I wrote an "awesome survey" four years ago, and I have answered the questions again. It is interesting to see the difference:

From today, 6 August 2001:

This Survey is SPECIAL
Personality/Lifestyle
What religious/spiritual category would you put yourself in?	Pantheism
Are you a feminist?	Yes, anarcha-feminist
What kinds of prejudices do you have?	Slight racism, anti-conservatism
Do you eat any meat (including fish)?	Yes, no fish
If not, are you a vegan?	N/A
Do you lable yourself with "isms?" (Libertarianism, Buddhism...)	Libertarian socialism, anarchism, socialism, communism, feminism, etc.
Do you consider yourself an optomist, pessimist, cynic, realist, or idealist?	Realist
What political party do you belong to, if any?	Green or Te Mana
Cliches
Are humans naturally more inclined to be peaceful, violent, or both?	Both; naturally adaptive
Which affects us more: our biology, our psychology, or both?	Both
If you could write one story, what would it be about?	15,000 year-old vampire
What would be your dream job (if money weren't an issue)?	Wildlife veterinarian
What would you do if you had several million dollars?	Invest in transition towns?
If you could go back in time (any time) and change ONE thing, what would it be?	Prevent the onset of severe violence
If you could change one feature about yourself physically, what would it be?	Bags under my eyes
Same question, except about you as a person?	Lack of motivation
What is your opinion of humanity in general?	Needs massive healing
Do you believe global warming is exacerbated by humans?	Yes
If you do, do you think we can undo or even reverse our affect on global warming?	Only if we act now
And finally...
If you could ask every person on the planet one question, what would it be?	What is your cure for global suffering?
CREATE YOUR OWN! - or - GET PAID TO TAKE SURVEYS!

In essence, the main differences are my spiritual beliefs, and the physical changes I would make to myself. I wonder what the answers will be in another four years' time!

From 30 July, 2007:

This Survey is SPECIAL
Personality/Lifestyle
What religious/spiritual category would you put yourself in?	Eclectic paganism
Are you a feminist?	Yes, anarcha-feminist
What kinds of prejudices do you have?	I'm a bit racist, and self-righteous against conservatives
Do you eat any meat (including fish)?	Yes, chicken.
If not, are you a vegan?
Do you lable yourself with "isms?" (Libertarianism, Buddhism...)	As many as humanly possible. Environmentalism, anarchism, socialism, feminism, paganism...
Do you consider yourself an optomist, pessimist, cynic, realist, or idealist?	Realist
What political party do you belong to, if any?	Green
Cliches
Are humans naturally more inclined to be peaceful, violent, or both?	Both
Which affects us more: our biology, our psychology, or both?	Both
If you could write one story, what would it be about?	A 15,000 year-old vampire...
What would be your dream job (if money weren't an issue)?	Iconic political leader who writes novels in her spare time
What would you do if you had several million dollars?	Invest in charities that I find most effective, start permaculture programs in T-W countries
If you could go back in time (any time) and change ONE thing, what would it be?	Prevent the onset of agriculture and sedentary life
If you could change one feature about yourself physically, what would it be?	Clearer skin
Same question, except about you as a person?	I'd give myself more motivation in life
What is your opinion of humanity in general?	Amazing, beautiful and horrific creatures
Do you believe global warming is exacerbated by humans?	Yes
If you do, do you think we can undo or even reverse our affect on global warming?	Yes, but it would be very difficult
And finally...
If you could ask every person on the planet one question, what would it be?	What is your cure for global suffering?
CREATE YOUR OWN! - or - GET PAID TO TAKE SURVEYS!

I had never had a general anesthetic before, and the idea scared me. However, two days later they put me under, and tied my bones together with wire.


They literally just pulled it off a fence and stuck it in my arm.*

I woke up the next morning to find myself under the "care" of "Nurse Ratched," whom I nicknamed after the evil nurse in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. She was completely unpredictable. She would be lovey-dovey one minute, then yell at me the next.

