Notes on the day
May. 5th, 2003 08:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fredericksI went and purchased a number of cards today. Mother's Day and Mama's birthday are coming up, and in true commercial fashion I feel obligated to send people pricey folded sheets of paper with a Hallmark stamp on the back. I spent $22 dollars on cards. Ridiculous. But I know that if I don't send them to some people (the folks, grandparents) they'll throw a hissy-fit and I'd just feel guilty if I didn't give one to everyone else. I have entirely too many female relatives with children for my financial well-being. And I know that if I don't send my mom flowers my dad will ride my ass about it for weeks. I hesitated on buying a card for Auntie Sandra, even though she is expecting. The last time I sent her a "Mother to Be" card she ended up miscarrying. I think with all she's gone through maybe she'd think of the card as a jinx? I don't know. I feel like I should still send her something, for everything she's done for me. I have time.
Went to bed around...7?7:30? and woke up around 11. Surprisingly not tired. I think I've gotten to the point where I've been getting so little sleep that 3 and half hours is actually refreshing. Got up and took a shower, in preparation for the bi-weekly Ratty stint. I need to do something with my hair. It's frizzy and totally unmanageable. I'm at the point where I just want to cut it off and go for the short thing. But I'm really fond of just pulling it back in a ponytail and going, which will be impossible if I don't have enough hair to put into a scrungie. When I cut it short sophomore year I actually did the nightly setting thing...for a week. Then I reverted to wetting it, throwing some gel in, and hoping it got uber-curly before I had to make my way in public. But I digress (per usual).
Right. The Ratty. I guess my mood was plain as day (that and the fact that I showed up fifteen minutes late). I really didn't feel like leaving my room at all, and I wouldn't have if I'd thought that no workers would have been in. But, as usual, obligation to others gave me enough motivation to get dressed and get out the door. Aaron commented on the fact that we were really behind in the book and the fact that I was late when I walked through the door. I suppose he got a good look at my face before I turned around to put my apron on, though, because for once he shut up without me having to dredge up a caustic remark. Andrius and Zsolt were the only workers in for the whole day and there was no grilled cheese, no tomatoes, and a few items left in the book. A part of me was annoyed (Andrius noted that all they did in the morning was eggs...the bastards) but the bulk of me didn't give a shit. It's *food*. I mean, damn, are a bunch of college students going to throw a hissy fit if they don't get their daily allowance of grilled cheese? That crap is loaded with fat from the goddamned Whirl anyway. If we did run out of grilled cheese I'm sure we'd actually be saving lives. Runners from upstairs kept coming down and asking us for trays of tomatoes like they were essential for the well-being of society as a whole. I felt like I was on ER ..."We need 2 trays of sliced tomatoes...STAT". The inherent stupidity and ridiculousness of what we do/did is not lost on me. Those people take it all way too seriously (everyone except for Henri, of course). But of course I still cut our break short so that we could get back and prep some more before going home.
I forget what I was doing (most likely tomatoes...haha) when Ray walks up to me and tells me I'm being honored for working for UFS. Some Veronica Acosta award. It's given to student workers who've slaved for UFS for more than 2000 hours during their time at Brown. Of course there's no money involved. And no real recognition. Ray found the plaque in some closet in the Nether regions of the Ratty and took it upon himself to find out about it. So now, supposedly, my name will be immortalized with 8 other pitiful souls who slaved for an ungrateful student population for countless hours when they could have been out studying/getting laid/getting drunk/sleeping/etc etc. My workers seemed more thrilled with the idea than I was. Out of curiousity I went to the SMO after break and asked how many hours exactly I've worked. I was told that up to Dec 31, 2002 I'd worked for UFS 1910 hours, and that doesn't even include this semester's hours, or any Commencement or Summer hours I racked up. It boggles the mind. What the fuck was I thinking? God, my life is pathetic. The student general manager congratulated me and then I said "Thank you". But, really, shouldn't UFS be thanking *me*? They'll put my name up on a plaque which will promptly be thrown into some janitor's closet. Wow. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
Since I came in late I let the workers go a little early and finished the clean-up myself. Then I wrote up commendations for the ones that showed up today. I haven't seen Chris in forever, and Nick was AWOL (although I can't remember if he told me whether he'd be in or not). Wasn't sure if I should have given Aaron a commendation, but when I figured out that it was my mixed feelings towards his behavior more than his actual work output that was making me indecisive I decided to give him one anyway (even if it wasn't as glowing as everyone else's, the man did manage to knock out 10 trays of sliced tomatoes while helping me core at least 180 lbs...he deserved some sort of good word).
