the exam. but i'm almost done. they are my last two exams of the year 2004. the next exam that i take will be in 2005. that sounds really funny to say. i never thought that i would ever live this long, i guess i just didn't have many expectations for my life when i was a kid....what am i saying? i'm still a kid. sort of. blah, i can't knock the sleep out of my head. i do think that would be pretty amazing though. it would be like in I Heart Huckabees, when they hit themselves in the face repeatedly with a rubber ball to experience peace. i will have to admit though, there is a certain level of peace that can be attributed to hitting ones self in the face. and yes i do say this from experience. although i'm not sure why or when i hit myself repeatedly in the face with a rubber ball; but i suppose that could also be attributed to said beating. i'm rambling. it's dumb, and no one cares anyway. so i will leave you with this image.

Tuesday

my foundations meeting is in 15 minutes. then i am done with that class. i gave my presentation last week, and i've finished the semester long ministries project. i can see the end of the tunnel. i really can! it's this bright light. hmm i wonder if that is sheer anticipation, or if it means i'm dying. i ask in 45 minutes and i'll let you know

Stomach of Steel

As with most people I’ve discovered that I am a mix of both of my parents. I seem to have inherited the most defining characteristics of my mother: her temper and laziness. But I’m proud to say that the bulk of who I am has come straight from my father. We are so alike that at times I think that I’m looking at an aged, bald, male version of myself. I have developed most aspects of his personality, ranging from his unceasing curiosity to his culinary preferences.

If you were to ask any member of my family or anyone who has ever had dinner with him, they would all tell you the same thing: my father has a stomach of steel. His daily meals consist of: two cans of tuna fish, two cans of mandarin oranges, one can of spinach, and the occasional can of whole potatoes. He doesn’t seem to understand why at break time, his fellow employees steer clear of him. I think the closest he has ever come to understanding the bizarreness of his meal was the time that the toilet backed up at work. He was telling me how it smelled really bad. He walked into the bathroom and found his two bosses snaking the toilet. He stated the obvious: “It stinks”, and as an after thought “I don’t think I’ve ever smelled anything like that”. To which they responded in unison, “Tuna Fish.”

I love my dad, but it seems that he was unjustly denied any chance at being able to naturally eat or cook normal foods; the cooking gene just seems to have skipped a generation with him. My Dad’s mom, who incase you didn’t know would be my grandmother, is an amazing cook. It seems to me that she finds the same kind of rush in cooking, that an adrenaline junky finds in sky diving. Food was part of our family’s culture. If you were sad, grandma would fix you something to eat. If you had just completed some amazing feat, like eating a 42 pound turkey in world record times…..well congratulations! Grandma will make you some mashed potatoes and gravy to go with it. I was never able to escape my grandparent’s home without some sort of morsel of food being crammed into my hand. Too often I heard, “Your grandma spent all day making those cookies and if you don’t eat them, you will hurt her feelings”. So I would trudge off to college with a freezer bag of snicker doodles, and a cool whip container of her infamous Rodeo Spaghetti.

But my dad, as I said, was not blessed with the skill of cooking. As a matter of fact, when my parents got a divorce I thought I would have to move back home, for fear of my dad and brother starving to death. Instead I’d come home on break and find the cupboards brimming over with canned food; unfortunately it seemed that the store that he shopped at only sold four different kinds of food. You could either eat ravioli, spaghetti-o’s, tuna fish, or mandarin oranges. If you wanted something else, well you were on your own. Dad didn’t have a desire to eat it; there fore he didn’t have a desire to cook it.

Don’t get me wrong, my dad has given his most valiant effort at cooking. I remember sitting at the table when I was in elementary school eating some coleslaw that he had prepared. Actually I remember sitting at the table with my older brother, having an ongoing contest to see who could hold it in our mouths the longest. Apparently ¼ means a quarter of a cup of onions, not one to four onions. Our dog Sarge, who was either a Heinz 57 or a Bermuda rat, wouldn’t even touch it; this from the animal who fished from the ditch.

But, my dad seems to be aware of his culinary inabilities. I think that he even sees a little bit of himself in me. Too many times I’ve happily made meals from cold spaghetti, sardines with mustard, and have the sudden craving for Braunschweiger (smoked pork liver cold cut) topped with onion and mustard; not typically at the same time, although it has been know to happen. He also seems to think that because I share his stomach of steel, that I also share his culinary expertise. If the cooking gene skips a generation, and my older brother is a professional pastry chef, then I must not know how to cook. Although this is perhaps a plausible hypothesis, I think that a more accurate conclusion is that the culinary apathy has skipped a generation. I guess that it doesn’t really matter and basically my kids are screwed.

