AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Fuckfuckfuck I passed Biochem! I PASSED BIOCHEM!!!!!!!!!!!! I PAAAAAAAASSEEEED BIIIIIOOOOCHEEEEEEEEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I PASSED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I PASSED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I PASSED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Physician, heal thyself

And I did! I just did!

WARNING: if the mention of flesh + cuts makes you queasy read the psoriasis bit only bcs I just took a blade to myself, in the best possible way. Oh yes I did! I'll tell you when to stop further down.

Abt 2 months ago I started feeling something hard on top of my ear cartilage, where it joins the head. It wasn't painful for a while but it bothered me just being there. Then it started getting bigger and squishy and it became obvious it was filled with pus. So one day I disinfected the whole area and my hands and gave it a few good, determined squeezes (it was quite deep), and pus did shoot out and the pressure relief was immediate. So I cleaned and disinfected again, and thought Now it will remain open and drain and that's the end of it.

How I sometimes manage to forget I have psoriasis even when I don't have any visible psoriasis is beyond me, truly it is.

So, to recap. I have psoriasis, have had it for 30 years (yey moi!). Psoriasis is a systemic disease and does not very pretty things to your body inside and out, and that is why I am barred - barred! - from giving blood bcs, it stands to reason, anyone who is given blood is in dire straits and the last thing they need is blood riddled - riddled! - with inflammatory cells, all mine, all ever-present. I entertained thought of being able to be a bonemarrow donor bcs, I was told, there was a friendly little machine that could filter the bad, bad cells and collect the good, good ones. As it turns out, all my cells are the omegas of the playground and therefore to be shunned - shunned! - at all times. In a country where so many should give blood and do not, and where even less are bonemarrow donors, this breaks my heart in a way I cannot even appropriately convey bcs I would, see, if I could.

Now, as far as diseases go, psoriasis is a little incompetent overachiever. Other people regenerate their cells in abt 28 days? We'll do it in 7! Sometimes 6! Sometimes 4! Hey, but what abt the cells that aren't quite dead yet? Never mind that, we'll just shove them up to the surface realllllly fast, and then they can all clump together and look reddishly half-alive in a most disconcerted way, and then we can call even more inflammation mediators - ooh, they're coming - and then the whole can look even redder! And scalier! It doesn't even look human anymore. And in the winter it will hurt like bloody hell bcs the skin barrier is broken.

And one of the - for you - hidden beauties of them is that no cut, however simple, is just that. You see, any skin wound turns into a love fest, no wound heals normally, it immediately turns into a psoriasis lesion JUST BECAUSE IT CAN. It's like cloning with a nudge. So pardon me if I am wary of thorns and claws [just made myself snort bcs avoiding claws is so bloody easy for a vet isn't it] bcs it's begging for trouble, one single scratch can make my dormant beauty wake up, stretch and dilligently go to work, not to mention that lesions are symmetrical, so if I get one on the left a new one will arrive without fail on the right side, approximately in the same place. It would be fascinating if I weren't the most unwilling canvas. It's called the Koebner phenomenon/isomorphic response, and I share it with sufferers from e.g. lichen, warts, systemic juvenile rheumatoid arthritis and something called molluscum contagiosum which, frankly, always - ALWAYS - makes me think of a randy little STD-dripping lobster with an Australian accent.

Back to the cyst/abscess/something, how silly of me to think it would stay open and drain. Of course it didn't bcs while squeezing I made the surrounding skin bleed the tiniest bit and what have we learnt? Koebner ensures it all becomes covered by a thick, semi-transparent slice of - whatever it is. It doesn't look like a psoriasis lesion, just like some very aggravated something in between. Wish I had saved it, I could post a pic, wouldn't you have loved that, my pretties? The end result was that it filled up again and there was no way that the pressure would be enough for it to burst through the skin. Removing the what-have-you scab doesn't work either bcs, of course, it just builds another one even thicker and faster. In my experience, if you keep pulling it it will eventually heal WITHOUT turning into psoriasis but that has only worked with very, very small scabs bcs anything bigger hurts and could get infected so I don't even try it.

THIS IS WHERE YOU SHOULD STOP READING IF YOU'RE NOT CUT-FRIENDLY.

