Complete Non-Respect for Context

Oh my god, I can't breathe. The chest funk is clearing up, but it has evidently headed straight for both my throat and my nose. Especially my nose. I think my sinuses may literally be on fire. I would not be surprised. I woke up this morning with what felt like a sharp stick jammed up my left nostril, and it more or less has not abated since then. I went up to the clinic to see about my throat and ears this morning. The doctor said that at this point, it's likely viral, but since I'm leaving next week and it could turn into an infection, he gave me antibiotics. Which should also fix sinus infections. I fucking hate my sinuses. Damn them right to hell. Whyyyyy must they hurt? Whyyyy?

Experience would indicate that you can only write about a certain topic for so long. In this case, my sinuses. Experience is wrong. I can keep talking about my sinuses until the cows come home. Ow. My nose. Ow. My nose. It's... not good. There was this brief five minutes where I was in the shower, and I could breathe, and everything. Now, I'm back out, and the pressure is like somebody is stabbing the hell out of my left nostril. I'm tempted to actually jam a pen up there and hope actually stabbing it will fix it. Which reminds me of when I was at the clinic this morning and told my dad that if he lent me a pen, I would jam it up my nose to relieve the sinus pressure. To my utmost surprise, he handed me a pen. I didn't stick it up my nose, but was surprised that he would let me.

After the clinic, we went up to Starbucks where some WASPish ladies were sitting discussing how much they loved Don't Ask, Don't Tell, which earned them such a glare from me, I may have left a hole in the side of the building. I asked for the pen again, and my dad almost gave it to me until he figured out whose nose I was going to stick it up. I mean, not only is being gay entirely legal here, being married and gay and gay-married is ALSO LEGAL. Talk about being in the entirely wrong country while you complain. I wasn't allowed to be loudly bitter about it, despite how loud they were being, and despite the fact that they were essentially spouting hate speech right next to me. Sometimes I really hate people.

It's funny how little CSI I've watched in the past few years, and how *many* I've watched just this season. I have to admit that, despite years and years of bumps in the road, I'm kind of happy with where the show went. Sure, it meant that people had to leave, but it's been so *nice*. Maybe I just say that because I enjoy seeing Jorja Fox on my TV again, and also knowing how much happier Sara is as a character now that things have finally been figured out. Also, I like that Laurence Fishburne didn't come in to replace anybody. Although, the character he plays is just a touch too close to Morpheus for me to not call this, at least in part, type-casting. He's also a damn fine specimen to look at every week. Quiet. He turns 50 this year. That puts him right in my age bracket for men.

Also, I'm not sure how recent a development this is, or whether it's a once-off, or whether it's been going on for awhile, but Katee Sackhoff is on CSI now, and she makes a delicious homicide detective. She makes a delicious everything, but it's weird seeing her outside of being a viper pilot. I *am* still trying to figure out what colour her hair is supposed to be, however. It's red, but not exactly a natural shade of red. Anyway, she looks *good*. I would not be averse to writing some backstory for her character. Or some forestory. Or some currentstory. And I swear I'll get right on that, after this cold starts to get better. Really, as soon as my sinuses show signs of not killing me. Perhaps it'll give me something to do on the plane. Good idea, or good idea? That's what I thought.

My sinuses are draining. Ish. I could do with a little more draining, a little faster, and not all over my hands/keyboard. Really, I will just settle for not having a stick up my nose tonight. Deal? Deal.

Word Count: 762
Word Count to Date: 31961

Wicked chrysanthemum party boat.

Apparently, last night, while falling asleep, I thought these were important words to remember. So, there they are, and... there we are.

I think you can pretty much gauge the success of a day, based on how long you manage to not change back into your pyjamas. Today, I lasted a little more than an hour, and only because there was coffee to be gotten. Coffee to get. Whatever. Grammar isn't my primary function right now. Not dying of pharyngitis, laryngitis, strep throat, or pneumonia are my top goals for the day. They'll probably be my top goals for tomorrow too. However, tomorrow, I need to go to at least two banks, and possibly get coffee again. I'm hoping for a vast improvement in the not-feeling-like-dying department.

Right, so, I lasted all of the time it took to get coffee and groceries (barely), the time it took to literally choke down breakfast (oh, solid food, when will I learn), throw breakfast back up, and brush my teeth, before I was right back in my pyjamas. Things like naps are fun. This reminds me that taking such a nap is likely in my best interests. Ow. Ow.

