No, I'm not up early; I'm awake extremely late. I've just finished applying to a whole WHACK of jobs. Some of them, I don't even want to admit to having applied for, but when you're broke, ya gotta do whatcha gotta do.
Unfortunately, I expect to hear back from precisely ZERO of my applications. It's always the same. I'm either over-qualified or under-experienced. If nobody will give me a chance, how I am ever to ruin this rut?
On a brigher note, after watching Superman Returns, I spent the rest of my night/morn daydreaming about the steamy superhero while talking to TK as Sherman slept on the phone. How could that part of my night have gotten any better? It couldn't have.
...
Superman review: I would TOTALLY pay to watch the scene again in which--
< SPOILER ALERT > Don't highlight the next part if you don't want to know!
Jason SLAMS that piano into that bad-ass mofo's face!!!
AWESOME!!!!
...
TK - I only reappear when the moon is full and I guess it was just time
Me - really? It's a full moon out right now? cool.
TK - no, I just guessing that is since it is so rare that I'm ever appear online
Me - isn't that supposed to be a blue moon then?
TK - never seen a blue moon but that works too
TK - but then again I never was very good with those expressions
Me - that's okay, when I'm around I'll take care of those.
TK - sure CHAMB
Me - LoL. I can't believe you read that!
Me - BUt thanks.
Me - And also, for the record, (but don't tell anyone) I missed a letter.
Me - I should actually be a "CAB-HAM"
Me - I forgot that I had a middle initial I could throw in there too.
TK - that's going to be little trivia that no one will ever figure out
TK - but congrats on making it out
Me - hehehe, thanks.
Me - lot of good it's done me...I'm still unemployed.
Me - either over qualified or under experienced.
Me - phooey.
Me - :(
TK - don't worry, you're investing your time on that huge book deal that's coming later in life
TK - so no phooey
Me - awww...you always know what to say....:)
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Monday, June 26, 2006
Brought to you by the letter Eff
Eff. Effin' A.
My plans for the fast-approaching morning had first of all been to get a good night's sleep after having wandered the zoo all day. Then, somewhere between spending money I didn't have on a get-well gift (not to say that my no-money wouldn't be well-spent), and loading up on effervescent vitamins, I was also planning to simultaneously paint my room and do all of my laundry. By the time six o'clock rolled around, I was supposed to be energetically making my way down to my first practice (and following team-run) in almost a week.
And yet, here I am at four-thirty in the morning--slouching so low in front of a monitor I'm practically sitting on my back--alt-tabbing from blog to blog, game to game. Why? No reason. It just seems like it would take more energy to get up and crawl into bed rather than just continue to zombie-out, waiting for the sky to get light out. Sometimes I wish somebody would just turn me off.
(Oh eff, did I just shove my foot in my mouth again? Effin'.)
My plans for the fast-approaching morning had first of all been to get a good night's sleep after having wandered the zoo all day. Then, somewhere between spending money I didn't have on a get-well gift (not to say that my no-money wouldn't be well-spent), and loading up on effervescent vitamins, I was also planning to simultaneously paint my room and do all of my laundry. By the time six o'clock rolled around, I was supposed to be energetically making my way down to my first practice (and following team-run) in almost a week.
And yet, here I am at four-thirty in the morning--slouching so low in front of a monitor I'm practically sitting on my back--alt-tabbing from blog to blog, game to game. Why? No reason. It just seems like it would take more energy to get up and crawl into bed rather than just continue to zombie-out, waiting for the sky to get light out. Sometimes I wish somebody would just turn me off.
(Oh eff, did I just shove my foot in my mouth again? Effin'.)
Lions and Tigers and Bears...oh my!
There were also monkeys, macaques, orangutans, giraffes, owls, snakes, spiders, alligators, turtles, birds, butterflies, hyenas, fish, and so many other animals.
Sherman and I spent the day at the zoo, but despite having beautiful weather, a packed lunch, a map, and over five hours, we STILL didn't get to see it all. But that's okay, because when it came down to it, it was all about the good time had and the memories made. I wouldn't have spent the day anywhere else. :)
Happy Anniversary, Stupid...
