Ah, it appears that I might be the first dayloger of the day! Huzzah! In that case, I must provide something entertaining and worthy of the #1 spot, here goes...

Another day, another 1/7th of the WEEK OF HELL. As though it weren't bad enough that The most perfect woman in the world betrayed me this week, now I have to deal with a laboratory explosion. That's right, explosion.

I'm a TAMS student, and was offered the opportunity to do research over the summer and took it. I work in the Chemistry Department of the University of North Texas, nanotech research under Dr. Teresa Golden. And it just so happens that on this day, she had a few visitors. So, to entertain them, she requests that I and Adam Horch (a lab coworker and one year my senior) put together a demonstration with a lot of flashes and whatnot. So we decide that amongst several other experiments, we'll give a little show with liquid Oxygen.

We've performed this same demonstration many times in the past, with no error. The standard procedure:

    #1 - Make liquid Oxygen by running the gas through a still with liquid Nitrogen surrounding the pipes to cool it.

    #2 - light matches and things on fire over, near, and in the liquid Oxygen so as to show how much faster combustion occurs with it.

    #3 - Finale: Spray methanol on the liquid Oxygen and light a match near it creating a purple flame and a loud *POP!* which would be contained by the glass beaker.

Well, everything went according to plan... except the part about it being contained. For some reason, we believe it to be faulty glass, the rapid oxidation of the methanol produced a slightly larger than desired show. The beaker was shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces and propelled in all directions. I was peppered with glass, and it felt like a million little paintballs railing my chest. The explosion was loud enough that it took about 5 minutes for my hearing to return.

I was lucky, and virtually unscathed minus a nick to my neck and stomach. The prof I work under, however, now had a three inch laceration to the neck and a gash in her forehead and was bleeding horribly. Two of the spectators took terrible shoulder injuries and the rest got out with minor damage.

911 was dialed and paramedics arrived shortly. Even though I was virtually spotless, they insisted I follow to make sure I had no glass in me. Oh yes, and while there, one of the paramedics decided to snatch my Baretta pocket knife (the skeleton knife style, silver and steel, about $125) and keep it for his own...

After spending an HOUR in a hospital room I didn't need to be in, I was released and sent home. My parents were worried to death, of course, because they had been called and told "Your son has been in an accident and we need permission to treat" and nothing more. "Treat" meant clean my tiny cut with alcohol and put a Band-aid on it.

The story hit the newspapers this morning (I always node according to server time, so it was actually on Friday the 28th that the story printed) and was, of course, highly inaccurate. They depicted a lab in which "a tank of liquid oxygen was being heated over an open flame" which any scientist knows is dumb as all hell.

So now our department will surely be under heavy watch for a few weeks, and to help matters, my highly intelligent (sarcasm very much laid on there) coworkers decided to freeze a grasshopper (LIVE) in liquid Nitrogen today - in front of the boss. I still wonder why I haven't quit...
Sweaty Germans, Shakespeare and elephant ears. What else can I say?

It all started Wednesday night. I was hanging out with my boyfriend, Schmoo, Nick, Seth, Jonathan, and a few others. Some of us decided to go out to eat at Applebee’s. By the time we got there, five remained with the group. Tim, Jon, Aaron, Seth, and kaytay. We were seated in a booth adjacent to that which contained several children, which upset the menfolk of the group (that is to say, all except myself). Being the loud and obscene boys that they are, the topic of conversation quickly jumped into forbidden territory. I just tried to cover my ears through the worst of it.

Once the masturbation discussions were ended, the waitress was able to approach from a safe distance and take our order. Seth ordered some sort of dark, evil, bubbly alcoholic drink. Its very presence was distracting. I got my usual glass of water, no surprise. Our food was slow to appear, but it was good once it arrived. I had chicken fingers and fries in a nice apple-shaped wire basket.

Everyone present was speaking of the Rammstein concert that was scheduled for the next night. Aaron had bought a ticket for me, and I happened to have the night off from work, so it was a deal. I would be accompanying the boys to the Rammstein concert at the Orbit Room on Thursday evening. Exciting.

