Friday, April 29, 2005

Why Spaying and Castration are your friends

If you have cats or dogs (especially dogs) and care abt keeping them alive for as long as they possibly can, please read this. PLEASE do. Yesterday I necropsied a Golden Cocker Spaniel bitch. I am truly, truly upset. In fact, I am so upset that I have been very carefully NOT thinking abt it but this fury, this hot, gut-wrenching fury has me now, and I will tell you exactly how bloody unnecessary her death was. We start off by doing a physical examination: body condition (e.g. fat amount, mucosas, joints). This dog was fairly normal but highly anaemic. She also had a huge tumour under her right armpit, the size of a tennis ball. It became fairly obvious what the problem was when we reached the teats.

Female dogs have 5 pairs of teats: two thoracic (1-2), two abdominal (3-4), one inguinal (5). On the right, pairs 3-4-5 were obviously cancerous, as were pairs 3-4 on the left. Imagine a line connecting the teats on every side, and now imagine that both the teat pairs and the space connecting them are so hard they actually form a ridge under the skin that stands upright on its own. A dog w mammary cancer doesn’t stand a very good chance unless it’s caught in the very beginning. Then, we’re taught, the entire chain on the affected side is removed (and maybe later the one on the other side as well) along w the inguinal lymph node. Spaying is also recommended (oh we’re getting warmer here). Some vets say that spaying the bitch will render the removal of the second chain unnecessary but hell do I disagree. More on this later. You can see the surgery here.

Upon opening the dog we found secondary tumours in the lungs and liver. This is a bit of an understatement, see, bcs it would be more accurate to say that it was a miracle and the dog’s personal damnation that she had been able to breathe for as long as she did. The tumours on the liver were disseminated but there was plenty of healthy liver left. The lungs had been ALMOST ENTIRELY replaced by cancer. That poor dog suffered for I don’t know how long, in pain and fighting for every breath. I have many, many problems with this. That dog SHOULD have been spared those last stages of suffering, euthanasia is never pleasant but it’s a matter of doing what is right for the animal, and not what is right for the misguided owner. And it could all have very well been completely avoided if the bitch had been spayed before her first heat.
MYTH: A female will act crazy if she’s spayed.
MYTH: A female needs to give birth at least once or she’ll act crazy
MYTH: A spayed female will be inevitably obese
MYTH: A spayed female will miss IT
MYTH: Spaying is not natural
MYTH: The female should at least be allowed to keep her ovaries

FACT: A female spayed bfr her first heat, be it cat (5-6 months) or dog (depends on breed but better early than late), will almost certainly not develop mammary tumours. A bitch spayed after her second heat will have a higher probability of developing mammary cancer but it will still be significantly reduced. A female spayed after her third heat stands the same chance of developing cancer as a non-spayed one - and this is why I feel it’s very dangerous not to remove the second mammary chain. As you can see, females are better off WITHOUT that first litter. Furthermore, unless it’s a pedigree dog, why would you want to increase the number of existing cats and dogs? If you’re not lucky enough to live in a country where there are shelters that ALWAYS accept animals, you’re adding to the problem.

FACT: It is still worth spaying females bcs that reduces the chances of pyometra - uterine infection which sometimes involves peritonitis and can often be fatal even w treatment, most certainly is without. An open pyometra may show itself bcs there is a vaginal discharge but a closed one will not, and then only lack of appetite, frequent urination and thirst, along w a very firm abdomen and pain to the touch will clue in the owners, with luck, that something is wrong. Sometimes when the bitch is valuable and used for breeding owners want to try medication only. It sometimes work but the risk is so high that the only truly effective treatment is a hysterectomy. The uterus is so full of pus it is hard to believe, once the uterine horns are pulled out, that the whole thing could have fitted inside the animal. Go here if you don’t believe me. Can you imagine the pain that animal was in? An early spaying would have prevented this witth an almost 100% certainty.

FACT: Spayed animals may show a tendency to gain weight. You, however, can control what and how much your pet eats, and know that overfeeding equals killing with love. You can also make sure your pet exercises more often. Dogs need to be walked anyway and playing Fetch allows you to remain sitting, if you’re the lazy type. A laser-point will also allow you to exercise your cats till kingdom come w you comfy on the sofa, and has the added benefit of ensuring hilarity. Foil crushed into a ball and corks will also keep them busy. I own 3 very spayed females and they are not fat. [J.I.P. is NOT fat!]

