Day 2: Meh.

So, this is my second day without music. I’m not going to count the music that comes blaring into my room from the room next to mine every now and then.

I’m okay.

I'm really not missing music as much as I thought. My earworms are pretty calm; mostly I’ve just been hearing selections from Handel’s Messiah all day, but nothing lately. This isn’t as psychologically straining as I thought it would be.

But, hey! That will just make it easier to go a whole week!

…I do miss my music though. :(

Day 1: The Quiet

So, today is my first day without music (see last post). I’m already missing it badly. Not so badly that I’d listen to country music if it was the only thing available, of course. I’ve decided on some further rules, so here is the updated list:

1. Do not listen to music.
2. Do not go anywhere where you know music will be played, and if you are around music, if possible, leave.
3. Do not sing or hum.
4. If someone in the room next to you is playing music loudly while you are trying to sleep, it does not count.
5. No television, radio dramas, or anything like that, unless you skip the musical parts (a.k.a. all of it).
6. No recorded soundscapes (like http://www.rainymood.com).

I’ve deleted my shortcuts and bookmarks to music players so that I’m not tempted to click them out of habit. So far my earworms (see last post for definition) have been really random. They aren’t as intense as when I’ve listened to music in the last few hours.

Right now the silence is distracting (as compared to earlier today, when it was irritating). As long as I can finish this paper that’s due tomorrow, I’ll be fine!

I Will Regret This When I Lose My Mind

Never mind, I already regret it! Nevertheless, I shall go on.
You see, I’ve decided to try a little experiment (and by “little”, I mean “terrifyingly large”). If you know me, you may know that I listen to music. A lot. I’m listening to music right now, in fact. It’s quite nice. Today, however, I am listening to music a bit more cherishingly. This is because, beginning tomorrow, I will not listen to music for an entire week.
I’m doing this for several reasons. First, because I am probably not in my right mind. Second, because I want to examine the psychological effects of music deprivation. This will be a supervised experiment; my roommate is a psychology major, so I’m sure he does this sort of thing all the time, right?
My main concern is that I will go crazy. That is a distinct possibility. Then again, I already am crazy! That makes it less worrisome. I’m also interested in seeing how my studies are affected. I am almost always listening to something while I study.
The most interesting part for me will be the effect on my earworms. Earworms are the songs that get stuck in your head. I have chronic earworms. I literally always have one, except when I stayed up really late, and then I just had static, which kind of scared me. If I remove all musical stimulation, will my earworms die, or will they grow more intense as I crave music?
I’m hoping that I’ll be able to go the whole week. If I feel lightheaded and start to gnaw on my arm, I’ll stop the experiment. I’ll also post periodic updates so that you’ll all know that I have not lost my ability to think and express thoughts in writing.
So, feel free to give advice on how not to lose my mind. Unless, that is, you want me to lose my mind, in which case, you are not a nice person and that makes me sad inside. :(

Update on my Relationship

If you are a faithful reader of my blog, you will recall that recently I received a comment on my Nablopomo (National Blog Posting Month, for the unenlightened) profile:

Hello,
My name is mary, i got you from nablopomo.com and i want to have a
good relationship with you, please i need your cooperation,
am yours mary

I was, of course, quite excited to find out that I was in a relationship. Mary is a wonderful person. At least, I’m pretty sure she is. I haven’t actually talked to her. I can, however, speculate about what she is like based on the content of her message. I’m sure that I’m qualified to do that kind of evaluation because my roommate is a psychology major.

Hello,

As you can see, she is a very friendly and polite person. She doesn’t just plunge into a soliloquy without a formal greeting.

