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For Christmas, I got a French General bracelet kit. This evening, I used it and pliers and glue and my mom's big collection of beads to create my own personalized bracelet. I hope I get to do more of this sort of thing because I enjoyed it a lot. I probably won't have time at school, except on weekends maybe.

I present, with a great deal of mirth (but not girth, hopefully), the New Year's Eve weather in St. Louis (where I live) and Bloomington, Indiana (where Drew lives and where I will be visiting him over New Years.)

Just look at that. I love global warming. Sorry, ice caps, I know you have your fans out there (like Santa) but I was never that fond of you.

And just for good measure, I'd like to report (with similar gusto and relish--or ketchup if you prefer) the weather in Puerto Vallarta, where my dearest friend Olivia is vacationing with her novio, Cristian. ¡Que tengan un Año Nuevo buenísimo!

No doubt you all have heard of the tragedy that has happened/is happening in southeast Asia to east Africa: the earthquake (measuring 9.0) and the following tsunami. Currently, the death toll is past 22,000, which seems.. incomprehensible to me. 22,000 people.. gone. Granted, I never knew these people and chances are that I never would have even if this event had not cut short their lives. But something about this tragedy just grabbed my heart, so I went to donate at the International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies: I gave $10.

Ten dollars.      "A 10-nation arc of destruction left by a monster earthquake and walls of water that killed more than 22,000 people. Thousands were missing and millions homeless."

Ten dollars.      "Hundreds of thousands have lost everything, and millions face a hazardous future because of polluted drinking water, a lack of sanitation and no health services."

Ten dollars.      "The disaster could be the costliest in history as well, with 'many billions of dollars' of damage."

I wonder what my $10 will go toward, though: maybe a meal for someone who is hungry; maybe clothing for someone who has lost everything in the disaster; maybe a pair of shoes for someone who has spent all day walking barefoot, trying to find the bodies of his or her deceased relatives. Whatever it is, I hope it helps.

Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-achoo!

Unless, of course, the music is either Nat King Cole, Bing Crosby (too few people name their children Bing these days), or Elvis. If not one of these masters of the holiday spirit, then just give me a Silent Night. Unfortunately, not everyone recognizes the necessity of quality music or simply silence.

Kelly says, "I am about twenty minutes from murdering my brother. If anybody out there knows how to disassemble a set of tenors, please notify me immediately. Seriously, I'm over it. Does anybody else have a little brother that thinks he's some kind of musical prodigy? And you don't count, Becky K, because your brother really is some kind of musical prodigy. Anyway, I am seriously ready to abduct my brother's set of tenors and pitch them into the Meramec while I'm on my way to work today. I mean it. Those tenors are on the verge of completely ruining Christmas."

Sometimes, life has a strange way of making you thankful for the things you take for granted. Merry Christmas Eve's Eve!

This morning, I woke up feeling like my chest was constricted. When I took deep breaths, the tightness extended to my throat. I was hoarse, but all that stopped after an hour or so. We'll see what new and exciting symptoms/side effects the antibiotics (I guess) will bring tomorrow.

My sympathies and support go to my Keebie-weebie. Feel better! I'm sure things will work out. Just remember what I said about balance. And take care of yourself: you mean a lot to me.

Yesterday I found out my grades. Spanish: A, History: B+, Poetry: A-, Accounting: A, Search (Philosophy): A. I had been hoping to get all As--especially since I put such effort into studying for the last History test and writing that paper, but I got a 75 at the beginning of the semester when I didn't know what Ye Olde Saxe wanted. And as for Poetry, who knows? She might just be crazy. ;) We all know my poetry is perfect and flawless. (The fact that I had to say both "perfect" and "flawless" should tell us something.) Anyway, I'm just being anal here, analyzing these like this, but it's all right. Matt and Olivia both got all As. *small roar--half pride, half angst*

Anyway, being anal is what got me to this "high station" in life. So there.

Me: Apparently the difference between our births is like, exactly 7.5 months.
Drew: Pretty much.
Me: Doesn't it kind of make you smile to think that when you were growing individuals fingers and stuff, I was just a ball of cells?

It may interest you to know that I am still alive after my traumatic Friday morning. That post reads a little funny since I'm not sure all my blood had returned to my head--for example, it took me a good hour to compose that paragraph. What happened in the doctor's office: they poked and prodded me and asked personal questions and then took blood. They switched my antibiotic, which seems to be working. In conclusion, I feel better and am resting.