By the time I had been there one full day (the following morning), I wanted desperately to go home. I overheard her talking to the young man (possibly even a teenager) in the bed to my left. This was at 8 in the morning.

Nurse Ratched (waking Young Man up): "You need to take a shower."

Young Man (exhausted): "What? I'll take a shower when I get home today."

N.R. (Laughing in his face): "What makes you think you're going home today?!"

Y.M.: "They told me I could go home today. I've been here three days already! My dad's picking me up!"

N.R. (Laughing again): "You're not going home today. Now take a shower so the doctor can see you."

Y.M.: "I don't need a shower. Let me sleep."

N.R.: "Don't be a dick. Get in the shower." (She then laughed and shook her head, mumbling something about how men can be such idiots.) 

As somebody who had only been in the hospital for one day, I found the idea of being stuck there for three days completely appalling. It was an unpleasant if not frightening place to be. On top of that, this guy, practically a child, was being called names by somebody who was supposed to be looking after him. There was absolutely no need for a shower. The doctor was going to come and ask him a couple questions about how he was feeling, and tell him how his surgery went. The nurse was being a megalomaniac.

So when she got to me, I decided not to argue with her. I felt helpless enough and I didn't need a nasty nurse making me feel even crappier. I wanted to get her name so I could report her to her superiors later, but I didn't have my contact lenses in and I couldn't see a damn thing. So, with my left arm completely broken and bandaged up, and a cannula in the vein in my right arm, I took the most painful, unnecessary shower I had ever had. I couldn't move my left arm and my right arm hurt, because there was a plastic tube sticking into my vein! But Nurse Ratched had refused to remove that, too, and I wasn't about to argue with her. 

The second conversation I overheard from her was with the young woman whose bed was to the right of mine. She had been trying to communicate with a Filipina nurse all morning, telling her that she was nauseous. The nurse had responded, “I don’t understand. You’re noisy? You’re noisy?”

Finally, Nurse Ratched stepped in.

Young Woman: “Can you help me? I don’t feel well.”

Nurse Ratched: “Well you just had surgery, so you’re not going to feel well.”

Y.W.: “But isn’t there something you can give me? I fell yuck.”

N.R.: “You feel yuck. You feel yuck. What the hell does that mean? That doesn’t mean anything.” (Walks away immediately)

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I had been lucky enough to understand the effects that morphine had, and had asked for an anti-emetic (anti-nausea, prevents vomiting) before the surgery. They just stick it into your IV. It’s really not that hard, and most people have that reaction to morphine!

Luckily, by the time I offered to help the young woman, another nurse had come by and given her an anti-emetic. But I was once again disgusted with Nurse Ratched.

After those horror stories were over, the doctor came by and told me he was happy with the surgery. My bone had come together nicely, and it should be able to start the healing process. I was told I could go home.

Phew. Good thing I took that shower!

...Stay tuned for Part III, the riveting conclusion!



*Note: I accidentally put the "fracture" label too low; it should be at the top of the olecranon.



   

I can't believe I didn't write about this before. I guess it shows how little I actually write in my LJ.

Three months ago, I was walking down the stairs from my room, when I slipped down four steps and shattered my elbow. It was Pizza Night, and I was hungry as hell. I didn't have my money, so I had to go up to my room to get it. However, as I was coming back down, I guess I wasn't paying enough attention. I knew the steps were dangerous and poorly lit, but I had navigated them somewhat successfully many times before, so I wasn't concerned (I had actually slipped down them several times, but never actually injured myself).

So as I reached the invisible mini-step, I slid down at lightening speed, and landed with all of my weight on my left elbow—which happened to have landed on the edge of a stair. The sharp stair edge broke my ulna bone clean in half, and I let out a loud, howl-like moan. Apparently, a woman, K, was walking up the stairs when it happened (I don't remember) and she saw me fall. Two other women, F and J, heard me scream and came down the stairs to try to help me up into J's room. I sat in a chair as K, F, and J tried to figure out what to do.

