Archive | October, 2012

Oh, I Don’t Know

25 Oct

I’m not sure if I’ve just been oversensitive lately, or if this is a thing. People at school are annoyed and short-tempered, and too busy to “deal” with me. No one has said as much, but I just get the feeling.  There’s more then the following incidence, but I need to get on with studying–because I got delayed by this:

I sent the first e-mail of the semester to my adviser.  The same adviser who e-mailed me back and fourth all Spring semester and was super-friendly.  I have some serious concerns about next semester–> Sidenote:  needing to take a minimum of 6 credits to keep my undergrad loans on forbarance, being eligible to take only 2-4 of the offered courses, and of course the class I really need is offered–Monday.  The worst day possible (aside from Friday or Saturday) to miss work.  There is no way I can miss pieces of Tuesday, Thursday, Wednesday, and Monday at work.  End sidenote<–  So I e-mailed my adviser.  And she sent me a really curt and annoyed response that I need to sign up on the meeting request list on her door (which I didn’t know about and never pass by to have seen for myself).  I mean, you could type it in a friendly manner, at least.

No, and Fuck You:

Was the tone of that meeting.  Which she could have saved us both a lot of time and typed that in her e-mail.  I met with my adviser-after the afore-mentioned borderline nasty e-mail telling me no advising could be done over the internet.  Again–I shouldn’t have wasted my time.  After telling her that my job was really accommodating me by letting me cut back on my hours, and even hiring new people to cover my lost hours, so I really couldn’t ask them to do MORE.  I said Friday, Saturday, and Mondays were the busiest days of the week for the small business, so I wanted to find a creative scheduling solution to keep slowly taking my class requirements.

I asked if instead of attending Monday lectures in person, I could watch them online (we do this in anatomy all the time on Tegrity).  No.  I asked if I could take any of the classes at all that I need to get the post-bac online.  No, none of the required classes are online.  But I could take a class I don’t need via the internet.  I asked if any pre-reqs could be waved so I could take another class I need.  No.  I asked if ANY of the classes are available in the summer.  No.  Finally, my adviser told me this program does not accommodate in any way.  We are a lock-step program–and with good reason, she said.  Maybe you’ll have to quit working or find a weekend job. . .

So obviously, the school doesn’t understand me, or care about my needs.  It makes me want to yank myself right out and go to a school that DOES care.  Only I don’t have enough money to do that either.  So again, the headache of trying to get my life together continues.  Isn’t anything ever EASY?!  Or at the very least not tedious and impossible without the help of a sugar-daddy?  Damn it anyway!!!

 

Next American Beauty

24 Oct

America the Beautiful 2

a documentary following up on one of my favorite documentaries (“America the Beautiful) EVER.  And that’s saying something.  The first was about the harsh beauty industry and it’s treatment of women in order to make lots and lots and lots of $$$$$$.  This one focuses in on the obesity epidemic and health and dieting industries.

95% of all diets fail.

1/3 of American adults are obese.

1/3 children are overweight.

400,000 die from obesity every year and this was widely publicized   The figure was according to the CDC, a VERY trusted source.  Proven erroneous.  25,814 is the true number.

Thin people are perceived as attractive, intelligent, and of a higher class.  This is evolutionary according to a researcher on the documentary.  But I don’t buy that.  Super-thin cavemen would not thrive.  They would need to eat more frequently, they would not have great insulation, thinness would not support an appropriate muscle mass for escaping predators. . .

BMI invented by a mathematician 1830-1850.  Never intended for

Overweight Side Effects:

spinal problems, higher instance of miscarriage, joint problems, increased cholesterol, skeletal problems, increased heart size, and increased blood pressure, and stroke.

Raw Diet=uncooked.  No animal products, no caffeine.  Blame animal products for heart disease.  They say “You will be completely disease free.”  My comment:  What the fuck is this bull shit?!  They are drinking wheat grass shooters as a part of their detox.  Wheat grass offers vitamin K, the end.  Which no one is lacking.  $80 for a gallon of grass juice!  That is rich people throwing away their money.  I say that’s privilege.  And who can stick to such a regimen?  It is hardly realistic.

