Yes, strange title, I know. But, those who know me know I love my bathtime. Half of the time, I don’t even wash; I just like to sit in warm water. An old boyfriend from high school thought I had gills hidden under my long hair because I could lay in the water with just my nose peeking out for air for hours on end, with my toes maneuvering the stopper and the water faucet when I got cold.

The first thing I did when I got my first laptop (back in the 90s, oh yeah!), I bought one of those 50-100′ phone cords, and ran it from my bedroom jack into the bathroom. I taught myself how to balance my laptop on the side of the bathtub so I could sit in the water and be halfway productive, even if it meant just chatting with random people, mudding, and posting on usenet forums. When we finally got DSL in 1998 or so, the same thing would happen, but with an ethernet cord. I’ve been balancing my lappy on the bathtub wall for about 12 years now, and have yet to drop one in the water.

Wireless internet was really my downfall. Once I didn’t have to drag the cord into the bathroom anymore, I would take (on average) about 2 baths per day, not counting my shower in the morning. I don’t even use bath salts or bubbles on a regular basis – just the water. I guess I’m a bath ‘purist’. When I moved to the UK for school, I was so happy I didn’t have a shower in my flat that I almost cried. When I moved back to the US, I brought a shower fixture for my bathtub with me so I wouldn’t have to stand and bathe ever again. Some call this lazy – I call it progress.

I collect rubber duckies. One evening, I decided to bring them all with me into the tub… and I couldn’t fit them all. Now, I’m not fat, but I’m not thin either, and I still had 8 or 9 on the side, just watching the elaborate battle I had planned. No, the battle never happened because I was interrupted, but the idea is still there. My little sis in Phi Sigma Rho gets me rubber duckies every year for Christmas, so I can owe it to her that I have so many.

This post really has no ‘purpose’ so to speak, but I needed to write about something other than cancer/college woes. I ended up dropping most of my classes because I was too far behind, and now only have 6 credits (one 4-credit class, and 2 credits of research). Sigh. I have chemo again soon, and I’m not looking forward to it. Having cancer sucks SO HARD. It makes life dull, with very little to pass the time. It’s mainly full of not feeling well, followed by not feeling well, then maybe a nap, followed by not much to eat, and then not feeling well again. Of course, TV and videogames are interspursed, as well as playing the piano/oboe/violin. You’d think I would have time to do coursework, but between not feeling well, and not feeling well, I just can’t be bothered.

If you have cancer, and you are a fully-functioning member of society with nary a side-effect to keep you at bay, then more power to you. I envy the crap out of you. Now, back to my bath.

Cancer is a real party-killer. Here I am, in the prime of my life, trying to enjoy myself at college and *graduate* in the next twenty years. But, despite what I try to do and accomplish, chemo and/or side-effects ruin my day. I have a midterm on Thursday, and I was too sick to go to class last week (thanks a bunch, chemo). We didn’t have class on Tuesday because our professors were at a conference in Portland, and then we’re expected to show up on Thursday morning, ready for a midterm!? Are you f-ing kidding me? If it were mapping or hydrology, I’d be fine. But it’s that stupid mineralogy class that is going to end up killing me in the end.

I really can’t afford to get shitty grades. Because I was so sick before they discovered it was cancer (DAMMIT I hate cancer so much), I missed week after week of school for one reason or another. I think my GPA dropped well below a 3.0, and now I’m doing all I can to stay afloat. Of course, it doesn’t help that I’m a physicist and incredibly lazy. Those two things do not go hand-in-hand.

I try to register for classes and keep on top of it, like what I was going to do with this quarter, but I just can’t. I was so upset tonight that it kept me from really sleeping that much. I’m having to teach four classes this week because one of the other TAs is gone (looking at a grad school for his PhD, since OSU isn’t good enough for that apparently), so I had to pick up the slack. I found out that I have to proctor an exam tomorrow night too, so there goes four hours of studying.

I’m not going to make it. I really don’t know what to do, and in order to keep my head above water and get me going to classes again, I stopped my low-dose chemo on my own. (PLEASE don’t yell at me, I’ve already been yelled at, thanks. I know what a retard I am, I get it.) But, at least I can function for the time being. It really isn’t doing much good for me, but dammit if I’m going to take another whole year off. Fuck that noise.

There really is nothing good to report. I finally got to sleep around 4:15 this morning, and then a thunderstorm woke me up not more than 20 minutes later. So, I’ve been up ever since. This is just NOT my day. I’m tempted to email my professor in mineralogy and tell him I just can’t take the exam on Thursday because I’m so behind. But then I’ll even be more behind. What’s a girl to do?!