With those good deeds knocked out of the park I decided to continue the streak by giving blood, seeing as today was the last day of the blood drive and all. Today's a bad day for me. How do I know? Because in order to make a decision I had to stop in the middle of the sidewalk and think. This is what happened when I saw the blood drive sign. I started up towards Sayles, then thought about the needles involved, said "fuck it", turned around and started back to my room, then stopped and started thinking about lives that my pint might save. It was almost surreal, in a very pragmatic, very Daniella-like way. I might have sworn at some point while I was standing there like an idiot in front of Hegeman Hall, trying to come to a decision. I'm sure people were looking at me like I was nuts. After a few seconds (? maybe) I said "fuck it" and headed to Sayles (ha, joke was on me...the blood drive was in Leung Gallery).
Why do I hate needles? It has to do with my second surgery. The anesthesia resident was prepping me by attempting to put the main and back-up IVs into my arm. I wasn't freaking at that point. It was all sort of surreal (that word again, but it's apt). Notice I said "attempting". He kept poking and poking and poking and he couldn't find and keep a vein open to save his life. After ten minutes the resident went to find a pal (a nurse?) to help him out. Still no luck. After 20 minutes the anesthesiologist himself comes in to find out what the hell is going on. In all it took 30?-35 minutes for them to complete a 2 minute procedure. Three people hovering around me, cursing under their breath. At around the 15 minute mark they stopped referring to me as a person and started seeing me as a stubborn limb. Poke poke poke, swab with alcohol, sting, poke poke poke. I was late to my own surgery (that's hilarious; late, in typical Brown style). That whole ordeal was fucking torture. So now I have a bit of a problem with needles.
Yes, so I gave blood. They checked my vitals and I saw that my pulse was above my usual, as was my BP. Odd (or not). The prick on the tip of the finger always hurts more, to me, than the sticking in of the fat needle in my arm. But that was the fast one. I told the tech a condensed version of my op-prep nightmare and she was very kind. I was surprised when she hit paydirt on the first stick (of course, I kept my eyes averted for the actual entry). When I left I looked into the bone marrow donor thing I'd seen by the door but it turned out you had to sign up before you gave blood. For some reason it disappointed me that I'd missed my window of opportunity. But then I realized that I'd signed up to be a BM donor the first time I gave blood at Brown. Guilt was lifted, and I then headed to CVS to pick up cards for my family.
Yup, that's been the day so far. All good in the 'hood. And uneventful. Let's see how much work I can get done tonight.
Went to bed around...7?7:30? and woke up around 11. Surprisingly not tired. I think I've gotten to the point where I've been getting so little sleep that 3 and half hours is actually refreshing. Got up and took a shower, in preparation for the bi-weekly Ratty stint. I need to do something with my hair. It's frizzy and totally unmanageable. I'm at the point where I just want to cut it off and go for the short thing. But I'm really fond of just pulling it back in a ponytail and going, which will be impossible if I don't have enough hair to put into a scrungie. When I cut it short sophomore year I actually did the nightly setting thing...for a week. Then I reverted to wetting it, throwing some gel in, and hoping it got uber-curly before I had to make my way in public. But I digress (per usual).
Right. The Ratty. I guess my mood was plain as day (that and the fact that I showed up fifteen minutes late). I really didn't feel like leaving my room at all, and I wouldn't have if I'd thought that no workers would have been in. But, as usual, obligation to others gave me enough motivation to get dressed and get out the door. Aaron commented on the fact that we were really behind in the book and the fact that I was late when I walked through the door. I suppose he got a good look at my face before I turned around to put my apron on, though, because for once he shut up without me having to dredge up a caustic remark. Andrius and Zsolt were the only workers in for the whole day and there was no grilled cheese, no tomatoes, and a few items left in the book. A part of me was annoyed (Andrius noted that all they did in the morning was eggs...the bastards) but the bulk of me didn't give a shit. It's *food*. I mean, damn, are a bunch of college students going to throw a hissy fit if they don't get their daily allowance of grilled cheese? That crap is loaded with fat from the goddamned Whirl anyway. If we did run out of grilled cheese I'm sure we'd actually be saving lives. Runners from upstairs kept coming down and asking us for trays of tomatoes like they were essential for the well-being of society as a whole. I felt like I was on ER ..."We need 2 trays of sliced tomatoes...STAT". The inherent stupidity and ridiculousness of what we do/did is not lost on me. Those people take it all way too seriously (everyone except for Henri, of course). But of course I still cut our break short so that we could get back and prep some more before going home.