Abt an hour ago I had a feel again and it was bigger and absolutely filled with pus, I could actually hear the sound of the fluid swishing around. My worry was that said pus would inevitably end up going inside rather than outside, and hallo, there's my inner ear right there, and there's my brain not too far off, and the pressure was driving me absolutely bonkers so it NEEDED TO DRAIN. All of a sudden I remembered I still had some unopened scalpel blades from when I used to dissect those poor sheep and I went hunting for one. And I found it. I cleaned the area just like they do in the hospital (hydrogen peroxide and then betadine), I washed and scrubbed and disinfected my hands and I positioned myself in front of the mirror. It's an awkward spot but was still very visible (it would, in fact, be very hard to miss it). The first tiny cut didn't hurt too much, it was more of an impression freally, but I realised that I was doing it too far below. I pricked the top and WHAT A RELIEF! This thickish chord of pus trickled down immediately, and I had my hydrogen peroxide-gauze ready to help it along with some gentle pressure (I also covered my ear, no worries). When it slowed down I enlarged the cut and some more pus came out. And then I disinfected the whole thing again, and applied a plaster over it so the betadine-soaked gauze ball could work its magic some more, and I am hopeful that, bcs it's a deeper, larger cut it will not close again and that this will be the end of it. Also, I will be bathing it in salt water regularly for the next week/fortnight. And finally, I will be going to the beach with Shrimpy's Tweedle equivalent who became my friend as well, and she too is a Dr. How practical! How terribly clever of me! The only way I'll become ill is if I a) avoid her eagle eyes and b) cannot be done at all. So it all seems to be going well, and I am EXTREMELY proud of myself! I didn't expect it to hurt loads so it's not a case of my having been exceedingly brave but there's still a bit of horror involved in deep-cutting your own flesh. But the relief, oh I cannot begin to describe the relief! It is stinging a bit but well, it's just been cut open and liberally doused with H2O2 and betadine, what else could it be doing.

I lanced my own abscess, people! *pats back*

So yes, off to the beach tomorrow where, alas, I'll have no internet connection. It's positively primitive but it can't be helped. ?

On a fluffy note, yesterday I took extra care of my hair, then exfoliated and then exfoliated some more, then applied some self-tanner (Kanebo, I've found Kanebo here! *SWOON*), and re-applied again - and I now sport a very healthy glow. Also, lost my mind completely and bought Estée Lauder's Perfectionist CP+ bcs all the fashion blogistas I read rave abt it so much. It costs 100 euros here, ONE HUNDRED EUROS. It's obscene, thoroughly disgusting. Am still in a bit of a shock, to tell you the truth, but sometime life needs to be shown what we want rather than holding out till it is the way it should be for us to actually get the things we want to. Yes? And the serum DOES make your skin immediately velvety, so I am hopeful I will come back looking fabulously rested and fabulously fabulous.

I'mgoingtothebeachI'mgoingtothebeachI'mgoingtothebeach!
I'mgoingtothebeachI'mgoingtothebeachI'mgoingtothebeach!
I'mgoingtothebeachI'mgoingtothebeachI'mgoingtothebeach!
I'mgoingtothebeachI'mgoingtothebeachI'mgoingtothebeach!

YEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Housekeeping

Hi.

I'm feeling better.

All right, better might be stretching it a bit, what I am is not caring abt the amount of exams that will await me in September. Imagiology went abysmally, the exam was much, much more difficult than the last one. In a few hours (less than 9) I will be circling random letters again, for the most part. Crop circles but not a good year for wine at all. I cannot bring myself to study one iota more bcs everything becomes one big word after a very short while. Enough. And bcs I do not feel like reading [not one bit, serioulsy] [and this is as bad as it gets] I have been watching series and films.

