So two days ago I attended sparring class at the dojo. It was going pretty well, like all sparring classes do--I punched people a lot, people punched me a lot, I accidentally cracked one of the dojo mirrors and covered it up with duct tape and hoped no one noticed--when the Bad Thing happened.

( Cut for descriptions of Ash injuring herself/other people injuring Ash in a possibly comical manner )

Schedule for Thursday

9:40-10:50 am: Brain and Cognitive Sciences 172

2:00-3:15 pm: Qi Gong: Way to Health DAN 209

4:50-6:05 pm: Psychology

Today was pretty much a wash. I woke up at around 12 pm, having gone to bed at 4 am the night (morning?) before, and futzed around on the computer for two hours before realizing that a.) I had Linguistics class at 2 pm and b.) I had no pants on.

Cue frenzied search for pants.

After staggering in to Linguistics class (five minutes early! I even had time to find a seat I liked!) I sat through an hour-and-a-half lecture about the International Phonetic Alphabet; the notes I took consisted of a drawing of a giraffe smoking a cigar and an anatomically incorrect rendering of a nude picture I'd found on 4chan.

Midway through the lecture my stomach reminded me I hadn't eaten by growling loudly and inappropriately in five-minute intervals. The girl who was sitting next to me alternated between shooting me amused looks and giggling whenever this happened.

After Linguistics class I wandered back over to the bookstore and tried to return a textbook for a class that I'd dropped a couple of days ago. The bookstore clerk gave me an unimpressed stare when I told him I'd lost the receipt for the textbook; after a minute or so of my most pathetic puppy-dog eyes, though, he relented and said he'd accept the return if I submitted a copy of the purchase from my credit history along with my Add/Drop slip within the week. Triumphant, I returned to the dorms to search for my credit history online…

And then realized that I'd forgotten my online bank account password. After frantically going through my files and almost completely trashing my side of the room, I was forced to conclude that I'd need to call the bank to reset my net password. I called the bank and…

Found out it was closed for the day.

Cue punching of wall.

Ever resilient, I resolved to not let this complete clusterfuck of incompetence ruin my day; I went with my friends down to the dining hall and went to work out at the gym afterwards. After running and working on the weights for an hour-and-a-half, I was walking down the stairs to the lockers when I looked through a window and saw…

People practicing karate!

Excitedly, I ran in to the room and asked if they'd let me sit in on their class. The sensei, a nice graduate student called Kate, allowed me to participate. I got to kick and punch to my heart's content for an hour, after which I happily exchanged phone numbers with some of the other students. It was then that I realized that I'd been at the gym for three hours and it was snowing outside.

D:

Early yesterday morning one of my friends was involved in a fight in one of the frat houses that ended up with him being fatally injured. His name was released to the public at 1 pm yesterday and a service was held for him in the University's Interfaith Chapel at 6 pm.

Rest in peace, Jeffrey. You were smart and funny and kind; no one was beneath your notice--there wasn't a trace of arrogance in you, though you had the right to be. You had two scholarships to study abroad, you were on the track and field team, and you had grand plans for the future. You would have changed the world, and I would have been proud to have said that I knew you when you appeared on the front page of Times. I stole your hat once and wore it all class, just because I could--you smiled and laughed at me. I wanted more time with you--everyone who met you did. You drew people in. You weren't afraid to laugh at yourself, and none of your jokes ever held any sting.

You sat behind me in debate class--one desk to the left, diagonally. You talked with me in person and online; you weren't afraid to talk with anybody you felt like, no matter what your friends said or thought. I will miss you every day, and you will always be in my thoughts.

It's settled, then!

I'm going on a mass family vacation with my aunts, uncles, and little cousins to Vietnam on July 22nd! We're going to be doing a whole country tour and staying in old pre-war era hotels! My wimpy little Northeastern hide will be subjected to the terror that is the tropical climate and mosquito nets. I will be getting a digital camera and taking SO MANY PICTURES IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY.

Today's just one of those days, I guess. Nothing of note was accomplished, besides eating, sleeping, and breathing. I left my toothbrush over at my friend's place, and so am faced with a dilemma: completely ignore brushing until she returns it to me, or expend energy to get a new, temporary brush.

The choices. They burn.

I'm in one of those surly moods where I hate absolutely everything and everyone for no apparent reason.

A recent text conversation between my boyfriend and I went like this:

BF: Wanna go out 2 lunch on Sat?

Me: I h8 ur face

BF: wtf?

Me: No. Go away. I don't liek n e 1 n e more.