Besides the pain, the only other feeling I was aware of was an incredibly intense nausea, and I asked for some water. Usually when I hurt myself, the pain loses intensity pretty quickly, so I sat there waiting for it to go away. Of course, this wasn't like stubbing my toe, and the pain did not let up.

I remember that as the pain began, I thought to myself, "Oh god, I hope this ends quickly so I can make my pizza." The whole time, despite the pain I was in, I had my mind fixated on the pizza. It didn't occur to me that I had actually broken a bone.

Once the nausea subsided, J wrapped my arm in a homemade sling made from a scarf. I grabbed some super prescription-level pain killers from my room that I had gotten half a year before, and went downstairs to make my pizza. Everybody in the kitchen asked me what happened. I was probably not looking well, half delirious and completely intent on making and eating pizza. F's partner, E, offered to make my pizza for me. I decided that was a good idea, since I was still in excruciating pain. I lay down on the arm of a couch and shifted positions every few seconds, trying to keep the pain at bay. The pain killers were not kicking in...except for a very potent side effect: nausea.

I wanted to eat before the nausea got worse, so I ended up eating half my pizza before E took me to the hospital. At first, the nurse thought my arm wasn't broken, since I could fully extend it. I was relieved until after my x-ray, when the radiologist said:

"It's really bad. I think you might need surgery."


...All for some goddamned pizza.

The bone was so broken that there was like a centimeter gap between the bone. I had broken the olecranon, the elbow part of the ulna bone. My tricep muscle was pulling the top part of the olecranon away from the bottom half, and I would need tension wires put in to hold the two halves of the bone together.



 

My adventures in pre-Vet School

When I do my readings, I foresee that going to my lectures will be redundant. When I go to my lectures, I realize that my hypothesis was correct. The material is not difficult to grasp (so far), and I am confident in my ability to comprehend all of the information.

Labs, however, are a different matter. I'm not sure what my problem is exactly, but I think once I figure it out it will be classified as a "cognitive disability." I'm not dyslexic, (hence the lack of difficulty with the readings) and have always been considered a person with a large amount of intelligence (interpret that however you wish). But one thing I have always been terrible at is taking directions.

Yes, I'm an anarchist and I always question authority. But I don't believe my political philosophy really has anything to do with the fact that when you say, "Look over there!" pointing straight ahead, I will say, "Where?" and look behind me.

When I read the lab manual, I highlight all of the key information, but that's about as far as my understanding goes. The instructions for how to use equipment are so tediously detailed that I think I might just be unable to concentrate (warning: soporific shit ahead):

"Take the broth culture in your left hand. Bring it to your right hand (which is still holding the loop with its thumb, index and middle fingers). Use the fourth and fifth fingers of your right hand to remove the cap or plug from the culture bottle. This can be done by using these fingers to hold the cap or plug against the palm of your right hand, and using your left hand to rotate and pull away the bottle. Alternatively…"

snzzzzzz…What? Oh, right. So, did you get it? Cause I sure-as-an-agar-petri-dish-grows-devil-spawn-that-burrow-into-your-brain didn't. Maybe it's my inability to visualize. Maybe it's my complete lack of interest in whether or not I'm supposed to to "flame the loop" after every single frakkin' time I breathe. Regardless, it was at least a bit easier to understand when our lab supervisor showed us what to do…except backwards.

See, she's left-handed. So I asked her, "if we're right-handed, do we reverse everything?" A second student asked the same question. The answer was yes, but not without the snide comments from other students about how it's "common sense," and why would anybody ask that question, you obviously just use whichever hand feels right.

Let me tell you a little about common sense. After reading and learning (in mind-numbingly intricate detail) about all of the right things to do with lab equipment and all of the things that could possibly damage it, and how easy it is to fuck everything up, you damn well ask as many questions as you can before trying a procedure yourself! That's common sense!

