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| 02:49pm 11/09/2013 |
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mood:  artistic music: sound of fingers racing across the keyboard
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This for the most part will be a friends only journal. Leave a note if you add me so I can maybe probably add you back. |
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| Movies |
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| 05:38pm 01/12/2002 |
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mood:  happy music: Nine Inch Nails "Complication"
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We went to the movie store last night. Spent an hour there, because we couldn't decide on anything. Anything I liked, he hated, and vice versa. We finally decided on Der Unhold, about a man who believes he's entered a fairytale as he helps build the Nazi empire.
A boy there loudly told his friends that the Blockbuster next door threw out a whole section of horror movies, because no one was renting them. What a shame.
For new movies, I want to see "Arafrat," "One Hour Photo," and "The Pianist" and...well, I can't think of anything else at the moment. Anyone have any movies they wish to recommend, new or old? |
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| Visiting the white palace |
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| 12:44am 25/11/2002 |
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mood:  numb
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"Are you feeling better," asked the roommate, eyebrow raised expecting me to already have taken the van home.
"Oh yeah, much much better. Turned out it was a kidney stone, and I had to go to the Emergency Room. They hooked me up to an IV to me &EVERYTHING while they were trying to figure out what it was. Spent seven hours there."
"What???"
Friday, I had woken to a sharp pain on my left side. Asked the roommate if she had some stomach medicine; checked, and no, then went to class. It didn't pass, it got worse, excruciatingly worse. Fearing that perhaps it was my appendix, I put on a sweater and coat over my dress and headed down the stairs, hand on side. Luckily, the campus health center is right next door to my dorm. I entered and the lady at the desk said matter-of-factly that all appointments today had been filled; looking up, noticing, decided I needed to go to the emergency room. Before they came; questioned and "warned" me that with "abdominal pain" they usually check to see if it is sex-related.
A couple of security officers drove me to the hospital which was much closer than I had realized. I was asked a couple questions about what was the problem, then ushered into another to answer questions: address?, do I have a will?, am I an organ donor?, am I religious?, (should I start to worry)? Thankfully before I had left the campus office, they had printed out my insurance information, because I don't know enough about it to reply to their inquires especially with a sharp pain at my side.
Finally that part was over and I could start getting help. Took me into the main room with four beds; curtains all around, hooked me up to a machine to measure my pulse, drew blood from the left arm, and then the right. Next stuck a needle into my left hand with vial collecting the blood. Watching it overfill, wondered how much they needed, it turned out they weren't collecting a sample from the hand. They were preparing to place the IV in. The doctor came in, and shook me saying he believed it was just excess water in the ovaries. It had calmed down, and then he had worsened it. Kept asking me throughout to rate the pain. Place covered in posters of smiley faces: 1 (smiling) to 10 (face twisted in pain) on the degree of pain.
On the other side was a black man later found out later to be a woman who started screaming, fuckthis &fuckthat once out of bed. Later a chubby boy with broken face after been tripped arrived. Waited. Did an ultra sound on me. Rubbed jelly-like substance on my stomach, and looked inside, saw black and white images of my innards on screen. Said I would need a full bladder to push the ovaries up to see them if the problem was with them. I had to go back to the room, and wait for the IV to fill me up.
Nurse came by. "You have to go yet?" "No" "Have you gone yet since you've arrived?" "No." "You've had at least two liters in you since I've arrived. At least, you're not going to be like one of those little old ladies when you're older who have to go 23 times a night." Later, I had to, but the test not needed a second time. I asked for a painkiller, talked, and then removed the IV, and released the liquid into there. Waited. Then, they did a cat-scan on my stomach (only thought they were for heads before). Put me in a wheelchair and pushed me along to the room. Don't breathe, breathe, don't breathe, breathe as the machine went across.
The woman seemed to be studying the results so I asked if she knew, and she replied she only takes the pictures. They had to send the results to Sinai in Baltimore. My mom asked if I could eat now. No, couldn't in case they had to rush me into surgery. Panicking, don't wish to be sliced open. More waiting. Found out it was a kidney stone. No surgery needed. It would pass through (hopefully). Removed the IV, skin like a newborn from all that water rushing through my veins.
My mother and boyfriend took me to a Chinese buffet afterward. I had been there seven hours with the last bite I had eaten the day before. Starving yet I could eat very little since I had been vomiting up water. Had a diet coke with my meal. "The doctor said you are suppose to avoid carbonated drinks," said he. My mother and I had both tuned out the doctor telling that I need to avoid carbonated drinks. After it passes, they're suppose to analyze it. If it's the most common type, I have to eat/drink less tea, green leafy vegetables, milk, and other supposedly good for you foods. Then again, every food probably has a negative consequence. People had once thought eggs, bacon and sun good for them, but they still are, and still bad too. |
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| Video killed the Radio Star |
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| 07:49pm 20/11/2002 |
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mood:  exhausted music: Madonna "Oh Father"
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Woke up late, missed class...the room smells like play-doh. I don't know if I'm hallucinating from too much sleep, or if someone is burning play-doh somewhere. I woke up hoping I would be alone today, and I turned finding my roommate packing her bag. She has a court case back home.
I spoke to Travis when he was doing his radio show a few nights back, and asked him (jokingly) to play Britney or N'sync.
Me: Or maybe Christina A. since she has "artistic integrity" now that she stopped wearing clothes proving she is no longer a teenybopper.
Me: By the way have you seen the grabs from that MTV thing that Christina did? The first time they showed it they didn't blur it well enough, and you could see her piercings.
Travis: I saw the clit and tit pics. What kind of show was that?
Me: I think she wanted to give something back to her younger fans
Travis: Funny.
I was glad I talked to him because afterward he said he would slip into the editor hat again if I wanted him to (yes yes), and sent me a extremely funny, tongue-in-cheek witty article he wrote on how to get your video on TRL. ("The main rule is not to expose the TRL viewers' limited intelligence, cultural ignorance, and unbridled contempt for art. Keep your videos within the realm of eye candy.")
As for me I got a "job." I wasn't looking, or wanting one for that matter and instead was presented one. I'm dead scared. I'm suppose to be a camera (wo)man. I instruct not do. I don't even know how to turn on that type of camera! How am I suppose to learn before March/April? I think I was picked because I'm a girl. He talked about how nice it will be to have a female perspective and how nice it will be to have another female in the room when they do the mirror scene. Nice, nice, nice, but it is nice to be around someone professional with this. I missed that. |
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| Confess Your Secret |
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| 12:45pm 18/11/2002 |
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mood:  hungry music: Better Than Ezra "Good"
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This has been going around LJ. People turn ON anonymous commenting (mine is already on) and turn OFF IP logging (I don't have it. Don't see the need for it) and then people post their confessions anonymously. I being the follower that I am have decided to give it a try.
I would like to this to be successful so if you may write down a confession ANONYMOUSLY (no posting under your LJ name please). Be silly or serious I don't care but please post, I want this to be successful. The point of this being is the opportunity to say things that you normally wouldn't say out of fear, guilt or shame or whatever emotion you have. I'll post too, perhaps, but being anonymous, you won't know if I have or not.
If I ever do have to turn on IP logging which I doubt I will note it here. |
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magdelein's journal