Smoking helps with weight loss.  What?!  So this is not about health.

Diets= deprivation, then regain and increase weight.  It is NOT lack of discipline!  This does not work long term.  A restrictive diet can only be maintained short term, and by those with unnatural devotion.  Psychological willpower must overcome biological drive to eat.  Biology dominates the psychological restriction.  Decreasing calories slows metabolism, which is why people gain all weight plus back.

Adolescent boys with eating disorders:  Which goes against everything I know about eating disorders.  Our capitalistic society preys on, and objectifies WOMEN.  To learn over 1 million males struggle with eating disorders was shocking.  Especially straight males.  All of the boys of the documentary lost weight because they wanted to impress girls.

Famous (tall) black model was 103-117lb during her entire career.  4 hours cardio per day on no calories.  Thinner is better.  Get thinner, thinner, thinner!  Kate Moss=bad representation.

A woman with an eating disorder is 12x more likely to have a daughter or a sister with an eating disorder.  Insurance companies don’t cover eating disorders enough.  They make sure the suffers live, and pull funding, before life skills are formed, not to mention before mental stability is realized.

Eating disorder suffers fight back with denile and defensiveness.  Dieting ability is a diagnostic precursor for eating disorders of all types:  Anorexia, binging behaviors, or compulsive overeating.

50 billion dollars a year on diets/dieting products.

On any given day in the U.S. half of all women are on a diet.

1 in 4 men are on a diet.

Almost half of American children between first and third grades say they want to be thinner.

In 1970 the average age for a girl to start dieting was 14.  By 1990, the average age fell to 8!

I don’t know if I trusted the information in this documentary like I trusted the first documentary in the series.  I felt like the “facts” and “interviews” were manipulated.  Also, I felt the documentary was skewed toward–fat is not unhealthy, BMI is wrong and inaccurate, lawmakers trying to help the obesity problem are corrupt, eating disorders are more prevalent then overweight people, average woman in America is size 14, etc, etc. . .

 

Gay Problems

23 Oct

In the spirit of a light-hearted gay post, I thought of things that are awkward-turtle when you’re a gay:

Dating is awkward.  Asking for the date–one of the most awful, dreaful things I can imagine   Not only, do you HAVE to make the first move, you don’t even know if your love interest is also gay.  You could get just a no, or some sort of homophobic response.

Dating is also weird, because largely, because it’s an antiquated tradition based heavily on gender roles and traditional behavior.  Which are automatically broken when 2 girls are on a date.  You don’t know who will pay.  You don’t know who will drive.  You’re not sure who should initiate the first move.  . .

Dating is horrible thirdly, because you can’t escape.  In an opposite gender dating situation, the bathroom offers a refuge for time to gather thoughts, privacy in the case of a sick belly, or a phone call/text to ask advice or have an excuse to leave.  These options are gone with another girl.  Not to mention you proceed to a level of intimacy that much faster when you hear a gal pee on the first date.

Buying clothes:  Sometimes it can be hard to tell whether I like an outfit or just how the model looks wearing it.  Once I had the hugest wish list from the Alloy catalog. And upon closer inspection, every item I had picked was using the same model.  I found the model attractive, not the clothes.

Speaking of clothes–this is a problem I don’t have, but always wanted.  I always though that dating girls would mean doubling my wardrobe!  How cool to have a second closet just open up to me?  Which I’m certain would eventually lead to the problem of borrowing clothes without asking, ruining a garment, or both wanting to wear the same thing on the same day.  Alas, all my my girlfriends wore a larger size then me, and even if they had worn clothes that fit me, their styles were vastly different from my own.

Correcting people:  When they assume “we” means your husband/boyfriend.  Do you let it go?  Do you chime in and out yourself?  Either way, it’s going to be awkward.  On the other side of this–it seems like the really “across the football field” kind of gay people (mulleted super-butch diesel-dykes, waaaaay effeminate fairies) are always the ones most careful to advertise their sexuality.  As IF they needed to verbalize, when they’re wearing a sign.