…Sooo anyway, then we had to use autopipettes to dilute the mixture of…what's that? You don't care? Well, the autopipettes are the important part. Those buggers are like $300 a pop (or maybe it's $50, I can't remember), but they are remarkably fragile with no built-in mechanism for protecting the machinery from the liquid that they measure. Cause, you know, autopipettes measure liquid. But…they can be destroyed by liquid. Do I really need to explain that "common sense" thing to the autopipette manufacturers?

I had read all of the exhilarating instructions on how to use an autopipette. They measure liquid in micro-liters. So, if you want 1 milliliter, you have to set the autopipette to 1000. Being all caught up in conversion and protecting the machinery from the evil that is liquid, I didn't really think about the fact that that particular autopipette only went from 1 to 200 micro-liters. It didn't reach 1000. But I could set the measurement at 1000, so I didn't really concern myself.

The lab instructor had to come and stop me, telling me that I was actually only measuring 0.1 milliliters, instead of 1. It took several minutes before I finally got it out of her that the meter was saying "100.0" not "1000." There was no actual decimal point; it was yet again another one of those "common-sense" things that all scientists intuitively know, because their psychic overlord tells them.

So I said, "well, that's really misleading." My lab instructor disagreed, and the snide students near me looked like they thought I was the stupidest thing since sliced bread*. She must have thought I said, "that must be a mistake," because she repeated herself. I wasn't actually insisting that it was really measuring 1000 µl when it could only go up to 200µl. I was saying that it didn't need to be so misleading. But those who heard me seemed to think I was stupid nonetheless.

The lab instructor suggested, "You need to read the section of the manual on autopipettes." To which I cleverly retorted, "Yeah, I've already read the manual, okay?!" The students around me were probably all making their "what's her deal?" faces, but I was too busy wallowing in my intense hatred for humanity to notice. The lab instructor seemed surprised and perhaps a little bit hurt, but I was too angry to apologise, and I wanted the other students to know that I was fed up with their "what-a-dumbass" looks.

Ah, kids. Their faces are so expressive. Especially when they want you to know that they think you're, like, omg, totally stewpid.

So, I'm really looking forward to my lab next week….



*You know, because sliced bread doesn't have a brain

 

Hmm....I've been feeling rather sick lately. Having insomnia, even more trouble eating than usual, feeling weak (obviously as a result) and dizzy. Just overall anxious. Bleh.

The silliest things can get my heart-rate going. Just reading people's political opinions that I don't agree with, especially if they're laced with contempt or sarcasm, makes me have to do some calming exercises.

I hope this doesn't last long. I have a field trip I have to go on in a few weeks, that I'm anxious about already. I need to be able to function once the semester starts. Hell, I need to be able to function so I can go to work every day. I don't want to give the overall impression that I'm "sickly" or "in a bad mood" all the time.

But, no worries, as they say here. I'm sure "this too shall pass" quite soon. It generally does.

Time for Beatles cheering-up.

I am such a freak. Since I was thirteen years old, I though that was cool. I was proud to be different, because there were always other people who were equally different (not in the same way, of course), so I didn't feel alone.

I went to a high school that was so diverse that anyone could find their own clique. Hell, I bet there was a loner clique. Then I went to Antioch College, a clothing-optional campus, where in the summer I could wear my bikini top and short-shorts to class and no one would look at me twice. In my home town of Berkeley, I would wear my black-and-red striped stockings with my miniskirt, or get all elegantly Gothed up and no one would judge me for it.

I'm used to having my own sense of style, and being outspoken. I'm used to thinking that if someone doesn't like what I think or the way I dress, then they don't deserve to know me in the first place. But that was all until I moved here.

Suddenly, I'm walking around with my shoulders tensed up, concerned about what people think about me. I'm wearing boring clothes that I don't feel good or interesting in. In classes, I don't talk, because I fear that in the middle of my sentence, I'll get all flustered or just forget what I was going to say altogether. For the first time, I'm worried that not enough people will share my views on the gender binary, or the socio-economic system, or race, or loving your body (fat-positive issues, etc.).