I pranked him. To death with a tire iron. I don't know what it is about Christopher Walken, but he's humorous in ways that shouldn't be humourous. Just the ways he puts the emphasis on his words is hilarious. Plus he dances. Who can ask for more than that?

I bring this up mainly because Ruy and I are watching SNL's Best of Christopher Walken. Okay, well, we're taking a lunch break, but I believe we'll be getting back to it after lunch. Then comes SNL's Best of Will Ferrell 1 & 2, because Will Ferrell is and always has been my first comedic love. Outside of improv, that is. Nothing quite holds a candle to Ryan Stiles and Colin Mochrie. But if I had to pick a conventional comedian, I'd pick Will Ferrell first and foremost. He's made some epically bad movies, sure, but who hasn't? *cough Teenage Space Vampires, Robin Dunne cough*

My throat still hurts, and it is absolutely painful to laugh. It might actually be painful to listen to me laugh, as I sound like a dying walrus. Again, my voice is fading out, except instead of just fading out completely, I've lost an octave. By this, I mean that my voice is an octave higher than usual, as my vocal cords are too sore to come down any lower. This is laughable, because, as anyone who knows me knows, I don't exactly have a low voice to begin with. And I would laugh. If it weren't for the pain, and the walrus dying.

So, I'm guessing that Day 3 isn't when you start to decide if you have strep throat or not, right? Or... I don't know, strep ear. I used to get ear infections all the time as a kid, and now I never seem to, which is bizarre, because my ears hurt. Whatever this is, it isn't my conventional cold, because it isn't affecting my nose at all. Except for my stupid sinuses. So, occasionally, I do wake up with my head splitting in half and wanting to scream. But as far as nasal congestion goes, there's nothing. If a rhinovirus is a conventional cold, with the stuffy nose and everything, what do you call something that's mainly in your chest? Other than chestyvirus.

Turns out we'll just call it chestyvirus. Or pharyngitis, as I'm fairly sure my throat is swollen.

Ruy and I are booking our flights around Europe, and it feels a lot like one of those Computer Science problems I had to do in university, where you find the best route, and the best price, and something about Koenigsberg and his bridges. Ruy is moderately cranky, because he's dealing with work at the same time, but I'd kind of like it if he didn't take it out on me, because all I'm doing is trying to be helpful. He has leapt down my throat no less than fourteen times in the last 2 hours.

Mariana is watching the movie channel with descriptive video, which is great, because I don't even have to look at the television. However, she also thinks that turning the heat up to 25 is reasonable, and even I, who gets cold easily, think this is completely ridiculous.

I cannot begin to fathom what she might be watching, however. Tap dances with a skipping rope? What does that even mean? I'd maybe marry the descriptive video reader, though. So bland and monotonous...

Word Count: 775
Word Count to Date: 30437

This is to inform me (and Lisa), that I have dropped out of getyourwordsout, because I can't handle the pressure. I still plan to post 1000-word rambles over here, but I think it's better for me to set my own goal, and one that isn't quite so insane.

I'm not disappointed in myself. Things do come up in life, and this year is no different. I made it to over 28000 words in a month, and I'm quite proud of that. I still plan to edit my NaNos, and hopefully still take part of that in November. But no more GYWO craziness. *sadface*

*SANEFACE*

ETA: For my own sake, I'm setting my goal this year for 200000 words, which I'm fairly confident I will have surpassed by November. I'll write a pledge (to myself) in the next entry, saying as such. I'll even get one of those fancy progress bars. Everyone's gonna be so *happy*.

Word Count: 155
Word Count to Date: 28869

Instead of going to bed early, like I planned to, and, you know, was actually in bed doing up until a half-hour ago, I'm up and watching something called 'Machete' with my dad. I'm not actually trying to watch the movie, but I figure it's as good as anything to have in the background. Very... violent, though. Hey, if it makes my dad happy. Also, for serious, Robert De Niro playing some sort of southern governor. Honey, I think I've now seen you play just about everything.

I actually sprang out of bed with an urge to catch up on my writing. Also, the cats were finally tired out from throwing themselves at each other, and had finally settled themselves into two separate, yet relatively close together, napping spots.

Oh, Steven Segal. You are so delightfully evil. Even when you play good guys, you're evil. And it's almost never delightful.

I'm catching up on Google Reader. I don't think there will be a time when I'm *not* catching up on it. I'm back at 18000+ unread items, and date-wise, around the 8th of January. I can't read fast enough, apparently. By the time I get the news, everything has already changed and/or escalated and/or been dealt with.