Do not bring your own
I'm all for chillin' and having a coffee with friends. What with it being summer, I'm even more for chillin' and having a coffee with friends outside on a patio. However, as much as I enjoy the thought of a coffee shop with a patio, if a place doesn't HAVE a patio, I'm not about to bring my own.
Thinking I'd take care of some work for upcoming fundraising events, I headed out to my local Timmy Ho's. Knowing that it was summer and that it was a prime time for young hoodlums to meet and show each other how much money they'd recently poured into their rapidly depreciating rice rockets, I wasn't too surprised to see the spots on the edge of the parking lot already taken. However, when I actually turned into the parking lot, I was met with something new.
Yes, there were those show-off-my-car meets, but on top of that, taking up the rest of the spots were other young hoodlums who had pulled out their beach chairs in order to sit in groups in the spots between their not-as-nice-cars in order to chat with friends and pass a cigarette among them that they were too young to have bought themselves.
Not an empty spot in sight--though I could see plenty of vacant seats inside--I was forced to keep driving right on through the lot and out on my way to find another place to do my work. Phooey. Seriously though; bringing your OWN chairs to Timmy's? C'mon.
Thinking I'd take care of some work for upcoming fundraising events, I headed out to my local Timmy Ho's. Knowing that it was summer and that it was a prime time for young hoodlums to meet and show each other how much money they'd recently poured into their rapidly depreciating rice rockets, I wasn't too surprised to see the spots on the edge of the parking lot already taken. However, when I actually turned into the parking lot, I was met with something new.
Yes, there were those show-off-my-car meets, but on top of that, taking up the rest of the spots were other young hoodlums who had pulled out their beach chairs in order to sit in groups in the spots between their not-as-nice-cars in order to chat with friends and pass a cigarette among them that they were too young to have bought themselves.
Not an empty spot in sight--though I could see plenty of vacant seats inside--I was forced to keep driving right on through the lot and out on my way to find another place to do my work. Phooey. Seriously though; bringing your OWN chairs to Timmy's? C'mon.
Friday, June 23, 2006
It's in the eyes
Dawson showed up at my place today wearing these. I nearly died. While the rest of the afternoon was fairly tame, driving around place to place running errands, there was one moment that happened by accident, but was absolutely priceless.
Heading home, Dawson decided to don his dumbass-eyes one last time. Of course, I cracked up. However, at that particular moment we were at a redlight with the windows down, and as my laugh is anything but subtle I caught the attention of the guy in the car next to us. Suddenly, he's cracking up; laughing and pointing back at Dawson.
Next thing I know, all three of us are in hysterics due to each other's hysterics.
"Guy, that's the funniest thing I've seen all day!!! Put it on one more time!"
Of course Dawson obliges and we're all laughing afresh; Dawson's eyes laughing behind his borrowed pair, my eyes tearing-up, and the other guy's fro buried in his steering wheel. Unfortunately the light changed a second later and the guy turned off down the street and we headed on homeward. Of course that's when it came to Dawson:
"I should have offered to trade him: these glasses for his grill!"
I couldn't stop the giggles until we finally got home and took these pictures. Even then it took a while.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Mass Communication
My mother and I were never really close. I mean, we lived together, we got along, she'd drive me to school, I'd help with the chores and all of that, but we never really talked about our lives together. Everyday after I'd come home from school and she'd ask me how my day went. I'd always just tell her it was "fine" from over my shoulder as I disappeared into my room.
One winter day, I came home from school on the bus. I got off at my stop along with an elderly man that stepped off the bus just ahead of me. As I got off, I accidentally bumped into him as he stood there on the curb in the snow.
"Excuse me." I smiled at him, slightly embarrassed. I was hoping he wasn't one of those strangers that yelled at you if you ever gave them a chance. He wasn't.
"That's alright. My fault, really. I didn't see you getting off; shouldn't have been standing there." He returned my smile.
"Oh, um, that's okay." I'd been bracing myself for the worst, and was relieved when he answered back so politely. He was an elderly man, yes, but he had an air about him that made him seem much younger and yet still wiser. I was usually quiet and shy around people I didn't know, but he seemed so friendly; it was hard for me to be shy without feeling rude and so I beamed an even bright smile at him as a response.
We both stepped up to the edge of the curb, and waited for a break in the cars to cross. We made it halfway across and were waiting together in the middle for another break in the opposite direction of traffic. Our wait was made longer by a driver that decided to speed down the nearly empty road in front of us. As we began crossing again, the man spoke to me again.