My name is mary,

Always begin with an introduction! This is an especially good idea when you intend on having a relationship with someone. Also notice how she breaks conventional rules of capitalization. While some finicky English-imbibing fascists would say that is due to ignorance, I know that it means she is expressing her individuality in a conformist world. Arbitrary grammatical rules don’t tie her down.

i got you from nablopomo.com

This expression, “I got”, is also used in cases where people buy  things; for example, “I got this pink-and-orange double-decker bus for half the original price”. As you can see, Mary values me at least as much as she would a pink-and-orange double-decker bus. And those buses are expensive even at half price.

and i want to have a good relationship with you

Not just a relationship, a good relationship. I think I’ve emphasized this already. A surprising percentage of relationships that spring from random internet comments are not successful, probably because the comments do not include this phrase.

please i need your cooperation

Any good relationship requires cooperation. Mary obviously knows this.

am yours mary

<3

As you can see, she’s quite a nice person. She also included an email address by which I can contact her, but I think it’s best if we keep our relationship as objective as possible right now, and I think that if I spoke to her it would make it subjective (or something like that). Actually, I forgot the email address entirely, and don’t feel like going and looking it up again, but I think that I can reconstruct it so accurately that it will tell us even more about her. I’m guessing that her email is something like  penguinluvr@bananayodel.edu.

This means that she loves penguins! A great match; I love penguins too! Also note that she goes to the prestigious Bancroft Anabaptist University of Yorklyn, Delaware. I’m pretty sure she’s a physics student. Bancroft only offers programs in physics and English.

I’ll post further relationship updates, of course. I’d say something about my Anatomy and Physiology lab that I had today except nothing really happened. We just killed some onions, sliced them up, and probed them under microscopes.

Poor onions.

The Lollipop Incident, and Other Drama

Food Science is a really cool class. We get to cook! Today, our teacher said that our topic was sugar, which meant that we would be making candy and ice cream. I immediately went into hyperactive mode and started scribbling all over my class handout.

Canada shout-out! Yes, it looks like a tulip. Be grateful for what you get.

 Also, one that wouldn't fit in a picture: "Splenda: It's made from sugar, so it kills you like sugar! :D"

No, I have no idea why I, on the same page, denounced sugar and declared candy an essential part of the diet. I was too busy looking forward to making ice cream.

BUT, before I could eat ice cream, my lab partner and I had to make chocolate fudge. Fudge sounds kind of daunting, but it can't be that hard, right? WRONG. Fudge requires years of practice (although some say that fudge skills are solely hereditary) in a small French chocolaterie in Lozère. No matter what your cookbook says, you cannot just follow the simple directions and actually expect to end up with fudge.

We mixed the ingredients in a saucepan and stirred it while it came to a boil. So good, so far. Then once it was boiling we waited for it to reach the proper temperature. Then we took it off the burner, added the butter and vanilla extract, and waited for it to cool to the proper temperature. Then we stirred it and... wait, no we didn't. It was hard as a rock. I stood there stabbing the chocolate rock with a spoon while my partner went to talk to the teacher. For a moment I had a vision of failing the lab and being sent home in shame. Fortunately, the teacher just told us to reheat it until it melted and then put it in the pan to cool. Of course, it didn't turn into fudge (once it crystallizes, you never have another chance to fudgify it), but everyone liked it, and we didn't fail. Which was good, since my partner had been cooking for 30 years and who knows what would have happened if she had failed; her family would probably never let her cook again, just in case everything she made turned into invincible lumps. So, it ended all right (labs are notorious for going wrong anyway, right?).

The lollipop incident was the second emergency of the class. While we had been making "fudge", other groups had been making other candies and ice creams, including lollipops, mints, caramels, and fondant (which didn't turn out quite right either...). We had to try one of each of the different projects and write a haiku about it on our lab sheet (at least, I assume we were supposed to write haikus and not couplets or something). I innocently picked up an orange-colored lollipop that tasted like watermelon.

 

 My teeth! My poor teeth! I was probably going to have the incredibly sticky lollipop surgically removed or something. After calming down and half-convincing myself that I would survive, I went off to a corner and tried to remove the sticky mass from my mouth using my fingers, trying not to break any teeth. Oh, and trying not to embarrass myself (well, we can't win everything, can we?). I eventually freed my mouth and tried to retain my sense of dignity.

