Saturday, February 27, 2010

Those Little Joys

I am almost caught in my school work. I've been chronically behind since around the end of January... This is in stark contrast to the beginning of the semester where I had all my homework done a day or two ahead of time. I promise you that that was all Robby's fault.

And then we broke up and I was a little depressed, so even though I had MORE time than I had had before the break up, I chose to spend my time for the following week sulking in my blankets instead of doing my homework. I feel like that one stupid choice directly led to my being so behind this month.

Because then the fibromyalgia hit -- unexpectedly. I got food poisoning, and my body freaked out... so I suspect that that was the trigger this time.

But guess what? I am only behind in one of my classes now instead of all of them. Hooray! And the one class I'm behind in... I have a blessedly merciful teacher. She also has fibromyalgia and understands perfectly.

If I can just get caught up this weekend, then I won't be behind anymore, and my stress levels will be drastically reduced. Whoo!

I'm off to hang around on campus all day in an effort to remedy all this being horribly behind on schoolwork business. Wish me luck!

Monday, February 22, 2010

Oh, the Horror

I now come to a rather odd subject to blog about, but I am truly traumatized right now. Once I prided myself on my beautiful punctuation skills.

However, we just had a presentation on punctuation today in my Writing in Neuroscience class. And when I say I'm horrified I mean that I just discovered that I have been using my favorite punctuation mark (the em dash) incorrectly. Furthermore, I was shocked to realize that I do not actually know everything there is to know about commas.

"According to most American sources (e.g., The Chicago Manual of Style) and to some British sources (e.g., The Oxford Guide to Style), an em dash should always be set closed (not surrounded by spaces)."

Um, I have always surrounded my em dashes with spaces. Apparently, this is wrong. Take, for instance, a line from a previous entry:

All four of us jumped sky high — Mom accidentally punched Dad in the face and inadvertently dropped baby's feet into the pile of poop that was suddenly there.

When, really, if I were punctuatorily correct, it would read:

All four of us jumped sky high—Mom accidentally punched Dad in the face and inadvertently dropped baby's feet into the pile of poop that was suddenly there.

Furthermore, I have been occasionally been using hyphens in place of en dashes. I may or may not cry.

Here we come to a comma shocker.

Supposedly the following two sentences are incorrect:

December 19, 2002 was the day I had my spinal fusion surgery. Phoenix, Arizona is the place where it occurred.

Do you know why those are wrong? Are you stumped, as I was?

Here are the supposedly correct methods of punctuating those sentences:

December 19, 2002, was the day I had my spinal fusion surgery. Phoenix, Arizona, is the place where it occurred.

That just looks and feels so... so... wrong to me. However, the style manuals all assure that this is correct. The year and the state are to be treated as parenthetical. Because they are "nonessential elements" in their own special way... You could just remove 2002 and Arizona from those sentences altogether.

Sick. I am no longer the grammar/punctuation champ I thought I was.

Shoot me!

Friday, February 19, 2010

Projectile Poop

Sometimes you see some pretty interesting things in the doctor's office.

Today two new parents came in with their four-day-old. They were concerned because he'd been constipated for two days. Um -- that's half of his life.

And from the look on that baby's face -- he was none too happy about it.

So Dr. Harrison went through the usual advice about what to do about constipated infants, and then mentioned that sometimes rectal stimulation can help a little with babies. We put baby Tristan on the table, opened up the diaper, and Dr. Harrison stimulated his rectum. This involves sticking a Q-tip up his butt and swishing it around. Usually this will encourage the sphincter muscle to work correctly within a few minutes.

However, Tristan had only endured the Q-tip up his butt for a few seconds when --

SQUIRT! All four of us jumped sky high -- the mom accidently punched dad in the face, and accidentally dropped baby's feet into the pile of poop that was suddenly there.

It was like a cannon. His diaper was filled with ooey gooey brown stuff. Well, apparently he wasn't constipated any more. And he had only gotten started. We had only barely recovered from the first instance of projectile poop when little Tristan happily started to push out the mother lode. It appeared to be pure satisfaction.

Fortune smiled upon those parents. We had extra diapers in the office.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

The Second

I'm posting again already. Yay for my ONE follower. I am hearting you, Allison.