FACT: What is IT? Are you talking abt sex? Animals we are but we are emotionally invested in sex, we have neuroses, phobias, all sorts of emotional investments in it. Other animals don’t. What we feel is not what they feel. A spayed bitch will absolutely not miss IT.

FACT: No, it isn’t. neither are vaccines, pet food, antibiotics, surgery. Are you seriously trying to tell me that, should you fall ill, you will only rely on your natural defences and do nothing abt it? If you break a leg, you will not seek a doctor to X-ray and set it? “Natural” doesn’t always equate “good”. Cancer’s been around for thousands of years and the world is doing its utmost to fight it.

FACT: Bearing in mind that the objective is to protect her from cancer and pyometra, and that these are highly connected to the hormone levels, and that the ovaries play a major role in it, the spaying should be a ovariohisterectomy, not simply the removal of the uterus.

If you have a house-bound cat, he will start marking his territory sooner or later. Male cat pee is absolutely offensive and once the behaviour has been learned, there is no guarantee that castration will change it. Males should be castrated at around 6 months, sooner sometimes if they start marking. Free-roaming pet cats kill an astonishing amount of wildlife every year, especially songbirds. They do it bcs a) they are programmed to and b) bcs they are tame, they regress, and bring their owners their most loyal tidbits. SHe who never had a dead cockroach lovingly placed on his pillow during the night, called the landlord in hysterics, and out of the utmost gratitude almost snogged the old, smelly, Argentinian exterminator on the kitchen counter as he liberally sprayed highly toxic and carcinogenic products around, raise your hand. Quite.

Free-roaming cats are also often involved in fights w other males, and female cats will be bitten during courtship. This is how FeLV is transmitted (Feline Leukaemia Virus). It is ultimately fatal and not a pretty death at all. So your healthy cat can become infected, and then as a carrier he will infect other healthy cats. If I ever leave the city - and I bloody well will one day - I plan on having a tall wall around the house, so that my animals can frolic around in the grass and chase butterflies, and I can rest easy knowing the amount of wildlife damage they do is minimal, and that they are safe from diseases passed on by other animals. I know not everyone has this option. But at least know what the risks and consequences are.

Free-roaming dogs are also more at risk of disease and generally being run over. Go here and here for the behavioural and medical advantages of castration and ovariohysterectomies in cats and dogs.

I find it criminal that owners allow their dogs and cats to roam if they’re not castrated. They will mate w females for sure, and they will mate w strays who will get pregnant. Stray animals don’t live the blessed lives many think they do. Sometimes their lives are downright horrid. There is not enough to eat, you are kicked off places, they are the target of sick minds, there is no real safety anywhere. These females, especially cats, have an amazing reproductive turnover and the cat population numbers are alarming everywhere, but especially in poorer countries. Many litters do not survive bcs the babies are too weak or the mother is, worn out bcs of constant malnutrition, hunger, disease and stress. And those who survive go on to perpetuate the cycle. I find it highly unconscionable, I do.

If you let your male pet roam free, the least you can do is do a vasectomy. That way you ensure there will be no unwanted pregnancies but your animal will maintain all natural behaviours. AGAIN, bear in mind your pet is not human. He doesn’t worship on the Altar Of The Balls. He does not have a relationship with his penis. He doesn’t proudly fondle it and rearrange it. He has never measured it. Chances are he doesn’t even have a name for it. Do what is best for your animal and leave Freud where it belongs.

A castration is a very simple procedure, actually, especially on cats. I think I could perform one already - it’s the anaesthesia bit that’s the trickiest. It’s all performed on the outside bcs the testes are external. The animal doesn’t even need sutures, just a swab of betadine. The surgery itself lasts abt 20 min. A vasectomy is also perfomed on the outside, a little cut is made and then the vas deferens on each side is cut and closed, so that no sperm is present in the semen. The animal’s libido will not suffer any changes.

I am aware that, if I’m trying to be educational, I should be careful not to offend. But right now I don’t care whether I may hurt YOUR feelings and convictions. You get to have them, I get to see their results (Go here for statistics). I believe if you could see how cruel, how devastatingly painful they are to these animals, you would be less attached to their reproductive apparatus. We all deserve life, and the quality of it.