I forget what I was doing (most likely tomatoes...haha) when Ray walks up to me and tells me I'm being honored for working for UFS. Some Veronica Acosta award. It's given to student workers who've slaved for UFS for more than 2000 hours during their time at Brown. Of course there's no money involved. And no real recognition. Ray found the plaque in some closet in the Nether regions of the Ratty and took it upon himself to find out about it. So now, supposedly, my name will be immortalized with 8 other pitiful souls who slaved for an ungrateful student population for countless hours when they could have been out studying/getting laid/getting drunk/sleeping/etc etc. My workers seemed more thrilled with the idea than I was. Out of curiousity I went to the SMO after break and asked how many hours exactly I've worked. I was told that up to Dec 31, 2002 I'd worked for UFS 1910 hours, and that doesn't even include this semester's hours, or any Commencement or Summer hours I racked up. It boggles the mind. What the fuck was I thinking? God, my life is pathetic. The student general manager congratulated me and then I said "Thank you". But, really, shouldn't UFS be thanking *me*? They'll put my name up on a plaque which will promptly be thrown into some janitor's closet. Wow. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
Since I came in late I let the workers go a little early and finished the clean-up myself. Then I wrote up commendations for the ones that showed up today. I haven't seen Chris in forever, and Nick was AWOL (although I can't remember if he told me whether he'd be in or not). Wasn't sure if I should have given Aaron a commendation, but when I figured out that it was my mixed feelings towards his behavior more than his actual work output that was making me indecisive I decided to give him one anyway (even if it wasn't as glowing as everyone else's, the man did manage to knock out 10 trays of sliced tomatoes while helping me core at least 180 lbs...he deserved some sort of good word).
With those good deeds knocked out of the park I decided to continue the streak by giving blood, seeing as today was the last day of the blood drive and all. Today's a bad day for me. How do I know? Because in order to make a decision I had to stop in the middle of the sidewalk and think. This is what happened when I saw the blood drive sign. I started up towards Sayles, then thought about the needles involved, said "fuck it", turned around and started back to my room, then stopped and started thinking about lives that my pint might save. It was almost surreal, in a very pragmatic, very Daniella-like way. I might have sworn at some point while I was standing there like an idiot in front of Hegeman Hall, trying to come to a decision. I'm sure people were looking at me like I was nuts. After a few seconds (? maybe) I said "fuck it" and headed to Sayles (ha, joke was on me...the blood drive was in Leung Gallery).
Why do I hate needles? It has to do with my second surgery. The anesthesia resident was prepping me by attempting to put the main and back-up IVs into my arm. I wasn't freaking at that point. It was all sort of surreal (that word again, but it's apt). Notice I said "attempting". He kept poking and poking and poking and he couldn't find and keep a vein open to save his life. After ten minutes the resident went to find a pal (a nurse?) to help him out. Still no luck. After 20 minutes the anesthesiologist himself comes in to find out what the hell is going on. In all it took 30?-35 minutes for them to complete a 2 minute procedure. Three people hovering around me, cursing under their breath. At around the 15 minute mark they stopped referring to me as a person and started seeing me as a stubborn limb. Poke poke poke, swab with alcohol, sting, poke poke poke. I was late to my own surgery (that's hilarious; late, in typical Brown style). That whole ordeal was fucking torture. So now I have a bit of a problem with needles.
Yes, so I gave blood. They checked my vitals and I saw that my pulse was above my usual, as was my BP. Odd (or not). The prick on the tip of the finger always hurts more, to me, than the sticking in of the fat needle in my arm. But that was the fast one. I told the tech a condensed version of my op-prep nightmare and she was very kind. I was surprised when she hit paydirt on the first stick (of course, I kept my eyes averted for the actual entry). When I left I looked into the bone marrow donor thing I'd seen by the door but it turned out you had to sign up before you gave blood. For some reason it disappointed me that I'd missed my window of opportunity. But then I realized that I'd signed up to be a BM donor the first time I gave blood at Brown. Guilt was lifted, and I then headed to CVS to pick up cards for my family.
Yup, that's been the day so far. All good in the 'hood. And uneventful. Let's see how much work I can get done tonight.