The men came upon a liter of Captain Morgan, the very smell of which turns my stomach. While they enjoyed a night of drunken revelry, I did word searches in between dozens of catnaps. There is one basic equation that all people must remember:

Alcohol + kaytay = sickness

Being one of the factors in the formula, I was forced to realize the truth of the situation in a violent fashion. It did not come as much of a surprise, seeing as how my dad had the nickname Two beers in his fraternity days. That was all it took before he was puking with the best of them.

The next day, we rounded up all the kids going to the concert and were ready to take off at seven. The only person missing was Jon, who happened to be the one who was supposed to drive. Thankfully he remembered to show up. Nick drove separately in order to see his girlfriend before the show, so the car was not as crowded as it would have been. However, there were still five people in the little Mitsubishi, three of whom were over 6’5”. Seth was the shortest, but I was by far the lightest. This qualified me to ride bitch. You know I was thrilled.

It was about an hour drive to get to the east side of Grand Rapids. A massive something was passed around to the passengers on behalf of the driver, making several rounds before disappearing. I was the only one to refrain from participating. It seems to be the theme of my life these days. I’m only a delicate female, after all. Ugh.

We arrived around eight o’clock just as the first opening band took the stage. I cannot recall their name, but the tacky glowsticks taped to their bodies and lovely white face paint made me think of ICP trying to fit in at a rave. I was not too impressed with their choice of apparel, and their lack of musical talent insulted my ears. I decided to make a break for the lobby and pay two dollars for a can of pop.

The next band to appear was Godhead. I believe they were going for the spooky look, but they must have been concentrating so hard on their image that they forgot to play well. If that was even possible. I was indecisive at first, trying to give them a chance to improve, but it was all downhill after their opening number.

Soon enough they were finished. This is when we made our move and started pushing towards the front of the crowd. Unfortunately we ran into an old acquaintance of the group from high school. She was wearing a plaid skirt of about two inches in length, a pink halter top with Naughty scrawled across the bosom, and thigh high black patent leather heeled boots. But it wasn’t so much the outfit that scared me (it was actually pretty tame for her), but the words that came out of her mouth.

”You’re cute. They’re looking for more tall skinny girls to be strippers.”

I looked at her blankly.

”It’s good money. I could get you in, I’ve been working as a showgirl for a couple months.”

I simply nodded, said I would consider it, and continued to drink my expensive pepsi.

Thankfully Rammstein was about to go on stage. They put on an incredible show, as always, full of fire and sparks and staged accidents. They are definitely one of the more interesting bands to see live. I don’t speak a word of German, but the band is one of my favorites nonetheless.

After the first couple songs, I looked behind me to see how my friends were doing. I saw Jon standing in a clear space about six feet to a side, completely and utterly soaked. I asked him what was going on, who threw water on him? He said he just sweated a lot. I didn’t believe it at first, but Schmoo vouched for him, saying the man was a maniac when it came to rocking out to Rammstein. I was impressed and disgusted. He must have dropped five pounds after losing so much water.

The ride home was not so bad, despite the fact that the five of us were crammed inside a two door Pontiac with no interior lights to show the speedometer or other instrument panels.

I had to work the next morning at 9:30. I did so as best I could, trying to scrub off the huge Ms scribbled atop each of my hands. Black permanent market and pale skin don’t seem to take kindly to each other. Work went quickly, however, passing in a haze of Burger King and unscrewing shelves from the wall to move stuff around and make room for the Christmas merchandise that is starting to pour in already.

After work, I returned home, had some dinner, changed, watched tv for a few minutes. Then it was time to take off for Hope College to see Two Gentlemen of Verona. I was extremely pleased with how the play went. It was much along the same lines as the recent Romeo and Juliet movie with Leonardo DiCaprio – original Shakesperean dialog accompanied by more modern music. Except for Two Gents was set in 1959 instead of the present. It was very cute. My dad has been bugging me to see a play with him all summer, so we finally did. We had a nice time together. I don’t really spend a lot of time with my dad anymore.