"Some drivers these days," he said, "They're so…"
"Impatient?" I suggested. He nodded. "I know. It's scary."
"Yes it is. Someone's going to get hurt one day and then they'll regret it." We began walking into the neighborhood I now knew we shared. The man motioned at my backpack. "You go to school?"
"Yep."
"What grade?" he asked as we tramped down the slush covered sidewalks.
"Grade 10," I replied.
"Do you know what you're going to go into?"
"No, not yet," I admitted. He smoothed down his silver hair as he continued talking to me.
"I have three boys. They're all out of school now though." He grinned again. "One of 'em went to the school out there," he motioned back out to the main road. "And took up mass communications. But he doesn't even use it now. I still don't know why he did it." He paused for a second and I found myself hoping that he would continue his story. I looked up at him encouragingly. He went on.
"He was so happy when he applied. He came home right away that day and told me, 'Dad, I applied and I'm going to study mass communication.' And then I asked him 'Now Tom, why would you go and do a thing like that?'" By this time, we'd reached the road on which the man lived. He turned up the road, but I stopped at the sidewalk to finish listening. He continued the story over his shoulder to me as he walked away.
"When my son asked me, 'What?' I told him, 'Why take mass communications when you can't even communicate with me?'" We both smiled yet again and he chuckled to himself. With his story finished, the man turned around began to walk away. "Take care of yourself, love." and with that, he was gone around the bend.
My smile stayed with me all the way home as I thought about his story. When I got in the house, my mother was sitting at the kitchen table. Glancing up at me, she raised an eyebrow at the grin plastered on my face.
"So, how'd your day go?" Still smiling, I sat down and told her.
...
I found this story as I was sorting through crap on the computer. Believe it or not, I wrote it. Eons ago. And I didn't even write it for anything, just because I wanted to. Not for marks, not for publication, not for anything. In fact, I think this is the first time that this has been shared with anybody but myself. Just imagine if it takes me almost 10 years before I feel comfortable publishing each piece I write...whoa.
One winter day, I came home from school on the bus. I got off at my stop along with an elderly man that stepped off the bus just ahead of me. As I got off, I accidentally bumped into him as he stood there on the curb in the snow.
"Excuse me." I smiled at him, slightly embarrassed. I was hoping he wasn't one of those strangers that yelled at you if you ever gave them a chance. He wasn't.
"That's alright. My fault, really. I didn't see you getting off; shouldn't have been standing there." He returned my smile.
"Oh, um, that's okay." I'd been bracing myself for the worst, and was relieved when he answered back so politely. He was an elderly man, yes, but he had an air about him that made him seem much younger and yet still wiser. I was usually quiet and shy around people I didn't know, but he seemed so friendly; it was hard for me to be shy without feeling rude and so I beamed an even bright smile at him as a response.
We both stepped up to the edge of the curb, and waited for a break in the cars to cross. We made it halfway across and were waiting together in the middle for another break in the opposite direction of traffic. Our wait was made longer by a driver that decided to speed down the nearly empty road in front of us. As we began crossing again, the man spoke to me again.
"Some drivers these days," he said, "They're so…"
"Impatient?" I suggested. He nodded. "I know. It's scary."
"Yes it is. Someone's going to get hurt one day and then they'll regret it." We began walking into the neighborhood I now knew we shared. The man motioned at my backpack. "You go to school?"
"Yep."
"What grade?" he asked as we tramped down the slush covered sidewalks.
"Grade 10," I replied.
"Do you know what you're going to go into?"
"No, not yet," I admitted. He smoothed down his silver hair as he continued talking to me.
"I have three boys. They're all out of school now though." He grinned again. "One of 'em went to the school out there," he motioned back out to the main road. "And took up mass communications. But he doesn't even use it now. I still don't know why he did it." He paused for a second and I found myself hoping that he would continue his story. I looked up at him encouragingly. He went on.
"He was so happy when he applied. He came home right away that day and told me, 'Dad, I applied and I'm going to study mass communication.' And then I asked him 'Now Tom, why would you go and do a thing like that?'" By this time, we'd reached the road on which the man lived. He turned up the road, but I stopped at the sidewalk to finish listening. He continued the story over his shoulder to me as he walked away.
