Ultimate Misery: The Canker Sore

Nothing ruins your day quite like a canker sore (not a cold sore; those are outside the mouth). They hurt like absolute hell and although they only really stick around for a week or so, it feels like an eternity. And the worst part is waking up after a blissful night's sleep of not feeling it. For that 20 or so minutes after you get out of bed, it feels like acid is being poured into your mouth, and there's no stopping it.

This is not me, but they all pretty much look the same.
Source

If you've never seen one before, 1. You're lucky, and 2: ^^^

Basically, they're tiny puddles of fiery hell-sore.

And although the surface area is tiny, they tend to make an entire side of one's mouth feel like it's being operated on by a really shitty oral surgeon. For example, the canker sore I have right now is in the back of my left cheek, riiiiiight between where my teeth bite, so logically, the entire left side of my jaw and mouth hurts. Nice. Here's a short list of the daily activities that have been hindered by black hole ulcer in my mouth:

• Eating: Chewing is definitely out, so I've been living on cottage cheese, yogurt, and ice cream. (And no, chewing on one side doesn't help, because BOTH sides of my jaw go up and down, meaning that the sore will get hit even when there's no food there)
• Talking: If I've seemed reticent/sad/unusually quiet, it's not because I don't like you (well, maybe, but the odds are low). It's because talking moves everything around and if words aren't critical, they're not worth it right now.
• Teeth Brushing: Between the  bristles and the toothpaste, this sucks. My obsessive need for dental hygiene requires me to power through it though; I fight cavities at all costs. 
• Drinking (and not in the alcohol sense): You can basically swallow food on one side (more or less), but liquid spreads out everywhere and burns. Pro-tip: don't go for the carbonated beverages...
• Gum Chewing: Just don't bother.
• General Happiness: Constant pain leads to constant irritation/pissed-off-ed-ness. Although to be fair, I get frustrated/angry extremely easily when I'm in pain of any sort. From now on, I'm calling them Cranky Sores©

But every once in a while, a few minutes goes by when you forgot that it's there. There's no pain. Maybe it's starting to heal. So you smile a bit, start to say "Hooray" and...

Epic rage time
Source

...it's back.

Reading Period/Finals Post

Don't tell me that I don't have time for this post, because I already know. There are papers to write, projects to finish, and... I don't know, other knowledge to acquire.

Fortunately, as a concentrator in the humanities, I have no standard finals (as in, no three hour sessions) this semester. But before you say "ZOMG I HATE YOU," remember that this means that all of my papers, projects, and take home finals are due before finals period. Basically, I am not slacking off during finals while the science concentrators occupy the libraries. I'm just doing it all a week early.

Reading period/finals is a time of high stress, tears (especially when this happens) and simply not enough sleep. Here's a tiny list of ways I know it's...that time of the semester again.

Here's what finals period means to me:

• My diet consists mainly of high-sugar foods and caffeinated beverages. I have a theory that as long as I keep drinking Diet Coke, I won't have to sleep. Ever. This also means that I become particularly hyperactive by about 11:30pm every night.

Probs why my brain feels like it's exploding.
Source

• My flash drive is forever hooked to my wallet and keys. As I run all over the place, from dorm to library to dhall to study room, I end up writing papers on so many different computers that I don't bother saving content to actual machines anymore. Consequently, my entire life is saved on this here flash drive.

If this ever gets lost, I'm dropping out of school.

• I never leave Winthrop House. I choose not to study in libraries because 1. I simply won't surround myself with that much stress and 2. I'm too ADHD to study/write paper writing without walking around every once in a while, which is glared at and frowned upon in Lamont and Widener. Instead, I live in my room and in the dhall, where I don't feel like the silence is eating me, I can sit in un-lady-like poses, and no one will stop me from bouncing around with glee whenever I finish a paragraph.

And here are some more general indicators of the finals season.

• Everyone either looks really classy or really sloppy. Classiness means that they haven't had time to do laundry and all they have left are dress clothes. Sloppy means that they roll out of bed, change from PJs to sweats and go about their business (I fall into the latter category). Normal dress is scarce during finals period.

These count as real pants, right?
Source

• People camp in libraries. I've seen people bring pillow, blankets, and entire meals to their cubicles in order to make sure they never lose their precious study spots. Last year, someone brought a rice cooker. I've seen people leave their belongings while they run home to shower (for hours). And when a new library patron removes a camper's belongings, performing a coup d'etat of their study carol, well, civil war ensues. Are we seeing why I don't frequent the library during this time of year anymore?

Please, just leave every once in a while.
Source

• The I'm-so-busy competition goes into full swing. Example:
• Student 1: Ohmygod I have so much work to do. I have like 4 papers and 4 finals.
• Student 2: Yeah, well I have papers to write and 4 exams in 2 days and I'm working a shift at the homeless shelter.
• Student 3: Yeah, well I have 4 exams at the same time on the same day and I'm rescuing kittens with the ASPCA on that day.
• Student 4: Yeah, well I have to turn in a project and take an astrophysics exam right after I moderate a GOP debate.