Monday, April 25, 2005

That bloody meme and links galore

Diana ambushed me.

I'd call her a COW if I were sure she'd understand Portie British humour.

[Not that DM/Dana (pronounced Israeli, not American, as far as I’m concerned)/
Deya didn’t flirt w the notion either, but she CONTROLLED HERSELF DIDN’T SHE.]

So. We all know what happens when women take to drinking vast quantities of wine, don’t we. They become pushy, demanding, unreasonable. Next she’ll be defending gay marriage and medical care for everyone.

1) You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451, which book do you save?

This will be boring. And I’ll cheat. Boring bcs I mention them in my 100-Odd Things list, and I’ll cheat bcs a) if Diana’s allowed so am I, ha! and b) I do see them as a trinity and couldn’t possibly choose one of them:

The Neverending Story
The Power of One
To Kill a Mockingbird

2) Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?

Not a crush as such, but there are some heroes that still take my breath away, no matter how often I re-read the books - and I re-read them all the time. My all-time favourite,
Atreyu, whose gift to Bastian I still can’t quite believe. I'm so lucky I was able to read it in its original language; Arevin; Dick Francis’ anti-heroes (unfailingly medieval in their sense of honour, unfailingly stoic, unfailingly flawed). Many of the Pern characters as well, dragon riders especially - oh let me not start on Pern, beautiful Pern!

And then, of course, there are the pseudo-losers like
Peekay and Holden and mahvellous Harry.


3) The last book you purchased?

Let’s pretend this question means the last book I purchased bcs I wanted to, not bcs
life forced me to.


I bought those 115 books in Canoockia, and then my friend V. brought me some more recently, and DM and Beth as well [there are pics on their sites BTW]. Among them you’ll find J.D. Robbs (Eve Dallas kicks the ultimate ass), Patricia Cornwall (who seems to have taken absolute leave of her senses when she wrote Trace, oh blah, bloody horrible), Jonathan Kellerman and Faye Kellerman, Piers Anthony, Anne McCaffrey, Andre Norton, Anne Perry’s Pitt and Monk Victorian novels, Martha Grimes.

4) What are you currently reading?

I’ve just finished Haddon’s
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time (Despite his overwhelming fear of interacting with people, Christopher, a mathematically-gifted, autistic fifteen-year-old boy, decides to investigate the murder of a neighbor's dog.) and Survival in Death. I am also currently enjoying learning abt prostate disease in all animals, especially the dog. I think I’ll move on to an Elinor Lipman’s now [attention, Jewish Readership: if you’ve never read her The Inn at Lake Devine you should, oh you should - and be sure to read her Aknowledgements on the very last page AFTER you've read the whole book. Goyim should as well, come to think of it, it's gorgeous all round.].

5) 5 books you would take to a deserted island?

See, I warned you it’d be dull. I’m sure the first three will be a shocker. Yes, I know. Anyway, those three and ALL Harry Potters (Diana cheated here and so will I, plus she’s right, there will soon be the H.P.’s paper equivalent of Eastenders Omnibus and then we won’t be cheating anymore). Finally, Anne McCaffrey’s Pern books for the reason just given - and she does have bound editions of several books so it’s not really cheating is it. And then who'd notice if I threw in a few of her other books? Absolutely no-one. (And if the little buggers, TO MY UTTER DISMAY, happened to go behind my back and sneak in Pat Conroy's The Lords of Discipline, Beach Music and The Prince of Tides, couldn't be helped now could it.)

And then I’d hope for the books to have razor-sharp pages so I could use them to sever my jugular once I ran out of reading material. And the feral ones would rejoice for I'd be kosher.

Udge, your questions will be next, I hope. Yours involve opening the Floodgates of Hell so I've been avoiding them but I think it'll happen soon. I’d promise but I’m afraid of natural disaster getting in the way. No, reallly.

Me? I’m trying very hard to pretend Pessach isn’t happening (did you notice I created a drop-down menu for my
Tig?). Very, very hard. The first year of many. Seder tonight (tonight. Don’t ask).

I’d rather sit on a burning bush.


(Dear God,

Thank you for Z., for allowing him to make it a little bit less hideous for them.