The Matrix Revolutions? Bros on crack. Oh! Have just realised, bcs I was skipping forward the boring parts (movie went rather fast at that) I managed to miss the infamous highway scene! What I like are the machine fighting anyway so all's good. But eh, rather poor film, what could they possibly have been thinking. [And when did Jada whatchmacallit Smith become a tiny, muscled little man? Her facial bones are broadening for fuck's sake! Get off the exerciser bfr you grow a penis, woman. ]

Am thoroughly in love with Cesar ... - eh, forgot his name. That dog chap, The Dog Whisperer. I'll have a small Californian moment now [hi, V.]: he has such good energy. That man sparkles inside out and it makes me all woofy to think of those dogs whose lives he's changed so radically, so much for the better! I believe I will apply some of my new-found knowledge to my dog - she needs it. Er, I need it. We all do. It is true, he trains the owners, and rehabs the dogs. I cannot believe the gift that man has, he is absolutely the canine Monty Roberts version. [If you haven't read the book or seen any of his work STOP NOW and go get them. Run! He tames wild horses with nothing but his voice, a towel, a riding hall, and abt what, 40 min? Mind-blowing. The first part of the book is utterly fascinating.]

I am not seriously worried abt myself. I mean, I am. My life isn't really good,a nd I have two more years of this madness. But I can still throw in words like procure [why didn't anyone call me pedantic? No fun this way.] so am not too worried. I would never leave vet school, ever. It might kill me but if it does it'll go down with me. I haven't been sacrificing myself for the past 5 years to abandon it all, I have the rest of my life to look forward to. I have what I think are very valid fears regarding the vast expansion of my ignorance and don't see how that will ever, EVER be any different. How on earth will I learn outside of school everything I should have learnt IN school? Bleak.
Went and got my new car [Got to the April archives if you want to see it, it's within the post in small font that tells the story of my miscarriage, I think. Too blah to go look and link]. My new car kicks ass, and the dog, to my humungous surprise, rides much more quietly in the back. rides quietly, full stop. And said back is now covered in brand new rubber - rubber! - mats, to which NO HAIRS STICK. Sadly, the back and the sides are covered but NO HAIRS ON THE SEATS. None. It's like - it's a bloody miracle, that's what it is.

Oh, another good one - Child of Our Time. It is what happens when BBC excellency [well, here at least] meets Prof. Robert Winston. Google it now. One of the things I want to do while I'm away, without my beloved internet, is to write a post abt the series, it should be absolutely mandatory for anyone who is a parent, plans to be a parent, wants to be a parent, works with children, is interested in boy/girl development, to watch this. Again, mind-blowing. Again, so funny how so many so desperately want to make the cultural bit be responsible for all that we are [and of course, how funny the opposite]. Expect loads of bio-antropological bruaha when I come back.

[Oh Udge, what I meant was, it can be said in English but it's one of those situations where one language is particularly adept at conveying the exact emotion and that'd be German this time. Just like Ihr koennt mich alle mal, no good way to really translate the feeling as brilliantly and elegantly as this in English. I use it often.]

- Millan, Cesar Millan! He also has the most darling accent ever, and usually I don't find the Spanish one all that charming. And his English mistakes - oh he's just adorable.

And you lot? You kick ass even more than my sexy car does. Thank you. Smooches to all.

What you want from me?

I don't know what to do. I stopped studying abt 3 h ago bcs I couldn't stand it anymore. I couldn't, and I can't. I simply cannot bear to look at the same sentences over and over again to have them not be memorised. What the fuck am i doing w my life? I am 35 years old and live like an empoverished student, will it be worth it? What if I find out that a) I am not a good vet after all, wouldn't that be a laugh and/or b) I hate it, absolutely hate it? I see students from other universities whose vet degrees are shaped like human medicine, like the things you see on the telly. They have clinical rotations. Their programs are serious, they are taken seriously, they take themselves seriously. Me? I feel like a fraud. Our university is proudly said to be the glory of the country. I think glory got mixed up with cesspit, I am in the 3rd year and what the bloody hell have I learnt? As good as nothing. We are not taught to think as doctors, we are taught to memorise and spew and forget. I don't understand how I could have had 12 exams last semester in close to 3 weeks and passed them all, I truly don't,a nd this semester I have far less and am failing abysmally. This semester I am tired. I don't want to do this anymore, not like this, this is too hard, this is too little. I had 7 subjects this semester, which makes 11 exams. [Oh wait, 11 exams? Really? Well, still.] I passed a few and then - Biochem (8 out of 20 which isn't bad considering most of it was random circling); Imagiology - no time to prepare whatsoever bcs we had 2 days in btwn exams so welcome to a 6, lovely grade, the 6; I didn't even attempt to write Anat Path II bcs, again, no time to prepare bcs was desperately trying to intuit which of the 400 pages i should devote myself to in the 2 or 3 days I had to study; didn't attempt Pharmacology either bcs am absolutely lost w the calculations for prescriptions and besides it's 3 exams in a row, from 9-14h, and then from 14-16h there was Biochem so I chose Biochem instead and cannot even ironically say Well chosen bcs of prescriptions and had I failed that one and passed the other 2 with smashing grades I'd still be forced to re-write them all bcs the grades are not kept for the September exams, how lovely. Did go to the 2nd Biochem exam again but really, this time I don't think I have managed more than a 6, this season's numerology session brought to you by What Was She Thinking When She Thought She Could Be a Vet. I will be writing Imagiology in a few hours and really, why even bother. I will go but what's the point. And then I have 2 days bfr Path Anat II, and although I find it interesting it's one of the hardest for me to study bcs we do not have a book, it's basically notes written by the teacher and by some students, and I have the sort of brain that needs context to memorise, otherwise there is no earthly reason why impetigo cannot be intertigo and vice-versa. So that too shall be fun.