Here's an interesting factoid, however: Victoria Beckham is having her fourth child. I'm honestly surprised that she wants to mess up her "perfect" (read: disgusting) figure, by incubating another possible future soccer player. There's no love lost between Mrs. Beckham and I, partially because we don't know each other, but partially because I think she's a horrible role model to... anyone. Even her so-called BFFs in Hollywood. I feel sorry for the people she takes under her wing. I mean, don't you think Katie Holmes has enough on her plate with being married to Tom Cruise and being a Scientologist wife? Should she really be taking tips from Little Miss Stick Legs? No. No, she should not.

*stops to warm up mashed potatoes, because stick legs made her think of chicken legs, which made her think of the mashed potatoes she has in the fridge*

Mashed potatoes make me thirsty.

Okay, seriously. You put crosshairs over a picture of someone's face on a map, and you don't consider that inciting violence? Are you completely *stupid*? Just add this to the multitude of reasons that I can't stand Sarah Palin and her ilk. Or her elk.

Ugh. It turns out that Lindsay Lohan is in this movie. Really? Somebody let her be in a movie in the last year? Poor idea. Very poor idea. Also, that's very classy, Lindsay. Her whole role was to be naked and in a pool. That's acting for you.

Natalie Portman is pregnant. See, this? This I care about. Natalie Portman is a great role model. Also, she doesn't have stick legs, and has never made me feel bad about myself, that I can remember.

This should come as a surprise to pretty much no one, but apparently it *snowed* in early January. Shocked? I knew you would be.

*looks up at the TV* No, Lindsay, you still can't act your way out of a paper bag. I'm sorry, but it's true. Who thought putting you in this movie would be a good idea?

While I can see why the mashed potatoes were a good idea, I'm not entirely sure why I had the glass of chocolate milk, as lactose-free as it was. Also, this means I've used up all of my milk, and I only just bought it this afternoon. Oh, but those mashed potatoes were so tasty.

And then she dressed up as a nun and shot Robert De Niro? THIS MOVIE MAKES NO SENSE.

Oh, that's lovely. Some guy in Mission is being charged $5200 because he was growing cucumbers in his basement. That's right, cucumbers. Not even a drug. You can't even smoke a cucumber. I can't wait to see the reasoning they come up with for this one.

The very first survivor winner, whom I didn't much care for, apparently never refiled those tax returns for which he went to jail. That's good. Nice to know he's still approximately still as much of a scumbag as before.

Apparently, it's twice as dusty now on Earth, as it was in the 19th century, and scientists aren't sure why. I think I can work this one out for them. Uh, guys? You know what dust is made up of, right? And that the population has increased quite a bit since then? You *did* know that? Good, then why are you surprised?

I kind of wonder why Apple decided that the Mac needed an App Store. It's something that makes a lot of sense on a portable device such as the iPhone or iPad, because apps are relatively inexpensive, and you're generally interested in picking up interesting things to play/use. Everything on a Mac, software-wise, costs an arm and a leg. How exactly is the App Store going to make that any better? What's going to help about paying $500 for Office in the App Store, versus paying $500 for Office by going to the Apple Store, or buying it online? I mean, sure, there's less packaging, but when I go looking for a new application for my Mac, I'm going to look online at free alternatives before I bother opening up the App Store and browsing through it. However, despite all this, I mainly have one thing to say: Microsoft, DON'T GET ANY IDEAS, DAMN IT.

Subway is apparently coming out with gluten-free sandwiches. Right in time for me NOT TO BE ABLE TO EAT THEM. Thanks, Subway. Nice to know you could keep up with the times.

It's hard to believe that at this time last year, the Olympics were going on, or at least, about to begin. In Vancouver. That still boggles my mind. I can't believe we hosted the Olympics, and didn't manage to publicly embarrass ourselves (much). I wish I was still settling in downtown, listening to the crowds one block over on Robson, and music and celebrations happening all through the night, for two weeks straight. It was like the whole city was having a party. Actually, at one point, the whole city kind of *did* have a party. I believe it was around the time that Canada won men's hockey. A spontaneous dance party broke out, if I recall correctly. There's really nothing cooler than that.

And with that, I'm finally off to bed, as I can barely keep my eyes open, I need to be up earlyish to get my hair cut, and I was supposed to be asleep three weeks ago. Wait, what? I mean, three hours ago. I shouldn't try to pay attention to movies while typing (my dad is watching Space Cowboys). Three hours ago.