As soon as we got home, the entire evening was smashed to pieces. My brother and my dad were locked in mortal combat involving nothing but swearing, arm-waving and threat-making. It was not a pretty sight. I heard most of the conversation from the bathroom where I was touching up my makeup. Adam was sick of being treated like a child, sick of my parents telling him to get a job and telling him to do his community service and telling him to pay his MIPT and telling him to pay his traffic tickets and telling him to pay his car insurance. Adam owes my parents close to three hundred dollars for various reasons, and he owes me another seventy I fronted him for prom night several months past. Adam is having a lot of problems for only being sixteen years old. He’ll be in juvenile hall by the end of the summer if he doesn’t do the community service he was sentenced to. I feel sorry for him more than I’m angry with him. His life is falling apart pretty early on and there’s nothing anyone but Adam can do to fix it.

I left the house when the arguing became too bad. Aaron met me on the corner of my street and 168th. We went over to his house and then took a long walk down to Waukazoo and back again. We saw several police cars drive by, and some dude in a black mitsubishi got pulled over for speeding. I was too busy worrying about Adam and my dad to give it much thought.

On Friday, the 28th, I went to the Ottawa County fair with my parents and boyfriend. It was the Pfizer company picnic. My dad has worked for the company (formerly Parke Davis) for going on twenty five years. I don’t think I’ve missed more than two of the picnics in my life. They’re tradition. I remember when I was really young and still able to participate in the kid games; I won the race every year. I was always the first girl to cross the finish line, and I won a fifty cent piece for my efforts. I was rich.

Aaron and I met a nice couple from Romania who were sitting at our table. They were entertaining. We spent most of lunch drawing on the plastic tablecloth with the official Pfizer bubble pens they had been giving away to kids (I’m not sure how Aaron and I managed to get them). The little boy sitting across from us saw Aaron and me drawing on the table and immediately told his dad that those people were drawing on the table, so why couldn’t he? The dad had no choice but to let the kid draw to his heart’s content. The tablecloths were just going to be thrown away anyway; there was no sense in trying to keep them clean. By the time Aaron and I were finished, two feet of formerly white plastic was covered in Japanese kanji and abstract line drawings.

I went on the Scrambler with Aaron, since it is the only ride that doesn’t make him nauseous within the first few seconds. We were discussing whether or not we should try to slap the carnival worker man every time we zoomed past him. It was so tempting. I went on Force 10 with my dad. It’s a ride that looks like a mini Ferris wheel, only it goes a million times faster and tips over a lot. I passed out from the G force. It was a little scary. When the ride stopped and they got me out of the seat I was okay, but I still feel like a wimp for not being able to enjoy myself.

I ate half of an elephant ear, some ice cream, and spent twenty bucks winning several stuffed animals. Aaron won a little black gorilla for me. I played the game where a guy has to guess your weight, and if he is more than three pounds off you win. He was twelve pounds off when he guessed for me, so I won by a fair margin. I am now the ower of a little monkey with his nose sewed on sideways. I shall love him forever.

This is node number one posted
from kaytay's new notebook computer.

Daylog Newbie

Well, I don't usually daylog, but enough is happening in my life now that is fairly unusual. This makes me think I ought to contribute it to the database...

File under: the Human Experience

My homenode isn't exactly biographical, so I will try and get everyone up to speed. 22. Single Male. BFA in Theatre Design in T minus one semester. Currently interning with a lasershow production company in Orlando.(Yes, I consider this too mundane to daylog about.)

This is about Decisions

Okay, I'll be the first to admit that I'm at a major juncture in my life. College Graduation. And I don't have much left in the way of roots. Growing up, my family moved every five years or so. Finished high school in Cleveland, did college in West Virginia, and now while I'm in Orlando temporarily, the rest of my family is off to Houston.

So I have a lot of options. Graduate School. Hike the Appalachian Trail. The whole thing. Get some work somewhere. Maybe Cleveland, maybe take the job I've been offered here. Hey, I'm thrilled to know that I have a decent job waiting for me after graduation if I want it.

The Nagging Question

It has been rolling back there in the far crevices of my mind for 10 years now. Fullfill your potential. Higher Ground. Something More. And I've always turned away. Not me. Not now. Hah, I even have a hard time writing it.

