If you thought my eyes looked like ancient-person eyes last week, you should see them this morning. I'm functioning on a few crappy hours of sleep, a cup of nasty cafeteria coffee and the hope that one day I will be doing what I want, instead of sitting in this office. I have a headache...which has been tripled in strength by the natural gas main that ruptured over on central campus. Supposedly, the gas didn't reach my building, but the funny smell in our office suggests otherwise.
I got into a fight with J last night about the presidential candidates. I HATE politics. I really really hate talking about politics...which is funny, because I'm the one who brought them up last night. I did some research yesterday after hearing that three of our candidates do not believe in evolution...and then I ended up researching Ron Paul, because he fascinates me (also because I was curious to see if he believes in evolution). I took my findings home, presented them and then preceded to get all bugged out when J asked me a few questions. And of course, when I want to talk about dinosaurs and rocks, he listens and is supportive and wonderful. When he wants to talk about politics and conspiracy theories, I am mean and defensive and irrational. I don't know why I get so upset. Maybe I just don't like stating an opinion without facts to back it up because I'm terrible at arguing. The thing is, he says he doesn't want to argue...just discuss, but I seem to be incapable of doing that, since I treat our discussions as if they were arguments. Maybe it's my whole no-information thing...I really don't know. But it makes talking about 9-11 unbearable. Anyone else get all bugged out?
I had my chem lab last night and I am utterly blown away by the stupidity of some of my classmates. The girls that use the bench next to mine didn't seem to understand that anything to the left of the bench divider was my space. Apparently, the also didn't understand that the glass pipe was supposed to be above water level to avoid poisoning the whole room with bromine gas, because they laughed when I asked them to fix it. I don't think I was out of line...I just didn't want to inhale bromine gas. And the kid next to me that thinks it's fun to light unknown chemicals on fire near the hydrogen generator...he's also the one who publicly announced that he farted. I can't stand him. My lab partner may be the worst of all. She's nice enough, but she's got this high-pitched, squeaky voice and acts like a 7-year old. She seems to think our lab TA is there for us, and only us, because if she has any questions she immediately waves her hand and shouts, "hey, 'scuse me Mr. TA Guy," no matter what he's in the middle of. He has a name. He also has thirty other students. And seriously, she needs to stop calling me "Ms. Perfectionist" and following it up with "but there's nothing wrong with that." I HATE that. I prefer to be thorough when working with dangerous substances...and I like earning good grades. If there's one thing I'm going to be a perfectionist about, it's school. I'm certainly not a prudish rule-follower anywhere else.
I began painting a picture of a Triceratops skeleton last night. It’s coming along nicely and I only have one complaint: it’s not original. Paleo art is tough because there’s no way to photograph the subject and in order to paint something with skin and hair and feathers, you need to be able to visualize what a skeleton would look like with all that stuff attached. And to do that, you need an understanding of how muscle attaches to bone. I work mostly from photos because my visual memory sucks. All the photos I have of dinosaur skeletons have been taken by someone else. It looks like a trip to the museum (generic, since I have to travel a few hours to get to one) is in order. I’d love to paint some close-up skulls. Close enough to see the little details and fill the canvas, but not so close that the dino is unrecognizable. For now, pictures from books will have to do.