We decorated the Christmas tree today: it looks marvelous.

Body. Stop. Doing. This.

I wake up at 7:15 this morning to an aching pain in my stomach, so I get up to go to the bathroom and start feeling very nauseous. I get in front of the toilet, and I start see the purple/green O in front of my eyes and start feeling the tingly sweats coming on, and I lurch sideways, about halfway into the tub. I don't remember that very clearly. I get up and stumble into my parents' room but fall down and cry on the floor while my mom and dad hover over me. Eventually I feel okay enough to get up and get into bed. So I have a doctor's appointment at 11:15. Then we'll see what's wrong with me.

Last month, I was Christmas shopping for my family; I placed my order on November 25, a full month ahead of Christmas. I figured, "Hey. I'm responsible and awesome." I received my brother's gift a few days later and I figure, "Wow. I really rock."

But. (And there's always a "but".) They shipped my mom's present, but only after I left Memphis for home, but before I got home so that I could have changed the shipping information. I figure, "Well, that's sucky--but it's partially my fault for not fixing it before leaving."

And. (There's sometimes an "and".) I received an email, advising me of a delay on my dad's gift, which declares it to be shipped sometime around mid-January. Screw that. So I figure, "Amazon.com, Eat My Shorts."

Thank goodness for:

• Antibiotics: This'll fix me up straight quick.
  
• Being able to give presents: I gave Olivia her gift and received a hug and just enough pity (which I adore when I am feeling less than A+.) I also have presents which I must remember to take home, and I have one for Matt. More things to do before I leave tomorrow.
  
• Being given presents: Olivia and her novio (boyfriend) Cristian have been giving me tons of music lately, mostly Bunbury. Olivia gave me "La Herida", which is from when he was still frontman for Héroes Del Silencio, but it drives me crazy and makes me want to go back to winterguard and write a show. Cristian gave me "Alfa" and several others that just grab your soul and tie it down and smack it around until your soul pleas for mercy.
  
• Stories to keep me occupied: Cristian told me a story that went something like this, "Yesterday, on my way home, there was a dog in the street--a young dog, with dirty black fur. It was obvious he was homeless: he didn't have anyone to feed him; maybe it was a hard day and they chased him from many places, or maybe they hit him to make him leave when they didn't want to see him. Anyway, the dog looked at me as I walked down the street toward him, but he got scared and jumped backwards. I petted him because I love animals, and he wagged his tail (movió su cola). I thought that would be the last I would see of that dog, but then my phone rang; I answered it in my mother's salon That place has a big window where you can see the street, and I was talking to Olivia when I noticed something. The dog was running from side to side; I thought maybe he was sick or something, but he didn't look hurt when I got closer to the window for a better look--his face was happy. He was just running like a crazy thing; then he disappeared into the alley, but a little while after I hung up, he returned and... he played with a treeeee!! He made friends with a tree, Good Lord, he was happy: he hopped and ran around the tree. I thought, 'In spite of everything, he is happy.' Maybe he has no food, maybe he isn't loved, but that dog was rejoicing from happiness. We should all be like that, if not more so, since we lack nothing. That dog stole my thoughts for the evening; he gave me something that no one can easily give: a smile."

Body, this is for you: WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?

More importantly, why now? Why make me feel like throwing up and getting unconscious right after finals, when I should be worry-free and happy? It's not as if I haven't taken care of you: I fed you, kept you very warm (yes, I even wore SOCKS and real SHOES and a COAT), let you relax from time to time.. and you thank me with wrenching stomach pains and copious urges for trips to the bathroom? So now I have to haul you to the doctor (1:30 today, the earliest appointment I could get--until then I just sit here clutching my heating pad), instead of doing the things that I need to do: clean out the fridge, hide our extension cords, help Drew clean his room a little bit. I did do my laundry, starting at 7:30 this morning because I couldn't sleep, sort of hunched over in pain. Even now, when it is time to leave to get a bit of lunch before my doctor's appointment, I realize that I have been unable to construct a satisfactory ensemble: yes, I'm wearing five layers of clothes, but none of them matches--especially my yellow shirt, purple socks, and brown shoes. It's a sad day indeed.

I've been thinking about this lately. It began when we were talking, in Search, about Lame Deer and his vision quest, which brought up a discussion of rites of passage and moments that changed one's life.