There are probably more, but they escape me right now.

The Gold Standard

20 Oct

The professor of my 2nd class isn’t all that great–at teaching undergrad courses.  Maybe she’s awesome with the grad students.  Maybe she’s an outstanding researcher.  In class–she has her issues.

Firstly, she straight up told our class (100+ undergrads in a required Junior-level core-class) that her priority was not teaching core classes–she had research deadlines that were a higher priority.  So not that stellar–even if it’s the truth or even if they’re thinking it.  The profs should at least pretend they want to be in class.  Because we don’t necessarily want to take a general core class either–but we are expected to show up, participate, and test well.  And if the instructor doesn’t like the class and doesn’t want to be there–why would we?

Secondly–the expectations, and syllabus are vague.  I’m talking it literally says September-ish exam 1, October exam 2. . .  No specific dates, no specific chapters/content.  And when the class asks when the exam will be, she literally says, “I don’t know, I can’t be tied down to dates.”  Not my favorite.  At all. It’s a schedule that demands cramming–which I don’t do well with, and on many days (ten hour work ones) don’t have time for.

Thirdly, the prof asks for participation but implicitly discourages it by talking over people, being judgmental, and lastly by saying, “What do you think?” when asked a question, instead of hinting at, giving, or offering a resource for the answer.  Which makes people afraid to raise their hand to offer an answer or even ask questions.

Finally, and annoyingly, her eye contact sucks.  She habitually teaches to the first row (in an auditorium) or ONLY looks at the boisterous people who participate a lot.  And if you do ask/answer a question or contribute to the discussion, she will teach specifically to that person–for the next half hour or so.  It’s awkward.

Here’s an example of an exchange between the prof and (unfortunately, it turns out) me:

Prof:  “I’m not sure where the 75% standard came from.  There is no research to back up a 75% mastery level–and 90% is the gold standard. I have no idea why that is becoming popular all of a sudden. . .”

Me:  After gingerly raising my hand and being called.  “Did the authors of the textbook maybe take the economy into account where they wrote 75% as the mastery level?”

Prof:  Annoyed (that she thinks I’m off topic and off track) “Morphemes have nothing to do with the parent’s income level–that’s language acquisition that is affected by Socioeconomic level.”

Me:  Trying to clarify what I meant while she is continually interrupting me and talking over, “But in public schools with a large case load and minimal resources maybe they have adjusted the standards?”

Prof:  “Do you [eyeing me as if I took school funding away and re-wrote the mastery levels in the textbook to justify graduating children at lower mastery levels to lower the case loads] think that’s right?  It is OK to take someone out of treatment when they still have an error a quarter of the time?!”

Me:  Trying to understand and relate to the reality of the situation, think and say, “Well, obviously 25% errors for that ONE individual are not optimal, but if by graduating that ONE person I was able to help a hundred more low kids become average, well. . .”

Prof:  [I suspect realizing that 90% and the gold standard may not be a reality because of funding,] says she thinks that sucks and we as a profession should aim higher–while still looking and talking to me as if I were behind (and in support of) the whole thing, just because I asked if that was the intent behind the textbook authors.  Then, every time standards or finances were discussed during the entire rest of the hour lecture–she would look back to me.

These are things that make life harder–for me.  And as you can see, I had no intention of challenging the prof and making her dislike me. . .

My (Secret) Girlfriend: Brandi Carlile

18 Oct

Secret to Brandi, that is.  I’m still living, in case you were wondering.  At long last–a blog post.  I took my big (third) anatomy exam on the Articulatory System this morning.  Now, the humiliation of a group paper is on the horizon.  More on that, and group work in general (and how I HATE it and never fair well in it) later.  But now–a week late (I’m so sorry) my concert latest adventure.