I know this semester was made worse bcs I had the miscarriage and it took me forever to recover, and bcs I wasted all that time on the stupid translation, sod the man, for absolutely nothing, but what's the point of knowing why? I am tired, tired, tired. I have been studying for 5 years and have not had a holiday the whole time bcs August was needed for the September exams. I am, obviously, reactively depressed. I know this shall pass. But fuck me if I have the strength to really believe in it, it's a dark, dark tunnel from where I am standing. I still have not passed this year, need to pass one more subject bfr that happens. If I fail Biochem (and a miracle would be needed for me not to have) I will leave it for next year bcs this September will see following subjects: Path Anat I [1 exam] (the last of the 12 exams was on a Thursday, a Biochem-related subject though less difficult, Path Anat I was the very next Friday, I did go and circle random letters but we know how lucky I am with that don't we); Pharmacology [3 exams in a row]; and if I fail Imagiology tomorrow and Path Anat II on Frid, add those as well. So anywhere from 4 to 6 exams in any period from a few days to a fortnight.

My new car, the one my parents bought me for my birthday, the one whose deal was signed around the day I had my miscarriage over three months ago, that car will arrive this Thursday. Don't even ask, this is yet again one of my country's equivalent of my vet degree. On Mon I will go away w a friend for 8-10 days, to the beach. I have downloaded films and series and am procuring books from my library-friend (the one person I know who buys as many as I do). And yet I am not even looking forward to it [what I want to say is kann mich nicht mal drauf freuen] bcs I don't think I can feel all that much anymore, am strangely depleted. The one thing I can still feel is a quasi sense of relief bcs Uzi most absolutely cannot be killed in the war. Thank you, tsunami motherfucker, for the almost gratitude that I can at least be be spared his death now.

Am tired, is all. Wish I were my dog.

I never really laugh out loud while reading but, by golly!

Don't worry, I have not been assaulted or robbed or anything else that would result in a police report. It was the weirdest thing---I was reading in the window seat, and this rather large-bottomed woman boarded the train and made these elaborate preparations to sit down next to me. She pivoted so that she was perpendicular to the seat, backed up very very close to me, and slowly started to lower her ass down. I had time to think, "wait a minute, this chick is going to sit on me" and also to think, "I am being paranoid, people don't just deliberately sit on other people" as the ass descended and then boom, it happened. I made some noise, halfway in between "oof" and "what the fuck?" and sort of pushed at her with my forearms, and she very calmly said, "Oh, I'm terribly sorry" and moved over to the empty seat.

And I sat there angry and bewildered and WHY DID THIS PERSON SIT ON ME. Does a fully-clothed, public-place, sitting on people by "accident" fetish exist? Could a spatial-perception disorder or severe nearsightedness really make someone misjudge a distance that badly? Had I briefly turned invisible?

What to do when you're worrying abt living friends, dead ones (though less bcs it's a bit redundant), exams and the size of your arse

Hallo! It's 2.35 am! GUESS WHAT?

Quite.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I was abt 15 I started carrying a little book around with me so I could write down the inanities I heard bcs some things were simply too funny to be forgotten. Funnily enough I figure prominently in it bcs I was the one variable that never changed and no one forgave me a single inanity. [I disbelieve what a bleeding idiot I can be at times.] One day, when I feel up to writing my Kibbutz Volunteer Memoirs, I'll go foraging for the relevant one bcs there was one volunteer in particular who was very, very blonde. The a-tad-unwashed sort at that.

