And what ghosts there do remain

three things

eschatologies — Sun, 24 Jan 2016 19:04:08 GMT

1. I was just asked to speak at a networking event at my alma mater. Just 9 months ago I was attending these events as a student seeking employment, and now my campus is asking me to return as a positive example of a successful alumna.

2. As of Friday's paycheck, I now have more money in my savings account than I owe on my credit card.

You guys. I've turned a corner. And you know what? To celebrate, I'm gonna have more tea, fill out this meme, and read more fanfic on this lazy Sunday morning because I'm gonna be an adult, but I'm gonna do it on my terms.

Three names I go by
1. Molly
2. Don
3. Coach D

Three places I have lived
1. Seattle, Washington
2. Portland, Oregon
3. Sacramento, California

Three places I have worked
1. AmeriCorps NCCC Pacific Region, Sacramento, CA
2. The College Success Foundation, Issaquah, WA
3. The New York Association for Psychiatric Rehabilitation Services, Albany, NY

Three things I love to watch
1. Sunrises
2. Starry skies
3. My cat doing dumb shit

Three places I have been
1. Berlin, Germany
2. Antigua, Guatemala
3. Mount Misery, New Jersey

Three things I love to eat
1. cheese
2. apples
3. popcorn

Three favorite drinks
1. tea (earl or chai)
2. beer
3. lemonade

Three things I am looking forward to
1. Trip to New Zealand in March
2. Large work event I am planning in April
3. My brother's wedding in May

progress

eschatologies — Fri, 24 Jul 2015 16:53:31 GMT

This afternoon I will be sworn in as an Officer of the Court as a Volunteer Court Appointed Special Advocate (CASA) for abused and neglected children in King County Superior Court. CASA is a national program that started here in Seattle, and as volunteers we investigate allegations of abuse and neglect and advocate for the best interest of children (below the age of 12) during court proceedings.

I still don't have a job, and I'm living back home, but this is still something in the right direction.

this is the end of the world

eschatologies — Thu, 13 Dec 2012 16:58:50 GMT

I woke up in a pretty good mood - even though we had early morning PT, today is our very last day in Cave Junction. I am ecstatic to get the hell out of here. The project has been difficult and not satisfying, and I am edging closer and closer to hitting my break point. I felt so closed in yesterday I walked to town and had a Me Party at the mexican restaurant in town. I needed some SPACE. Living with 9 other people in a single room cabin has me slightly hysterically on edge.

So, I felt good. Only one more day to push through, and then we drive all day tomorrow back to Sacramento. And in Sacramento I will be reunited with my FRIENDS.

We get a food budget in AmeriCorps - it's about $4.25 per person per day all loaded onto a debit card. It's not the lap of luxury, but it keeps us full with all the essentials. Anything beyond the necessary I call a luxury item - and the team members are responsible for buying those for themselves. Example: don't like poverty brand cereal in the big bulk bags? You can buy your own box of nice cereal and write your name on it.

Since giving up meat and then six months later experiencing about 3 months of intestinal issues, I've also decided to give up milk. Not all dairy - just the cow juice kind because I tapered it off and it seems to be helping. And even if it isn't, my brain thinks it is. I've never enjoyed the taste of milk to begin with, and almond milk is so much better. So my luxury item every week is a jug of almond milk, on which I write my initials about 37 times just in case people don't notice the very large MCD on the lid. This week as an extra treat to myself for surviving my first project on my own, I also bought a box of Honey Bunches of Oats and some of my favorite chai tea. And one of the things motivating me through my morning workout in the sub-freezing temperatures was the promise of my favorite cereal in my favorite milk with my favorite tea on the side. YUM.

This is the point in the story where, as you can guess, things fall apart in predictable and spectacular fashion.

We ran out of cow milk yesterday. This morning, one of my teammates not only drank my almond milk, but they left a swig - a FUCKING GODDAMN TABLESPOON - of milk in the container and put it back inside the fridge.

I hit the roof. I remember says, "Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?" and throwing the empty jug into the recycling bin (because even in rage I recycle).

I blacked out a little bit and found myself huddled at my desk, earphones plugged in with Muse blaring, staring a hole into my computer screen and hyperventilating.