Word Count: 1139
Word Count to Date: 27676

And now, a list!

1. I'm afraid to look up books about Tesla, because I'm scared there won't be any. And then I really *will* have to write his biography. Quick, someone sum up my knowledge of Tesla! He's a vampire. No, wait. He decoded the Enigma machine? But I hear it was only lightly encrypted. Greatest electrical engineer who ever lived or GREATEST electrical engineer who ever lived? Helen...Magnus. This isn't going anywhere. And it isn't going anywhere VERY QUICKLY.

2. I have just awful coffee breath. It's unpleasant. I mean, I don't much care what the people around me think. I would just like the aftertaste to get up and walk away. Out the door and down the street.

3. There are times when I think writing Wonder Woman fanfiction would be just the best thing ever. Often, these are times when I should be doing ANYTHING other than writing fanfiction. And how much history would I need to learn to do it justice?

4. If I couldn't write Wonder Woman, I'd take the Justice League. Which doesn't solve my problem, per se. The question is whether I should *read* JLA fanfic before writing my own.

5. "Wonder Woman went to bed with Wasp from The Avengers." NO BRAIN SHUT UP.

6. I'm concerned about Tesla.
[11-02-01 11:38:04] Rin/CJ: Can just anyone write a biography?
[11-02-01 11:38:13] Rin/CJ: ...do I have to contact his people?
[11-02-01 11:38:17] Rin/CJ: Does he have people?
[11-02-01 11:38:23] Ruy Asan: i am positive there are several biographies of tesla
[11-02-01 11:38:24] Rin/CJ: I don't mean Serbians.
[11-02-01 11:38:24] Ruy Asan: several
[11-02-01 11:38:26] Ruy Asan: many several
[11-02-01 11:38:30] Rin/CJ: That's good.
[11-02-01 11:38:36] Rin/CJ: I hope they have one at Chapters.
[11-02-01 11:38:55] Rin/CJ: A biography, I mean, not a Serbian.
[11-02-01 11:39:34] Rin/CJ: I mean, they could have several Serbians at Chapters, but they're not who I'm looking for.
[11-02-01 11:39:37] Rin/CJ: Fuck you, coffee.
[11-02-01 11:39:55] Ruy Asan: there are like 28 at this chapters
[11-02-01 11:40:01] Ruy Asan: the one by you i mean
[11-02-01 11:40:06] Rin/CJ: Serbians?
[11-02-01 11:40:12] Ruy Asan: biographies of tesla

7. Dude. I'm going to be so educated by the end of this book.

8. People are going to come to me, and be like, "Tell me everything you know about Tesla." And I'll be like, "Well, firstly, he's a vampire. CRAP. I mean, he was an electrical engineer."

9. I miss my cats.

10. Tell me again why we didn't name Pegasus "Tesla"?

11. I'm well aware that the punctuation goes inside the quotation marks. I just think it looks funny to put a question mark next to the part that isn't a question. Tesla isn't a question, it's a name. I need to go look up grammar rules.

12. It should not take three hours to attend a psychiatrist appointment, buy a book, and grab lunch. Especially if leaving the city isn't even involved.

13. I about want to fall over and lie on the floor right about now. Why does my *ear* ache? Of all things? Why ear?

14. Perhaps I'm getting a cold. Curses. I don't want a cold. They generally involve my ears. Even worse are the inner ear viruses. Where I get ear pain and then get dizzy. So far, it's just the ear pain, but I want to rip out my ear right now. If such a thing were possible.

15. I swear that the fact that I just ripped open a new pair of headphones and jammed them in my ears, and the fact that a swarm (two) of small children just took over this immediate area, are not correlated at all.

16. Also, I don't care how many small children want this spot, I am *not* moving. I have feelings too.

17. Random, that little girl's ear also hurts, and she's crying about it. I wonder if I can get away with that. Probably not. No one would comfort me.

18. Seriously. I just want to cry a little.

19. It's over. It's oooooooverrrrrr. I need to stop listening to these two versions in a row.

20. It breaks your heart in two, to know she's been untrue...

21. You won't be seeing rainbows anymore.

22. Seriously, Roy Orbison.

23. Foot has fallen asleep. I hate when that happens. I know my circulation is poor, but seriously, seriously.

24. No, Michael Caine, noooooooooooooooooo. I don't know why you're singing, but please. Don't. *listens anyway*

25. I wish I was watching Leverage. I... really don't know why.

26. And when he gets loud, HE GETS VERY LOUD INDEED.

27. I did end up buying the one biography I could find on Tesla. So, this should make for an informative read. I wonder if they make mention of his vampirism.