Fortunately, Kuhn was right and I have just found a site that emulates that fine spirit of yore. Sadly, it comes with headlines but stick to the post itself and you'll find your slapping impulses greatly reduced. But look, LOOK:

Saleslady: Where are you from?
Tourist: Kansas City.
Saleslady: There's a city in Kansas? Like with buildings?
Tourist: Yes.
Saleslady: Tall ones?

Just like The Little Notebook!

Now I won't have to resort to becoming a drunk, will remain awake and worried but too entertained to care.

Am I going mad? or what to do when hallucinations start

I was watching the BBC coverage of the matzav yesterday and there was the slightest hint that Israelis might just not be, I repeat, might NOT be pigs.

I am watching that nice, well-spoken Saeb Erekat being interviewed from Jerusalem [is that Prada?] and my mandible has joined my toe ring, the journalist is scolding him - scolding him! - bcs the Palestinians did elect Hamas for the government willingly and what did they expect from the Israelis then. And now the journalist is berating the Palestinians again! [Erekat's response: in their defence, Hamas has not fired a shot against Israelis all year, one shot. I think these Palestinian leaders think our leaders divert humanitarian money into their bank accounts as well and we are too starved and uneducated to think properly. I am so relieved Hamas has only been suicidebombing Israel, if they'd used guns they might have injured someone.]. And the journalist is now calling the Palestinian Gov powerless in a most disapproving manner! [Response: Abumazar's hands are tied and frankly, no one is helping him much are they. I mean the Israelis... And the Hamas... What's one single man to do under these circumstances.]

Personally, I think if the Israelis had a modicum of strategic sense they'd have celinedioned the region long ago and we'd have had peace for a good while now.

[Notice how daftly I have avoided mentioning all sorts of liquidy news that start with a T. Did you notice then? I AM that good.]

(And I agree with Imshin.)

Bcs I feel like screaming but am afraid I'd never be able to stop if I started so went and found manageable horrors.

*sigh*

Now go read David. Again.

Israel at war??

Oh no, where have I been all day?? Lebanon's attacked Israel! I cannot believe this. Oh yes I can, only too well. The first thought that popped into my head was that at least I don't have to worry about Uzi being killed. But I have to worry abt his brothers and everyone else really. I feel paralysed.

Of course israel is being criticised by Europe for, what's the word I am looking for, right, PROTECTING ITSELF! I suppose if any other country had their soldiers kidnapped and their towns bombarded by missiles they'd just say Those boys... and dismiss it w the wave of their hands. Fuck. FUCK FUCK FUCK!

Go to Treppenwitz's, I'm too mad to make any sense and don't understand it all yet.

Abandon Hope, All Ye...

This is my life.

I cannot believe this is my life.

Welcome to 1st semester Biochem, and part of Microbiology [to note: Bacteriology, Viroloy, Immunology]. I've saved everyting that may one day come in handy - which means the whole of Biochem lies in that pile, along with my soul. This semester's Biochem pile will be even lovelier, 400 plus pages of absolutely useless information that I will never, ever need. If I ever manage to pass it that is. I swear I'll set them on fire when the day comes. And I shall howl and foam at the mouth and cackle madly and let my inner Biochem troll dance wildly abt the flames, like a very, very wizened faun. This is my nemesis, it's not even a language I understand. It is so much worse than bones. AND WE ALL REMEMBER THE OSTHEOLOGY NIGHTMARE THAT I CALLED LIFE FOR SO LONG, YES?

[I've just re-read the comments, look for mine, #11, oh the mirth, the mirth! Lioness, The Will-To-Live-Slayer-cum-Toothsayer.]

Pathological Anatomy tomorrow but LALALALA MUST READ INSTYLE NOW.

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

This post brought to you by Smoked Reindeer Meat

A bit of an oy va voy really, now that I'm chewing it. Too fatty, too salty, oh nothing good could ever come of snow [snow! *snort*] and I should have known better. Horrific.

[Was just reminded of a story abt how there was a song called I should have known better eons ago and how my mum won a radio contest bcs of it but it's funny and and I am fully determined to write a depressing post.]