Day of the big concert!  And this year I took steps to have a good time–no matter what.  My boss was nice enough to give me a few hours Friday AM off, so I wouldn’t have a dampered evening thinking about the early morning.  And despite MUCH fussing from our receptionist, I refused to feel guilt and took it.  Also contributing to a nice evening:  Our new friend, turned ex-friend, Brenda told us the secret to getting an actual seat at The Knitting Factory–they let you in early if you patronize the attached restaurant.  Not fair, but if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, I say!

On to the day of the concert (nevermind how this post switches tenses–I wrote it the day of, day after, and almost a week later for school reasons).  Anyway, I always take a walk between my classes to burn calories while I study flashcards or study sheets (and stretch my legs in fresh air) so that day I walked downtown during my hour and a half break.  I wanted to scout out the scene so we could really have a plan and enjoy every moment.  Weirdly, the venue’s restaurant didn’t have posted hours.  At all.  Who does that?!  But when I was in the vicinity–guess who had just pulled up?  Yup, Brandi’s tour busses arrived around 10 AM, right when I was meandering by.

Of course I wanted to see something(one) *Brandi* but didn’t want to hang around like a creeper.  I did walk slowly down the sidewalk past the 2 buses, just hoping.  And a window was open!  I was overjoyed, but awkward.  As much as I wanted to see/talk to/ask for an autograph of Brandi, I didn’t want to be that fan–that stops on the sidewalk and leers inside a tour bus that may or may not contain the singer.  So I sort of craned my neck and kept walking 😦  I did see Phil’s(?) back.  I think.  It was a narrow-shouldered male back wearing a blue/periwinkle plaid shirt.  I wish I had the courage/lack of manners to hang around and see more. . .  But again I didn’t want to leer or be a (too much of a) creeper, so I didn’t talk to anyone.  Or stop.

I did go sit on some benches across the street, just hoping Brandi might come out.  Though, as I sat there, I realized I had no idea what I might say to her if she did.  What CAN you say to any celebrity that doesn’t sound trite and hollow?  I don’t actually know her, and there’s nothing I could say that she hasn’t heard a million times.  Plus, she would probably be annoyed and want to do whatever it is she normally does instead of having to stop and cater to fans.  Also, I had no writing utensil,  no paper, or merch (other then my language development flashcards) for her to sign.  So it kinda would have sucked if I had seen her.  But, obviously, I sat there as long as I could hoping to see her.

In the afternoon (after both classes), Cool and I made our way to the restaurant at The Knitting Factory.  Their food is crappy, fried and overpriced, so we just had (expensive) beer.  Mine tasted like straight-up vinagar.  Maybe someone served me someone’s salad dressing by accident?  Anyway, the point is–the only reason for going to such a place is the perk of getting in the concert doors early.  When you spend money, they hand you a letter, then come concert-opening time, they call the letters in order and those people enter first.  Last year, we didn’t know about this, and despite being 4th or 5th in the line outside, when we got inside, there was standing room only.  We were totally confused how such a thing happened.  And standing for so long, in a throng of (rude) people–was not exceptionally cool.  Brandi has outgrown The Knitting Factory.  They really pack people in there, and I’m certain it’s a fire hazard.  Maybe it was even more crowded this year–I’m not sure b/c we didn’t have to walk around so much scouring for any place to rest.

Speaking of fire hazards -I was forced to get Will-Call tickets in order to save $40 on the price.  So unfortunately  I had no tickets in my hand.  Very much a bummer, and for a worrier like me–a distraction.  Which made the prospect of entering early, null and void, because I would have to fight the Will-call line to GET to enter, and by that time I’dd be at the back of some line.  And of course, their computers were down and they unapologetically told people to get out of the halls because we were a fire hazard.  They didn’t know what time we should line up, “Just keep checking every five-ten minutes or so.”  Which means, everyone who had been at their stupid and gross restaurant for hours (in order to get in to the concert early) was going to have to go to the end of the Will-Call line.  It was a lot of drama.  I (several die-hards, then later just everyone) waited at the Will-Call window even though several employees asked me to go back inside the restaurant, because of the unfairness, but then I decided it was douchi to make the poor employees have to regulate me, not to mention get them in trouble for not keeping the area clear.  Though people just gathered in an even smaller space in the restaurant, which was probably a WORSE fire hazard.