"When my son asked me, 'What?' I told him, 'Why take mass communications when you can't even communicate with me?'" We both smiled yet again and he chuckled to himself. With his story finished, the man turned around began to walk away. "Take care of yourself, love." and with that, he was gone around the bend.
My smile stayed with me all the way home as I thought about his story. When I got in the house, my mother was sitting at the kitchen table. Glancing up at me, she raised an eyebrow at the grin plastered on my face.
"So, how'd your day go?" Still smiling, I sat down and told her.
...
I found this story as I was sorting through crap on the computer. Believe it or not, I wrote it. Eons ago. And I didn't even write it for anything, just because I wanted to. Not for marks, not for publication, not for anything. In fact, I think this is the first time that this has been shared with anybody but myself. Just imagine if it takes me almost 10 years before I feel comfortable publishing each piece I write...whoa.
Friday, June 16, 2006
It spells "C.H.A.M.B." if you mix them around
$25 000 dollars and four and a half years later, I am now the proud owner of three extra initials after my name: H. B. A. Woot!
And despite the 5 blisters on my feet, I managed NOT to face plant on the stage. Woo, convocation!!!
And despite the 5 blisters on my feet, I managed NOT to face plant on the stage. Woo, convocation!!!
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Sportsmanship
Now, I am a volleyball fiend. But that doesn't mean that I don't appreciate other sports. Overall, I'm an athlete; I fully appreciate the effort, talent, and skill that all other athletes put into every other sport out there.
That, my friends, is why I'm still awake.
The Swiss and the French tie.
Korea Republic over Togo, 2-1.
World Cup, baby!
That, my friends, is why I'm still awake.
The Swiss and the French tie.
Korea Republic over Togo, 2-1.
World Cup, baby!
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Gripping graduation tails
Did I ever tell you about how I almost didn't graduate this year? Tee-hee. It wasn't due to low marks or insufficient credits or anything, it was simply because as soon as I finished my classes in December, I stopped paying any attention at all to my school and school deadlines. So when I finally decided to check in with school at the end of February, I realized I had missed my chance to file my "intent to graduate" form by a week.
Really, not a big deal to me, but to mom...I was dead if I didn't graduate this year, especially if the reason was due to me just being lazy. I feared for my life for a week, telling no one about my predicament except for Brodder (who sympathized, but still laughed at me). Finally, I got myself into the Registrar's office a week later and begged with tears of sorrow and trepidation in my eyes that they help save me from the wrath of mom. Thankfully, they did: I was going to graduate this year and convocate in June.
I digress.
Well, today was the day that all us to-be-grads had to go into school once more to try to pick up any leftover tickets for our convocation on Friday; each of us are only guaranteed two, so this was our chance to pick-up a third. The Registrar's office opened at 9:30 in the morning so I decided that I would get there to pick up a ticket for Brodder at...9:30.
My logic for this stemmed from the fact that grads don't actually want to go to convocation. After having been out of school for at least a month, who wants to go back and sit in an over-crowded hall for hour after hour, waiting to hear your name announced phonetically incorrectly, and worrying the whole time about tripping and falling on your face in front of hundreds of people? Grads would much rather just have pictures taken standing still in a cap and gown and holding a rolled up sheet of blank paper somewhere nice outside with just the important people surrounding them lovingly. I know I'm one of these grads at heart. But of course mom wants the whole family to be there on Friday, and so...back to this morning.
I arrived promptly at 9:30am...to find a line-up of convocating grads wrapped around the building.
While I had probably correctly counted on the fact that grads don't really care for convocation (why else do they have a link to opt out of it on the website?), I hadn't counted on the fact that everyone else's parents would be just like mine, wanting to share that proud moment with the rest of the family.
And so I joined the end of the line--from where I could actually see the front of the line head-on--and waited. I finished the book I was reading and also had time to chew a piece of gum to oblivion before I got my chance at the ticket lady. Just before my turn came to snatch up someone else's unclaimed tickets, I watched the girl in front of me experience something I'd been fearing the whole time I'd been waiting: she walked out empty-handed.
