Thursday, November 29, 2007

A Thought

People who talk to themselves in the library are weird.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

I am bored, I can't think of a title

I got a haircut. I look solemn and annoyed in that picture. That is because I have homework, not because I don't like my haircut. I LOVE my haircut.
I DO NOT, however, love heart palpitations. I'm also not a big fan of MRSA. I have both at the moment.
Come on, body, it's finals. Can't you give me a break?

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

I am addicted

The doctor told me yesterday that I might have acid reflux.
After crying about this, I decided to take action, and not drink any coffee today.
It wasn't until about ten minutes ago that I realized that that may have been why I've had a nasty headache all day.
A normal person's reaction would be to recognize that one is going through coffee withdrawl, take some advil, and move on.
Mine? To get the biggest cup of my caffeinated friend sold on this campus.

Pronunciation is Important

I am currently sitting in a group meeting. We keep talking about the Hague.
Except that all the other members of the group pronounce it the Hog.
I could be wrong, but I think that that is a bad pronunciation.
And it is bothering me.

That is all.

Monday, November 26, 2007


In other news, we got a kitten.
It's weird to write about stupid stuff like kittens when someone just died. Sooki, however, has been helping out around here. Whenever I get grumpy (I feel like I don't really deserve to be sad since Liz and I had grown apart and we're not, like, family or anything, and then I get conflicted, because she was an amazing person and she didn't deserve to die, and then I get grumpy because I'm conflicted, but that's more about my feelings than you really needed to know), Sooki comes up, clawing her way up my legs, and starts playing with my finger. She hasn't figured out that it's just a finger yet. She thinks its a wild animal.
She also enjoys doing this while you try to sleep. Then it isn't as cute.

Saturday, November 24, 2007

A Friend Indeed

My friend Liz died on Monday.
Liz was my best friend in fifth and sixth grade, that time when friends are so crucial, but really good friends are hard to come by.
I switched to Catholic school for seventh grade, and Liz stayed at the public school. As often happens, we grew apart, and until this past September, I hadn't seen her in four or five years.
But we had a lot of fun together. A whole lot of fun.
The first "big-kid" sleepover I ever went to was at Liz's house. Liz, our friend Margaret and I stayed up until four or five in the morning, reading her big sister's Cosmo and watching Waterworld. I had never read Cosmo before, and I had never seen as sophisticated a movie as Waterworld. Liz had a big sister, so she knew about these things. At Liz's house, we could watch GROWNUP movies. You know, quality cinema.
Liz, her younger sister Siobhan, Margaret and I had a village in Liz's basement. A real-live village. Everyone had a house, made out of old storm windows, sheets, pillows, and whatever else we could find. Everyone also had a business. Liz had a cafe. I tried to have a cafe, too, but it didn't work out so well- while I was selling water and pretend food, Liz bought penny candy at the (real) corner store and sold that and soda. Eventually, we started paying real money for it. The other day, we realized that she was running a company store. She had a monopoly on that little village.
Liz's family has a house in the White Mountains, and Dewey and I went there with them several times. One summer, my dad took Dewey, Siobhan, Liz and Me there for a week. My mom stayed at home. Unfortunately, she came down with a bad bout of diverticulitis while we were up there, and so my dad and all four kids had to schlep home, and then back to New Hampshire, a couple of times. Every time, Liz would sit in the car, working on her mancala game. She figured out how to win in one move, but then it became her goal to figure out how to get every single bean in her pot in one move. She would take out her mancala board in the car, set it up, try something, write the results down in her notebook, and then try something a little different. She would do this for hours.
That was the thing about Liz then, and from what I have learned spending time with her and her family these past couple of months, now, as well: everything she did, she was committed to. Which made it really wonderful to be her friend. I was lucky to have known her when I did, and I was lucky enough to get to reconnect with her in these past few months. She will be missed greatly.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007


I have talked before about my love for Holly Near. The problem with loving Holly Near is that a lot of the albums that I grew up listening to were never put onto CDs, so I was destined never to get to listen to some of my favorite songs.
UNTIL, the other day on a whim, I googled one of my favorite songs. And then I discovered the Vinyl Preservation Project. And now I can listen to Holly Near! On my computer! And a whole bunch of other artists, too!
Boy oh boy do I love the internet.


I've realized recently that I feel the most vulnerable when I've done something I'm not proud of.
Does that make sense? I get more worried that people don't like me or that people find me annoying when I've done something mean or when I've gossiped about somebody than any other time.
It's just my conscience trying to tell me to be a better person, I guess.

Illustrious readership of five, when do you feel vulnerable?