BF: R u in 1 of ur strange moods again?

Me: UR PARENTS WERE SIBLINGS

BF: Rite. So no lunch on Sat then.

Everything's just so annoying sometimes. -____- It's like I'd rather be anywhere but here, except then I wouldn't like that place either.

I need to go punch someone. That always makes me feel better.

It's been a hectic couple of weeks. the weather, which has been grey and stormy and cold, did absolutely nothing to help. First of all, my laptop got infected with spyware. Again. I'd never realized how attached I was to the Internet until I started suffering from withdrawal symptoms in the middle of class. Pah.

For Valentine's Day I sent a handmade card to my mother, and went on a group Laser Tag date with my boyfriend and another couple. for those of you who don't know what Laser Tag is, it's where they strap you into a vest with sensors attached to the front, back and shoulders. You're given a laser gun that shoots (duh) lasers, and you score points depending on where you hit another player's sensors. (That sounded dirty...)

Because Laser Tag is, surprisingly, NOT the venue of choice for most couples on Valentine's Day, my group found ourselves alone in the LaserQuest building except for a birthday party full of fifteen or so elementary-school kids. Okay, I though, so we'll be facing off against these guys. No problem. I'll just go easy on them and everyone will have fun, right?

Dear god, it was like Lord of the Flies on crack.

These kids knew flanking maneuvers, okay. It was like being stalked through a glow-in-the-dark jungle by fifteen little Rambos. They had a point man and a rear guard and sentries. Since my boyfriend was the tallest person in the room, the little Devil-Children aimed for him first. We never had a chance. These children made me feel fear.

When the game was over, the score stood as thus: My team, 200 points. The little Devil-Children, 290 points.

The future of my country's military is in safe hands. Thank the entertainment industry for the slew of violent war games, Uncle Sam.

I am never playing Laser Tag again.

I've been having a pretty surreal recurring dream for the last couple of weeks. I call it the Moustache Dream.

As you may have guessed, the dream starts with me looking in a mirror and admiring my new facial hair. It looks my uncle's handlebar moustache, except less gray and peppery. I'm hyperventilating with worry and perhaps a little bit of a spaz attack, because hello female sprouting a beard.

In the dream my mother comes in and is helpful in her own special brand of helpful by saying, "Well, we can always bleach it.""

My father, in my dream who is just conveniently right behind my mother, just shakes his head and sighs. Not so different in real life.

It's when I wander outside, though, that things start taking a turn for the worse.

The entire campus is out enjoying the sun in my dream, and as one they all turn and stare at me. Everything is silent.

Then they all start screaming.

Cue a massive rush of panicked people away from the strange Asian girl with facial hair. Sometimes people scream, "Yeti!" And other times they just scream. People I know and like are in the crowd. My boyfriend. My friends. My professors. Sometimes Brad Pitt.

Once, after a conversation with Ki in which she showed me all these martial arts videos, the muay Thai star Tony Jaa was in there too. He was shirtless. :D That was fun.

Then, usually, a well-meaning citizen comes up to me with a shaver/ razor/industrial-sized shears/meat cleaver and offers to "take care of that strange thing on your face".

This is usually when I scream to high heaven and jolt awake, flailing in bed and falling off.

...0__0

I think I need a therapist. I had this dream again last night. Adrien Brody was in it this time. *mournful* He was wearing a suit, too.

Things are getting better, slowly. In time with all my work, people are nice.
My birthday's coming up in a couple weeks. 20, anyone? Heh.
I'm just feeling restless, lately. Like...I need to go out and do things but I don't actually know what things they are. It is strange.

In other words, I'm kinda twitchy.

a little boy i knew was struck and killed by a car a week ago.

i didn't even know until today.

i saw the article in the local paper. he was still in high school. my old high school.

i used to see him all the time around town. walking, walking, walking, always walking. his mother worked at my university. she had died of cancer a few years back so he always acted sort of odd.

but he was constant. at the same time every day, i'd see him on the same street walking with his little plastic backpack and his pants too short ending at his ankles. hair unkempt, striding down the sidewalk like he had places to go and people to see.

i used to make fun of that. funny kid, with his too-short khakis and baggy plaid shirts. but he was smart. he was going places. he had a group of friends and he knew what he wanted.

then he died.

i'm still in shock right now. i don't know what to do. it's hitting my brother hard, too. the kid was in his math class. but he's handling it better than i am, right now.

he was too young.

rest in peace, henry. i hope you found your mom, and you're in a better place. wherever that is.