28. You know, it occurs to me that the Swedish Chef has never actually spoken any Swedish. That I know of.

29. I like that no one really questions why Parker is emptying these piñatas. I mean, other than the eye-rolling when she gets the candy she wants. Do we figure she brought the piñatas back for the express purpose of getting a bunch of candy? Because that's probably fine. It's an oddly Parker-like thing to do.

30. I simply must stop playing the air cello/violin/viola at Starbucks. For real this time.

31. This thing right here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/American_and_British_English_spelling_differences#Spelling_and_pronunciation

32. It surprises me how many of mine zig-zag back and forth between the two columns. I guess that's what you get from being a former colony of one, and situated right next to the other.

33. "In Canada, there are both mom and mum; Canadians often say mum and write mom." IT'S SO TRUE. And I never noticed until I went to a concert in the States with my family, and it was pointed out to us by the people behind us in line. 18 years, it took me to find this out.

34. I actually only looked this up so that I could find out why I insist on spelling it "pyjamas" instead of "pajamas."

35. And now that I've talked about it, I think I'd like some pyjamas. Fluffy ones.

36. Oh, of course, because in Canada, "pajamas" is virtually unknown. And "pyjamas" is British.

37. Is that woodpecker wearing a hat?

Okay, even I will admit that when your list devolves into whether that woodpecker (on Hardison's shirt in Leverage) is wearing a hat, your list should have ended 10 or 15 items ago. Also, my ears are devolving into little black holes of pain. Yay?

Word Count: 1102
Word Count to Date: 25335

Now, back to our delicious flomp of consciousness, with the topics that I picked at random. I'm sincerely hoping that today's subject is things of which I would or would not want to learn the history. Mostly because that's the only one I really remember.

Crayons!

*pauses for a moment*

There's a guy sitting near me at Starbucks and he is either hitting on me, or just criticizing my cottage cheese eating habits. And he looks like Chakotay. Really, Chakotay? This is what you get up to after leaving Voyager?

*composes self*

Crayons. I think I actually own a book about the production of crayons, and maybe I even saw how crayons were produced on Reading Rainbow, but I'd still love to know who invented them, and what the hell they were thinking when they did it. "I know! Let's draw things. WITH WAX!"

Jack the Ripper. I mean, I know the general story, but I would love to sit down and watch a nice documentary on the information they've gathered. I tried reading the book by Patricia Cornwell once, but she's just SO WRONG about everything, or so I've heard from everyone who has ever read it. Anyone who dismisses Montague John Druitt right out of hand, is no friend of mine. Seriously. I want to know how many people he murdered, the main suspects, and other interesting factoids. I can't learn *all* my history from Sanctuary. Unfortunately.

Pickles. I want to know whose idea it was to put cucumbers in brine, and then eat the result. I mean, I get wanting to preserve your vegetables, but pickling? Who even came up with that as a preservation method?

The sewer system. This, I don't want to learn the history of. Really. I'm quite content with the knowledge that we don't just throw our waste out the window anymore, and that's all I ever really want to know. Possibly the only part that fascinates me is the engineering masterpiece that a sewer system would turn out to be. All those pipes. Avoiding fresh water. Oh. Also, while we're on the subject, nobody tell me precisely what a septic tank is, alright? I can live without knowing the fine details. Really.

Another thing I don't want to learn? Why they *ever* thought it was a good idea to test things on animals. That was a little random, but I don't want to know. Because I'd probably want to test things on their great, great, great grandchildren and so on, and see how *they* like it. Wow, that was harsh. But still. Animals are people too.

The brain. I've already learned what I need to know about the brain's history. I'd be content to learn about the brain's future, but I'm sufficiently tired of hearing brain theories. Call it a perk of having been a psychology student.

It's not really a history thing, but more something I'd like to know. What qualifies something as *art*? Not being an artist by any stretch of the imagination, I wouldn't know. I've seen art from different eras, and there's really nothing the *same* about them. I guess you could say the same about fashion, and what makes something trendy, but at least the overall effect of fashion is that everyone is still wearing clothes. WHAT IS ART?

Queens. Both actual reigning queens, and queen consorts. At some point last year, I became utterly fascinated with reading about the love lives of queens in Europe. My sister indulged my queenly fascination by buying me 3 books about starkly different queens for Christmas, which I just want to *eat*. I'm not so fascinated by the current British royal family, despite half of my heritage being English. Except maybe Queen Elizabeth II. I just can't stand what will be the next generation of the monarchy. Sorry, Prince Charles, but your ears, they are too big.