It's not the big things that can break a person, I think it's consecutive little things that build up until someone drinks your precious almond milk and then you end up in prison for the rest of your life because you stabbed someone with a butter knife and smiled while you did it.

I know, it ain't easy, giving up your heart

eschatologies — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 05:22:25 GMT

Every time I get on LJ for a quick browse, I see spoilers for things that I am totes not caught up on, and it makes me extremely sadface. Not you, FList, you are good with your cuts and spoilers code. But LJ in general. Bad. Bad.

SAD.

it's on, it is so on

eschatologies — Thu, 21 Jul 2011 16:49:18 GMT

So I go to bed early last night without checking anything online and hogwarts_elite decides to reopen?

OKAY. I AM SO DOWN.

I know most of you on my flist are already HE members, but sorting is still up at sorting_elite. And even if you've already been sorted and would like to be RE sorted, there's that option too!

Come play with us for one final term!

ATTN: THALIA

eschatologies — Tue, 14 Sep 2010 04:15:07 GMT

I opened up my mailbox today and inside, stuffed in there with my Entertainment Weekly (eep! fall tv preview OMG) and my credit card statement (JFC) was a package from the lovely thalialunacy.

My hat arrived in tandem with the 80 degree heat wave that is now melting me and Portland, OR. (Hence the snuggly hat and the spaghetti strap tank top). So, while I love this hat to bits and pieces, I'm afraid I won't have the opportunity to wear it for a good while longer. :(

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! You are ever so talented. And wonderful, have I mentioned wonderful?

Week 7 - One Touch

eschatologies — Sat, 12 Dec 2009 18:38:29 GMT

This isn't the good kind of pain, she identifies, waking in the night.

It's not the slight dull throb of a headache, right behind the eyes. It's not the small, annoying burn of a paper cut. It's not the (oddly enjoyable) scratch of needle and ink across skin, or the aching bite of dental work.

It's a white hot blinding pain, and her eyes aren't even open. It's rolling her stomach, pounding her head, smothering her back into the mattress and weighing down her limbs.

She grasps for him in the darkness, and manages, "I'm...migraine."

And he's been trained and he's a veteran at this now. "Where?" he asks, already flopping the covers back and rising out of bed.

"Bathroom, I think." She buries herself under the pillow because even the sliver of light peeking through the slit of the bathroom door is too bright. He returns quickly, pill in hand, glass of water in the other, and it's a few minutes before she can sit up and force them both down. Her stomach wobbles and she can't quite remember when they got onto this boat on the high seas. She hunkers down and he slips back into bed.

And her sob is an unspoken (hold me) that deafens his ears. And he does and it's their bodies flush against each other, his body anchoring hers as the bed threatens to capsize. One strong arm securing her torso as further gulping sobs cut through the darkness and tears collect on her pillow.

In minutes (hours?) the drug kicks in (thank god) and nothing spills out (this time). The searing pain quiets and her shoulders relax and her breathing evens. The last thing she feels before the drug delivers a fitful sleep is the hand entwined in hers, tethering her to reality.

Week 6 - Sunrise

eschatologies — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 09:53:31 GMT

For an early Christmas present from my adored and adorable boyfriend, I have been gifted the joy of one kitten adopted from the Oregon Humane Society.

He's 2.5 months young, has longish grey/black hair, and has been dubbed Sir Winston Churchill, Prime Minister. He's the new love of my life. I think Winston is a bit anxious about being in our apartment for the first time, what with all the new smells and sights and noises and lack of sterile everything. And if the timestamp isn't working for you, it's about 2am my time as I type this out, and I just don't think poor Winston is ever going to quit mewing about his wretched life.

Hi, I'm Winston, and I'm too wriggly to hold still for a proper photo.

One minute, he's cuddly as can be, pushing into my hand and climbing all over me and my laptop. The next he is deathly afraid of me, quaking in his fur, shoving himself far under a dresser or bed or chair or whatever. I've never had a kitten outside of the two family cats we've had over the years, and I was under 12 then.

Meeeeeeeoooooooww mew mew mew mew mew mew meeeoow mew mew!!

Sir Winston! If you would please phrase your complaint in the Queen's English, this would be a lot simpler! You have water, you have kitty food, you have a potty that you have only successfully managed to use one out of two times, and you've got toys. It is attention that you need?

Meeow mew mew mew MEEEOW mew mew!

