Allow me to paint a picture for you fair readers:

Batgirl, finally after months of slaving and toil and overtime, was going on vacation. Her and her family had booked passage on ye old Delta airlines to Florida, so that they may take in the sun and laugh at the elderly. All was set, they were to leave at 850am on a Tuesday morning and flying direct, enabling them to have an entire extra day.

But lo, the travel gods did not smile upon them...

We woke up at 5am like we were supposed to, all a twitter and excited to go on a much needed vacation. I leave my room and see my dad looking sullen and tired, the bags under his eyes giving me the inkling that he hadn't slept much. He looked at me and said 4 words that made my heart drop: "The flight is canceled."

Apparently, Delta, in their infinite douchitude, called up my dad at 2am to tell him that they had canceled our flight. They were willing to give us a new flight on Thursday though, yay for us. Obviously this was unacceptable, as we had all worked hard for our vacation and had a condo rented, taken time off etc. So my dad told them to get us on another flight pronto. Delta, after hanging up on him twice, finally got us a flight. This was how that flight worked.

Drive to Newark (2 hours away), fly from New Jersey to fucking TORONTO (going North to go South?) then a layover of 4 hours and then fly from Toronto to Florida. But, even worse so, my sister and I would be flying out at 9am, and my parents and other sister would be flying at 12. We'd meet and then fly to Florida at 4pm.

Having really no other choice, we grab our crap and drive. The rest of the morning was uneventful, though we had to keep explaining to security that my sister had an extension on her passport because they couldn't fucking read it properly and were going to refuse her. My sister and I make it to Toronto and that's where the fun really begins.

We're in Terminal 3, but our next flight is in Terminal 1. No one tells us this so we go to connecting baggage in Terminal 3. The guy there (who was 8000 years old and with a thick Romanian accent) starts scanning my bags and says our flight was in Terminal 1. I say ok and that we would bring our luggage there ourselves, since we still had to do customs (not one but twice since we were entering Canada and then of course going to the USA in the same airport), but he just grabs my luggage from my hands, says that it's in the computer and he can't stop the process and throws them onto the belt. I ask him if our baggage will make it to our plane and he just shrugs and says: "Your bags are gone."

My sister and I, now freaking since this guy was such a douche, run to Terminal 1 and find the airline rep and tell her the story. She leads us to customs and says that the bags will be delivered there and we need to pick them up and bring them through customs and then they go to the plane. Fine, no biggie, I was just happy they were gonna get to the Terminal at all. We waited 45 minutes until our bags finally got there. We ran to customs where the lady there made fun of us for coming up to Toronto just to go more South and then held us for secondary inspection. Why? Because we had fruit with us for a snack. You can't bring goddamned fruit to the states. I explained, "but we bought it in the states, and we're barely stepping foot on Canadian soil. We're not even leaving the airport." Too bad, they threw away all our food. We put our bags on the belt finally and pray that they go to the plane. We then go through security. I beep the metal detector, twice, even though I didn't set it off when I went through it at Newark. So yay me, I got to get to know Hilda the security guard on a nice personal level as she patted me down a little too aggressively for my tastes. She moved a lot faster than my normal dates, but hey, I'm not into handcuffs.

After all that pain, we make it to the gate. I decide to call my parents and explain to them the very detailed baggage instructions so that they wouldn't have any problems. Lo and behold, they never pick up their baggage from the customs area until they're paged 20 minutes before the plane boards. My dad sprints to customs, gets the bags, goes through customs, gets searched because they checked a cooler with some food and ran in his socks so that he would make the plane. They barely held it for us and I was literally the last person on the plane as they shut the doors. I walk to my seat to find some little jackass sitting in it. I realized that he was traveling alone, and as not to make trouble for him, just took his spot (both were window seats so I didn't care).

Air Canada, which had tvs with movies (thank god) had been nice enough to give our family free meals for our troubles. However, the stewardesses somehow didn't have enough braincells to realize that the jackass 10 year old BOY sitting in my spot was not a 25 year old woman named Ariella and gave him my food. I tried to explain it to them, but they pretty much ignored me, even calling the boy my brother Stuart (could they not have checked the list again?) and left me without any dinner/lunch. Thankfully, my sister shared with me so I didn't need to go pound anyone's face in. After all that, we finally got to Florida, thankfully without any terrorist bombings or stopovers in Guam.