*tongue fart*

i'm procrastinating. i just spent two hours delivering pizzas with my roommate for JMC. two addresses didn't exist. we got two free pizzas....rock on. i have a stats project due at 8 tomorrow, i'm only half of the way done. i refuse to give a bulleted overview of my weekend. i am giving a fragmented, paragraph form overview of my weekend. i hate it when people do that.


cARLA AND i JUST HAD A FARTING CONTEST. i THINK THAT SHE WON THE SPEEDY CATEGORY, BUT i DEFINITELY WON FOR STAMINA. tHAT WAS A REALLY WEIRD THING THAT I JUST WROTE. tODAY i HAD CARLA ROLLING ON THE FLOOR LAUGHING. liTERALLY ROLLING ON THE FLOOR, i'VE NEVER GOTTEN THAT REACTION BEFORE. i WAS EXPLAINING TO HER HOW i THOUGHT THAT PEOPLE SHOULD TALK LIKE THEY WRITE. yOU SHOULD CAPITALIZE WHAT YOU ARE SAYING, AND BE SURE TO ADD ALL OF THE PUNCTUATION TOO. aT DINNER ON fRIDAY, THERE WAS A FRESHMAN IN THE DC WITH A VERY ANNOYING LAUGH. iT WAS VERY LOUD, AND SORT OF VULGAR. i DON'T THINK THAT GIRL SHOULD BE ALOUD TO HAVE A VOICE BOX. iT CAN ONLY BE EXPLAINED AS LAUGHTER EJACULATION, IT'S ONLY GOOD FOR HER. i TOLD MY ROOMMATES THAT DURING DINNER, cHRISSY ALMOST CHOKED ON HER FOOD; cARLA ALMOST HAD FOOD COME OUT OF HER NOSE; i BEGAN TO LAUGH IN A RIDICULOUS WAY. i HOPE SOMEONE MADE A COMMMENT ABOUT HOW i SOUNDED LIKE A SEIZING HORSE. i'M GOING TO REITERATE A PREVIOUS STATEMENT THAT i HAVE MADE, i WANT TO BE A COMEDIAN. bRETT, WHEN WE GO HOME ON tHURSDAY YOU SHOULD BE PREPARED. i AM GOING TO MAKE YOU LAUGH THE ENTIRE WAY, AND IF WE DON'T HAVE TO STOP AT LEAST ONCE BECAUSE YOU HAVE POOPED IN YOUR PANTS, i WILL BE ANGRY.


This is the second time today that I have updated my blog. I feel like I am returning to a previous addiction. I think that I kind of like it too. Carla is ignoring me right now....and she just gave me a very weird look because i am making a sort of funny monkey face in her general direction...don't worry carla i am not completely insane. I hope that it is freaking you out that i am staring at you while i type this. It would make me moderately happy if you jumped up from your chair right now and just yelled...." WHAT THE HELL!", OR HAD SOME OTHER SORT TO TURRETS MOMENT. BUT YOU ARE NOT. AND YOU ARE IGNORING ME. i SUPPOSE THAT tHIS IS MY CUE TO FINISH THIS BLOG AND DO MY HOMEWORK. yOU ARE LOOKING NOW, YOU SHOULDN'T READ THIS UNTIL i FINISH IT AND PUBLISH IT. bUT THAT'S OK. cAN YOU BE AN AXE MURDERER? fOR ME? i WOULD REALLY LIKE THAT. YOU TOOK A PICTURE OF ME WHILE i READ THIS TOO YOU. MAYBE NOW i WILL BECOME THE AXE MURDERER AND KILL YOU WITH A SPOON WHILE YOU SLEEP.

MY ONE HUNDREDTH POST

Today I decided that I like it when people have pictures on their blogs. Unfortunately I don't really have any very exciting pictures that were worthy of this discovery, so instead I decided to post a picture of this pole. It's interesting. I suppose that if you gaze at it with the right mindset, it can tell you the meaning of life. But then again I suppose that with the right mindset and mood altering drugs, anything can tell you the meaning of life. Right now I've figured out my purpose of life. It's taken me a while, but I think I have this case solved. My meaning of life is to study and get good grades. Too bad it's taken me so long to realize this. I wish that my purpose was far more exciting. Something like, perhaps saving orphaned rats in Malaysia. Or maybe, rescuing tree frogs from prairie dogs in the Midwest. But instead it's not, it's studying. And because it is so utterly boring, I have decided to protest. The other day at dinner I said a really dumb thing. I have decided that grogginess and the horrifying smell of the DC seem to have an adverse effect on me. I told my roommates about how lately I have wanted to know what it would be like to be hit in the face by an elephant trunk, not hit in the face by an elephant....but hit in the face by a man who is swinging and elephant trunk. I think it would feel a lot like being hit in the face by a fire hose. Of course I don't know what that feels like either, but I do think that it would hurt far worse than a trunk. Unless of course it was the kind of trunk that you carry close in on long journeys, then I think that would hurt far more. Ok now that everyone officially thinks that I'm insane, allow me to leave you with one final thought--oh never mind, I don’t have anything left.

humbugggggg

i have been neglecting my poor blog again, i think it is only because there is really nothing very exciting to talk about. i've mostly been preoccupied with how i should be preoccupied with exams and projects and all of that jazz. i've started to think a little bit about what i want to do this summer for my practicum. i want to work at a camp, somewhere new. with new philosophies, new programs, and a fresh perspective. there's a camp in camedon, ohio (near cinci) that looks like looking into. i had an interview with them last year, even though i didn't take the job i was told to keep them in mind if i ever wanted to work at a camp again. well guess what! I DO! i think i'm going to rummage through their website to find a contact address. i really hope they would be interested in taking me on. i hope i won't be too much of a bother with my stinkin practicum. in other news, i have no other news. i did just realize that i never posted about what happened over thanksgiving break. that's really sad because it is stinkin amazing! hmmm. nope nothing more to say. ok well i suppose i should finish my papers, and do the study guide that i told jess i would have done yesterday....that or take a nap. it's a toss up, we'll see which i do.