Don't Worry

My first oral presentation for class was last night. I think it went well, although it's all kind of a blur. But most importantly, it's over. Now I can worry about other things.

Last Wednesday I had my annual girly-doctor visit. I have noticed that there does seem to be a trend for bloggers to discuss rather personal aspects of their lives, so in an attempt to not disappoint my two and a half readers, I shall now consider a foray into such lands. Because of a family history of ovarian cancer, my doctor had my blood drawn for testing and had me set up an appointment for a sonogram the following day. I've seen those baby-having shows on TV where the mom has goo squirted on her tummy and they roll the thing around picking up a nice fuzzy picture of her innards.

My expectations were, of course, shattered when I showed up for my sono and heard the word "internal." Huh? Your putting that probe where? Granted, the images on the screen were entertaining for the first minute, but that got boring after a while.

When she was done, the technician says to me that my uterus looks good and my right ovary looks good, but that I have a cyst on my left ovary. "I don't want you to worry," she said. "Women get cysts all the time."

Fine, I had plenty of other things to worry about (like standing up in front of 37 people and making a complete fool out of myself), so worry, I did not. Then yesterday I got a letter from the doctor's office requesting that I call to set up another sono in two months (oh, goody). But heck, I'm still not going to worry because I do better worrying about the little insignificant things in life.

Like the darn upcoming poster project.

2/4 Meme

As seen over at RussianViolets':

2 moments in your life you'd like to erase:

1. throwing up in the garbage can in Savannah on St. Paddy's Day
2. not telling Charles to go the HELL when he broke my heart

4 moments you'd like to relive:

1. summer session at Huntington Wildlife Forest
2. our Family Bonding Excursion out west (Yellowstone, Grand Tetons, Badlands, Black Hills, etc.)
3. camping at Raquette Lake as a kid
4. getting my own apartment in FL

2 places you wouldn't willingly go to again:

1. Los Angeles
2. DisneyWorld/Orlando

4 places you can't wait to visit:

1. Tuscany
2. Paris
3. the Southwestern US
4. Greece

2 foods you can't stand:

1. caraway seeds
2. cantaloupe

4 foods you love:

1. brownie batter
2. french fries
3. cheese (especially havarti & gouda)
4. dense, chewy bread

2 songs that make you change the station:

1. anything by Phil Collins
2. anything by Bette Midler

4 songs you play over and over:

1. "King of Spain" Moxy Fruvous
2. "My Heros Have Always Been Cowboys" Willie Nelson
3. "Bouncing Around the Room" PHISH
4. "No Rain" Blind Melon

2 books you'd never finish/read again:

1. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas - Hunter S. Thompson
2. Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole

4 books you have read more than once, and/or will read again:

1. Anne of Green Gables - L.M. Montgomery
2. DragonFlight - Anne McCaffrey
3. A Ring of Endless Light - Madeleine L'Engle
4. Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte

Oh, The Stress

It's times like these that I start second guessing my every decision.

Why am I taking this class? What was so wrong with my mundane, ordinary office job? Do I really need something more fulfilling? Did I really need mental stimulation?

And why did I get involved with this house-buying bullshit? What was so wrong with my current living arrangements? Do I really need space of my very own?

Why did I commit to volunteering this weekend when I have so much going on? Do they really need me? Shouldn't I be working on my presentation or reading chapter 9?

I know that all of these things will be worth it in the end, but right now, I'd like to forget about them and just flop on the couch and watch bad TV. Oh, for the days of old.

A Student Again

I had my first class a week ago tonight. It's amazing how things have changed in the years since I got my bachelor's degree. A large part of the class will take place on the internet, even though it's a regular class and not distance learning.

I was pretty nervous walking into a classroom where I didn't know a soul (wouldn't you know the room had front access only, so I had to walk in front of a full room and the professor!). It was rather overwhelming at first, but after class let out I found the other women who were also taking the class as non-matriculated grads. We exchanged email addresses and commiserated on how out of the loop we felt.

In the last week, I've set up my access to the web portion of the class, taken part in an on-line discussion there, posted my wegpage there, and taken a quiz on chapter 7 there as well. Needless to say, I am beginning to feel more comfortable with the whole thing. Now I can focus my worrying on the poster project and other group assignments the professor mentioned in the first class.

In Which I Lie to Myself

I made an interesting discovery when I went back to read an old journal last night. My motive had been to see if I could find any excerpts of interest to post on here. Alas, I came up short in that regard. The first journal I grabbed was one that I kept sporadically during my junior and senior years of high school. You know the kind, the padded, cloth-covered variety that put all kinds of pressure on you to think of something deep and meaningful to write about.

Needless to say, I didn't find anything deep and meaningful. What I did find though was evidence that I wrote in the journal in a way that I clearly felt like I should be feeling, not how I actually was. Case in point being when my best friend started dating a boy I liked, the only reference I made to being upset about it was "Sigh, I kind of liked Brian, but oh well." I then proceeded in every subsequent entry to fawn all over how cute they were together and how happy I was for them. Bullshit! I was pissed and jealous. Why couldn't I write that in my journal?

I've never been too concerned with the idea of people reading my journals, so I doubt that was the reason. God-knows, my dad would've if he'd had the opportunity (and probably did on many occasions), but once I was out of his house I always trusted my roommates and boyfriends to not cross the bounds I set up with regard to my journals. It seems to have worked out for me so far because I have long since gotten over any need to sugar-coat my entries. I have to imagine there would've been ramifications if things had been read that were not meant to be read.

Whatever the reason was that I couldn't admit my feelings back then, even to myself, I now feel compelled to point out that my "best" friend may have gotten him as a boyfriend for a few measly months, but I've had him as a dear friend ever since. *raspberry*

Note Paper

This morning I realized that I very shortly need to get a notebook or binder or something of the sort for taking notes in my class, which starts in a few days. When contemplating what might be best, I started thinking about what I had used as an undergrad.

It came flooding back to me- the days of being governed by environmental and financial concerns which lead me to adopt the habit of taking my class notes on the back of paper I fished out of recycling bins all over campus. There was a never-ending supply, and sometimes, if I was lucky, I found a few brightly colored sheets, usually from discarded flyers near the bulletin boards. That kept my notebooks looking lively and inspired.

So this morning when I got to work, I set aside a handful of scrap paper that I would've normally tossed in the recycling bin. Now all I need is a 3-ring binder and I'm all set to start class.

On Driving Standard Transmission

I remember telling my date, as he drove us to a high school play, that I could never be with a guy who drove automatic. Even at the tender age of 16 I knew just what to say to a man. Oh, I should mention that he was driving automatic. And it was our first date.

I am driving my third standard transmission currently. My parents always had standards and my sister buys them too. They are cheaper and get better gas mileage. I like being in control of when or if I shift gears. And I like being a girl who drives a stick (this was most effective in my last vehicle- a pickup truck).

It worries me that less people are driving them these days. What if it becomes hard to find them and they actually end up being more expensive?

I also think that everyone should be capable of driving a manual, even if they prefer not to own one. If we take my car, and god-forbid, something happens to me and I can't drive, are you going to be able to get the job done?

An old friend recently asked me if my offer to teach him still stands (it was made years ago). Naturally, I said yes.