TAKE THAT ANNOTATED BIBLIOGRAPHY YOU AIN'T GOT NOTHIN ON ME.  YEAH.

Eight hours later, guys.  Eight. hours.

Breathing now.  How long since I remembered breathing?  I think I started hyperventilating around hour six.  Yikes.

But let me just say that my paper is going to be awesome.  Someday.  When I can bear to look at it again.

i'm never eating pizza again

I think I discovered my limit for pizza consumption.

About a week ago I was sitting at work and realized that I hadn't had pizza in a really long time.  I had this really intense craving for pepperoni pizza.  I went to my parents house that night and ended up eating a frozen pizza for dinner.  Awesome, right?  But I didn't stop there.

Friday night, I made homemade pizza.  

Then Saturday I went to a party where pizza was provided.

And tonight I attended a dinner at Pizzeria 712.

Add to that the two times I ate leftover pizza for breakfast over the past week.

That is a LOT of pizza.  And you know what?  I enjoyed every single one of those pizza slices.  ALL OF THEM.

But then I came home tonight and my roommate had baked a pizza.  She offered me a slice and I thought I was going to be sick.

Buh.

No. More. Pizza.  Nevereverever.

Sooo... if you're interested, I've got some leftovers from dinner tonight that I won't cannot eat.

All I want is to eat from now on is salad.  Salad and celery.

Well, Remicade infusion 1 in progress.  Kind of.  They're giving me Benadryl first through the IV and then they'll start with the infusion of the actual medication.  I'm in a room full of older cancer patients and it makes me a little sad to see them all here.  This infusion center is located within a cancer treatment center - so most of the other patients here are going through chemotherapy.  The other patients all look like they could be someone's dad or grandmother.  The strange part is that everyone here seems to know the routine of this place.  They walk in, settle into their chairs, and stick out an arm.  The nurses go from patient to patient, adjusting IVs, checking the progress of the medications draining into patients.

Another thing: you know those service projects where you make quilts to send to a hospital?  Well, I know now where those end up.  They are neatly folded and placed in cupboards all around this room.  Easily reached by cold patients on gray, drizzly mornings (like today).  [Also, I realized that I don't really like being called a "patient".  I am what I am, I suppose.  But that title is not my favorite.]

Woah.  Okay.  The drowsiness the nurse warned me could occur as a side effect of the Benadryl kicked in.  So just be aware that I might post this before it's finished so that I can go to sleep.  Also, sorry if there are any typos in this post.


This place is not at all what I expected.  I was thinking that it would be very clinical and be lit in fluorescent, greenish light.  I was surprised to walk in and see pretty marble floors (okay, I doubt it's actually marble... but it's supposed to look like marble.)  There are this black leather recliners running along the length of the room.  The chairs look like they belong in a living room, not in place like this.  Or at least, the almost do.  They have wheels on the bottom and big white numbers on the side.  They also have TVs and DVD players in pretty cherry wood entertainment systems.  They're spaced out about every three chairs.

I've been watching the rain out some of the big windows that cover one of the walls.

I can't help thinking back to where I was a year ago.  Hospital, entirely too many drugs in my system.  This is kind of similar, I guess.  But things are so much better than they were last October.

The nurse switched out the Benadryl and started the Remicade.  So far so good.

Still drowsy, though.  So naptime?  I think so.

The fact that I always manage to get the paper done in time does not help my habit of procrastination.
I would like myself a lot more if I didn't consistently paint myself into a corner.

But would I produce the same work without the pressure of a deadline?
(Or would it maybe [just maybe] be better than what I am able to come up with under these [panicked, last minute] circumstances?)

sniffles.

But I don't have time to be sick.

It's been far too long since the last time I watched this.

And while I'm posting stills from movies:

and the beat goes on

I'm feeling self absorbed. So of course the best way to deal with this is to blog about it, right?

 I'm tired of thinking about myself all the time. My days fill up with classes, work, and then some combination of homework/social something or other. By the end of the day I feel unaccomplished. And selfish. Because I spend so much time pursuing my education, my social life, my whatever else. Enough about me. I know plenty about me. It's boring and it's old news.

 This is due (in part) to the fact that it's the beginning of the semester. I am meeting new people and catching up with friends I haven't seen in a long time. As a result of this, I find myself repeating the same stories over and over again. Yeah, summerwasgood, gladtobestartingschool, movedintoanewplace, mynameisLaurenI'mfromArizona, blah, blah, blah.*

 I'm sick of listening to myself and I feel like everybody else must be sick of it too. But maybe not, since you only have to sit through my repertoire once?** Meanwhile, I feel like one of those dolls with a button hidden in her hand. Squeeze my hand and I'll repeat my little recorded lines to you. Maybe sing you a song.

 Annnd then there's bedtime. I shut off the lights and then it starts.*** The never-ending narrative in my head. I'm so, so sick of hearing myself talk but my brain just keeps going and going and going. So I stare at the ceiling, watch it light up for brief moments as cars pass on the street outside. And I don't sleep.

 A coworker recommended meditation. I think I'll try that. Hopefully that will quiet the voice that will. not. stop.****

 * This is not to say that every conversation I've had lately is rote/meaningless. So if you feel like we've had a good talk recently, chances are I do actually feel the same.
** For those of you who happen to have been in multiple social situations with me lately I AM SO SORRY if you've had to listen to me go through this multiple times.
*** I forget what I was going to put here.
**** This sounds really self-loathing. It isn't as bad as it sounds.

 I guess what all of the above really amounts to is this: I'm kinda tired of being me. Is that really bad? Is that a normal feeling to have from time to time?

 And a note on the title: My roommate is listening to something with a whole lotta bass. I have hardly slept in the past few days. (Meaning headache.) Ouch.