Monday, November 19, 2007


The sororitee had its formal on Saturday.
It was fun. Although not eating + a lot of drinks + tall shoes = a slightly awkward situation.

The best thing about fall formals is that they are at a beautiful building right near the sororitee. So when you get sleepy, you can leave.

Which is not to say that I had a lot of fun. I did. And also I did my hair like Whoorl taught the internet to. And it looked pretty.
I love the internet.

Saturday, November 17, 2007

Oh NO!

I have a skin tag on my eyelid.
If I weren't afraid of cutting a hole in my eyelid, I would totally cut it off right now.
Skin tags are gross.
But holes in eyelids are yuckier.

Friday, November 16, 2007

I have nothing better to do.

I am supposed to be writing a paper. It is on PTSD in children exposed to violence through war, domestic abuse or street violence. Sad topic, but interesting, no?
I do not have a word down. Not a word. Because writing papers is the bane of my existence. Seriously. I hate doing it more than I hate anything else at all.
It's not even the actual writing of the papers that bothers me so much. It's the idea of writing them, the possibility that I will make an argument that makes no sense, or that I do not have enough information to actually write a paper. I am constantly second-guessing myself and procrastinating and turning them in late whenever possible. It physically hurts, and I hate it.
I have to hand this paper in tomorrow, and I have to do it before Manoli gets here at 2. Ideally, I will finish the damn thing tonight.
In order to do that, though, I have to start. And starting is the most painful part of all.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

I am not a medical expert

Google does not seem to understand that I don't know anything about medicine. Pancreases, to be specific.
The number one search term that leads people to my blog is "bruised pancreas." Is that not a little odd? 'Cause, you know, I wrote a post a while back about my sister's totally badass bruised pancreas. And as it turns out, that post is the fifth link google gives you. Which is HIlarious for me, not so much for the people with badass injuries.
Internet, you need to provide the poor people with of this world with more information about their pancreases.

P.S. I don't think I ever told the story about how The Girl became totally OBSESSED with Dewey's bike accident. It was her favorite story. She liked to tell it like this:
"And then Dewey was riding her bike near her house when my car went BANG and Dewey fell off her bike and she got a dirty cut on her leg and also she hurt her PANCREAS!"
I'm not really sure why, but it was always very important to her that my sister crashed into her car. (Which she didn't, by the way.)
P.P.S. People also come to my blog by searching for "My Ginormous Boobs." Sorry, once again, no help here.

Wednesday, November 14, 2007


My current facebook status:
Abbie is. . . existential crisis averted.

I just had a minor freakout about where I would be next year and what I would do with my life and how society forces me to think, at 22, about when I want to have children and whether I want to be a brilliant political reformer or a brilliant mother.

I need to grow up.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Advice to people in the library

Whispering "shhhhhh!" at your ringing cell phone does not work.
But wouldn't it be cool if it did?

Monday, November 12, 2007

At least no one died

I babysat five children last night.
Yes, that's right, five children, all at once.

I think that all five readers of my blog know by now that I love children. (Especially since all five of my readers know me in real life. But whatever.)

But five? That's a lot.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Word of Advice

If you are going to try to make a caramel sauce for the first time ever, do not:
1. Do it without reading a recipe, assuming that if you heat up butter and sugar. it'll probably all work out.
2. Have an emotional crisis in the middle of making it, thus preventing yoursel from noticing that the sauce is emitting noticable burned odor.

Just in case you were thinking about doing it, you know.

Friday, November 9, 2007

Good Day

Do you ever have one of those days where you're all upset over something totally inconsequential, but then you talk it out, or a friend is nice to you, and you realize that really, everything's okay?

I like days like that.

Thursday, November 8, 2007

My Friends are Helpful

Me: RSVP to my party [on facebook]
tell me that you can't come
or that you can

David: why?

: because when people don't respond
it looks like I have no friends

Me: also,
if you RSVP no,
please write something kind and apologetic on my wall
so it looks like people want to be my friend
I mean on the event wall

David: has anyone ever told you you're neurotic?

Me: like "Oh man, that looks like a totally sweet party! I wish I could make it, but I'm going to be stuck in california this thanksgiving. We should all hang out in December, though."

: you're neurotic


Emma, she of the "I always do my work before it's due, and I just can't stand those people taking up space in the library because they put off their work until the last minute,"just told me she was bored.
"You are already done studying for the Ed quiz tomorrow?" I innocently ask.
"No. I'm procrastinating."

HA! Caught you red-handed!