I panicked. The only reason that people were even at that office that day was to pick up extra tickets. Their parents, like mine, had kicked them out of bed at 7:00 that morning, and had thrown them on the bus to school ordering them to get that priceless extra admission, vowing serious punishment if they didn't return with that coveted slip of blue paper. And here, in front of me, a girl had just been turned away with nothing but her name on yet another waiting list.
The lady at the window called "next" and I entered in a daze--no more tickets...mother's going to hurt me. I handed her my student card absentmindedly as my thoughts were preoccupied with scenes of my having to tell my mom that I wasn't able to get that extra ticket while her skin turned Hulk green and she smashed me through the kitchen wall out to the garden in the back. Suddenly, I was snapped out of my day-mare as the lady at the window was handing me back my student card...as well as a blue convocation ticket.
I stumbled out of the office in disbelief, staring at the blue slip in my hand, feeling like I was Charlie and hand just found the last golden ticket. Then it hit me: I'm a nerd!
Yes, my saving grace this morning was the fact that I was a nerd. A bigger nerd than the girl in line in front of me; a bigger nerd than most of those grads lined up this morning. I was a member of an elite group of nerds that was graduating with that complex degree known as an Honours Bachelor of Arts, while all the masses in line were graduating with a something or other of Science.
Muahahaha!
My lesser populated ceremony was taking place in the morning on Friday, while those science geeks were slated for the afternoon. swEEEEt. Saved by my scholarly savvy, I went ahead and picked up a coffee for myself while I called mom to tell her the good news.
...
Listening:
Pussycat Dolls
PCD
Alright, not exactly what might be considered "high-class" listening, but it's so catchy. And not to mention, they're HOT. So what if only Nicole sings? She's good at it...and she's HOT. Admittedly, I was a non-listener until I decided to download their latest video because Sherman told me to watch it. I did, I became curious, and voila...their album's on repeat on both my computer and Nano. If I was ever looking for some booty-shaking music, I've found it.
Really, not a big deal to me, but to mom...I was dead if I didn't graduate this year, especially if the reason was due to me just being lazy. I feared for my life for a week, telling no one about my predicament except for Brodder (who sympathized, but still laughed at me). Finally, I got myself into the Registrar's office a week later and begged with tears of sorrow and trepidation in my eyes that they help save me from the wrath of mom. Thankfully, they did: I was going to graduate this year and convocate in June.
I digress.
Well, today was the day that all us to-be-grads had to go into school once more to try to pick up any leftover tickets for our convocation on Friday; each of us are only guaranteed two, so this was our chance to pick-up a third. The Registrar's office opened at 9:30 in the morning so I decided that I would get there to pick up a ticket for Brodder at...9:30.
My logic for this stemmed from the fact that grads don't actually want to go to convocation. After having been out of school for at least a month, who wants to go back and sit in an over-crowded hall for hour after hour, waiting to hear your name announced phonetically incorrectly, and worrying the whole time about tripping and falling on your face in front of hundreds of people? Grads would much rather just have pictures taken standing still in a cap and gown and holding a rolled up sheet of blank paper somewhere nice outside with just the important people surrounding them lovingly. I know I'm one of these grads at heart. But of course mom wants the whole family to be there on Friday, and so...back to this morning.
I arrived promptly at 9:30am...to find a line-up of convocating grads wrapped around the building.
While I had probably correctly counted on the fact that grads don't really care for convocation (why else do they have a link to opt out of it on the website?), I hadn't counted on the fact that everyone else's parents would be just like mine, wanting to share that proud moment with the rest of the family.
And so I joined the end of the line--from where I could actually see the front of the line head-on--and waited. I finished the book I was reading and also had time to chew a piece of gum to oblivion before I got my chance at the ticket lady. Just before my turn came to snatch up someone else's unclaimed tickets, I watched the girl in front of me experience something I'd been fearing the whole time I'd been waiting: she walked out empty-handed.
I panicked. The only reason that people were even at that office that day was to pick up extra tickets. Their parents, like mine, had kicked them out of bed at 7:00 that morning, and had thrown them on the bus to school ordering them to get that priceless extra admission, vowing serious punishment if they didn't return with that coveted slip of blue paper. And here, in front of me, a girl had just been turned away with nothing but her name on yet another waiting list.