I need a vacation from my vacation.

It's that time of year again where Ari sends out her Chanu...Hanu...Channukah? cards to all who want one. If you would like a lovely holiday card with a personalized scribbled note inside from yours truly, please reply with your address, don't worrk, comments are screened.

I'm alive.

My PA school apps are out no thanks to a certain Paramedic who never finished his letter of rec for me even though I asked him months ago. Let's hope he finishes by tonight like he "promised" me today.

I'm getting burnt out at work. They're really getting on my last frayed nerve:

1- Forcing me to go per diem and pay a retarded amount for my benefits 2 months early because they just wouldn't let me take vacation. I didn't want to be paid for it, I just wanted the time off. While this wasn't a problem the other 3 years I've done it, suddenly I'm being forced to move down in status.

2- Running me ragged all day all over the damned island only to give me a signal 5 (time to come home signal) so that I could FINALLY get off on time for once and then retract it to give us a bullshit dialysis discharge while we're 3/4ths of the way home. Thanks you an hour overtime.

3- General douchie-ness of the materials manager. He sits around all day on facebook and barely does his job. God forbid you ask him for things, it's like pulling teeth to get him off his ass from eating his bagel in the morning to get me, oh I dunno, cervical collars or oxygen tubing. I'd get them myself if only he wasn't the only one with a key to the storage room. You ask for something and he rolls his eyes and gives you some snarky comment. Oh, and the heavens might smite you down if you ask him for help with replacing a gigantic oxygen tank because he's a huge bodybuilder and I have tiny hands and can't even grasp the wrench properly to get the always too tight regulator off! *heavy breathing* /rant

I need a new job...It'll be better once I go down to 2 days a week due to class.

The day is going alright, nothing out of the ordinary really. My second patient of the day told me I was pretty and asked me to make him some fried chicken, and a man with a clogged catheter kept grabbing and massaging his penis in pain, but really that was par for the course.

It was nearing the end of the day, and I was hoping to get off on time, but no such luck. We get a late discharge that was supposed to be picked up at 430pm (it being 530pm), but we knew we could bust the call out fast, so we wouldn't be so much overtime. My partner goes towards the room and I begin my paperwork. Suddenly my partner frantically gestures at me from down the hall and points as a woman is striding towards me. Immediately I recognize her.

Now, I am all about patient privacy and HIPAA. If someone in an elevator, even a nurse asks me who I'm picking up, I won't tell them. I'll say something like "3rd floor" and leave it at that. If they say "are you picking up so and so?" I'll usually say no, even if we are, so that privacy remains intact. I cover all my paperwork and I keep everything in front of me so no one can see. After all, you wouldn't want strangers to know your business. Two big pet peeves of mine are nosy people who ask too many questions and people who look over my shoulder while I'm working. I'm trying to concentrate on reading paperwork and deciphering doctor handwriting (which is akin to hieroglyphics written with someone's feet), the last thing I need or want is someone hovering over me.

The lady in question had committed two of my pet peeves. While I was picking up a different patient off the same floor, she tried to grill me for information on who I was picking up. She told me a name, and I had said no (which was true at the time), but she would not stop asking me questions. "What room is this person in? Is it a man or a woman? What disease do they have?" She then walks away only to turn around a minute later to try and leer over my shoulder at the paperwork, to which I give her a death glare and kindly ask her to give me some space. My partner is gesturing at me frantically to tell me that this woman is in fact, our patient's wife. Thankfully she walks by without much fuss other than a "I knew I'd see you again."

Now, I'm already in a bad mood of sorts due to getting this overtime job. While most people would say that overtime = money, after working 10 straight hours at my job, I'd rather get off on time, eat dinner and relax before going to bed. I put on my best "holy crap am I happy to be dragging your half dead ass to the cesspool that you call a nursing home" smile and walk into the room.

Me: *waves*
DM: Dementia Man

Me: "Hi sir, how are you today?" *smile smile*
DM: "Call me Sarge. I served under Patton in '44 but I was only 18, so I didn't know what to do with the mademoiselles."
Me: "Uh...ok." *smile faltering*
DM: "What's your name?"
Me: "Ariella."
DM: "That's very pretty, you're a very pretty girl. Do you like Greek men?"
Me: "Uh..."
DM: "Are you married?"
Me: "I have a boyfriend."
DM: "Tell him I'm handsome and rich, because I am."