Perhaps. Thing is, Winston ol' buddy ol' pal, I'm exhausted and your mewing is too pitiful to ignore. I know the first night is the roughest but I had really hoped that your first sunrise in this apartment wouldn't be our first sunrise. Know what I mean?

Meeew mew mew MEEW mew meoooooow mew mew mew!

Thing is, you haven't stopped purring for about an hour, which either means you are enjoying this, or are about to die of fright.

Now you are sitting behind the toilet, sleeping while sitting up. If my heart didn't break each and every time you open your kitty mouth, I could get some sleep too.

Being a first time parent is hard, I'll say that. Good thing we started with a cat, eh?

take my hand for tender, I am tortured, ever tortured

eschatologies — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 18:09:33 GMT

Finished the crossword with only a few holdups this morning. I incorrectly assumed, based off the theme of the puzzle, that today is the anniversary of the release of Abbey Road - when in fact, that was back in September. Not sure why the theme went in such a Beatles direction, especially since Ringo was the theme answer to last Tuesday's puzzle. Rex Parker says the puzzle (medium-challenging? Maybe made more difficult by my DIP-LAP mistake) was constructed by a 14 year old, so I won't complain much. (The) Beatles theme life easier for me in solving, but now I've got "Nowhere Man" lodged in my brain.

We've a short week due to Thanksgiving. I work for about 7 hours on Wednesday (covering shifts for lucky brats that are leaving early for break) when I hope to get some solid essay writing done. Afterward, Aaron, Becca Jessame and I are driving North. I am still feeling homesick and overwhelmed, and I cannot wait to be back in Seattle.

Today is devoted to my paper on Mount Rushmore, and a few more reading assignments for the week. If my plan is successful, I should be able to get most of the small shit done this week so that the last two can be spent on my larger project.

Our campus email program is having a hard day today. I wish it would shape up, cause there are important things in my inbox that I need access to.

Week 3 - Smile

eschatologies — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 20:58:08 GMT

"This has to stop," he says, shuffling papers from his lap and turning to face me from his lounge chair in the corner of the room. "Your mother and I think it has gone on long enough."

I am standing just inside the doorway, my body not fully committed to the idea of remaining in this room. I make a concentrated effort to stare anywhere except his face, my eyes settling instead on a glass tumbler of ice and amber liquid sitting on the coffee table. As I watch, a bead of condensation drips and pools at the base of the cup. There will be a ring burned into the wood when the glass if finally cleared away.

He continues. "You just stay up there in your room, always on your computer sitting in the dark. You never talk to us, you never have any friends over..." He spreads out his arms, a gesture for his loss of words in the face of my troubling, anti-social behavior.

Silence hangs in the room, and I shift my weight from one foot to the other, my arms crossed over my chest. "And? What's the problem?" I prompt, wanting to get this heartfelt moment out of the way as quickly as possible. I can se his shoulders slump a little as I say it, and it hurts me too. I hate that I'm too good inside to really be the bitch I am pretending to be.

"And we are worried about you. You don't seem happy. Are you happy? We can't tell."

"I'm fine. Everything is fine," I lie, not even convincing myself. It's an automatic reaction these days. I'm fine. Ever since my mom found my prescription for anti-depressants, my parents had been working under the assumption that happy is the opposite of depressed. Depression plus medication is their formula for happiness. I'm not striving for happiness - I'm striving for the ability to get out of bed and function.

I wish I could explain it to them, but I am a teenager and they don't understand me. Communication issues on both sides. I know they feel as though they have failed as parents, and I know I feel like I've failed as a person. I'm too stubborn to talk about it or accept their help.

We're both silent for a few more beats. I edge toward the door.

"Hey, we just want you to be happy. Just smile more," he says, offering his panacea for my self-worth issues. "Smile." It's more of a request than a suggestion, but I don't acquiesce. My face stays bereft of emotion. I can hear him sigh heavily as I head up to my room to do some more productive sitting in the dark.

A smile wouldn't have magically fixed everything in that moment. But forcing a smile probably wouldn't have hurt me any more than my departure hurt him.