Biochem exam on Friday was quite horrific, Imagiology today equally horrific, the thought of having to ever look at those particular textbooks even more horrific. There are other adjectives but they too are horrific, everything is, so why bother. I was determined to write it down within a post, biocontainment of sorts. I thought it might not seem to hopeless then. I was so very wrong. It now looks hopeless in writing as well. Horrific. I have two days to memorise all things anatomically pathological bfr the next exam on Thursday, TWO WHOLE DAYS. I am so mad at my colleagues for being the greatest amoebas that ever breathed and only waking up to wring their hands and wail in the mailing list, and for ensuring we're treated with such respect - so mad, in fact, that I've emerged apathetic from the other side. Sie koennen mich alle mal.

And do you know, Uzi is also horrifically dead. And I know that bcs I am watching an Ally McBeal rerun and I cannot ring him and tell him abt it so we can laugh together. I could, and I am quite sure his answering machine would talk to me again and I don't see how that would be any less horrific. Watching Ally McBeal on the kibbutz was a humungous production that required gallons of coke, garinim galore and at least 5 people piled up on every flat and not so flat surface. Lila used to say she reminded her of me - not bcs we look alike but bcs our faces are equally mobile and mine gives me away equally often. So yes, Ally McBeal, which I've been desensitising myself to watch again bcs I simply need to be able to watch it bcs now I'm doing it for two. HA! A bit like a Pregnancy From The Crypt.

And do you know what a man said to me today? He said I don't understand how one person can need so many bags. I repeat, I don't understand how one person can need so many bags. I said, quite calmly [Which Surprised Her For He Was Blasphemous] You are a man [bless], how could you possibly. And he [bless] said Even if I were a woman I wouldn't need more than two. Bless him.

The miscarriage that keeps on giving - UPDATE

RE-UPDATE IN BOLD SO EVERYONE SEES IT AND RELAXES - I am fine. Really, I AM FINE. If it weren0t for your comments I'd delete this demented post, I sound demented. Blood flow diminished so, sadly, this does indeed seem to be the new pattern, which will heavily curb my ability to leave the house in the first few days. Fun and practical. [Kathzinha, birth control in use but condoms sometimes pop goes the weasel, hence the possibility] Stilnox left my stomach sensitive all day, am still feeling a bit nauseated and brewing a fine migraine. Biochem exam was a disgrace, very, very hard. I didn't write Pharmacology at all bcs the colleague who was going to explain Recipe Calculations to me decided at the last minute she wasn't going to write it - and since we have 3 exams but if you fail one the other grades are thrown away w the bathwater as well there was no point in doing it today. Will write it at the end of July. Am exhausted, my hair is orange, my ass is horrid, my car STILL has not arrived, the exams are destroying my will to live - why must every bloody one be so bloody hard and why must the teachers be this unfair?? Say, you take 3 exams, pass 2 w excellent grades, fail the 3rd and are forced to re-take EVERYTHING? Not to mention the 3 exams in one day scenario. Welcome to vet school, highly legal and motivating. Tnx, cannot find it. Should be studying Imagiology now but will instead curl up on sofa and maybe sleep a little, maybe the stupid migraine will stay away then. Am quite the little Calimero today. *SOB!* Yeah, yeah, shabbat shalom.

----------------------

Blah. I am tired of blood. If you object to clots stop reading now. NOW. It won't be pretty, not the clots in bidets, not the clots on floors, not the clots slowly sliding down my legs or the toilet bowl and don't even ask how they got there bcs I. DON'T. KNOW.

It is so bad that I am actually wondering whether I should buy a pg test tomorrow, could this be a miscarriage again, of the friendly variety this time? I have had to throw the pyjamas in the wash every single night since i got my period 3 days ago, and I start bleeding out of the bad after maybe 40 minutes. One of the reasons for this is that the stupid people at E*vax decided to change the material and the blood that used to be contained for the 1st time in its life no longer is. But this is my 2nd period post-miscarriage and I still am not back to the old pattern, I bleed to much even for me and the clots have taken a life of their own and now proudly sport bungee jumping certificates, I ran to the bathroom a while ago to unveil yet another clothing disaster and there was a family of four slithering down my right leg, in tandem.