So now I'm officially weirded out, since he's trying to flirt with me while fiddling with his blood/urine filled foley catheter tube,but not overly so. We move him over to the stretcher and he keeps blabbing on about being a dancer and all sorts of stuff. I smile and nod, thinking about the DNR that I will sign in a few decades to make sure I get the plug pulled before I get this badly demented. We start our drive and he comments about the smooth ride, so I figure I'm out of the woods. Oh silly me.

He turns to me and asks me if I'm Greek. I say no, to which he replies with, "you must be Italian, Italian girls are wild," and then proceeds to tell me, in GRAPHIC DETAIL, the experience he had during "the war" with an Italian hooker. I sit through it, trying not to imagine a large, sweaty, hairy, Greek man and an equally large, sweaty and hairy Italian hooker doing the nasty (no offense to the Greeks and Italians here) when I hear a noise. I immediately think "fart," and dismiss it until the man looks at me, full grin on his face and says, "I farted." I smile and say it's ok, only to hear, "too late, I pooped myself too."

The smell assaults me instantly, my nostrils burning and my eyes watering. I can take smells to be sure, but whatever hospital food this man had ingested over the course of the week had all come out at once in a bouquet that I could only describe as "hungover bathroom smell mixed with old cheese." I look to the heavens and ask whatever deity up there to give me the lung capacity to hold my breath for the next five miles.

When the second fart hits, and I just have to laugh.

I'm around. I dunno why I haven't had any inclination to write in my lj lately, I guess I've just been busy.

So I epic failed the MCAT (well epic failed as in didn't improve my score). No Dr. school for me. It took me a long while to get over this, but I have. Life is life and sometimes things aren't meant to be. I'll be applying for a Masters in Physicians Assistant, which is like Dr. Lite. You get to prescribe, work in hospitals and offices, but you can't have your own office, you have to work under a Dr. No biggie for me, since it means more patient care opportunities for me, which is what I wanted to begin with. That and I was never really thinking about getting my own practice anyways, I always had a gut feeling that hospital work was for me. That coupled with less time in school, less debt and not having to deal with malpractice makes this a very inviting profession. So, we'll see how this plays out.

I spent a lot of time trying for med school and this is a sign that it's time to move on.

An old chapter closes on my life and a new one opens.

I get a discharge over the pager for a patient who had atrial fibrillation going back to her nursing home. Perfectly sweet lady who was very happy to be leaving the hospital and going back to her nursing home that she claimed to love. Now what gave me a warning light was that this nursing home was the same one from the painful G-Tube pooping incident I posted about a while ago, but I figured "meh, some people might actually get treated well there."

We arrive at the home and find admissions. The clerk there said they weren't sure where the lady was going yet, so just go to the floor and ask. That's fine, people get jostled around rooms all the time. We go to the floor and the nurse there looks at us and her eyes bug out. Apparently no one told her the patient was coming back, even though she had been discharged and a bed made ready. She tries paging her supervisor because she "thinks the patient isn't supposed to be here." Oh shit-monkeys...

15 minutes later and after getting an aide to yell out a window, the supervisor comes back from a too long smoking break. She gives me an evil eye and tells me to "take a seat because you'll be here for a while." Now, I'm supposed to be off at 6pm, and my watch is reading 545pm, but I just smile and nod while she goes and practically slams a phone down and starts punching numbers in. She then begins whispering with the other nurse so that we don't hear. Finally she turns to us. Oh nut-monkeys...

S: Supervisor bitch of the year
Me: *waves*

S: We had no idea she was coming, her sodium is low from labs, she's non-compliant with her medications here and they never sent any paperwork, take her back.
Me: *BWA?* Uh...why was she discharged and assured a bed then?
S: The hospital fucked it up so take her back, we're not accepting her.
Me: *trying to ignore the fact that she just swore in front of a ton of residents and us* Uh...ok I need call my boss. Can I please use your phone?

She slams the phone in front of me and I call. Now the policy is that when something like this happens, my boss needs to speak to said supervisor to verify the reasoning behind everything. This has to happen every.time. we have this situation, and all nursing homes know this.

