Speaking of transgender issues, November 20th is Transgender Day of Rememberance.  An email was sent through the OUTsource circuit with names, CODs, and their dates, with a link to the case of Duanna Johnson. Reading about her attitude, pride, and defiance against the local po-po made me smile… but of course bit at my sides to know that such wit and strength was wasted, stolen, and destroyed for no good reason.  That I have friends that could meet the same fate for the same reasons absolutely terrifies me… it makes me sick to the heart and head to know I live in a world where people I love are in such danger…

Last on my big gay agenda: HOLY SHIT I NEED TO WRITE MY SW PAPER.  Due first thing in the morning.  I suppose, with all this, I should be able to write easily on why the GLBT community needs advocates in the field of Social Work, but ease isn’t as much an issue as time.  I can’t even start on that til I whip out my German homework, which is due tonight at midnight.  There isn’t enough coffee in the world to save me.

Three more days to plow through before my flight out to Tamparrrrgh… two more class days.  Once I get this paper done, it’ll be a breeze.  A breeeeze right into Kev’s warm, strong, loving and very nommable arms.  Arms and hands and smile and gaze and LEIJFLIJGLEIRIEWK!!!1  I start thinking like that, and three small days seem like three months of time between.  Hurry hurry.  I mean, after I get to sleep tonight, hurry.  I don’t mind having the time to wait while I need it to do class-things, hah.
Mmmm… ahhhh.  AAAHHH!!

Good news is that I’m only really missing one lecture next week, since everyone else pretty much decided to cancel classes on Monday and Tuesday.  German still meets, but it’s a “fun day” where Lissi has decided to have a Q&A and teach everyone to curse in German.  On the one hand, I’m glad I’m not missing testable lecture.  On the other, GODFUCKINGDAMMIT that’s what I wanted to know most!! XD

Wednesday: Skip class cos of walking hurts like a bitch.

Thursday: Go to class.  Hobble around campus, slowly, because none of the fucking busses are stopping for Lil Miss Bum-Foot.  It only hurts if I step the wrong way (which I do often), but it could be worse.

Friday: Nursing a hangover most of the morning.  The rest of the day is uneventful.

Saturday: Now that my foot feels better, I decide to try out my new bike (bought for health reasons, cos of getting fat).  I hop on, and I don’t even make it past the house because a rather comical display of stupidity and shoddy workmanship.  I lose my balance, so I pedal to try and balance again, but the chain slipped off the gears and I lose control, crashing into an embankment and twisting my ankle with a loud POPPOPPOP on the way down.  Lucky for me, I didn’t make it far from the house so my screaming was easily heard.  Bike was thrown into the truck unceremoniously, and I hobbled over and slide in the front seat, and head over to the ER.  Again.  For the second time this week.  For the same goddamned foot.  ARRGH.

Good news, it isn’t broken, according to the ER doc.  Which surprises the hell out of me, with all the noise it made.  Just not allowed to put any weight on it for about five days.  Which is good, because I can’t.  Thank goodness Dad had some crutches hiding in the garage.  I’m not entirely sure what I’ll do about class next week, seeing as if I can’t use crutches well.  I can get around the house just fine, but trying to do all the walking I do campus on crutches is a good way to make yet another trip to the ER for a sprained wrist on top of everything else.  Arrgh.

We’ll see how tomorrow goes.  See if I can stay out of trouble… hah.

Now that we have that all nice and clear… moving on!

So, now that we’re over halfway through the semester, I’ve finally found a student-peer I can actually run into on campus and hold a conversation with at random.  It’s sort of nice to have a good, reliable acquaintance around… especially one that I can be quite candid with.  How many people do you know that will say, matter of factly, “I like being in high places… I always feeling like jumping though, even when I’m not suicidal.”  And, while it is an extremely serious topic, you can talk about it as if we were commenting on what we had for lunch today.

Life.  You’re weird.

In less morbid news, I got called out in German class tonight as we were discussing the forms of “wollen”.  I was writing feverishly in my notebook, when Lissi figured I would know Rammstein and made me put two and two together.  “Ah, ja, ‘Ich Will’” and etc.  She says she’d play it for the class but didn’t want to start up the smartcart, and then I’m all, “I think I’ve got it on my phone,” and she’s all, “Really? :D”  So I find it and play it after class.

Then I hang back afterwards and ask her if she’d watched the video I told her to watch (Peter Heppner - “Alleinesein”) and she’s all, not yet.  So I told her it’s pretty fresh (August?  September?).  And she started talking about how weird it is being here in the States, missing out on what’s happening back home in Germany… aye aye, I agree, it’s always weird (news from home always seemed so foreign when I was over in Scotland, so I can dig the feeling).  But we talk about music in general, and Peter Heppner… Wolfsheim and Joachim Witt’s “Die Flut” (of which we were both “OMFG I LOVE THAT SONG SO BAD” over… thanks again for that, Chrissi!).  And she says to me what a relief it is to find someone over here that she can get all squeeful about German music with.  She was saying that she’ll start playing music in her office and get all sorts of straaaange looks because it isn’t a common thing over here… I just giggle and say “Oh, don’t feel bad, I get those looks too”.   It just made me happy.
I am seriously gonna miss her when she goes back home after this semester.  Not only is she an awesome teacher, but she’s just plain awesome in general.  I’m so glad I got to take her class.  But we friended each other on Facebook (yay!), so when I do make a trip to Germany (WHEN, not IF… it WILL happen someday!), I’ll have to see if we can get together and have a drink.