Week 2 - Uphill, Both Ways, Barefoot

eschatologies — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 14:51:30 GMT

Three walls of his office are lined with chalkboard, and the forth boasts the smallest window I’ve ever seen. The boards are filled with a variety of Greek letters, numbers, complicated diagrams and mathematical symbols. He has graciously shoved over a couple teetering stacks of paper to the corner of his desk so that, as I sit across from him, I can at least see his face and the majority of his body.

I hand over my paper.

"I am just a little confused about problem 13 from the homework assignment," I say, as he lets the page float from his hand and land on the desk in front of him. He begins to open a few draws, searching for the eyeglasses that are resting on the tallest stack of papers directly to his left. "I don't see why my answer is different than the one in the back of the book. I think I have the right equation..."

"Let's see what you've got, then," he says, still looking around his desk and blinking rapidly. When his eyes settle on the spectacles, he gives a small sigh of relief, and the joy on his face is that of a reunited, long lost lover.

My computations fill the paper entirely. I can see them through the page - in certain places I have scratched out an entire section and recopied it further down. I am sure I've got the equations right, and three attempts to verify my calculations have all proved that I could not have made an embarrassing decimal or rounding error.

"No, this all looks correct," he says a few minutes later, sticking one hand into the deep pocket of his oversized mathematician's sweater. The geometric pattern woven into the wool is a crazy array of dancing triangles and tetrahedrons in fantastic blues and greens. I pull my eyes away.

A certain swell of vindictive glory rises up inside of me. I knew I did it right. The answer in the book must be incorrect! But he brings me back down to earth with resonating slam.

"But it doesn't look like you've finished the problem. The question is asking you to solve for the data sets w, x, y, and z. You've just done w here." He points to the very bottom of the page, where my numerical analysis of data set W is boxed.

"So...I have to repeat the same equation for each set?" I ask, knowing that this work alone had taken me over an hour, and it was the smallest of the data sets presented. I am hoping he'll say he is kidding and explain that 30 years of math and inhaling chalk dust has addled his brain.

"Yes. And then you need to take your answers to part A and begin work on part B, where you need to provide visual analysis and describe the cohesion of each intercept."

Graphing. PART B?

"Oh, I see," I comment quietly, accepting my page back from the professor. My eyes are glazed and I can't see the pen marks any more. I steel myself for some small relief to the sinking feeling I am now drowning in.

"And there aren't any tips or tricks on the calculator? I should do this all out by hand?" I ask these questions with a small smile. My frustration isn't aimed at him, merely at math and his profession in general.

"That would be optimal. There are certain shortcuts with our graphic calculators, but I'd prefer if you got the hang of this way first. This is how you will be expected to present your work on our midterm next week." He is holding the mathematical secrets close to his chest, like a winning poker hand.

As I sit at the bus stop a few minutes after leaving his office, the sky begins to darken as the sun makes its way behind the line of trees.

Problem 13 was the first of 7 identical problems assigned for the next day.

Mathematical Certainty: There are not enough hours in the day.

Week 1

eschatologies — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 17:48:08 GMT

We lost our volleyball match on Friday. It wasn't our best attempt, and in moments of disappointment and stress it gets extremely easy (for some people) to begin pointing the finger of blame outwards rather than inwards. As a team, we sometimes forget to say something into the mirror before saying it to a teammate. It has always been a problem for teams, and always will be.

So, we had some bad moments on the court. Your bad pass caused my bad set, which caused her to hit into the block and you didn't cover the hitter and now we've lost the point and if you hadn't made that serving error seven points ago, we'd still be on a run and up by two rather than down by six and you have a bad attitude which is making me a bad passer. All of a sudden, we've lost the match and we're being railed at.

Our coach gave us an assignment for the weekend: come to practice on Monday with two compliments for every player on the team (one should be about volleyball, and the other about them as a person in general). It's a common activity; I've done it before for teams and clubs and groups and so on.

Now I am sitting here, staring at a blank piece of paper. Some of this girls I love, and the process comes easily. One of the girls I have never got on with, and would happily never see again. Whatever I come up with seems hollow and disingenuous. Compliments should never be forced - and they shouldn't be asked for, either. Compliments just HAPPEN.

I'll do the assignment. It just all feels a bit empty, to me.

Topic 0 - Introduction

eschatologies — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 20:17:35 GMT

Hi, my name is Molly.