Me: Hi Brian, yea this patient we have isn't being accepted because of some abnormal labs-*I get cut off*
S: SODIUM AND SOME OTHER THINGS I REFUSE TO TELL HIM ABOUT!
Me: Ok...you heard that, so we have to take her back to the hospital. *to the supervisor* Would you mind speaking with my boss to verify the return?
S: NO! I'M NOT TALKING TO ANYONE! YOU JUST TAKE HER BACK. PERIOD! *she yells this into my ear*
Me: Yea...she doesn't want to talk to you.

As we're leaving I hear her rattle off a string of expletives that would make a nun faint and a sailor think twice.

This was uh-oh number 1

So we end up taking the lady back to the hospital and thankfully we get her back to her original room. I give the paperwork back to the nurse and explain the situation again.

N: WTF NURSE
Me: kill me

N: I knew this was going to happen.
Me: ...What?
N: Well when I saw the labs this morning I knew they wouldn't want to take her, but I convinced the doctor to discharge her and give it a try to see if they might not look at the labs and just accept her.
Me: ....Why would you do that...
N: We needed to have the room cleaned
Me: ....

And I just walked away. By now it was 7pm and I was so white with rage, I just walked away. A good rant to my boss later (who was equally rageful due to the first nurse and now this nurse) and there are now 2 complaints being filed.

Ow. My faith in humanity just got stabbed.

Going out of town for one weekend and missing a bunch of crap happening.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ASH!

Oh and I need a new brain since my old one melted out my ears from the MCAT.

T-Minus 3 days until my MCAT. Freakout mode is now active!

It's been a hectic few weeks. I've been studying my brains off for the MCAT which is steadily approaching and getting back into the routine of full time work. Everything was going smoothly until the past two weeks.

My grandma passed away on Monday.

She was 94, and while one would expect her to be frail and possibly in a nursing facility, she was neither of those things. She lived in her own apartment, took the city bus to the grocery store, and hadn't been in a hospital for more than 50 years. She had all of her faculties and even volunteered her time to lead senior exercise classes and make crafts. She never wanted to make a fuss about anything and never wanted to put anyone out to help her. "Just keep it simple, no reason to go to any trouble over me," was what she frequently said. About a month ago, she got sick with a cold. Being the stubborn lady that she was, she didn't go to the doctor, saying it would pass. It didn't, in fact it turned into pneumonia and she had to go to the emergency room. She was in the hospital for a week, but was in good spirits and soon recovered. A little weak, my mom and aunt suggested she go to rehab to regain her strength before going back to her apartment. She did so and we thought nothing more of it.

Last weekend she went to the ER again, this time with incredible abdominal pain and swollen legs (we feared heart failure). Apparently there was something wrong with her intestines, a blockage of some sort, and the backup was swelling the intestines to such an extent that they were pressing down on her diaphragm, making it hard for her to breath. They pumped her full of fluids and she seemed to be emptying out and getting better. I get a call on Sunday night from my aunt saying that she took a turn for the worse, that some of the fluid went into her lungs because of the backup. My mother flew up to Montreal to see her Monday morning, and missed her passing by 30 minutes. My dad called me at work and I practically ran home from the ambulance so that we could drive up for the funeral.

It's amazing reflecting on her life as I have over the past few days (in Judaism there are 7 days of mourning after the funeral where the mourners sit in a house and don't do anything- no shower, no music, no comfort. Just sitting. The family visits, sits with them, talk and bring food). My grandma - Bubbie as we called her - was the last grandparent I had. She kept telling me that she wanted to be at my wedding and maybe see a great granchild, and we all thought she would. She was a strong woman and we really thought she'd be around until 100, just because of her sheer determination and good health. She always came for family functions, always bringing chicken soup and a jello mold (we suspected she had a secret compartment in her fridge filled with hundreds of them).

My father, sisters and cousins went to clean out her apartment, a tiring task in itself since my Bubbie was a terrible packrat (really, who keeps phone books from twenty years ago?). While sifting through her things, I found old photographs (some from as far back as 1915) and every single card we ever macaroni glittered for her. It was nice to look back at these wonderful memories and reminisce about old times (taking me swimming when I was in pre school and spending midterms at her house).

The funeral was simple with a simple casket, she would have wanted it that way, and it's the most spiritual way. Going into the earth in wood that is simple and not ornate at all makes it easier for the soul to get to Gan Eden. It was hard for me, since I shared a close bond with her that I don't think my sisters really had. When it came time to shovel dirt onto the coffin, I couldn't do it. I stood in line but I had to step out and just watch. I guess I wasn't ready to let her go, or maybe I didn't want to be one of the people who covered her in the ground.