I know other young adults with cancer and trying to go to school at the same time have had my problems. But I really don’t know what to do at this point! Should I just take an incomplete, and then wing it for the rest of the quarter? I’ll be damned if I’m held back for another year.

I’ve had two rounds of chemo now, since I had my relapse a month and a half ago (I’m on two days on, then 15-18 days off – it’s a weird schedule, actually… a bit different than the first time). I feel like shit, I’m nervously waiting for my hair to abandon my head, and I’m still trying to be a full time student and teacher at the same time.  It’s really, really hard.  Just this week, when I was in the chemo dungeon at the hospital (I call it the chemo dungeon, even if it is a nice room, because it feels like torture), I tried to get some homework done. One of the nurses came by to see how I was doing, and she commented on what class it was for.

“It’s Mineralogy, a class where I have to learn over 100 minerals by sight and chemical name, much like o-chem.”
“Oh, Honey, you won’t get through that class this year. You have cancer to worry about.”
“Fucking watch me, then!”

Yeah, I did say the f-word.  Usually I’m so nice to the nurses, especially since they’re super awesome. But, I’ve had mood swings, I’m still stuck in a weird limbo between being a functioning woman and menopausal at 25, and HORRIBLE hot flashes where I want to throw myself into the freezers at Safeway. I hate it when people tell me I can’t do something. It really, really pisses me off. Just the other night, I had a nightmare where people wouldn’t believe me when I said aliens were slowly taking over the world and brainwashing people (yeah, I have weird nightmares, okay?). And, believe me when I say it wasn’t the aliens that frightened me, oh no. It was the fact that people thought I was stupid. I’ve always had that fear, especially since I know I’m a weird person, and I say weird things (constantly). But… I’m smart, okay? Geeze. I’m a friggin card-carrying member of Mensa! I solve logic puzzles for fun! I mean, wtf is wrong with me? *shrugs* Ok, I got a bit off-topic.

I hate me my cancer. That’s what I was getting at. It makes me feel weak and separated from my friends. I don’t even see my sister all that often, or even hear from her, because we’ve both been sick lately. We’ve just not been able to connect. (She had her gallbladder removed a few weeks back, and even if the doctors insist on that being a week recovery, it’s not. They’re liars.) Couple that with our busy schedules… it’s amazing that I see her even once a month, even though we live in the same, small town.

The only people I see on a regular basis are my students, a few acquaintances in my classes, and my roommate. He takes care of me – my Caregiver, even though he hates the term – and insists “just anyone” would do what he does…even if we both know that’s not true.

Bleh, I feel gross. It’s a quarter after three in the morning, and I’ve yet to sleep tonight, even though I’m physically and mentally exhausted. My chemo keeps me awake, but I’m not allowed to take sleeping pills (something about thinning my blood… I dunno, I have a tendency to ignore my onc because I think he’s a dumbass and I frankly just don’t care). At least I don’t have crap to do on fridays, save for a geology lab from 4-5 pm, and my office hours from 5-6 (very poorly chosen, but hey, what can I do? I got the short straw.)

I DO want to say that I appreciate the Twisters on Twitter. They’re my little online family. I’ve never met any of them, but I can tell them anything, and they support me 120%. We’re all cancer survivors, and in 140 characters, spread love, hope, and wellness to each other. My town is too small to have a cancer support group for people my age, but with Twitter, I have access to hundreds of ’survivors’, and it is better than any support group I can think of. So, *muah* to the Twisterhood! I love you all!

And with that, I’m either going to go to sleep, or play Scribblenauts on my DSi. Nighty night!

You know those days, when you just want to crawl back into bed but can’t because of “obligations”. When I heard I had a relapse a few weeks ago, I thought, “Hey, this’ll be cake. I’ve kicked cancer once, I can kick it twice.” I don’t know why it’s so hard this time. I mean, I don’t even feel that gross from the chemo… it’s nothing I can’t handle. Then why am I so upset?

Someone called me a Cancer Survivor the other day, at the hospital. I nearly punched the unsuspecting person in the face. I felt like I was being patronized, like an eight year old being taught how to read, but has known how to since she was three. Makes me think back to my “Voices of Survivors” written word that I wrote, but has sat in my inbox with edits for about a month. For those of you who don’t know the project that Lynn Lane is the creator and producer of, then shame! Voices of Survivors is a short documentary filmed by Lynn, and it’s from the mouths of actual cancer “survivors” defining what they think is a “survivor”. (This is why I’m using a copious amounts of quotes, because there isn’t one definition of survivor – it’s different for everyone.) There is also a section for written statements, ranging from 400-2000 words on the subject. Mine is a bit long, at 1600ish words, but it sure as hell gets my point across.