In Praise of the Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich

After a pathetic run this morning, I came back to my room, with about thirty-seven things on my to-do list before I could go get some breakfast.
But I was STARVING. That deep in your tummy, I can't do anything until I eat kind of starving. Which was kind of a dilemma, given my to-do list. But then I rememberd that, while I was home last weekend, I made a stop at Trader Joe's, where I picked up some of their delicious organic peanut butter and some rasberry jam. I got all the ingredients out, and in about two minutes, I had a perfect breakfast. So filling, so comforting, just perfect.

Wednesday, November 7, 2007


I feel a little bit bad about missing two days of NaBloPoMo, but not really that bad, since I had a midterm. Also, when Emma writes about you, do you really need to post to your own blog?

Sunday, November 4, 2007

Who Knew?

I just forced myself to finish my (actually rather tasty) spinach salad at dinner, and now I am too full to eat chocolate.
Who knew that eating healthy foods would actually help you to avoid unhealthy foods?

On a different note, I just sneezed, then someone else in the library sneezed, then I sneezed again. It was kind of like sneeze-tennis.

Let's Go Driving In My (Dad's) Car Car

Picture it: 22-year-old me, still learning how to drive, going for a practice run in my dad's truck, with my mom in the front seat and my dad in the back, in the jump seat.
Now let's take into account the fact that my parents are separated.
Nothing like a Sunday morning driving lesson with a twenty-two-year-old student who is on her third learner's permit (the other ones expired before I could get around to getting my license) and a separated mommy and daddy.

I feel that my family is a little weird.

Saturday, November 3, 2007

So Many Adventures!

I had about three hundred adventures today, including buying makeup, eating at McDonald's, and losing my mom in a movie theater. I could tell you all about any of those things, but instead I will wine.
Instead of NaBloPoMo, for me, this should really be NaBloWhiMo.
Get it? National Blog WHINING Month?
Hahahahaha! I am SO FUNNY!
All I'm whining about today, though, is how I want a new camera. The LCD screen on my old one died, and it is old and slow, and now I want the Canon SD1000, because it is pretty. And relatively inexpensive.
That's all.
(I found my mom, by the way.)

Friday, November 2, 2007

A Story from a Bus Ride

The Mean Mean Lady

By Abbie, with some help from Lesley

We waited for the bus in Hanover, forced to listen to an obnoxious girl talk to her best friend on the phone for fifteen minutes.

“Oh, my Gawd! Hahahahahahahaha!!!! Can we SAY passive aggressive?”

As we wait, trying to tune out the din of her annoying words, we notice that the line of passengers waiting for the bus is getting longer than usual. We are a bit concerned, but we’ve both survived Thanksgiving travel on the Dartmouth Coach, so we think we’ll be okay.
We get on the bus, and it’s so crowded, we are forced to sit together, but that’s okay, ‘cause we don’t mind talking. Five minutes later, we arrive in Lebanon, where we de-bus to purchase our round-trip tickets. We notice that there are also a lot of people waiting in Lebanon, but it’ll be okay, we figure. How na├»ve we were.
“There are quite a few people waiting to get on the bus, so please leave a personal belonging on your seat to mark that someone is sitting there. Please do not block off the seat next to you.”
Being good little citizens, we leave our backpacks on our respective seats before the de-bussing begins. (Can you tell I like to say de-bussing?)
We wait in line, purchase our tickets, and then get back on the bus.
“Hmm. That’s funny,” we think, “there aren’t any empty seats. We definitely left a backpack on each one.”
THEN we notice the Mean Mean Lady scowling at us.
“Um, excuse me, but I think we were sitting here.”
She has shoved our backpacks and water bottles and other detritus all onto one seat. Does she seriously think that only one person could have that much stuff?
“WELL,” she says, scowling some more, “they shouldn’t sell tickets when they clearly don’t have enough seats. This really sucks for those of us who get on in Lebanon.”
Finally, she gets up, to go complain to the bus drive
Refusing to get off the bus, she stands in the front, forcing everyone to squish past her to get to their seat. After every passenger is comfortably situated, the bus driver comes to the realization that he will have to move the cooler of pretzels and water from the front seat so that she and a quite large man could sit down.
“I’m going to have to put the pretzels and movie headsets under the bus, so if anyone wants them, please come and grab one now.”
As we are pulling out, the bus driver makes his announcements.
“Hello, I’m David Harrison, and I’ll be your bus driver today. Today we’ll be showing SOMETHING LIKE HOME, starring Kathy Bates. You can listen in on your headsets. I hope you all have them, because now they are under the bus.”
Lesley turns to me.
“I think the Mean Mean Lady should have had to hold the pretzels and headsets on her lap.”
I think so, too, Lesley, I think so, too.

Thursday, November 1, 2007

I am in a terrible mood

people are annoying. They piss me off, and so I pick fights with them.
The end.

Happy NaBloPoMo!