So that was annoying to all.  Believe me, Brandi has many devoted fans in all of Washington.  And Spokane was rabid to see her (first).  So it was not my favorite as those situations benefit the pushiest, most aggressive people (not me) and are hardly ever fair, based on timeliness, or ticket/food price.  But eventually the strugglesome venue just had a printed list and did tickets by hand.  And I got the tickets, and we entered with the rest of the letter C’s after giving up all hope of sitting down. . .

But when Cool and I got inside our favorite “Minus the Bear table” right by the bathroom, was free!  Amazingly!!!  I can’t guess how we were lucky enough for that.  Those things NEVER happen to me.  So we DID get our preferred seat after all.  I don’t know how, because it was already really crowded inside.  Two gals asked if they could share our table, and knowing how difficult it was to get a seat (and realizing someone would eventually sit with us anyway) we agreed.  And they were nice, not even annoying a little!

Obviously, Brandi was awesome, the music was great, and we managed to parse together a set-list.  Between phone lists, and texting the rest–I think it’s complete:

Raise Hell

Dreams

What Can I Say

Throw It All Away

Hard Way Home

Before It Breaks

Hiding My Heart

Looking Out

Again Today

Save Part of Yourself

Jolene

Turpentine

The Story

Encore:

Pride & Joy

Wasn’t Me

That Year

I think that’s the set-list.  I couldn’t be certain because the phone was a little faulty, as were my fingers during the concert.  And I am pretty certain 100 is in there somewhere, but that was the point of the peak phone difficulties and some things got erased from the original note containing the list.

Spokonpoton strikes again.  After struggling so much to get tickets, enter the venue, fight for a place to sit/stand–they were talking over Brandi as if she were some unknown bar band.  Super, super annoying.  Why bother going to a concert if you’re going to talk over it?  Just go to the bar if you want alcohol and conversation.  I wanted to listen, but the clamor didn’t subside when she talked, when she sang, or when the band played.  And it wasn’t just me who noticed and was annoyed–I heard a lot of people shushing, and some even yelling shut-ups.  It was–disruptive.  And I can’t say Brandi ever regained half the audience’s (short) attentions once she lost them.  She talked, then played over clamor for the last 3-5 songs.  Made me belligerent.

At the encore, I have to admit–my heart sank a little.  Brandi told the audience she had gotten married last week. . .  Not that I would ever be able to MEET her, let alone anything else.  Besides, she must be a night owl as a musician–and I’m an early bird so it would never work out.  Still–I didn’t even know she was dating anyone.  The news came as quite a shock.  But they are both cute, and I am happy they are happy.

Now, I gear up for Brandi with the Seattle Symphony.  But there are a lot of exams, school projects, and work days in between now and then. . .

 

Self Imposed Anatomy Blogging Hiatus

9 Oct

Everything extraneous will be discontinued for a bit.  I’m not sure how long.  However long it takes.  I have some posts in que, but they need some finishing touches and I’d like to add pictures. I just cannot take the time to work on it.  Here’s why:

I need a big-girl life.  And life is all about small steps toward big goals.  A big-girl life begins with big-girl paychecks.  Which means I need a big-girl career.  And that will only happen if I enter into a Masters and/or Doctorate program.  And so, it is absolutely imperative that I get a 4.0 GPA and I was not pleased with my 92% on the last exam. So I feel like I have to work ever harder to study, as I have an anatomy exam on the articulatory system–imperative to Speech and Hearing Sciences, and very involved. So read back on other posts and think of me while I memorize the bones and muscles of the face and skull, finish my completed muscle notebook, do the dreaded oral cavity examination lab (with some stranger, probably old redhead), face paint the facial muscles, attend a forum on ALS for extra credit, and write my big pathology paper.