Anyways, back to the person. They didn’t know I was upset, but I did hold myself back from a verbal and physical abuse. I just smiled, said thank you for the kind words, and went off on my way. I thought that, by having a relapse during the school year, then more people would be involved and then I’d have some sort of “cancer experience” that I missed out on the first time. How stupid does that sound? I can’t believe I’m actually typing it, let alone thinking it. I talked about this in my Livestrong video, about feeling alone and physically being alone, and of how much it sucked. But now that more people know and are getting involved, I almost wish it was the summer again, and that people weren’t around at all. Apparently there is no pleasing me.

(Forgive me, I’m just kind of typing what I think, and I know it’s disjointed… welcome to the world of how I think.) Last night I was so upset that I couldn’t sleep for hours, and my roommate took pity on me and sat up with me for a bit. I feel like my faith is being ripped from me, like having cancer once wasn’t enough, so our vengeful God has given it to me again. I’m like a child who’s gotten in trouble twice for the same thing, but still doesn’t know what she’s done. It’s not fair! *stomps* Yes, it’s my own version of a digital temper-tantrum, but God DAMMIT I fucking deserve it this once, don’t I? I’m tired of being everyone’s dumping ground for their own problems. What about MY problems, people? Does cancer look easy to you, like I’m coasting the fuck through it, so hey, why not we tell Kristin all these problems we’re having because she has her shit together. Well, I don’t. I have no idea what I’m doing. In relation to my cancer, I do, simply because I’ve been here before, but for fuck’s sake, I do have my own problems I have to work through. I don’t give a flying fuck what your boyfriend said to you last week that made you feel fat and unloved. I’m dying. Let me have my pity party for once! Let me cry and break things and wail about how life isn’t fair, BECAUSE IT ISN’T. When you’ve got cancer too, please, come join my pity party and then unload on me with your problems, because at least then we’ll have something in common. But until then, GO AWAY. Take your stupid problems with you, and unload them on someone else.

/steps off tantrum box/

Apparently I really needed that. I mean, I had the tantrum in real life too, but I feel a bit better. /end pity party. I’m still not fixing your problems for you, so if you have one, run the other direction before I squeeze your brains out your nostrils. I fucking hate cancer. It has absolutely ruined my life. RUINED. I should have graduated by now, and have a fucking job, but nooooo, I’ve been put back TWO BLOODY YEARS in school, with no end in sight. I’m not made of money, Cancer. I have to still pay out of state tuition (that’s another rant for another day), plus my insurance company keeps denying claims and raising my rate. Now that I’ll be 26 in November, my rate goes up to the next level anyways (the 26-35 level or something), plus the special “Cancer Tax” that most health insurance companies add.

Fuck you, cancer. I so totally hate you. If you were a person, I’d swear you off as a mortal enemy, and I’d put out a hit on you. *growls*

When I go to mass, I get distracted, and it’s not because the homily is boring, or because I didn’t get enough sleep the night before. From where I sit with the choir, I can see the entire congregation, and it doesn’t look good. Save for a few select families, we all look like a bunch of bums. I remember how we would dress up in the 80s and 90s to go to mass. What happened?! Why don’t women wear something, oh, feminine and modest, and why don’t the men at least put on a button up shirt and slacks? Is it THAT difficult to look nice for God?

I realize that with the changes of Vatican II, people seemed to think they didn’t have to look nice, or cover their heads to pray, or anything like that. The Vatican never, ever said that we were allowed to nix mantillas at mass. We’re a very liberal state, and I understand that, but that doesn’t excuse wearing daisy duke shorts and a boobie shirt for 90 whole minutes on a Sunday morning.

I am very, VERY disappointed in all of you. Yes, especially you, right there, the one in the pajamas. That is NOT OKAY. …rant over.

Apparently I am a rather unlucky person. My onc told me after my PET scan that things were less than jolly, and that he wanted to start chemo again. He didn’t say I was no longer in remission, nor did he say the other ‘r’ word (relapse), but I think he didn’t want to hurt my feelings.

People tell me to take charge of my disease, to learn everything I can. Well, I didn’t last time I had it, so why should I this time around? I don’t give a flying f what kind of chemo I’m going to get, or what my schedule will be. I’ll show up and trust them to do the job they’re paid for. Of course, I will do the least amount of what is expected for me, as will my onc. He is NOT allowed to try and snipe the crap out of my cancer. If he gives me a lower amount of chemo or whatever for a longer time, I’d rather have that than be strapped to a hospital bed for a shorter amount of time.