The lady at the window called "next" and I entered in a daze--no more tickets...mother's going to hurt me. I handed her my student card absentmindedly as my thoughts were preoccupied with scenes of my having to tell my mom that I wasn't able to get that extra ticket while her skin turned Hulk green and she smashed me through the kitchen wall out to the garden in the back. Suddenly, I was snapped out of my day-mare as the lady at the window was handing me back my student card...as well as a blue convocation ticket.
I stumbled out of the office in disbelief, staring at the blue slip in my hand, feeling like I was Charlie and hand just found the last golden ticket. Then it hit me: I'm a nerd!
Yes, my saving grace this morning was the fact that I was a nerd. A bigger nerd than the girl in line in front of me; a bigger nerd than most of those grads lined up this morning. I was a member of an elite group of nerds that was graduating with that complex degree known as an Honours Bachelor of Arts, while all the masses in line were graduating with a something or other of Science.
Muahahaha!
My lesser populated ceremony was taking place in the morning on Friday, while those science geeks were slated for the afternoon. swEEEEt. Saved by my scholarly savvy, I went ahead and picked up a coffee for myself while I called mom to tell her the good news.
...
Listening:Pussycat Dolls
PCD
Alright, not exactly what might be considered "high-class" listening, but it's so catchy. And not to mention, they're HOT. So what if only Nicole sings? She's good at it...and she's HOT. Admittedly, I was a non-listener until I decided to download their latest video because Sherman told me to watch it. I did, I became curious, and voila...their album's on repeat on both my computer and Nano. If I was ever looking for some booty-shaking music, I've found it.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Good Morning to you too
The first time I opened my eyes this morning, everything moved in slow motion. Awoken by the sense of something coming close, my eyes groggily opened to see Sherman's face above mine. He was still asleep, but yet his face neared mine slowly and surely until...he head-butted me.
That's right. Sherman head-butted me in his sleep.
This wasn't even a case of a bad roll-over; somehow Sherman managed to prop himself up onto his elbow so that he could knock his forehead against mine from above. And it wasn't even that he slowly fell back down onto me--there was some definite neck-motion in it. Let me tell you: not a pleasant way to be woken. He didn't even know he'd actually done it until I let out a cry of surprise that snapped him into consciousness and had him immediately apologizing and trying assess the damage as I clutched at my brow.
Because it was still so goddamn early, I was able to fall back to sleep quickly--or perhaps I was knocked back into unconsciousness due to concussive injuries--and didn't have to dwell on the pain too long. Sherman has yet to hear the end of this.
...
I do believe this just might top my previous favourite story of weird awakenings: Squiggly, while dreaming of getting into a road-rage related fight, woke up just in time to watch himself slowly finish landing a punch to his then-girlfriend's cheek as she gaped in the same amazement that I probably did this morning. Sorry, Squig--you'll just have to do better than that.
That's right. Sherman head-butted me in his sleep.
This wasn't even a case of a bad roll-over; somehow Sherman managed to prop himself up onto his elbow so that he could knock his forehead against mine from above. And it wasn't even that he slowly fell back down onto me--there was some definite neck-motion in it. Let me tell you: not a pleasant way to be woken. He didn't even know he'd actually done it until I let out a cry of surprise that snapped him into consciousness and had him immediately apologizing and trying assess the damage as I clutched at my brow.
Because it was still so goddamn early, I was able to fall back to sleep quickly--or perhaps I was knocked back into unconsciousness due to concussive injuries--and didn't have to dwell on the pain too long. Sherman has yet to hear the end of this.
...
I do believe this just might top my previous favourite story of weird awakenings: Squiggly, while dreaming of getting into a road-rage related fight, woke up just in time to watch himself slowly finish landing a punch to his then-girlfriend's cheek as she gaped in the same amazement that I probably did this morning. Sorry, Squig--you'll just have to do better than that.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
From the Department of Redundancy Department
Call me cheesy, but I like the billboard ads they have out right now for Coca-Cola's Fresca. (I'd have posted images, but alas, Google could find me none.)
"10 out of 10 Fresca lovers prefer Fresca!"
"Available wherever Fresca is sold!"
I miss you Boo!
...