Except, Molly isn't my real name. I know it's not a great way to start out (lying straight to your face) but then, I don't know any other way to go about this topic. I don't go by my real name, neither in real life nor online. I really have nothing against my real name; it's quite pretty and Irish and I think more suitable for the serious adult I hope to become than Molly is. The decision was out of my hands, though, as is the way with names in the first place. Rarely do we honestly get a say in what we are called. It was something my parents instituted at birth (which begs the question: why not just go ahead and put 'Molly' on that birth certificate? This inquiring mind has always wanted to know).

I am often frustrated with having two names. Molly is not a clear nickname for my legal name, not in the way that Sam would be short for Samantha or Beth for Elizabeth. It only shares a first letter. It confuses people, and the bank, and the US government (when I mistakenly sign the wrong name).

But, I identify as a Molly, having lived 20 years with that name. Sure, there have been variations and further nicknames derived from friendship as I have grown (Mollster, Molls, Don, Dona de la Vega, Moony, Tuna, Tunette, etc). Some hold personal importance to me, but I think in some cases nicknames hold more significance to the person bestowing the name, not receiving it.

I have been thinking a lot about my name and how it affects my personal identity lately, partly because of a recent incident at school. I am taking two classes with a fairly prestigious professor at my college this semester, and am thus intimidated by him. At school, I am registered by my legal name, and usually make it a point to tell professors I go by Molly when they take roll on day one. To make a longer story short, I was too timid to correct him when he called role, and am, for the first time in my life, going by my real name in those classes. It startled me the other day when I was approached by a classmate in the library and she addressed me by a name that I am unfamiliar responding to.

I don't know what this means about my future, if I'll slowly start to introduce myself with my real name or not. I suppose I could have made the change when I started college, but I really hadn't considered it until now.

I like Molly, but I am growing into my real name too. Maybe it is okay to have two names, for use in different occasions. Getting to know me is more than learning my name, anyway.

Not a night goes by I don't dream of wandering

eschatologies — Tue, 13 Oct 2009 18:51:38 GMT

It appears that I will be participating in this round of therealljidol, thanks to the encouragement of a few of you out there. I had no idea so many people were involved! If nothing else, it will help with my goal to be a more attentive blogger. It also means a few more of my entries will have to be public, but that doesn't really matter. Sign ups continue through tomorrow, so if you are at all interested, I'll link you here. It seems like a good way to get prompts for writing and to meet new people.

I haven't much else for now. The NYT Crosswords yesterday and today were a bit more challenging than I would normally like for a Monday and Tuesday, respectively. I didn't finish either, but I am working to improve my Crosswordese each day!

We have a History department gathering tonight that I am looking forward to. I also get to ditch practice an hour early for it, which helps a bit.

Happy Tuesday!

I'll write home every day

eschatologies — Tue, 25 Sep 2007 20:43:28 GMT

I wanted to switch things up, try something new. Too bad it took forever to load.

Hey - Wanna play?

eschatologies — Mon, 24 Sep 2007 01:18:32 GMT

In the interest of always having something to distract me from homework, Ali, Bubs, and I have started a new Harry Potter RPG: 100 Indecisions. It's a MWPP-era game that will detail the last year of the first war. All the summary information is behind the cut, but what you do need to know right now is that we have loads of major characters open and would love to have you join us! Check out the links below for character availability and the application!

October, 1980:
The wizarding world has been at war for almost a decade now. What started as simply disappearances and a few unexplained deaths here and there has escalated into a full blown conflict as Voldemort grows more powerful with each passing day. Now the Dark Mark shines routinely in the skies of Britain and no one is safe. Voldemort has sent his Death Eaters across the country to kill in his name, striking not only those who dare to speak against him, but Muggles and Muggleborns everywhere. Meanwhile, he has been distracted from his quest to control the wizarding world by a certain prophecy that threatens all he has worked towards.

The Ministry is doing its best to fight against the threat from Voldemort and his followers, but they are too heavily infiltrated by Death Eaters and too ineffectual to mount any real opposition. Still, the Aurors, under the leadership of Barty Crouch Sr., are ruthless in their pursuit of the criminals terrorizing the wizarding world. After much argument, the Aurors were recently granted the ability to use Unforgivables against the Death Eaters, a move that made all but the most loyal of Voldemort's followers hesitate for Crouch will not stop until every last Death Eater is killed or sent to Azkaban.