I mean, we still haven’t come up with a schedule yet. Who knows. Maybe I can get a second opinion.

Fuck my life.

I’ve been listening to Science Friday on NPR for the last hour or two, and the topic towards the end was local produce. I used to care less about where my food came from; Mexico, Peru, out of state, whatever, as long as it was easy to acquire, I would buy it. But, my ex-boyfriend introduced me to the wonders of the veggie box and buying local produce both at the farm or the farmer’s market.

Gathering Together Farm in Philomath, OR is about 3 miles from my house, and the majority of my food comes from there. They have a program where you sign up for a box, and each week you get a giant tub of veggies. It’s big enough that four large people could share it, and there’s always a variety of greens, tubers, fruits, etc. You even get a giant bag of salad greens. So, Jason gets this box every week and I was enjoying better-tasting veggies on a regular basis. When we stopped dating, I missed the box and looked to see if I could register for one, but they have a waiting list almost 2 years long. Phooey. So, I buy from the co-op, or I drive out to the farm. If I’m feeling especially motivated, I’ll ride my bike.

My oncologist recommeded I eat organic while I was sick, and even now because he firmly believes in eating healthy, without pestacides, preservatives and hormones. The only downside is how ridiculously expensive this diet is.

I wish there was a way to eat local and organic that won’t make me flat broke.

The Science Friday people brought up a good point that I never thought of. Buying food from, let’s say, Kenya, helps their economy. Kenyan farmers get a giant boost from sales of greens to the UK, who get 90% of their green beans from Kenya. I had absolutely no idea that our purchasing habits effected third-world countries. This might seem like a “no duh” moment to you, but I never, ever consider how I’m helping or hurting others by buying certain foods at the store.

This revelation isn’t going to make me more inclined to buy from some horrible little country. Who knows what they put on their food to help it grow! I want my money to help my own community. So, I’m going to continue to buy local.

Of course, one could argue the whole gay “carbon footprint” thing, but I frankly don’t care. Telling yourself that you’re saving gas by buying local instead of buying food from across the country really isn’t going to do anything except make you feel better.

All this talk of food is making me hungry. Time for some tasty Swiss chard methinks.

Holy crap, did I buy the mother of all telescopes.  I have purchased a – get this – 10″ Celestron Reflective Advanced GT telescope. It’s ginormous. 10″ diameter (for those of you who don’t know what the 10″ stands for), with a 1.25″ and 2″ eyepiece adapter, on a German equatorial mount with a GoTo system. BUT, and this is a HUGE BUT, it doesn’t have GPS. I didn’t think that’d be a big deal, but as this is my first major telescope, it’s a lot harder to set up and take down than I thought it would be.  With my family helping me out, I finally got it up, balanced, and aligned… in an hour. This telescope isn’t for the faint-hearted. I really wanted something that was easy to set up with the power necessary to find me some awesome Messier objects. Nothing quite explains the awesome feeling of seeing Jupiter’s red spot for the first time, or being able to see and count it’s four Galilean moons, but when you see a perfect globular cluster (M13 methinks) for the first time… wow.  Just wow.  The first Messier object I saw with my scope was the Ring Nebula, M57, so named because of it’s ring shape. Also, when you’re going to go out and look for an object, especially in the summer, this is a prime target.  It’s relatively easy to find (ie: straight up), and the magnitude is a 9. Bright, but not that bright.  The telltale sign that you’ve found it is when you have it’s two young blue stars in your finder.  If you know your constellations, it’s in Lyra, very close to Vega (which is how I usually find it).

Okay, if it’s night time, and it’s not raining (for you Oregonians… I know your pain, I do), go outside. Look up, and try to find a bright-ass star that’s close to being straight up, but isn’t quite.  That is (probably) Vega.  Vega is the Northestern point in the Summer Triangle (which is composed of Deneb, Altair, and Vega in the constellations of Cygnus, Lyra, and Aquila… but not in that order).  Vega is only 25 light years away (which would take 23-24 days at Warp Factor 6…), so that’s one reason why it’s so bright.  When I mentioned magnitude in the paragraph above, a lower magnitude means the star or object is brighter.  Vega has a magnitude of 0.03. Wow, not very dim, is it?  Compared to 9, yeah, you can see Vega easily with no help whatsoever (a blind man could probably see it).  In lieu of my telescope, I’ve been taking my finderscope outside to look at Jupiter and other stars. I can see the four moons with it!  But, I can’t see the stripes at all (Jupiter is just a point with smaller points in the finderscope). But it’s amazing what you can see with a low-powered object like the finderscope.