Please let this Pessach be over soon.



Wednesday, April 20, 2005


She used to have another cat, remember? He lived in the Reef and didn’t have a bad life at all, except for a rather severe eye infection. She took him to the vet, they tried creams and salves but it was too late. The eye had to come off so she kept him at her place till he recovered. She called him Luiz Vaz, after the epic one-eyed poet. He was the most trusting cat, had the softest fur, and would start purring if she so much as looked at him for longer than 5 seconds. He adored her back.

Really, how could she take him back to the Reef after he’d realised how safe life could be with her, in a flat? So it was JIP and baby cat, herself recovering from leg surgery after having fallen off a 6th floor and being abandoned by her previous owner in the vet clinic, and him. And they all slept together and groomed each other and looked generally adorable, limbs entwined. She rung her best friend in tears bcs she could only sensibly keep 2 cats and she needed to take all 3 of them back to Portugal bcs how else could she make sure they had good lives? What to do with the baby one? Best friend, close to tears herself, said “What the hell, I’ll keep the baby, how do you say Hope in Hebrew? Tikvah? Sounds like a good name.” Then there were more tears but good ones. Life is so sweet at times it is almost unbearable.

Do you remember how she drove through the desert at noon, in the Summer, with three complaining animals and a car filled to capacity with all her stuff when she left Eilat on the way back to the kibbutz bfr she left Israel for good? Do you remember how the AC didn’t work, and how the sun was in her eyes, and how it seemed to take for ever and how the cats yowled the whole bloody time? Five tremendously long hours. And then she got lost, bcs she somehow always does, and ended up near the airport, which was a very good thing as it turned out bcs it meant she could return the car immediately and wait there for you instead of going to the kibbutz first. She was almost in tears of exhaustion by the time you arrived, pet carriers lined up on the bonnet so the cats could have some fresh air. Remember how you hugged her and laughed and said “It’s alright, Pip, you’re home now, we’ll go book hunting, you’ll see, it’s
alright now.”

It was
alright, it was more than alright. JIP and Luiz Vaz loved the kibbutz, they could roam free. Remember you took them to the vet to be checked out? The baby had the rod taken out of her leg and took to tree climbing, small furball of dark joy on a branch; JIP disappeared for hours on end, exploring; Luiz Vaz, as it turned out, had a broken pelvis. The vet suggested he be kept inside as much as possible but remember how he begged and begged that day to be let out again? She’d been sitting outside keeping an eye on them earlier on and he, lo and behold, had discovered the wondrous world of butterflies. She has an image burnt into her mind, him and JIP galloping down a grassy mound, chasing butterflies, little marvelled paws in the air, flicking at them. Oh the bliss. She let him out for just a bit and called him 10 min later. Remember how you became really worried bcs he didn’t come back - and he always did? Always. Remember how you got flashlights and went looking for him? Remember how you could not find him and you held her as she cried bcs she knew something terrible had happened to her poor lovely cat? How she was overcome by a paralysing slumber, so atypical? How she was woken up the next morning by her neighbour knocking on her door, telling her so sorry, I found him, he’s dead, and how she ran there and he was lying on the wet ground, it was so early the dew wasn’t gone yet, and he had two puncture wounds on his belly? You rushed back from the avocado fields when she rang you and helped her put it all together, two dogs had been seen chasing him, and bcs she’d let him out, and bcs his pelvis was broken, he couldn’t climb a tree and was killed. The vet said it must have been very quick. She found some comfort in that. None in the fact that the owners didn’t feel the need to apologise at all (one) or apologise in person (the other) [oh but she told them what she thought of them later]. It was just a cat after all. Little Tikvah, whom she'd always called Hum-Hum anyway bcs her furr is dark-brown, became her Hum-Hum after all. Only two cats now, see.

Remember how she always isolates herself when she’s hurting? Remember how you’d bring her food during your lunch break so she didn’t have to go to the dining room and face the owners? You always understood when she needed to be alone and would grab a Harry Potter and go to the Refet to sit there and read and weep ad lib. Guilt makes for poor digestion and lack of sleep. Remember how you went with her to buy a book for him, bcs that’s what she does when she loses an animal, be it cat or colt, she finds a pretty book in their memory. And for him, what could be more appropriate than a collection of Emily Dickinson poems, she who writes:

In the name of the Bee
--And of the Butterfly
--And of the Breeze
-- Amen!