Am also high on drugs, literally, took a stilnox - finally after talking w Manuela bcs we laughed so hard I decided it was a good sign and I could sleep tonight and so I took a stil*nox but i have my principles and so washed it dopwn w a c0oke and I want to explain this properly but I can't righht now bcs shit, i'm really feeling woooozy and want to finish this bloody business first, if I can.

So the clots slithered down my leg and then I lifted said leg and placed it over the bidet so they could jump to their deaths while I dealt w the other leg and knickers and when i lookd around a while later there was - when i was a child I had a rubbery octopus that I absolutely loved, you'd get it wet and throw it at the wall and the tiny octpuss would cling to it and gracefulkly make his way down, a ballet of tentacles, I loved it, am less in love w clotty creatures sticking to ungodly places, I keep finding new spots and darkred carcasses even after I've cleaned and looked arounf, i dont undretstand it al all.

Wow but this thing works fast.

Part of me thinks i cannot be p+gnant bcs i am not in excruciating pain and the ibuprufen worked, whcih it didntn for my miscarriage so i cannot even assess cranping, althoutgh my cramping only evolved into real klabour contractions the night bfr I miscarried so -

am lost again, fuck.ç..

ªcº

am afraid this might mean there's ssomething not right w me, not necessarily a miscarriage thogut how dould i know, i dont feel pg nopr do my boobs hurt as they did but if tjhois is going to be the pattern of my period from now own I'll really need to get one of those rubber cooter cup thingits bcs i'll need to be able to assess how much i'm losing and it takes a vessel to cointain all the blood I lose and to think it's all wasted, blood inside is psoriasis-tainted, blood outside obtained vaginally, not the best of eitehr world.

If this is whowi will bleed from now on I will be roayyalluypissed off, it's not practical and it's not fair that i0m forced to think Now,this clots outbrust was not normal, am I just the owner of a makeover where things went awfully wrong ansd instead of the Frindly Clot, known each other for years, I get Rodney in The 5th Element and - oof, hard to think, never mind, carry on,

also, what is puxzling is that I found amidst the clots - i always feel around, to make sure, lestb the past repeats itself on the unuawaare - i found something that lood like a pouch but filled w an ai buibble, small thing, sie of a small pinkie nail, and is that a normal clot? things dont get better tomorrow will b uy kit and pee on it w a vengeance, i think, unless it laughs back at me but i cannot be pregnant, certainly not pg and miscarrying again so swiftly. Well fuck, mouth is all dry and mind is gone so will reread tomorrow and edit, am sure this makes no sense, must lie down now bfr i topple over

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UPDATE - Oh no, you were worried! I'm sorry, and apologies for the post as well, I sound drunk but was simply inane from the sleeping pill. A bit genuinely worried but that happens after a miscarriage, I suppose. If you'll remember, last month was the same thing bleeding-wise and if all goes according to plan by this evening the blood will have stopped muchly, which is bizarre but happened last month - in fact, no ruined sleeping apparel tonight. If it hasn't I'll call the Dr., promise. I just hope this is merely the lining still recovering [SEE, LOREM?][Then again, mine was scraped clean, never mind] and not a permanent rearrangement.

My biggest problem now is actually the bloody Stil*nox made me feel scarily woozy all of a sudden, for a nice half hour I was wondering if I was going to puke as well and then I had bad dreams, let's hope I don't lose my beloved sleep inducer or things will take a turn for the so very worse. So, apologies again for having scared you - oh and my mucosas are fine and pink and I am no more tired than is expected after a series of nights on little and bad sleep, no anaemia. In fact, bad dreams and all this morning I feel more rested. I'll now go study for the ONE exam I'll write today, explanations later.

Sightseeing in Tel Aviv, HELP!

All right, this is both for Beth and for Shrimpy, whose friend/brother are going to be in TA soon.

I really don't know TA all that well.

Sorry.

[Do bookshops count?]