I’m focused, I’m motivated, (my body is trying to get sick–but I will not let it), and I will get an A+ in this class! I’ll be back. . .  Wish me luck and ability to retain and recall what I study.

Finger of God (The Beginning; A)

7 Oct

It seems I ended up on a path where a lot of variables had to click into place.  Trying to explain it is hard, so I’ll just give you a timeline as form of explanation:

Graduate from Mizzou, get rejected from vet school (again), flounder around in a depression, and not knowing what next step to take.

Enter Cabin-Mansion.  Lose faith in my Mentor, and therefore my easy career plan of working as a vet in my hometown.  Realize I can’t depend on family much either.

Back to Missouri, shell-shocked and just as lost as ever.  Apply to island veterinary schools as a last resort to achieving the lifelong dream.  Get accepted to Saint George, but feel “off” about it.  Ignore doubts and plow ahead, preparing to move to an island to gain my DVM.

Am convinced by the parents that it would be best for my cats to go to their house for the summer.  This plan is against my better judgement.  BUT I decide to quit my stable job that I’ve had for the previous six years, give up my apartment where I live alone, and haul my cats to Nevada.  And just like that I am extricated from Missouri–my favorite place I ever lived.

As expected, fighting occurs in Nevada.  Unforeseen, (by me) my school loan falls through at the very-last-minute.  The parents retract any (emotional & financial) support they had tenuously provided and kick me out the same day I found out there is no possible way to salvage my educational opportunity on the islands.  After taking professional family portraits of course.  I’m back at square one, and lost again.

I look on the internet for any interesting grad programs in a place with ANY gays.  After watching Fraiser incessantly for the previous couple of years, and finding a Masters in Aquarium Sciences that feels, not quite interesting, but not boring enough I want to poke my eyes out, I settle upon Seattle.

And like that–I move.  And move in with my Great Aunt that I had met two-three times at family functions.  A lot of awkwardness.  A bunch of inactivity.  A whole lot of talking and sitting (and that’s all) with an 85 year old filled my days.

Living with my Auntie was not all that cool.  It was awkward (I saw her nakid and heard her fart on day one), it was boring, and I didn’t wanna feel like I was sponging off an old lady.  So, of course I looked for my own place right when I got there.  And it was slim pickens.  I hadn’t realized that I would not, under any circumstances, be able to live alone.  No way.  So I looked for a place with roommates, remembering my days in the dorms, fondly.  I figured it would be autonomy and built-in friends.

Boy did I figure wrong.  I finally, after much searching, and a LOT of disbelief and disappointment, found a suitable place.  With one gal and one dude.  They were horridly messy.  We’re not just talking clutter, we are talking vermin in the kitchen and remodeling that was NEVER finished.  Aside from that, the girl was overbearing and impossible to get along with.  This situation of renting one small room in a duplex with two other people, was costing me the same amount that I had paid in Missouri for my own one bedroom apartment with balcony and swimming pool.  I was astounded.  We were not friends, as I had hoped.  I wanted OUT, but had signed a year lease.

Lonely, almost immediately, I go online searching for friends.  Something I would normally NEVER do.  I had always that there must be a reason that people had to resort to the internet to make connections. I figured something had to be wrong with them that they couldn’t meet people in real life.

I got connected with Hannah, a lesbian looking for other lesbian friends.  Something I had never had, but always wanted.  My own gay posse’!  My very own “L-Word.”

When we met, Hannah brought along another girl–Kidron.

To be continued. . .