And then there's the Order of the Phoenix. Its membership is largely unknown and they are seen by both the Ministry and the Death Eaters as nothing more than a band of vigilantes, yet they are determined to do
all they can to fight against Voldemort and his followers. Several of their members have already had their own confrontations with the Dark Lord, barely managing to escape with their lives. And they are still reeling from the recent deaths of the McKinnon family and Benjy Fenwick, the first of their members to fall.

The stakes have never been higher. Each side is fighting for what they believe is right. The only question is, which side will you choose?

Fifteen months and a hundred indecisions.

eschatologies — Mon, 30 Jul 2007 19:13:05 GMT

Erm, anyone have a link to the JKR interview? I didn't even know there was one.

Thanks

Never mind. I'm retarded. Thanks Alex

eschatologies — Fri, 06 Jul 2007 02:20:42 GMT

Se dicen en Guatemala que las mujeres vegetarias no pueden hacer el sexo porque ellas no les gustan el carne.

They say in Guatemala that female vegetarians are unable to have sex because they don´t like meat.

I learned this today, and took it as fact. Any thoughts?

homg guatemala

eschatologies — Sat, 30 Jun 2007 00:48:17 GMT

So I really didn´t have time to update or say goodbye to anyone before jetting off to another country, but luckily this hotel we are staying at has free internet, despite the really confusing keyboard. I have to look down while I am typing or else it will look like this: ´ñ¡>Ç¡FDÑ, pr else I´ll just type in spanish. It´s only been two days and I already feel so confident and comfortable with my spanish.

We are having the most fantastic time, and I can´t wait to get back and tell everyone all about it. And believe me, I´ll be talking about this trip for a long long time. I held a snake, tarantula, and monkey today. And spent six hours hiking around ruins in Tikal.

My only complaint is the heat, which is more intense than I anticipated. Oh, and the sunburn. Oww.

Be back next week!

eschatologies — Tue, 12 Jun 2007 20:17:00 GMT

My fortune cookie says, "You will have a very pleasant experience."

and, "You have a winning way. Keep it."

and "You will be admired for your internal beauty."

and "You'll be invited to dine in an adventurous place."

and "You will have gold pieces by the bushel."

These cookies suck. And what the hell is a bushel?

pimping for Mike

eschatologies — Thu, 31 May 2007 00:00:51 GMT

PIMPAGE!

Check out header_contest, run by 427. A bi-weekly challenge for creating headers. Never repeating themes, always something new: every two week challenge will have a specific prompt. It may be fandom based, stock based, or theme based. There will also be style based themes, and tool based themes. Other challenges may include the type of header (LJ Header, User Info Header, Friends Only Header, etc.)

Join to participate, vote, or check out the headers. All headers are sharable with credit - which is provided on the voting poll.

Thanks!

drive by

eschatologies — Fri, 25 May 2007 00:55:28 GMT

I love that Dictionary Word of the Day will deliver a word to my inbox that I've never heard of before, and within a few hours I'll have come across the same word in some book, magazine, or newspaper.

I love that.

Renamed!

eschatologies — Fri, 27 Apr 2007 04:54:06 GMT

Well, this is the user formerly known as rocks_mi_socks, I have rename-tokened myself as eschatologies. Look it up.

Just thought you ought to know.

Sorry for those of you who will now see this PSA multiple places.

eschatologies — Mon, 23 Apr 2007 06:25:20 GMT

This is what I've been waiting for.

If you haven't done so already, and you browse the internet using Mozilla Firefox, you should download the "StumbleUpon" extension. (Downloadable here)

Basically, it adds a toolbar to the top of your browser with a button that says, "Stumble!". And, after you have told the extension what your interests are, it opens a random page that it thinks you might be interested in. In short, this is AWESOME when you are bored and want something interesting/funny/thought-provoking to read/watch/listen to. And the best part is that you can custom choose the things that it will weed out for you. Then, you can rate the sites as you view them and it keeps a log of your favorites so you can return to them later, or post reviews for other users.

I am in love with it.

Night, ya'll.

eschatologies — Mon, 16 Apr 2007 10:07:24 GMT

And it occurred to me then, as I answered my phone, that I should get different friends who don't call me at 3:05 AM just to say "hello".

It's not like I was sleeping or anything.

*tantrums*