Tesla. I'm genuinely interested in reading a biography of Tesla. Someone has to have written one, right? At some point? I mean, he's the greatest electrical engineer to have ever lived (even if he does say so himself). Someone had to have taken up the torch (electric torch, even) and written about him. Or I will. Then I can be famous as the one who wrote the biography of Nikola Tesla. Also, he and I could agree (he while dead, me while alive), that magnetism is *indeed* electricity's bastard cousin.

Oh, here's another one I never want to learn about. Religion. Watching the people of the world treat each other like crap because of their beliefs is about the stupidest thing I can think of. I am by no means an atheist. I was baptized in the United Church of Canada, a combination of Methodist, Presbyterian, and Congregationalist forms of Christianity. I don't quite follow the traditional Christian "God is an old white male with a long beard" thought, mostly because I don't think God is Gandalf. Or Gandalf is God. Whichever. I'm basically fine with whatever people want to believe, unless it involves killing unnecessarily. But this isn't about what I believe. This is about whoever thought it was a good idea to get people to worship something in the first place. I desperately want to say Goa'ulds. It was Goa'ulds, wasn't it? They invented religion and made people kill each other, didn't they. Fucking System Lords.

...I just looked over at Mariana's bookshelf and noticed that she has a book called "History of Modern Art." I bet if I asked her, she could tell what art is. She also has a book on Strata Management. There's something I could live without knowing.

I could learn the history of computers over and over and over again and never get bored. I guess that's half of the reason why getting a degree in computer science was a good idea. The other was that I learned math I will likely never use in real life. But the important thing is, I will never get bored of learning the history of math and computer science. I may be useless at calculus, but tell me about the history behind it and you've got me hooked for at least forever.

The history of the word processor? Who invented italics? Who thought underlining titles was a good idea? Chocolate chips?

Word Count: 1052
Word Count to Date: 23689

Oh my frigging God.

Somehow, when faced with a bajillion things to pack, you don't realize how much better off you are than when your parents come trumpeting in at the last minute to help you finish. I mean, good God, I get that there's mess. THIS is what I've been dealing with since Day 1. However, the fact that there is garbage everywhere, and Ruy doesn't sort anything, or put anything away, *hence* the garbage everywhere, is not *my* fault. I have been trying my absolute best here. I mean, come the fuck on. The fact that this apartment is even packed is thanks to me.

I get that my mom isn't feeling well, and frankly, neither am I, but could she take her frustration out on someone else, please? I never figured my *dad* would be the calm one when it comes to cleaning out the apartment. He hasn't yelled at me once.

...*Ruy*'s dad, however, is about to disown him. Which, lovely. But do it after the move, okay? Thanks.

Well, it's the next day, also known as moving day, and I *somehow* got enlisted to stay and finish cleaning the apartment, which, what? This was specifically why I did *not* want to stay. Because I would end up doing all the heavy-duty cleaning. And look, here I am, doing the heavy cleaning.

I would never have guessed quite how much I hate cleaning floors, until I was on my hands and knees, cleaning floors. *Why* do the floors need to be scrubbed? Why do the windows need to be cleaned? I'm not even tall enough to reach the top of the windows, and half of the dirt is on the *outside*. Cleaning actual fixtures makes sense. Bathtubs, toilets, hell, even light switches. That kind of cleaning makes sense. *Vacuuming* makes sense (though the spelling of the word really doesn't). This other stuff is just random.

Okay, so two rooms are completely done, windows included (well, the second one doesn't have windows, for which I am quite thankful). Next comes the cleaning of the bathroom, which was sort of half-cleaned yesterday. No hardcore scrubbing, but I do have to put on gloves, which I hate something fierce because they make my hands dry. I have to get *in* a bathtub to clean a shower curtain that was never clean to begin with. I have to clean the toilet for the 47 millionth time. However, I think I might be done hand-scrubbing floors. That's good, right? Right.

Word Count: 419
Word Count to Date: 21886

This feels like an opportunity to make a list. I don't need to be home for roughly another hour, and I am still slightly less than 6K behind.

1. Starbucks is the perfect place to whip out receipts and start doing your finances. Ignore the odd looks you're sure to get. Because you *will* get them.

2. I actually wore *matching* socks today. This is nothing short of amazing. I generally grab two relatively coordinating socks and wear them. Today I actually found a pair that were... paired.