She still cries when she thinks abt this cat for more than a brief moment. She still cannot quite reconcile herself w the fact that he will never have the easy, safe life she dreamt for him in her flat. Whenever she sees a butterfly she thinks of him. She chooses to see it as a sign, a silky head-butting as it were, his way of letting her know he is fine, he is somewhere chasing colourful, fragile butterflies, frollicking w them, perfectly happy.

She’s been to Israel recently. She’s found herself in the impossible position of having to decide which book to buy in your memory. Because, see, you died on her as well, and she may go to the Refet all she wants - in fact, she did - but there’s no comfort to be had from the cows this time, there’s no comfort to be had from anything really. There’s no vet to tell her it was swift and almost painless. There’s only knowledge of how many tonnes such a column of water weighs, and maybe the sound of bones breaking when it crushes human flesh? Who knows what happens when a tsunami devours you?

Remember how you used to purr to try and make her sleepy bcs she's an insomniac and she finds the sound so soothing, there is nothing quite like it? Remember how you used to head-butt her too while doing it? She’d play along by scratching you along your jaw line. It never worked but it always made you both laugh, so it was silky enough. Were you there when she bough Terry Pratchett’s Monstruous Regiment for you? You’d have liked that. Were you there the night she absolutely broke down and wept curled up in a ball by the sofa? And then while doing the laundry? And then while hanging the clothes? And then while taking a shower, and brushing her teeth while gagging bcs of the sobbing, and reading before sleep? Were you there when she asked you to give her a sign that you are
alright, that you are not too sad that you’re dead now, that you’re not worrying abt them too much, that you’re, somehow, somewhere, being well taken care of? Were you there when she begged you to find a way to let her know bcs she has a new brand of insomnia now, the one where she falls asleep early but is woken up by nightmares a few hours later and will not cannot go back to sleep?

And were you there the very next morning as she opened the window and found an impossibly big, impossibly yellow, impossibly beautiful butterfly trapped in the impossibly small brick space btwn the blinds and the netting? Were you there when she gasped and froze and thought This can’t be happening and shut her eyes firmly to steady herself, and re-opened them moments later to find the butterfly gone?

Were you there? Was that you? Do you think she’s mad for thinking it might have been your doing, that she’s simply so desperate to know you safe and not sorry, not torn, not bitter, so desperate to know you in peace that she’ll believe anything no matter how improbable? Surely all this love is not lost now, surely it exists somewhere, where it can still grow and be cherished. There are the trunks with the penguins, you know them so well. There must be winged trunks in some realm where old, worn-out loves go to die. There must be other trunks where current loves, now forlorn because one of the love entities is dead, curl up and sleep, occasionally yawning and stretching, gently rocking and enabling that which remains awake.

She chooses to believe true love of any kind can spin silk that defeats the need for solid presence and breath.

She chooses to believe death is weak - certainly weaker than your very own mulberry tree.


Tuesday, April 19, 2005

Girls just wanna have fun

DM and Beth will land in 2 hours. How bizarre, to contemplate how much my little screen has broadened my world. I might yet ask them to be my guest bloggers, I'm simply breathing in and out without bruising the winged ribs. But there is a story about a cat, a butterfly and a lithe boy w a mop of wild hair that needs to be told. Bcs maybe - MAYBE - Gavriel touched me while I slept, and as I woke up, and as I breathed in and out two days ago. How else could it be explained.