I guess the point to my rambling was just to give my thoughts of the past 5 days and hopefully to give myself a little closure. I hope you all don't mind my babbling, but I guess it's as close to an entry as I can make right now. I can only hope that my next one will hold happier words.

This will be posted to adayinmylife. Check it out if you're interested.

Hello ADML, I'm Ariella from Long Island, New York. 24, finished post-baccalaureate pre-medical student, aspiring medical student, EMT and tutor. My first ADML happens to fall on my last day of post-bac work, so here we go!




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I didn't realize Jack Daniels made a cologne. Thanks drunk guy on the subway!

We're at level 5 people! The swine flu cometh!

- Now that my team is out of the playoffs, hockey irritates me. Rangers fans especially irritate me.

- Why is it that I'm most productive on days where I should be outside enjoying the nice weather? Sure if it's pouring out, I'm not getting anything done.

- 3 months until D-Day aka MCATs.

- Nothing brightens a day more than sitting outside on a porch swing reading with the smell of grass and spring/summer in the air.

- The neighbor kids are really badly behaved. My entire Sunday afternoon paper writing was peppered with the constant screaming of "STOP HITTING YOUR SISTER!" "PUT THE HOSE DOWN AND STOP SPRAYING THE DOG!" "DON'T RUN INTO THE STREET!" "I SWEAR TO GOD YOU'RE TRYING MY PATIENCE." Ugh.

- 3 more weeks and I'm done with school, yay! Until med school that is.

- The thought of going back to work full time at the ambulance is already giving me an ulcer. I was hoping to have another job by now, but the job market is just that bad. I suppose I should look on the bright side, at least I have a job period.

- Assassin's Creed is a wonderful time waster.

- A testament to how nerdy I am: After my last tuition payment is in, what will I buy first? Comic books.

- Amazon is wonderful. I got 2 books for 8 bucks completely new. Eat that shitty doesn't carry more than 10 science fiction novels at a time library!

- If you're going to try to kill yourself, why use a bottle of Pinesol? There are plenty of other things in your house that will actually do the job.

- Passover is an awesome holiday. Passover cleaning is a bitch.

- The amount of laundry in the house increases exponentially with the amount of sisters home from college. Seriously, saying you brought home "no dirty clothes" doesn't mean "I've filled 3 baskets with dirty clothes but that's all."

- The amount of sleep lost also increases exponentially with the amount of sisters home from college. I can't imagine how I was able to stay up until 3am watching movies in college. Also, TV room outside of my room so I can hear said movies until 3am = not good.

- Nothing perks up a Sunday at work more than fresh bakery cookies.

- I am a wrestling fan, a big one. My dad got me into it when I was very young and it and hockey have been our bonding activities since then. I always make sure I'm home for Wrestlemania and watch the show. I was a bit disappointed this year, which is sad since I was looking forward to it so much.

My goals for break:

Write my bioscience paper - 3/15 pages done, oh boy
Finish up my bioscience powerpoint - 2 slides left
Finish my mcat bio review

It's daunting but doable.

- I am seriously looking forward to this break. Yes, I'll be at work and doing a lot of studying/writing, but at least I won't have the long and tiresome commute to school. Seriously, I spend more time traveling to school than I do in actual class.

- I need to stop being so negative, but it's hard. All I seem to be doing in this journal is bitching, but I guess this place is a venting spot for me so I can not be completely miserable at school, tutoring and the ambulance. I am all happy face there, but at least I know that I can be grumpy on the internets.

- I'm broke. Not just, "oh darn I can't afford this next shopping trip" broke, but "holy shit I can't afford my next tuition payment" broke. I guess it's back to extra shifts for me until the tax return or mysterious stimulus check arrives. Are we still getting those?

- I used to be a gum chewer. I did it to try and stop biting my nails to be honest, and it never worked. I randomly just stopped biting my nails and subsequently stopped chewing gum. Now I'm sitting across from some girl in the library who is cracking her bright yellow gum, blowing huge nasty bubbles and chewing like an overzealous cow. I don't get how I ever liked that habit.

- Cleaning out your computer is such a messy operation. Cleaning meaning taking off the case and using compressed air to clean out the dust monsters inside. The dust monsters attacked my sweatpants and won the battle.