During my first job, at an electronics store, I had a couple bosses who were sexist. I had an intelligent conversation with one of them, and he said he wasn't used to talking to such a smart woman. I laughed, and decided that smashing a desk chair on his head would put me at a financial disadvantage. He was also Maori, and loved to make jokes about how Maori were criminals. I understand the whole self-deprecating humour thing, cause Jews do it, too. But it got old after a while.

Then I worked at a video store, where my boss and another coworker made comments about how you couldn't trust Indians (the Asian kind), because they were manipulative with money or something. Sounded a bit like the stereotype for Jews. And another coworker told me very sincerely about how the Maori used to eat Europeans when they ran out of pigs. I found that especially interesting, since pigs didn't exist in New Zealand until Europeans brought them here.

The whole time, these people would state the disclaimer, "I'm not racist, but...." Hahahahaha! Love it. If you honestly feel the need to say that, just don't bother. You're being a hypocrite already. If I was going to say something about Indians being dishonest or something, I'd say, "I know I'm a bit racist, but this is what I've noticed," or something like that. And seriously, if I'm a bit racist, then the people mentioned above must be oozing racism!

I suppose that's the price I pay for being sheltered from the more bigoted aspects of society my whole life. At the video store I mentioned, there was also a guy there who went on about how he would see gay men making out on K Road (red light district in Auckland). He said it like it was the most disgusting thing in the world. I said, "what's wrong with that?" thinking it might just be a Public Display of Affection issue. Some people just can't handle PDAs that well. He said, "Gays can do whatever they want in their own home, but I don't want to see that shit. It's not natural."

I asked him if it would bother him to see two women making out, and he said no. I pointed out the double standard, and suggested that perhaps his aversion to gays had to do with the possibility that their presence threatened his masculinity. Of course, I wasn't trying to convince him of anything by that point; I was merely amusing myself by seeing how he would react to that hypothesis.

Yeah, I'm not too tolerant of intolerance. Luckily, my violence has only taken the form of fantasies so far. If you could read my mind, you'd probably think I was a bloodthirsty, self-righteous lunatic. If you had a conversation with me, the latter would be confirmed =)

This is where I stand.
On the edge of a canyon whose mouth seems to stretch out for eternity.
There is no going back.
There is nothing but a barren wasteland behind me.
—Me

I don't know where I stand. I'm beginning to wonder what I stand for. Maybe I should just sit down already.

I'm tired. I'm tired of monotony, and tired of being afraid. Afraid of taking risks, of putting myself out there, even of speaking my mind. My voice has gotten more and more silent this past year. But fear is debilitating; it exhausts me as much as repetitive boredom. Everyone says take risks. It's so easy to see that that's my only real choice in life, lest I amount to nothing.

Easy to see it, yes, but not easy to do something about it.

This feeling of an abyss in front of me began when I graduated college. I thought, "Shit. Now I have to make decisions that will affect me for the rest of my life. I have to be in the real world, find a job that I enjoy, and am qualified for" (which is about as easy as fitting a grapefruit into a gerbil's mouth. Yes, I made that up just now).

I no longer look forward to the future. I dwell on happy memories, and fantasies. That's it. The idea of planning my future makes me almost nauseous. I know I'm gonna have to wake up and do something about it eventually.

Listen as the wind blows
From across the great divide.
Voices trapped in yearning,
Memories trapped in time.
The night is my companion
And solitude my guide
Would I spend forever here
And not be satisfied?....

Into this night I wander
Its morning that I dread
Another day of knowing of
The path I fear to tread.
Into this sea of waking dreams
I follow without pride....

Yeah, I know, I'm leaving out the last line. But that line reeks of passion and self-determination.