Dsyphagia Treatment Questions

5 Oct

I was doing the assigned readings for Anatomy (among other things, highlighting special dysphagia recipes  and concurrently at work we had an anorexic cat come in, which made me wonder:

Ok, so medical/surgical intervention is all about if the benefits of doing something outweigh the risks.  Example:  Doing a dental, which necessitates sedation IS worthwhile in a six year old kitty without heart issues, while it is NOT worth the risk in a 17 year old cat with a heart condition (or probably in the 17 y.o. cat even without a known heart issue).  And over and over, the text says how serious and life-threatening dysphagia can be for patients.  They can easily aspirate or get an aspiration pneumonia

Which brings me to my question:  On Intervention I saw this gal who an an eating disorder where they had placed a feeding tube directly in her stomach.  And she could feed herself that way.  This particular lady had kept it in for years–which was way too long.  The only ill-effect (aside from her mental condition and disordered thoughts) was skin infection and hygiene of the tube.  BUT in life-threatening dysphasia patients, wouldn’t a little skin infection be a worthwhile risk if aspiration could be completely avoided?

On the same track, we have a cat at work who went anorexic.  And in felines even three days without eating (for whatever reason, whether it’s a disease process, nausea, or pickiness) can cause liver failure.  So it’s very important to either stimulate the cat to eat, syringe-feed them, or place a feeding tube.  We placed the tube right from neck to stomach.  And then put the food, and medications right in the tube–nothing by mouth.  So couldn’t you just place a feeding tube and then throw antibiotics into the tube for dysphagia?  Or give periodic antibiotic injections to ward off the skin infection of a long-term feeding tube?

It seems to me the feeding tube is a better option for someone with swallowing difficulty then tedious meal plans and risk of aspiration. . .

And my last question–I’ve heard of anorexics getting “nutrition” through their IV bags.  Is that a thing, and can’t that be done for dysphagia patients, who have it from, say, ALS?  Where they might be bed-ridden anyway?

There is research to be done.

Phobia of Being Late–A Name at Long Last

3 Oct

One of my most popular posts is my “Lateness Phobia” one.  Found here:   Continue reading

Near Tears–at School

1 Oct

I had been looking forward to school a lot, because I hated work (a lot) last week and even yesterday–when things were supposed to be better.  I always look forward to my school days, because I can see my classes taking me somewhere.  And it feels good to learn.  Most of the time.

Though I had practiced constructing a cleido larynx twice (once in the summer, and once two weekends ago) my in-class attempt. . .  Well, sucked.  I didn’t finish.  And here’s why:  We had an hour and the instructions were very specific.  The prof had asked us to show various, structures on the cartilages.  And before I knew it, most of the class had been checked off by the T.A.s that they had completed the structure and were able to point and name each item.  And I had just finished my last cartilage!  I still had to construct and place all ALL of the muscles!  And there were a LOT.  I was embarrassed for being so slow, frustrated that my larynx was all whack and unfinished, and sad I was about to get a horrible grade in a class where there are no points to spare.  I tried to salvage the thing by hastily throwing random muscles in the most obvious of places, but my hands were shaking, and there were only three people left in the room.  When a T.A. asked if I was ready to be checked off (she was the last of them to leave) I had to regretfully and with tearful voice tell her I was not finished.

And to make matters worse, my professor, oblivious to my crises came over and started chatting with my about dysphagia–an interest of mine–but not during emergency laryngeal muscle construction.  Finally, I told her that I was the only student that hadn’t finished the lab and I never got checked off.  It was–mortifying and terrible.

She just asked me to point out what I did make.  And she kept saying things like, oh you weren’t supposed to do that muscle–it’s too difficult.  And that muscle is hard to construct so I didn’t ask you to make it. . .  Then, she informed me that the larynx wasn’t for a grade (which I’m pretty sure I saw in  various places that it was for points), and signed off my check-off sheet.  But the result didn’t make me feel any less awful.

And I did look at the syllabus and the lab sheet and the thing was worth 20 points.  And I want to EARN my grades.  A 4.0 is no good if it doesn’t really belong to me.  So I went home and made laynx #4, which is pictured here.  It’s still not as great as I’d like, but I made it under class conditions with an hour time limit–so I could say I had also done the lab.  And I e-mailed the pics to my Anatomy professor–to prove I could make a clay larynx, and show her I am not a total laryngeal muscle-loser. . .