I may buy a pair of celestial binoculars as well (25×100s maybe), which’ll serve to allow me to see many things without taking out my scope. I tried to go up to Mary’s Peak the other night, since it was beautiful in Corvallis, but a dark cloud sat right on top of the mountain, effectively turning out the stars. It was creepy.

Ok, this post got out of control, and now I turned on a movie, so nothing more will probably be said.  Nite nite!

No more cancer means I can go ride my bike again. I used to ride my road bike upwards of 60+ miles a week (not a lot in road biking terms, but for me, 8~15 miles per day was a good averate), so when I stopped riding, there was a significant hole in my life.  I’m really not a good runner (I can only run on a treadmill), and the gym gets tedious after awhile. So, cycling was my ‘escape’ I suppose. Also, Oregon is gorgeous, and I loved being able to ride on rolling hills through farmland and forests.

I went to sleep last night around 8 pm, and woke up at 2 or so. Not my idea of a good rest, but it did allow me to go cycling at 5:30 this morning as the sun was peeking over the Cascades.  I had been talking to my brother on Skype until about 3:30, when I tried to go to sleep again.  I think I did for awhile, actually.  I have a queen sized bed, and I share it with 3 kitties… so I get a corner of the bed while they stretch out and get comfortable.  Sleeping with them is sometimes a chore, but they’re cute and it’s hard to say no to them.  Around 5:15, I shimmied out of bed with the crazy idea that I’d go cycling before I had to be in the lab around 8:15, so I got my old cycling clothes on, found some socks, and pulled my bike out of the garage.  Man did I have a good time.  I forgot what it was like to have the wind whistle past your ears, stinging your cheeks.  I also forgot to wear my ear covers, which was bad. It was really cold!  When it’s too cold and I cycle, my inner ears really hurt, and it makes the rest of the ride very uncomfortable. (Maybe it was a mixture of the cold and uncomfortable earbuds… who knows?).  My point is that I had an awesome time.

I’m so glad I decided to go out this morning, even if I only rode 3 miles or so.  Hey, I have to take it slow!  I can’t just jump on my bike and ride 20 miles in the first go-around. I don’t even have any muscles right now (well, if I do, they’re very small).  It’s going to take weeks/months to get me back to where I was before I got sick.  Stupid Cancer, ruining everything for me. *grumbles*

The more I read about the Iranian Election and look at protest pictures, the more nervous I get.  After I looked at the latest slew of pictures posted by @phirm (on Twitter), I could feel my heart breaking. Americans take voting and democracy for granted everyday, to the point of not participating because whomever is running for office doesn’t mesh with their personal views 100%.

I really want to help the Iranians, in any way I can.  Here are some actions you can take, if you blog or have a Twitter account. (List has been compiled from various tweets and this site).

• Hashtags, the only two legitimate hashtags being used by bloggers in Iran are #iranelection and #gr88, other hashtag ideas run the risk of diluting the conversation.
• Keep you bull$hit filter up! Security forces are now setting up twitter accounts to spread disinformation by posing as Iranian protesters. Please don’t retweet impetuosly, try to confirm information with reliable sources before retweeting. The legitimate sources are not hard to find and follow.
• Help cover the bloggers: change your twitter settings so that your location is TEHRAN and your time zone is GMT +3.30. Security forces are hunting for bloggers using location and timezone searches. If we all become ‘Iranians’ it becomes much harder to find them.
• Don’t blow their cover! If you discover a genuine source, please don’t publicise their name or location on a website. These bloggers are in REAL danger. Spread the word discretely through your own networks but don’t signpost them to the security forces. People are dying there, for real, please keep that in mind…

I asked Mike Phirman (@phirm) how to change my Twitter settings, and he replied: “@irishswtpea  Yeah, you can change it in the “Settings” menu, under “Account” (Tehran is pretty far down the list.)  Crazy stuff, right?“  Seriously crazy.  Oregonstateuniv (our official OSU Twitter account) posted: “Some really moving photos from an Oregon State alum in Tehran: http://bit.ly/mzHIo via the Oregonian #IranElection“.

If you use Twitter, please RT: RT @irishswtpea Iranian protestor pictures: http://bit.ly/1k9Zd  Share with your friends! Spread the word. #iranelection

Hopefully this can help garner support for those in trouble in Iran. I know we can’t go over and manhandle them like we would secretly like to, but prayer always helps.