Tuesday, April 12, 2005

Too much worse now

It's becoming so much worse, now it's real you see, now it's becoming clear I lost him, I'll never be able to ring him again, make him laugh, hear his voice, nothing else matters, I've lost him for good, I've just told his mum to say goodnight for me when she goes to the cemetery in a while, there will be a woman and her best friend and her dead son, my best friend, dead, all oif him dead, under the rubble again, seems like he camn't escape that, once again buried only now he's dead which must be a welcome change, i cant drive from A to B, all that silence all that time to think, without a rivulet of tears down my cheeks all of a sudden, seems to have happened overnight, i'd been wondering why i'd cried more over really non-important things (well there's the answer) and then it happened, I know I«'ve written it here before, i've talked abt it, but see, this is what I now know, this is what my bones, my sinews, my tendons and cells are screaming, MY TIG IS DEAD, he is dead, do you understand, Uzi is gone, he is gone, he was taken from me, he died a horrible death, the tsunami was on sunday and he'd arrived on bloody thursday only bcs they hadn't liked Bangkok, too loud, too many israelis, let's go somewhere peaceful, let's rest in pieces why don't we, let' take her worst fear and make it real for ever and ever, let's not say goodbye, let's just die and be gone for almost 2 months, i know i went to tyhe funeral, i know i saw the grave, and the coffin - and funny, Lila thought it was so big, I found it so small - but he wasn't really dead you see, he truly wasn't - but then it was my birthday and the phone didnt ring at all, he'd never EVER not have rung me, he might even have got his shit together and sent me a present, probably some native blue fabric, which he'd send from israel bcs getting his shit together on time to send it from thailand would have been too much for him, i typically got his postcards from Europe actually from israel after he got back, and a few days ago i came across a post-it that i remember was inside a box of books he'd sent me unexpectedly - see, i love the title of my blog, I love the quote, but it's a bit of a requiem now bcs it so very much breathes Uzi, it absolutely does, I fell in love w it as we were still in love w each other and then even when we weren't anymore we still loved it and it was one of OUR things, and lying atop the books was this post-it that said:

Which will surprise u.


Saturday, April 09, 2005

Last time I saw this:

(click here)

it was in the room, a few years ago. I remember Uzi got it from Stimatzky's, for 100 shekels. I'd read them all but he hadn't and was quite excited abt having all DNA nicely lumped together. I, OTH, having read them all already, was quite excited w the cover's colour, simply bcs it was gorgeous and fit the rest of the room. Which I'd redecorated and sprinkled w books, of course. Uzi was hopeless.

I once read a paper on what happens to a cat's digestion under stress. All food turns into one hard, heavy substance. I can fully understand how this could indeed be so bcs, as I turned a corner in a bookshop a while ago, I found this very book at eye level and it a) took my breath away b) formed a long-lasting lump in my throat c) dried all gastric juices d) caused my sandwich to become lodged somewhere to the right of me.

Today's not being so kind. As I was trying to make space for more books on the shelves, I came across a picture of him. He must have been abt 3 years old. Full-blown flashback once more, I remember seeing it at his parent's house and asking for a copy. It took him forever to have it done, and I'd conveniently forgotten abt it. He was the most beautiful child. You'll see, some day, when I scan them. You'll see.


Samuel's flown home

Remember Samuel? He left yesterday evening. His surgery was a smashing success - he didn't even need a prosthetic device, there was enough of a penis stump left to reconstruct. The brilliant news is, he's already had two erections; we know that mechanically and hydraulically speaking everything is functioning properly. He has suffered so much though. His bladder infection took a long while to heal, delaying the exams and the surgeries, the surgeries themselves and the recovery period were plenty, then one of the grafts didn't take and his skin had to be scrubbed and - well, it was all rather morose and painful. He is finally physically whole, impossible as it so often seemed. We are thrilled with his recovery,a dn very very sad. He gained 21 kg (46 pounds) you know. He's been eating properly, had regular meals, been generally well-treated/spoilt and given proper meds on time. He will now go back to abject poverty, a family that is often split up bcs parents need to work away from home, no one to mind what he's taking or not taking, no more comforts, regular food, clothes, toys. The end.

We are fucking heartbroken. There should be only joy but truly, it's all rather bleak. I can only hope he'll keep on fighting, now that he knows how good life can be, so he'll be able to have it all again some day.


Bloody terrible time to quit smoking. Haven't had a fag in almost 72 h. I miss the handling of the ciggie, not the ciggie itself. I never have nicotine cravings (I get more grief from coke withdrawal actually, the caffeine deprivation migraines are the pits), it's the socialness of it that makes me slip and start smoking again. On the upside, my flat smells brill all the time and so do my hair and clothes! And I'll have an extra 75 Euros a month (abt 100 USD). Care to guess?

[Already got this for half the price bcs of slight damage to back - who cares abt back, it will be covered by books!]

Wednesday, April 06, 2005

The Traveller Forecasted Doughnuts on the Kerb

Haven't we discussed this? We've discussed this.