Ah, and to explain the title of this entry, I picked up the new ohGr today (”Devils In My Details”).  I downloaded the leak, so nothing is new whatsoever (besides being in better-quality), but I’m still happy to have it in my possession.  I’m always happy to support artists I admire.  Makes me feel all warm inside.

Between voting and probable coffee-slurping, I have two main obj… no, three.  Three main objectives.  First, read my ecology books for the exam Thursday.  Second, keep up the good progress on NaNoWriMo (oh yes, there is progress.  I’m impressed with myself!)  Third, get back to Twilight.  I finished the first book yesterday evening, and stayed up late chewing through the first bit of New Moon.  Why I waited so long to start on this, I don’t know.  I have a habit of ignoring hype until it’s gotten to be “old news”.

On NaNo, progress has been better than I expected so far.  I dragged up my old notes, some old “quotes” I’d think every now and again, working them in to scenes… I found and old letter I wrote long ago and realized it definitely had a place (accidental artistry!), so I broke it up, filed it down, polished it up, and it’s on the sidelines, waiting for its chance to be introduced.  Actually… that’s how I’m writing the whole thing.  Writing quips, scenes, full ideas in pieces and parts, which will be arranged and fused later.  Why I never thought of this approach before, I dunno… it only made sense in my mind now, though.  One of my main struggles before was the linear fashion in which I wanted to write… beginning to end, with maybe some second-thought embellishments later.  But this way I stumbled on all frantically seems to work so far.

I’m toying with the idea of having cameos from my more ‘celestial’ of friends.  We’ll see.  I don’t think this story is going to be what I originally planned, but it’ll be what it’ll be.

NaNoWriMo.  Oh, yes.  Tomorrow is the day.  And while I was excited about it before, I’m not so sure now.  I barely have time to sleep, much less pull a novel out of my ass in four tiny weeks.  And although Kev has said he will give me the time to bang out some pages, I don’t see myself as willing at the time, nor do I see it as being too much of a help against all I will have most assuredly NOT written in weeks prior.  In other words, I think this is going to be fail before it even starts.

Then again, any progress is progress I can work with.  If I fail to finish, who cares?  I never really expected to finish.  If I only get twenty five pages out of the deal?  Great!  It’s twenty five I didn’t have before.  So it won’t be that bad.

No problem.  No matter what, no problem.

ETA: Oh, snap!  They took it down.  Conspiracy!  CONSPIRACY!
Sorry if you missed it, folks.  Especially sorry that she still exists, somewhere in the wilds of Virginia…

I realize I’ve been rather hypersensitive over the last few, but I think this would grate my nerves under the swellest of circumstances.  Maybe not to this extent… the extent of thinking of changing schools or perhaps even major… if I am indeed going for my Master’s, why not just do Psychology?  The only reason I decided on Social Work was so I could find BA-level employment, after all, where a BA in Psychology would have me as good as flipping burgers.  BUT… yeah, that’s something to think about when I’m not so hypersensitive and pissed off at the world.

Then again… maybe I should consider it before I commit myself to potentially useless classes next semester.

So it’s getting close to time where I should have my annual pipe-checking event.  Dial up the clinic, get an appointment in great time (less than a week, and not because they didn’t have earlier spots).  Sweet.  I’m set.

Go in today, and I find out my doctor is some T. Dale dude.  Didn’t think anything of it until the nurse mentioned that he used to work at the hospital down in Cynthiana.  “Oh,” I think.  “I wonder if that’s…”  and then he walks in.  And wouldn’t you know it?  I know the guy.  And this is a guy I vowed to punch in the face the next time I saw him (not expecting to really see him again).  See, the burning hatred stems from the time I put my hand through a window and nearly severed the tendon on my right index finger.  I go into the ER, and instead of doing what a SMRAT doctor would do (which would be sending me straight to some specialists in Lexington), Dr Dale decides he can stitch it up himself and all will be fine.  But all wasn’t fine! Oh no!  I have a horrible sunken-assed scar that, eleven years later, still hurts like a motherfucker if I even just think about it.  Seriously, you don’t even have to touch it to make it scream.  It hurts just to think about.  As a matter of fact, I feel like gnawing my knuckle off as we speak.

The good news is, I didn’t punch him in the face.  The bad news is… I didn’t punch him in the face.  But I guess I figured out why he did a shitty job on my hand.  Maybe he just wasn’t used to working on that end.  *ting!*

Haha, wow.  Hello, world.  Did you enjoy reading that??  *freak*

At least I can sound like a proper caveman.  Can you imagine if I said “I plate”?  Pah!

Anyway, I failed to mention last night that Dad is back home, because I was freakin’ tired.  I twittered it, though, so you can’t say you weren’t informed… you can only say “I didn’t look hard enough for the information.”  So take that.  But yes, Dad is home, and sore, but I’m happy to have him back to Diddly-Dadding around.

Now I guess I should actually start working on that homework I was talking about.  But not before “wow”ing over how amazing it is to feel so loved by such a wonderful manboy.  Sometimes I get so happy I could barf.  And I hope it’s not like, barf barf.  I would think love-barf should be made of glitter and roses.  But I don’t think glitter is something a body synthesises.  Maybe roses, if you’re a vessel for the Holy Virgin, but glitter?  Nah.  I digress!  No one has brought me such happiness, fulfillment, and contentment before.  It’d almost be like ‘peace’ were it not for us both being kind of childishly chaotic.  I think it’s as close to ‘peace’ as either of us will ever get.  And it’s pretty damned nice.