Survival of the not-so-fittest Wolverine.

I've only been stung by a bee once in my life. I was ten years old and it stung me on the top of my left foot. Last weekend an ultra persistent bee was so attracted to me that it stung me three times. (I didn't even think that was possible.) It somehow hitched an unbenounced ride with me into the house after its outdoor mass attack and, henceforth, upon discovery, created a chaotic explosion of screaming children throwing each other out of the way (remember you're dead meat if you're last) which subsided with me being paranoid for the rest of the afternoon.

I seem to have reached a plateau of inability to do physical activity without existing in pain which extends to time periods of several weeks at a time. After a week of limping around I decided that if I ever want to run consistently for any length of time substantial enough for me to do at least a 5k race I will need help. Despite being irked at the fact that I have to drive (at least) an hour, I'm going to see my orthopedic surgeon. Of course, after scheduling the appointment I've noticed that the pain has subsided. I would assume that this sort of situation would occur (especially in my life). Thus, I plan to remedy the present situation by re-inducing the (mysterious?) pain in my left fibula (or tibia or knee?) by consistently running for one week prior to the appointment. Jin suggests I just take a sledge hammer to the thing, and although that's a probable option I sense that insurance might not be keen on that idea. So henceforth, running on hard cement.

Amongst items survival related, I seem to disappear (for some people) when I let my education dictate my existence. It's not only the hours spent in class or at the library, it's the fact that I'm inclined to the idea of attempting to teach myself how to do schoolwork in my dreams; my logic being that perhaps in my unconscious I can be more creative coming up with ideas for wooing my professors into rewarding me with better grades (or at least getting them to help me figure out what I'm supposed to do with my majors).

Besides that fact, $70, 200+ pages, one semi-all-nighter, and a class period of fret (and thoughts of potential class abandonment)later the political science paper of death doesn't seem so bad (this is, of course, after grade affirmation). I honestly couldn't tell you much about quasi-experimental designs and causal inference but at least I'm putting forth a valiant effort. I had the desire to pat myself on the back but then I realized that I still have five more papers to go. Right.

Along the lines of mental sanity (which I'm lacking with this newest potential endeavor) I have become adamant in the idea that I need a horse. It has moved past the stage of simply wanting one. It has become necessary. For my mental clarity. For my existence in this world. Heck, I don't even need a horse, a pony would suit me just fine. Just something of the equine species that has decently forward motion and isn't potentially a death wish.

Oh. I defaced AP property today. Really. It's Bek's fault. She was the one who taught me how to steal oranges from Citrusdal. It has extended cross-continentally. I am not ashamed of my actions (afterall, I did it with pencil, I can't be that badass).

I'm having serious deprivation of Freskpak Rooibos. [insert string of cussing here] Well, not quite yet. But at the rate I'm going I will need preparation for impact when it actually does occur.

But, perhaps most importantly: I miss AVH. Like the way I miss watermelon in the winter. Much to the extent where I have actually prevented myself from writing him letters or sonnets or journals. Although (thank heavens) I'm not overwhelmed with sadness there is often a lingering sense that someone (him) is missing (physically) from my days. I've come to the point where I consciously think about how much I depend on language (not even that which is verbally spoken) and my interpretation of it. So I can't really think of it as 'one less day' till the visit. Besides the fact that AP prevents me from thinking more than one week in advance, it seems a shame to wish this (academic hell) year by (although I rightfully admit it's only human to want that French test to be over with). Maybe it extends to the bigger picture of wondering where I'll be in a year, or two, or five. Really, I could be anywhere.

Yeah, yeah so maybe I'm not the fittest but (sometimes) much to my surprise I find that I do a fairly decent job of surviving.