3. We move this weekend. The apartment is kind of mostly packed, I guess. It still needs to have more packing done, and needs to be cleaned, badly. The number of days in which we could theoretically do this, and the number of days we have left are not even a little bit the same.

4. I wonder if the alarm I never turned off this morning on my phone is still going off, or whether it just eventually got tired, and shut up.

5. *looks at phone* It's like it never went off at all. Wow. Go you, phone. That'll show me.

6. It's never not a good day to listen to Roy Orbison.

7. Okay, maybe it's not a good day to listen to Roy Orbison.

8. It is *never* a good day to listen to the same song sung by Michael Caine. I think I'm traumatized.

9. It's Over. That's the song. Listen to Roy Orbison, then listen to Michael Caine, and then whimper. Because that's what I'm doing. At Starbucks, even.

10. How did I manage not to put my dentist bill into my finances last time? Really. How?

11. Muppet versions of songs absolutely OWN any other version of songs. Luckily, they never did It's Over. Fucking traumatizing.

12. I just realized that London Drugs overcharged me by 10 bucks yesterday, while I was being a zombie. That sucks. There's not much I can do about it, either. Those fuckers.

13. TICKLISH CAMEL. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k5xebCq6lfk

14. Songs about lemon trees are not particularly conducive to being constructive.

15. Who even said I wanted to listen to a playlist of my favourited videos on Youtube? Youtube? Did not even ask you.

16. Kitties are not impressed by cupcakes: http://theoatmeal.com/comics/cat_know

17. Nikola Tesla had a cat. The things I learn. Also, Jesus, Tesla, stop showing up everywhere.

18. I don't actually want to go home and sit in the boxes. I want to stay at Starbucks. Unfortunately, someone has to pack my stuff to go home on Saturday. That someone is me.

19. So many great accomplishments were accomplished today. I wrote, I had coffee, and I caught up on my finances. Of course, then my foot fell asleep. Come *on*, foot, we have to walk home. I'd like to be able to get up and not immediately fall over, if that's kosher with you.

20. Ruy had a dream last night that we had three cats and a panther.

Word Count: 500
Word Count to Date: 20648

I didn't actually plan to write anything else today, because I felt so sick earlier. I very nearly couldn't eject myself from the apartment to go the second part of my radioactive stomach measurement. Also, I was late, because now they just make up times for me to be there. That's okay, I showed up, and that's what's important. The point is, in the elevator on the way down, my throat just closed up and I felt unable to breathe. I didn't hyperventilate, I just ceased to ventilate properly. This lasted the entire (zombie!) walk to the hospital, through the test, and until I took an Ativan in the hall after the test. Since the Ativan helped, I can only assume that the breathing problems were anxiety-related and manifesting themselves in new and fantastic ways.

...I'm sorry, I just realized that my iTunes has switched to a song (a one-hit wonder, even) by some people named Shanks and Bigfoot. That nearly made me choke on my own spit. It wasn't even a very good one-hit wonder, either. Shame on you, Shanks and Bigfoot.

Ruy is cleaning out the pantry, and he's being very loud about it. Half of that stuff, I'm not even sure why we still own, but every time he announces another item, my brain starts trying to type it. I think that's probably a sign that Ruy is either finished, or I really shouldn't type and listen at the same time.

Oh. Well, he's turned off the lights and walked out. I think that's the signal that he's finished. Or giving up.

Word Count: 265
Word Count to Date: 19095

Ha. Okay, so today's topic was *not* actually why Twitter is a fuckshit. That should have been Thursday's. At the very least. Instead, I should be talking about that time Ruy and I went to Tofino, which is a *much* happier story, and *doesn't* cause me unending pain.

So, it all began on a snowy November morning, which, what the fuck, it does not snow in Vancouver (often), and it doesn't snow in November (often)! Nonetheless, it was a fucking freezing late November morning that Ruy and I left for Tofino. We had a ferry reservation that we made with approximately 30 seconds to spare. We started listening to The Colour of Magic by Terry Pratchett. We mutually decided that we would need to listen to each part at least thrice in order to understand just what the hell the man was on about. It was a good morning.

I mean, we took a ferry, planned to eat on said ferry, and ended up eating possibly poisonous pea soup and a banana for breakfast because the... turbulence... weather... something or other, made it so they couldn't prepare any hot meals. Good deal. I think this might have been the beginning of playing iPhone board games together. I distinctly remember winning at the Game of Life.