In other news, I visited yet another TCM doctor regarding my eczema. However, this one's supposed to be an eczema specialist. Anyhoo, I came away from my hour session with her with 4 acupuncture holes in my belly, a list of MORE things NOT to eat (including red meats, alcohol, and sugar), 2 bags of herbs for tea, a jar of organic cream, and $115 less.
This lady's serious. She'd asked me to show her any medications/ointments that I'd been using up until our meeting. She took one look and basically scolded me for even possessing any of them (some even prescribed by my other acupuncturist) and told me to stop taking them immediately. Whew. Whenever I brought up my treatment histories with other TCM practitioners, she grilled me about who they were and where they worked--talk about territorial! She actually explained that she was just curious because since the TCM community was still fairly small, she might know who I'd have visited before...but personally, the explanation came a little too delayed. ;)
Whatever; here I go again, trying yet another method of eczema banishment. I don't know if my eczema's going to go away because of a successful treatment, or because I'm going to have withered away to nothing because there are so many foods I'm not supposed to eat. But, like I said, this lady's serious. She'd been listed as an expert and specialist and really, there's no other way to describe her. There was one thing I DID give her the "smile-and-nod" for when she was explaining further treatment to me:
"When you wash your hands--even when you're taking a shower--don't use soap. It is very important that you not use soap."
*smile-and-nod*
ew.
I do want good, clear, eczema-free skin. I do. But coming down to it, if I have to decide between being soap-free or eczema-free, I'm going to have to say it's going to be a tough choice.
"10 out of 10 Fresca lovers prefer Fresca!"
"Available wherever Fresca is sold!"
I miss you Boo!
...
In other news, I visited yet another TCM doctor regarding my eczema. However, this one's supposed to be an eczema specialist. Anyhoo, I came away from my hour session with her with 4 acupuncture holes in my belly, a list of MORE things NOT to eat (including red meats, alcohol, and sugar), 2 bags of herbs for tea, a jar of organic cream, and $115 less.
This lady's serious. She'd asked me to show her any medications/ointments that I'd been using up until our meeting. She took one look and basically scolded me for even possessing any of them (some even prescribed by my other acupuncturist) and told me to stop taking them immediately. Whew. Whenever I brought up my treatment histories with other TCM practitioners, she grilled me about who they were and where they worked--talk about territorial! She actually explained that she was just curious because since the TCM community was still fairly small, she might know who I'd have visited before...but personally, the explanation came a little too delayed. ;)
Whatever; here I go again, trying yet another method of eczema banishment. I don't know if my eczema's going to go away because of a successful treatment, or because I'm going to have withered away to nothing because there are so many foods I'm not supposed to eat. But, like I said, this lady's serious. She'd been listed as an expert and specialist and really, there's no other way to describe her. There was one thing I DID give her the "smile-and-nod" for when she was explaining further treatment to me:
"When you wash your hands--even when you're taking a shower--don't use soap. It is very important that you not use soap."
*smile-and-nod*
ew.
I do want good, clear, eczema-free skin. I do. But coming down to it, if I have to decide between being soap-free or eczema-free, I'm going to have to say it's going to be a tough choice.
Friday, June 02, 2006
I wish I could dump being sick
I am so sick right now. I've been sick all day. Last night, I thought my runny nose and scratchy throat were from allergies. This morning I thought my aching body was from volleyball and lack of sleep. By this afternoon after falling asleep 2083479823589327 times on the couch and after not being able to swallow anything, I realized I was actually fairly ill. I even tried to blog about it earlier, but I passed out again before Blogger would load up.
However, after ingesting multiple home remedies and even more pharmaceutical ones, I'm as high as a kite and feeling MUCH better...even WITH a wad of kleenex shoved up my left nostril. That and I think it did me some good when Sherman carried me out for some fresh air.
To get me out of the house and moving around a bit, Sherman took me out to see The Break-Up. I liked it. I was even able to act all macho and blame all my tears and runny nose-blowings on my cold, rather than on my sappiness. Break-ups are not always clean and easy or even over some concrete reason. AND, chances are that they're going to stick, not dissolve with the couple getting back together at any first hints of change.
It was real. And the part I sobbed at the most (alright, I admit, I sobbed out of sappiness) was when Jennifer Aniston gave the speech that I've heard come out of my own mouth before; the "you're you and you're not going to change" speech. *sigh* Reality bites, but it's the truth.