Cause nothing stands between us here
And I won’t be denied.
—Sarah McLachlan

1. My mother was trying to explain to me how to get around downtown Berkeley, CA. I snorted, and said, "I know my way around Berkeley!" ...and promptly walked into a pole.

2. I was standing in line, but realised I forgot something and had to get out of line. So I turned around, only to see this guy I had a huge crush on right behind me. I froze (incredibly awkwardly), almost walked into a column, and then tripped over it instead.

3. I have gotten so used to tripping over/spilling/breaking things around guys that I like, that I just shrug it off like it's normal. Well...it is normal for me.

4. In yoga class, I hadn't eaten recently enough, and my stomach did this blurpy-growl thing when I moved in certain ways. I had to keep from laughing, and then apologise after class for my loud stomach.

5. I called a friend, forgot which friend I was calling, and when someone picked up the phone, I said, "Hello, is (insert wrong name) there?"

6. I tried to convince my parents that I didn't need to take English class in the eighth grade. They said I needed to learn grammar, and I said, "No I don't! I speak very well English."

7. I took a test to get into an Honors Geometry class in high school. In California, there’s something called a 504 Plan, which is for learning disabilities; you get more time on tests, etc. I handed my test in to the teacher, he graded it right then, and said, “you were one question away from not passing. Maybe you need more time on tests.” Irritated, I said, “I’m not dyslexic! I don’t need a 405 Plan!”

I'm a walking contradiction...partly fact and partly fiction...

My heart races. My thoughts struggle against the fog of my mind. They try to get through, but something is blocking them. Something intangible; incomprehensible. It pushes my thoughts around in circles, like a game of tag. Each circle creates a more powerful cycle that I cannot escape. I am struggling against my own mind.

To surrender would mean that I give up what I have been working so hard for. I strain to think. I surrendered for months, but now I can’t. I will not succumb to my own obscure lunacy.

Everything that is happening inside me is coming from me. I am every thought. I am the dark fog that clouds my mind. But I am not in control.


I wrote this while I was trying to do my assignments. Words flowed out of me like water...as long as they weren't relevant to my assignments. Annoying much?

I like looking forward to things. It gives my life, you know, purpose. Today, what I had to look forward to was this girl's birthday party. She's the daughter (and sister) of these people who live in my ecovillage.

Well, I figured out something strange, at this party. I was the wallflower, sitting on the sidelines, sporadically talking to people I knew, with intermittent uncomfortable silences between conversations. I've been known (at least in the United States) as the queen of not-small talk. I pick things up immediately, start talking about politics or religion or ethics or something else heavy and involving. But there, I was doing the small-talk thing, which I hate.

I realized that if people were observing me (for the sake of argument), they would have noticed that I'm the "introverted one." Fuck that. I'm not the introverted one. I'm the charming girl who's easy to talk to, about things great and small. I have guys laughing at my jokes and giving me flirtatious smiles, and girls talking to me about those guys (who are laughing at my jokes and giving me flirtatious smiles). I wasn't even interested in talking to any of the guys at that party! I'm so fucking lonely, but I can't even look for a guy? Or AT a guy?!

And then my friend showed up, and I was so relieved, but her presence did nothing to remedy the situation. I was just awkward around her, too. I've become the awkward girl! I haven't been the awkward girl since early high school!

I guess I still haven't become completely accustomed to life in New Zealand. I still don't feel like I belong, despite the fact that I now call myself a "Kiwi." I miss my friends back at home, especially Mary. Friends that I never feel awkward around, cause being awkward's just another part of the fun.

And I miss Antioch terribly. Is it healthy to miss something that no longer exists?

I suppose I should use this brooding opportunity to work on my schoolwork, since I've been procrastinating beyond belief. That's another thing I've been known as; the Queen of Procrastination. Maybe it's good that my social life isn't doing that well right now, so I can get down to working.

Bitter you'll be if you don't change your ways
When you hate you, you hate everyone that day
Unleash this scared child that you've grown into
You cannot run for you, can't hide from you.