We got to Victoria, where we were to pick up gluten-free pizza for our trip up the island. Ruy parked in the Empress parking lot, because he "totally knew the way to the pizza place," and "this was actually a shortcut." Even after finding out the real deal, I still say he couldn't find the pizza place with a map and an big pointy arrow.

He led me through the Empress, in a bit of a whirlwind, did *not* stop to let me pee, and we ended up in the Empress' tea room, where they serve afternoon tea. It's quite English, a genuinely romantic kind of setting (I may even have mentioned during our first year of dating, that should he wish to propose some day, this would be the place to do it). I was perplexed, but we were led to a nice sitting area, and Ruy almost immediately got down on one knee and said, and I quote, "Jessica Catherine Drozdiak, will you marry me?" To which I said, thoroughly surprised, "Really?" And then, of course, I said yes. I then remember clinging at him for dear life, crying happy tears, and hearing Pachelbel's Canon in D being played on the piano near us, just for me, which *really* made me cry. We were congratulated by pretty much everyone in the room at the time, we had champagne, tea, and gluten-free food, and I tried to call everyone I knew all at once. I literally had two phones to my ears at once to try to tell both parents at once, until I found out they were in the car together, which made things significantly easier.

I then found out that we would be staying in Victoria for a couple of days, and *then* heading up to Tofino, which was probably for the best, because it was already past 3 in the afternoon, and the weather outside really *was* frightful. We were upgraded to a really nice suite at the Empress (I've always wanted to stay at the Empress, but it's generally too expensive for vacationing purposes). I called Lisa, long-distance and all, so that she would hear about it before everyone else (perks to being the BFF, you see). I think we even actually ended up having pizza for dinner.

I spent a great deal of time staring at my ring. It's a white-gold band, a pearl set in the middle, with two rows of tiny diamonds on either side of the pearl. It's certainly not the typical engagement ring, but the important thing was that it was exactly what *I* wanted.

We wandered around Victoria the next day, ate a lot of pizza, bought Green Lantern shirts, bought luggage, participated in a half-price fudge sale (I... don't even like fudge), had coffee, and bought wool socks. We went to some brisket place for dinner, which about killed me, stomach-wise, and then we became kind of hallucinogenic on the way home, which was outright hilarious.

Before we started the long trek up to Tofino, we bought pizza (and more brisket for those of us who didn't get brisket poisoning), and started our way up. The one highway that goes up-island is really curvy and windy, and I ended up getting carsick just outside of Port Alberni. *shudder* We made it up to the cabin we were staying in, after dark. In one piece, even. The place was huge, and since it was the off-season, relatively inexpensive. We ate dinner and then lounged before going to bed.

I discovered the next morning that the air in Tofino is ridiculously dry, and made it my mission to find some form of moisturizer before my face just flaked right off. We wandered around in the downtown area (Tofino is approximately as big as a postage stamp, and I'm only exaggerating a little - most people come here in the summer, because the surfing is really good. So I've heard). We met a cat just outside our cabin, and I got to cuddle with a strange cat. Which was nice, because I missed Tessa.

We had our own private hot tub, which we went into twice. Once during a nice, brisk afternoon, and the other in the middle of a gigantic windy rain storm, which had to have been at least somewhat dangerous.

I ate a lot of pizza. We went to a restaurant in town for dinner one night, which was delicious, except where I puked in somebody's flowerbed every few paces on the way home, and we had to stop at the corner store and buy an entire jug of water due to my thirst. And moisturizer.

Our last night had the biggest windstorm I've ever been in, and although we were cozy and warm, the power did go out (all over Tofino, as I heard from my parents who were staying 7 kilometres away). It made for one of the most memorable evenings of my life, as I ate cold leftovers from the restaurant, and ill-advised cheesecake, and Ruy made frozen soup by the heat of the gas fireplace. You've never puked, until you've puked by candlelight. Candlelight, which we nearly didn't have, until Ruy called up the landlord and demanded to know where in the *hell* they could possibly be keeping their matches, because they sure weren't anywhere that made sense. We did find a lot of candles, though.

The next day, we packed up early, and headed for home, stopping for a bit in Nanaimo so that I could buy a magazine about cats. I'm pretty sure we showed up early for our ferry, but we got on anyway. I think this was the time we discovered Yahtzee for the iPhone. Much fun was had by all.

The most fascinating thing I discovered while in Tofino was that their general hospital, which is on the water, is shaped like a boat. This amused me greatly.

Word Count: 1204
Word Count to Date: 18419