Guess what. We all have things to do.

The point is, we're almost done and this is certainly not the time to lose our sanity. Finals period sucks, but it sucks for every single person on campus. It's a stressful, tiring, and not a whole lot of fun, but we'll have the entire month of January to sleep it off. Let's just throw ourselves a pity party and move on.

But actually.
Source

Real grown-ups exercise...and hate it.

They look happy, but they're miserable on the inside. I know it.
Source

For most of my life, exercise came in the form of soccer or tennis practice, jumping on a trampoline, or general frolicking. Actually, it wasn't really exercising; it was just "having fun." Now that I'm all grown up (or something like that), I exercise just to exercise. And it sucks. When at the gym, I'm fairly adept at keeping my complaining to a minimum because I'm surrounded by air conditioning, blinking machines, a clean restroom, and complimentary sweat towels. When at home, however, I have no access to a gym, which means that I'm forced to run and bike outside.


I'll be the first to admit that I'm a hippy-dippy tree hugger who loves picnicking outside, hiking tall mountains, and swimming in fackingfreezing New Hampshire rivers. But when it comes to straight up exercising, I HATE doing the outdoors thing. Here's a list of reasons why I'll take the sweaty plastic smell of a gym over the great outdoors when all I want to do is get my jog on:

1. Cars and Trucks: Here's the deal. If there is no oncoming traffic and you can see from your car that I'm jogging/riding in a "biker lane" that's between 3 and 6 inches wide, MOVE OVER PLEASE. The yellow line isn't going to give you an electric shock if you cross it for three seconds, there is a steep embankment to my other side, and there are exactly zero vehicles coming at you. I've already jumped into a briar patch once to avoid being hit. I'd rather not do it again.

2. Commercial Trucks with 18+ Wheels: See above. Also, honking your air horn at me? Not appropriate. In fact, it scares the figurative poo out of me every time. The last thing I need is to have a heart attack a mile away from my home, thanks.

3. Dead Animals: I'm no track star, which means that I don't want to hurdle jump over the smelly piles of roadkill that the CT Department of Transportation has decided it's too cool to clean up. I've actually become desensitized to roadkill. Something has gone seriously wrong if I can pass by flat animals without tearing up.

4. Live Animals: Never again do I want to be chased across the street by an angry/reallyeffingfast pitbull-or-boxer-or-something-else-scary as I go through the center of town.
**Note: I was riding my bike for this incident. Had I been on foot, I probably would have lost an ankle. LEASH LAWS.

5. Hills: On a treadmill, I can control them and flatten them out at my own discretion. Unfortunately, my hometown is about as flat as Dolly Parton's chest. Up does not please me.

6. Sketchy Characters and Residences: Catcalling hooligans and skeevy "houses" with physically broken windows and socially broken residents give me the willies. This is the point at which I might hold my house key like a prison shank, just in case a snatcher appears.

The moral of the story is that even though spending money physically hurts me, I'll probably always shell out for a gym membership. Don't make the mistake of thinking that I love running on a treadmill or plodding/jogging/ellipting on an elliptical machine (there's really no appropriate verb). I just hate it less than running outside.

All I really want is to spend my days gallivanting in a meadow of flowers while eating PB&J sammies and enjoying a 6 year old's metabolism. COME BACK, YOUTH. COME BACK.

End of the Semester Misery Rant

Just because Harvard hates my guts, I've yet again been assigned the very last possible exam time on the very last possible exam date. What this means is that while everyone that I know and love is getting the hell out of town, I'll be crying in the corner, reading Shakespeare and wanting it all to be over. There is nothing enjoyable about being the last one on campus. It was bad enough after first semester, when everyone went home for winter break, but this time, the room will be empty except for my own sad desk and unpacked belongings. **See below

And once the last exam is done, there's the mad scramble to throw everything in boxes and suitcases in order to be out by noon the next day. Oh, and since I harken from the great state of Connecticut (cough), I can't leave a damn thing at Harvard. So this is what packing means to someone who drives rather than flies home:
1. Throw EVERYTHING into plastic garbage bags.
2. Wait for parents to show up in mini-van. They will be late.
3. Panic when everything doesn't seem to fit in vehicle. Question when you acquired so much stuff.
4. Remember that there is always more room and reposition seat to fit all of the crap.
5. Deal with it (or not) upon arriving home.

And this year, with an exam on the last possible date and a paper due the day after, I will be finishing by semester from home, submitting my final story via email from Connecticut. It's the semester that never ends.

But really, it's that last night on campus that's the worst. The Saturday night into Sunday morning when I'm the only one left in the room and everyone, everyone has moved on. But with a paper due on Sunday, I can't even try to enjoy that last night with the remaining orgo students who will spend the night raging to celebrate their survival through the pre-med weed out class. I won't have anything to celebrate until Sunday night. When I'm at home. Without any of my Harvard peeps.

Pretend like there's a picture that represents misery here.

And for as much as I'll complain throughout the semester, I know that summer is a 3 month waiting period before I can go back to the goodness of college.

End rant.