Yes, yes, I was a kibbutznik [MUCH better fashion sense though] [eh, not that it takes much] [er, sorry]. I loved being away from the madness of the city, loved stepping out of the room and being amidst the birds and trees and shrubs and Palestinian Mole Rats (an actual animal, don't be silly). I even loved the refet smell, what you want from me? I dislike Techno and the other lovely musical style whose name I cannot remember, that alone severly affected my noctivagal habits. The best fun I had clubbing in Israel was actually dining-rooming, a few stacks of hay to protect against the cold, an 80's DJ and let's show these soldiers-to-be off properly! Fun, fun, fun. FUN! Also, going to TA w Uzi meant book-hunting, full-stop, that's all we wanted really.

Other than Yaffo am a bit stumped. Not to mention restaurants and such. Will even allow anon comments for this one, and tnx in advance.

HELP!

We made a grown man cry

I give up.

I am now, officially, a bloody supporter of the bloody World Cup.

There, I've said it.

[*SOB*]

The reason I found it so bloody annoying is, we are a disgrace as a nation. Our economy is in shambles, our life quality is distressing (we pay as much taxes as the Germans and make 40% less), our social and moral values are fickle (we are the European country that works the longest hours and produces the least, lovely work ethic) , our drive, as a people, is non-existent. And we're PROUD of it.

Except, find 22 men and a stupid little round ball and every Portie who finds it too exerting to walk a few metres to throw his wrapper in the rubbish bin, thereby being forced to just weakly let it float to the nearest piece of ground available, will get off his arse and become energetic and make sacrifices and - do you know how many men flew to Germany for the cup? How many men from not so well-off families? We'll be forced to eat pasta w olive oil till December but by Golly I'll be there to support our men! !!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We have an identity now, and it's centred on a little rolling piece of leather, and it vanishes the moment the more recent memories of the Cup do. And that breaks my heart and makes me mad, it makes me so bloody mad bcs we could be better than this, we used to be better than this and where did it all go, exactly?

The Porties, the Seafarers, could now circumnavigate their home sinks, maximum, and even that might prove too taxing. I have long been ashamed of Amnesty in Portugal, and recently of Amnesty as a whole. That isn't all, sadly. [Maybe I have a lower disgracefulness threshold?] When I say that we are the greatest nation in the North of Africa - that is no joke. I am ashamed of my country as well. I wouldn't be if we were poor and helpless and trying. But we're not. We're poor (yet expensive), and weak (except re little round ball) and trying? Wha? What others think of us is terribly important, what we think of ourselves - well, as long as we still manage to fly to Cuba every year all is well. Nacional-porreirismo is what we call it, no easy way to translate this. Porreiro means cool, good. How are you? I'm porreiro, pá, and you? How's the job? Porreiro, pá, they don't give me much grief. And there's a fair amount of shrugging involved, Shoulder Shrugging elevated to an exact and multi-faceted science, with many a gradation. You could go for a minute without needing to actually speak. Basically, national-porreirism is the quintessence of Portieness, and it amounts to I don't care what happens as long as it doesn't happen to me, and even if it does doing something abt it might just be too much of a bother.

So.

Football, as the very last bastion of our national identity, is a depressing sight. But there is a certain beauty to how much they care, and to, during the Cup, having the bloody little round leather ball approach either of the goals. Even my heart skips a bit, and Loverboy's misses an MI for reasons not yet understood. So, yes, I hope we win. It would make my men happy, and we haven't fucked with the Brazilians in centuries. That isn't right. [Note: we'll have to kick froggie ass now, Brazil's just been eliminated. Oh well.]

Plus, today we did make the Brits cry. HA! Nothing warms my heart more than teary hooligans.

Oh oh! Almost forgot, the hooligan bit reminded me, this is the best, di absoliute bést! One of the neo-na*is I wrote abt in April is actually my neighbour. Porreiro, yes? A few weeks ago I was grocery shopping and what do I see? Said neo-na*i in full regalia, i.e.:

- Black t-shirt
- Black combat [ha!] pants
- Black combat [ha!] boots
- Bad hair
- Short stature
- His mummy

That's right, that fierce example of humanity was CHOOSING PRODUCE WITH MUMMY, isn't that adorable? I love my neighbour as myself.

[Excuse my absence from blogs, exam Monday and 4 more on Friday. FOUR. On Friday. 3 Pharmac, 1 Biochem, latter will attend to circle random answers. Too ominous. Also, anon commenters no longer allowed, sorry, bcs some people STILL have not realised I find them ugly and vulgar and wish for no part of them on my blog, no matter how disguised they think they are.]