But see, here's the thing. I have a crisis in my hands. I have never ever been so VASTLY aware of how FEMALE I am. I wouldn't say this is a bad thing per se. It's just that... well...

I've always been... kind of behind the times when it comes to being girly. I didn't much see the point of dolls... except that I would pit them against each other in epic battles. And then I didn't really CARE about boys. In fact, I took pride in the fact that I was immune to "crushes". These things were like diseases rampant among all my peers -- diseases, because they only cause trouble. I even kind of liked the game where everyone gangs up on you and asks you who you like -- because although no one ever believed me when I told them no one, I felt a little superior knowing deep inside that I really was telling the truth when I said I didn't like anyone.

Then I came to BYU, and wha-blammy!

Somehow I just haven't been immune any more. First boy I met: major crush. And I mean MAJOR.

It took me approximately three weeks to finally realize what had happened: I, Jenna, was indeed, love's next casualty.

I was devastated -- so devastated in fact, that I curled up on the couch in fetal position and sobbed. I like somebody? How is this possible? Why now? And WHY couldn't it have waited until AFTER freshman year when all the guys in my ward would be return missionaries. NOT premies -- who are all tragically and permanently unavailable (well, three years IS forever).

Even worse? My roommate came out into the kitchen where the couch was and, as she began to cook, glanced over at me knowingly and asked, "A boy?"

I nodded and started to cry even harder. I'm so tragically NORMAL now. She didn't even have to ask... because boys are what EVERY girl cries about ALL the time. And then, sniffling, I took comfort in the remembrance that people supposedly get over their crushes, and then life goes back to normal, and everything is peachy again until the next crush.

Unfortunately though, I am beginning to wonder if I'm immune to the getting-over-it phase...

But I can deal with that.

It's the latest occurrence that worries me, and it doesn't have anything to do with boys (except... well, you know...): children.

I started noticing it as I was shadowing Dr. Harrison. She's a family practice doctor, but she also does a lot of obstetrics and pediatrics as part of that. Which means, when I'm shadowing her, I also see a lot of pregnant women and a lot of small children.

And, oh. This is even WORSE than the falling in love gig. The boy thing is bearable once you actually find somebody you want to date that also wants to date you...

The baby thing is a BAD bug to catch, in my opinion. I mean, BLAST! I don't LIKE that weird little feeling I get when I see small children. It makes me a little uncomfortable, honestly, because there is nothing I can do about it currently except 1) ignore it, or 2) make fun of it and then hope it gets embarrassed and runs away.

I mean, kids will SOMEDAY be an option but prerequisite to it becoming an option includes 1) finding a guy who likes me well enough to propose, 2) me actually saying "YES!" and then 3) not getting too scared to take it back, and finally 4) me and him saying "I do" on wedding day. And then who knows how long it'll be after that.

However long it is, thanks to the screaming oxytocin coursing through my system, a significant portion of my being thinks it is FAR too long. I see a baby and I want to steal. And then the pregnant women -- pure envy.

Perhaps my female peers will understand. I certainly don't.

The First

I feel like starting a blog. It is currently just before 8 in the morning, and I should be doing some organic chemistry. But then, of course, who would rather do that than start a blog?

Probably no one.

However, I don't really feel like formatting my blog just yet. Y'all will have to be satisfied with a template.

Yesterday I tested in the mambo, and I probably looked pretty sharp. But the mambo is so furiously fast that I felt a little desperate as I was dancing it. Especially in the peek-a-boo... kick, flick, spin, arm up, pose! spin out, kick, flick, arm out, pose! I would estimate that I scored around an 85%. Marci said that I had a good knowledge of the moves, but I tend to want to break on count 1 instead of 2, and that I definitely need more knees and hip action. On the bright side, I'm sure I looked DANG attractive, so who cares -- besides my instructor?

Besides mambo, I kicked trash in the genetics exam -- 96%. So I am hoping that the one homework assignment I just FORGOT to turn in (I did it though!) won't hurt my grade too badly.

And I don't feel too sick today. So I'm going to go to class and to work and all that jazz. And today will just be good. Whoo hoo!