Sorry, not much of a blog, but my head's FINALLY clearing a little and this is the closest I could come to doing something productive. :)
However, after ingesting multiple home remedies and even more pharmaceutical ones, I'm as high as a kite and feeling MUCH better...even WITH a wad of kleenex shoved up my left nostril. That and I think it did me some good when Sherman carried me out for some fresh air.
To get me out of the house and moving around a bit, Sherman took me out to see The Break-Up. I liked it. I was even able to act all macho and blame all my tears and runny nose-blowings on my cold, rather than on my sappiness. Break-ups are not always clean and easy or even over some concrete reason. AND, chances are that they're going to stick, not dissolve with the couple getting back together at any first hints of change.
It was real. And the part I sobbed at the most (alright, I admit, I sobbed out of sappiness) was when Jennifer Aniston gave the speech that I've heard come out of my own mouth before; the "you're you and you're not going to change" speech. *sigh* Reality bites, but it's the truth.
Sorry, not much of a blog, but my head's FINALLY clearing a little and this is the closest I could come to doing something productive. :)
Thursday, June 01, 2006
bluh
I feel like a computer bum. I swear I'm being productive, but the fact that I've just been sitting here at the computer since I've gotten out of bed makes me feel so lazy.
Since I got out of bed today I've been online, searching and applying for jobs. What makes it difficult is that I've decided for myself that I'm only going to allow myself to apply for jobs with specific working hours/working terms. So, my breadth is a little on the slim side. Hopeful to go to China with my older family members this October, I don't want to commit to any job that extends too far past the summer. Adamant about volleyball this summer, I won't even consider any jobs that entail ANY weekend hours.
And what am I left with?
Low-paying, low brain-capacity, Joe-jobs that are short term and 9-5. Not horrible, but not exactly great either. I already miss serving and talking to people and not ever seeing the same day twice. As much as I miss it though, I know that as soon as I so much as step back into the serving realm, I'll be bombarded with weekend and evening hours that I'll be guilted into working, regardless of my volleyball schedule. The ONE day more that Poohed needed me to work for him before officially leaving the restaurant was a Saturday. See?
And now I shall take a break from searching for jobs and go ahead and pick up my convocation tickets. Thank you, University, for providing me with so much opportunity.
...
Update: 4:55pm
What I would give to be a student again. As I crossed through UTSC on my way to pick up my convocation tickets, I got a little nostalgic, peeking into those empty classrooms that I once literally inhabited for terms at a time. I could remember sitting there, eagerly soaking up knowledge, being challenged by professors or classmates to be more and more intellectual. It was easy, but hard and I liked it.
What about now?
Now, I sit at home, cooking and cleaning because I have little better to do. Book after book, blog after blog; somebody PLEASE hire me!!!
Since I got out of bed today I've been online, searching and applying for jobs. What makes it difficult is that I've decided for myself that I'm only going to allow myself to apply for jobs with specific working hours/working terms. So, my breadth is a little on the slim side. Hopeful to go to China with my older family members this October, I don't want to commit to any job that extends too far past the summer. Adamant about volleyball this summer, I won't even consider any jobs that entail ANY weekend hours.
And what am I left with?
Low-paying, low brain-capacity, Joe-jobs that are short term and 9-5. Not horrible, but not exactly great either. I already miss serving and talking to people and not ever seeing the same day twice. As much as I miss it though, I know that as soon as I so much as step back into the serving realm, I'll be bombarded with weekend and evening hours that I'll be guilted into working, regardless of my volleyball schedule. The ONE day more that Poohed needed me to work for him before officially leaving the restaurant was a Saturday. See?
And now I shall take a break from searching for jobs and go ahead and pick up my convocation tickets. Thank you, University, for providing me with so much opportunity.
...
Update: 4:55pm
What I would give to be a student again. As I crossed through UTSC on my way to pick up my convocation tickets, I got a little nostalgic, peeking into those empty classrooms that I once literally inhabited for terms at a time. I could remember sitting there, eagerly soaking up knowledge, being challenged by professors or classmates to be more and more intellectual. It was easy, but hard and I liked it.
What about now?
Now, I sit at home, cooking and cleaning because I have little better to do. Book after book, blog after blog; somebody PLEASE hire me!!!
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