PLEASE TAKE NOTICE, WORLD: the usage of alright is accepted by most in British English. Purists will gnash their teeth but so be it. It's the nonstandard abbreviation of all right.

You write tire, color, check. You add an "e" to my whisky. You think a man doesn't wear jumpers. Your knickers never get tied in a knot. You dreamed, I learnt. Your sulfur's been modernised (damnation less credible now I'm afraid). You don't know the joys of jacket potatoes eaten with cutlery. You don't wear fringes, plaits or plasters, you mix up my crisps and my chips, you've never queued in your life. My jewellery, encylycopaedia, catalogue? Your defense, pajamas, and enrollment. And yes, I still haven't forgotten you rent cars. CARS.

You darn, blasted and damn this, I bloody, bugger and sod it. You strove, I strived, we disagreed. We always will you know.

Alright then.

Tuesday, April 05, 2005

I went and did it

I passed Virology. Who would have thunk it. Certainly not me after such a hideous exam. I don't understand this, apparently grades plummeted this year. Something's not right then, stands to reason. And this is the thing, I like my teacher, LOADS. [There are 3 teachers and who you have depends on your Lab day and the subject. Also, it seems she's not the one who chose the exam questions, she was in charge of exams' corrections.] She's smart, a very good teacher, easy to talk to. In my Faculty, I do appreciate these qualities, they don't always occur, certainly not all too often together. But to tell us that we are "studying superficially"? regarding one exam that had everyone wringing their hands in horror? One exam with fill-in-the-blanks that had us guessing as to what they MIGHT possibly want from us? With heaps of True/False questions (points off for wrong answers) and multiple choice ones w a myriad of detail? And then captioning 3 images, and one big question and some smaller ones? All this is [barfs furball] 50 min? We study SUPERFICIALLY??

Dear teachers:

Whenever grades plummet, whenever there is more than a fair amount of flunking, kindly refrain from blaming us. We study. In fact, studying seems to be ALL WE DO. I just wrote 3 exams, during the holidays. I will now have to start studying for my at least 13 exams in June/July. Not to mention the at least 5 in September, and then possibly some in Oct/Nov. With then, of course, regular exams in Jan/Febr. And then March/Apr. And so it goes.

Kindly re-evaluate your evaluation methods, i.e., sad said exam. Something may be rotten in the state of Denmark but it bloody well isn't the Little Mermaid now is it.


Thanks for the emails (and comments). I can't really write right now. I do want to tackle the questions but can't bring myself to do it. So I don't even try. It's been pretty horrid. I miss U., I resent death profoundly and basically don't feel like doing anything other than watching movies w happy endings. So that's where we are now. I'm alright, just... thingy.

Friday, April 01, 2005

A small tear just re-shaped my soul

Pronounce it any way you want.

[I miss you so much]


Won't you entertain me?

Small post just to let you know I'm par-ti-ci-pa-ting in something (I'll link later to everything and everyone and explain properly). I've entered The Interview Game and Udge (An Udge and a Wink) has assigned me 5 questions:

1- How could anybody possibly get lost in her own room?
2 - Who (or what) gives you strength?
3 - Which of your own habits annoys you most in other other people?
4 - Which language will you learn next, and why?
5 - What would prevent you from opening a branch of the RSPCA in Portugal?
6 -Bonus question: Describe the treat(s) you're going to give yourself when the exams are over.

I particularly want to throttle him over a specific one, try and guess. Bloody hell. But right now I am too knackered to even be able to write coherently. If you ever wrote an exam in Pharmacology, you'll understand why. If not, one more reason to Praise The Lord and wave your rattlesnake around. So expect posting. Rather, expect HEAPS of posting - bcs I can't possibly be expected to tackle it all in one go can I. I'll have to go on and on as I'm wont to won't I. [Wont, won't - cute. Unintended but briefly bemusing]

Thank you so much for the bonus, Udge. (No really. EVERYONE ELSE GOT ONLY FIVE QUESTIONS!!!) I'll probably answer it post-fact but hell, I'm grateful I'm still mildly coherent after three exams in as many days and especially this - view literally VERY SMALL sample -:


And Drugs? Up your broad spectrum. You heard me, that's right. DON'T MAKE ME SPELL RE-SIS-TAN-CE!