I've spent enough time deep in the mountains to know for myself, for certain, that there is More. But how do I answer that call?

Face your fears

I've tried putting it off. Squeezing my eyes shut and hoping it would go away. Praying for it to go away. But I don't think I am going to be able to get on with my life unless I stare this thing down.

Just do it

So, last week I began talking to the Vocational Director for the Diocese of Cleveland. A place called Borromeo Seminary.
Yes, you heard me right.

This leaves me in what they call the process of discernment. I'm not making any promises. I could change my mind, sooner or later. But for now, this is it, I'm taking the first steps towards becoming a priest.
Yes, you heard me right.

And all I know is I am both relieved, and very afraid.
I'm going to node as much of this process here, whatever the results. My feelings, my experience. For the database.


I went to Red Robin tonight, and Rebecca told me that that would be the last time I see her.
As she mentioned to me two weeks ago, she's moving to Santa Maria,
although she will be continuing her studies at UCSB.

We had a nice conversation; I wished her well in her future.
She said to me, "Do you ever get up to Santa Maria?"
While that could be just talk, it seemed to me that the most
likely purpose of the question was to indicate that perhaps
this needn't be a permanent goodbye.

But I was still reluctant to push past her (declination? That can't be right -- declinement? Hmmm)
declining my previous request to see her socially, so I lightheartedly said
"No, but I would if I were allowed to".

She got called away then, and when she returned, I made it a little more
clear that what I meant was, I would like to say hello to her sometime
when I am passing through that area. That didn't seem to do anything, though.

So, that's the end of that, I guess. I'll just have to remember her beautiful
smile, her attention to detail, and her special strawberry lemonades that
she made just for me. (In fact, tonight she brought me an
extra dish of strawberries.)

Goodbye, Rebecca.

[September 8] I've reformatted this with a lot
of explicit line breaks so that it can be read easily,
despite all of the ridiculous soft links below.

It's been a while since I actually noded. Well, probably not that long, but goshdarnit, it feels like forever.

My job is going well. Life as a full time private investigator's report writer is really not as interesting as it sounds, but I do believe I'm getting better at it. All those "The Claimant walked evenly with his arms by his sides" and "she frequently moved her head with no restriction" sentences are beginning to flow from my fingers into the keyboard with little or no thinking. Which is nice, as I've only been there for a month, and I look forward to the day I realise "Hey, this is hell easy. Now I can turn up to work half asleep and still do a half decent job!" Sweet.

And don't go thinking that it's all dark long coats, sun glasses and bowler hats. Sitting in cars and watching young minxes cheat on their old rich husbands and then reporting back to the old geezer for a handsome sum, film in hand. The investigation company I work for is basically only used to look at insurance fraud. People who claim they can't walk because of a car accident and say that it ruined their future career as a catalogue walker. So far the most unusual one I've heard is a woman who said that she couldn't "be intimate" with her partner, so naturally the pi got video of them doing the wild monkey dance, therefore disproving her theory. Apparently, according to a law-type friend, it's legal to video anything in Oz, as long as your not trespassing on private property. And I guess it's cool as long as you're not just showing the footage in non-related circumstances, ie, "Hey, Stan! Wanna come over and watch a video of my neighbours fucking?" "Yeah, cool, Hal. Be right over! I'll bring the popcorn!"

In other news, my beautiful boy and I went to Nelson Bay on the weekend. It's a cute little beach town near Newcastle, and we've been looking forward to our dolphin cruise and putt putt golf and eating in cute cafes and walking on the beach. Of course it rained. The whole bloody time. They said it hasn't rained like that for a while, that we had bad luck. So we went to a movie ('Evolution', and I liked it, you cantakerous old critics), had a heap of spas (one lasted 3 hours!) and ate a lot. It was still lovely, in spite of hurricane-like weather, and now we have an unused voucher for two people to go dolphin watching. We'll get there one day. If that dang rain ever stops!