At least the lollipop tasted good.

Why I am Going to Turn into a Beaver

Sadly, it is true. Any minute now I am going to turn into a beaver. I forget exactly why, but it made perfect sense at 2:00 this morning, so I will not question it.

Last night was “Almost Anything Goes” at Andrews University, which is where each class comes in color coordinated shirts, shouts and cheers, and plays random games against the other classes. It was quite exciting. So exciting, sadly, that I left before it was over because it was really wearing me out. And I only participated in one game. That’s how exciting it was.

When I came back it was after 11:00, so I decided to call my sister, since she was off work. We ended up talking until almost 1:00. It was fun. :D 1:00 is the curfew on Saturday night, so I decided, why not stay up until the RA comes around for check-in? Every night, one of the RAs goes to each room to make sure nobody has escaped or been eaten by a tiger or something. Usually that is at 11:00, except on Saturday nights, as I mentioned earlier. So, for reference on my sleeping patterns, I have only been awake three times in the last month at 11:00. I go to sleep fairly early. So staying up until 1:00 was like walking to the moon: a gargantuan feat.

It took the RA at least half an hour after 1:00 to come to our room. I was expecting him to faint or call 911 or something (“TRAVIS! YOU’RE AWAKE!” *goes permanently insane*), but he was just like, “Oh, hi. Did you guys enjoy Almost Anything Goes?”

“Excuse me, I just stayed awake for four hours past my normal bedtime just to freak you out. I DEMAND surprise, shock, and/or temporary loss of consciousness!” (I did not really say this, although I felt like it. Keep in mind that while I would not normally wish anyone to lose consciousness unless they were pointing a gun down my throat or trying to make me dance on stage, this is 1:30 a.m.)

It took me until after 2:00 to finally calm down enough to get to sleep, after going through the stages of “HAHA I’M AWAKE”, “I’m. Going. To. Die.”, “Haha, I’m still awake! Llama!”, and “SHUT UP AND LET ME GO TO SLEEP BEFORE I THROW YOU TO THE BEARS.”

And I slept until nearly 11:00 a.m.

And that is why I’m going to turn into a beaver.

 

Off-topic!

I got a message this morning! I think I’m in a relationship now:

“Hello,
My name is mary, i got you from nablopomo.com and i want to have a
good relationship with you, please i need your cooperation,
am yours mary”

See, she doesn’t just want a relationship, she wasn’t a good relationship. I still haven’t decided on a wedding date, but I’ll keep you all posted, of course.

Where am I? Who am I?

This morning I awoke to an astonishing realization. This was not the realization that I am at college hundreds of miles from home and my entire life is different henceforth; I figured that out last week. No, this realization was far more earth-shattering: I don’t trust myself enough to figure out what day it is, let alone what my plans are for the next ninety-six years. I was fine until I was on my way to church (yay for being a two-minute walk away from church!) and, not seeing very many other people, suddenly wondered what day it was. Was it Friday? Wasn’t yesterday Friday? What if I slept through Saturday? Wait, Boris (my roommate; pseudonymed, of course) thought it was Saturday too! But what if we both slept through the entire day? What if someone snuck sleeping pills into our water bottles or something?

It was at this point that I saw people dressed up for church, so I decided to stop worrying about what day it was and start worrying about why all of these people were walking around outside instead of being in church. What time was it? Was my watch correct? It looked like it said 10:05. Was I reading it wrong? Had I lost my ability to read anything correctly? Would this affect my grades?

Oh, yes. These people are leaving early church. It’s easy to tell because nearly everyone who goes to early church is, shall we say, “experienced”. The second service is where all the college students go (either because the music is better or because they get to sleep in; maybe both).

So, in summary, I seem to have some sort of condition in the morning that dissociates me from reality. This explains why I like my 8:30 Anatomy and Physiology class so much. Go figure!

(Haha! I bet you thought this post was going to be philosophical or something.)