- Watchmen was a decent movie. I have read the graphic novels, but I went into the movie not expecting a completely faithful adaptation. I was pleasantly surprised with it. Also, copious amounts of blue penis amused me to no end. Everytime Jon and I saw a shot of it we were like "ooh blue penis." This solidified my parent's claim that I'm actually 12.

- I woke up this morning half falling off my bed after apparently a very fitful dream about my bioscience professor making me do my presentation a month early when I hadn't even started yet. I guess I should get started on that project if I ever want to sleep again.

- Happy Belated Pi Day!

- What the hell is up with the temperatures in my school? The tutoring center varies from satan's crotch hot to iceberg cold depending on where you sit and the computer room is hovering around the temperature of the sun. The conference room for my Bioscience class is much cooler at around the temperature of the equatorial rain forest in the summertime. Open some windows people and for god's sake turn the heat down! The school complains about not having any money, so fucking stop heating the building to 7 billion degrees and you might see some savings.

You know you go to a city school when:

1- They use Dot Matrix printers for school printing.
2- People go outside to the hotdog carts for better food then the cafeteria.
3- The sounds of cop cars and fire engines drown out your professor's lecturing.

- I'm starting to hate my commute more and more. Stinky overflowing toilet on the train anyone? 40 mins of smelling poop you say? Yea I totally like going to school now.

- Suikoden Tierkreis for the DS is an amazing game. The US version comes out tomorrow, but that didn't stop me from getting the European version early. Anyone who is a fan of the series will certainly find a lot of nostalgia in it, especially from the first and second games. Anyone new should still pick it up. Great graphics and cut scenes (in full anime glory), great gameplay and the story is pretty solid, if not a bit confusing. I'll admit, the voice acting needs work, since the main character sounds like he's on fast forward all the time, but it's a small bump in the road. Definitely worth a buy.

Is it just me, or does time never move at the pace you want it to?
The week leading up to the weekend I spent with Ryan in the city? 10 bajillion hours! So slow! Any slower and snails would be waving as they passed it.
The week after where I have all my work to catch up on? Holy crap where did the week go?!

I banged out a pretty darn good intro to my term paper in 15 minutes. I guess the writer in me still exists and the rust is easily shaken off.

Every year I care less and less about the Oscars, though I was happy Heath Ledger won.


I am finding it increasingly harder to get out of bed everyday. I think seasonal depression just stays with me no matter what the season. I put the happy face on at work and school and workschool (that's tutoring) but I find myself sitting in my car in front of my house after the train ride home and just thinking about whether any of this is worth it. I'm working hard and god knows if it will get me anywhere, but I do it anyways because of the routine. It's mechanical now. I get up, drag to school, tutor, class, drag home just to wake up and do it again or go to the ambulance. I don't know, I think I'm turning into a robot...

I'm a year older. Blah. Happy one year closer to death day me.

So yea, I'm around. I know you've all missed me sooo much (though I have the feeling no one reads this anymore). Anyways, I just got back from my winter vacation in Florida with my family. It was, as usual, uneventful. We walked on the beach, went swimming, tanned, played cards and just generally tolerated each other. The only big event was on Sunday when we were supposed to leave. Our flight was delayed an hour and we were going to miss our connection in Atlanta (why a fucking connection in the next state over is beyond me) and all the other flights were overbooked. We got stuck in Florida an extra day, which wasn't a bad thing since:

1- The weather was gorgeous
2- They put us up in a swanky Mariott...Marriot...whatever hotel for free
3- They paid for our meals
4- They gave us 2000 bucks of free flying!

All in all, the extra day wasn't a big deal. We got home today at around 3pm, and after unloading all our crap my sister and I ran to pick up our dog. It was a restful vacation and I can't say I'm happy to be back.

The other exciting thing is that I'm going to be off to Chicago next week to visit Ryan for 5 days. I'm looking forward to it since I haven't seen him since before I left to Florida and I get a full 5 days sans parents or responsibility with him. I'm sure drunken "look I'm graduated but I still think I'm in college" pictures will follow.

Speaking of being old, my birthday is in 20 days. I've gotten to the age where I don't want to be getting older anymore. 24 is by no means old, but I don't know, I just feel old I guess.

Well that's all for now. I really should update more often; maybe I'll make it one of my resolutions that I never actually made.