It was Autonomy Day at uni on Friday. Autonomy Day is celebrated in commemoration of the day Newcastle Uni became separate from Sydney Uni, and is typically celebrated with drinking, bands, games, drinking games, and boat races (sculling games). I went for the last three years, starting at 5am the first year, 6:00 the next year and the relatively late 6:30am last year. Last year I heard an "old timer" (ie, grad student) say that the spirit of Autonomy Day was dying, that people were turning up later and not drinking as hard. That was sad, in a warped way. Anyway, Friday was the first time I wanted to just stop working and hang out with the gang. To start drinking at 6am and talk to random people (To paraphrase Jip from Human Traffic "Talk codshit to strangers") and just have a great day. But at the same time I didn't really mind. It was like, "Well, I'd love to hang out, but I have to go to work, and I have to do some overtime. We're swamped..." and other superior-sounding things. Of course, that would be stupid because they'd all just call me a wanker and never talk to me again, but I wanted to go to work. And now that I've heard the high-lights I know that I didn't miss much. The usual drinking, getting separated from friends, having altercations over which bar to go to and which events to watch/particpate in. Ah, Autonomy Day, you wacky beast you!

Things I'm looking forward to:

  • Emily returning to Oz.
    Emily is an old best buddy from high school and she'll be here next Sunday, after a year away! She's been living and working in England (mmm, an Aussie working in a London pub before travelling? How unusual!) and bussing around Europe with another old friend from high school. I miss her so much, and am terribly excited about the prospect of catching up and hearing all about her adventures and becoming green with jealousy. It's a little scary- I'm so boring, she's so cool, am I fatter than when she left? but mainly exciting. Not long to go! It seems that she's been gone forever.
  • Getting Kaspie the rag doll.
    We've paid the deposit and he'll be arriving in just two weeks! Hopefully he'll get on with Xerxes the budgie, but I'm confident he won't eat him. Kaspie is short for Kasparov, and he was named by jt. Only two weeks til we have a rumbly furry ball of fun (ie, a cat)!
  • A job interview for a newspaper.
    Yeah, yeah, I know that I've been talking about my job, but I've just gotten a call from a Tamworth newspaper about an application I put in a month ago. And I'm not exactly looking forward to the interview, but I'd just like to see what happens. To get that decision made- a cadetship, from the bottom of the heap to a journalist job, or continue in Newcastle, doing something not really journalism related that pays well? This is my first big career decision, and I'm not dealing with it well. At all.

So that's my life at the moment. Full of work, and crappy weather, and fun. I hope everyone is having a good time and that they're healthy and happy. Have a good week!

"Think you're in Heaven but you're living in Hell"Bob Marley
Sunday morning, just woke up after finially falling asleep at dawn about 5 and half hours earlier. Last night was a trip, my boss invited myself and a coworker to go to downtown NYC to ride mountain bikes around. Quite an experience. We were standing in central times square, and all of a sudden, through the rush of people, we hear an alarm going off across the street. Suddenly, a rather portly police officer crashes into me as I'm straddling my bike. I'm almost knocked over, and the cigarette I was smoking goes flying. Seems they were chasing these two black men who had just robbed the sports store across the street, for right before I was collided with, I made eye contact with this skinny little brother running by with a huge laundry bag filled with shoebox size parcels. Right after he passed me, he passed it off to someone waiting in the crowd, and because the police officer pursuing me got entangled in the front tire of my bike, he got away. The intrepid officers did manage to recover one of the bags of stolen goods, but made no arrests. They seemed rather relieved they didn't have to run anymore. In Florida, they just would have shot the guys, for the chance to get some live fire pratice in. It was interesting. From there, we hung out at a bar called Niso's, and explored the various ways one can become enibriated off of multiple shots of Blackhaus. Tried to convince the boss to bring us to a geisha house, but to no avail.
My boss's brother in law gave me a sweet desk. I know that sounds boring, but to me it's better than sex. It sucks to have a huge apato with barely any furniture. Now I can finailly get organized, and get some real work done.
I feel the northern vibe sinking back into me. When I was down south, I took everything as it came, no stress. You can't be stressed in the sun, just doesn't happen. Up here, the energy hums in the air, pervades the earth. It's a whole different she'bang. When we got back to the office at 4am, they tried to have one of those discussions about figuring out the universe, and I was frustrated, because although I like my boss and that one co-worker, I was a little dismayed at their level of philosophical discussion. But at least they were thinking, and that's what counts.
So my evil twin finailly speaks, and I hear that my old friends in Florida are alive and well. She speaks of rescuing me from up here...I'm not lost. I'm home, baby. I wanna rescue them from their life of apathy, but they're all too afraid to leave the warm arms of mother sand. Get up fly, fly away kids, before you get too old to do so. It's a big country, and I'm frustrated to think of the talent that's going to waste burning in the sun down there.
I've said it once, and I'll probably be saying this for the rest of my life: I hate fasts.

This one, having been a 24-hour fast, was more painful than most. And you know how people say that during a fast your mind opens itself to enlightment? Well, the only epiphany that I had today was that I don't like being hungry.

Actually, that's not strictly true. In a very bizzare moment, I looked at my external IR sensor and started thinking how I could modify it to be an intersteller attack vehicle. It was only when I loaded up my favorite CAD program and was making diagrams that I realized what I was doing.

It's been an hour since the end of the fast and I still don't feel quite sane yet. You know, I've heard once that people who haven't slept in 36 hours are considered legally insane. (This isn't something that should be mentioned to collage students, who might actually test this.) I wonder if there's something similar for food/drink deprivation? There probably isn't, since too many people tend to collapse from dehydration before they get to see the pink elephants.

I think I'm gonna go demolish another few cubic feet of food...

Today was a part of a multi-day complex, as I don't recall yesterday ending or this day starting. They arrived in my home with priceless old artifacts from the old town. Re-entry into materialism was surprisingly pleasing, my old toys kept my attention for most of the day.

The venture into music was amusing but of limited artistic value.

well.... i went to church this morning for the first time in easily over a year or two. of course that doesn't count the wedding i went to last weekend. it wasnt horrible, i'll have to say at least that. i liked the warmth that was in the room. everyone was very nice and caring, or so it seemed to me.

I've had a rough past week. actually the past month has not been that peachy, to be realistic. my girlfriend and i of over a year (july 19, 2001) have been having some major troubles. basically what it boils down to is that i have been taking her for granted, though i didnt realize it. Even when things started to sour, i STILL was taking her for granted. but this past week has been the real clincher. we broke up last monday. It was pretty rough. she had been really hurt by me and decided that it was time. then three days later i hear, by her mind you, that she's met someone else and she's having a blast. wow!! what a kick in the head. seriously, my face, hands and arms were going numb because i was so worked up. i've lost at least 5lbs because of this. i just havnt had the urge to eat; nothing sounds good at all. well, all except water and juice. we'll see how long i last on that. i know that things are goign to be O.K., one way or another, but that doesnt mean that it doesnt suck. but the worst part is that she and i both still care immensly for eachother. she knows that i still care for her and visa versa, but for the time being we, as a couple are not going to work. ouch!! either we both have a lot of thinking to do, or a lot of getting over to do. the only real thing that i can do it wait, because only time will tell. i think that i am a fairly patient person, but damn!!! i wanna know now!!!! i want to know if i should keep working towards something between or if i shouldnt bother and focus on moving on, and getting over her...

not that i'm complaining as to the rep of this node, but i am curious as to what makes this nodeworthy of so many down votes. i'm not asking for upvotes, but if you do feel it necessary to give this a negative vote, i would love it if you would /msg me with comments as to why.

Today I fell in love again with the most wonderful man in the world. He has succeeded in tearing down every wall I have built around my heart. He has made me laugh and cry in the same instant. When I think about him I think about the time to come and the fun that I know that we'll have. I think about the times that I want to some day share with him. The love that I hope will only continue to grow and bond us more and more each day.

( I have never felt this way about any of my other boyfriends. The love started out feeling a lot like the love I had for my x-fiancé Chris. But unlike with Chris it has grown to a strength that sometimes scares me. )

God has sent me an angel to watch over me and love me. An angel I never thought I'd find. Now I don't know how I could ever bear to watch him walk away. I pray that he never does. For with out his touch I would fall through the clouds I walk on and plummet down to the depths below. With out his love a shadow of darkness would cover the world I live in. With out him my dreams would fade to only memories.

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