So for anyone who still thinks that I'm blowing things out of proportion by assuring that I have had so much utterly rotten luck in the past two years that it could be diagnosed as a true pathological condition, I offer this, which is probably Exhibit 1,234,230 or something, further proving my case:

Apparently I have no university credits.
None.
Zipperdoodlekerpoof, they've gone, and didn't leave an address or anything. Never mind that I've 24 from this year at Maine and a few classes taken there in 2008/2009 as a part time student, never mind that I've 13 from last semester in New York, never mind that, apparently I haven't got any, and was just informed of that. HOO. FUCKING. RAY. I have to go to student records and cry now. This also had to take place on a day where I can hardly think due to headaches so awful they cause vomiting. I THINK A SONG AND DANCE NUMBER IS CALLED FOR IN WHICH I EXPRESS MY JUBILATION THROUGH RHYME

. . . so I might just very well be slightly engaged.

Long story. Incredibly long and involved story. Two year-long story, in fact, and if you know me in real life, it's probably not what you think. Sense will be made as soon as I've mustered the coherence. oh, my, goodness. oh my goodness.

            What exactly is the science of the universe, but a creation myth? It is, yes, one founded on testable curiosities and assumptions that, while not necessarily provable beyond a shadow of a doubt, can be experimented on and theorised about until all the tests at humankind's disposal show its likeliness. But even the Big Bang, the sea of protoplasm, the asteroid obliterating the dinosaurs and leading to the dominance of mammals, are but explanations deduced by examination of known information. We may say that the creation myths of the ancients are primitive and unscientific and silly, but their stories and ideas were derived from the information they had about the world around them at the time, which was much less than we have today. What caused the sun to disappear each night and return each day? Why did it trace the same path across the sky every time? Why was the darkness never permanent? Something had to be controlling it, and something had to be pulling it across the sphere of the heavens. A sun god, perhaps. Those cultures hadn't any idea the sun was at the centre of the solar system, or that it was a star, or that it burned hydrogen into helium, or that it in fact did not move at all but rather the earth itself did so, and therefore came up with the most sensible explanation they could.

            Humankind in the far-flung future, in the next millenium, would certainly look at what we've decided is true about our cosmos and origin and purpose and have a good eyebrow-raise over it.

            In the beginning, there was everything. A very small everything, to be certain, the entirety of matter was all compressed into the smallest space imaginable, but it was there, and always was, and never was not. A bit of Polaris, Leonardo da Vinci's eyebrow, galaxies we know nothing of, aliens, your left sock, Stonehenge, tubeworms, and your dinner, and everything in the entire universe, all existed in the exact same spot, in an impossibly dense speck. And nothing of that speck can ever be created or destroyed! What atoms make up may change shape and form and element and purpose but the contents of the universe are finite, and with instruments that do not and may not ever exist could be measured, and could be measured in the future, and there would never be a change in the numbers.

            That speck then exploded, and we haven't any idea why. Maybe it was bored. And everything burned and drifted and congealed and pulled apart and I shall now compress the entirety of galactic history to arrive at the sheer loveliness and perfection of its stability, which is this:

            The universe is composed of galaxies, which are composed of solar systems, and at the centre of every solar system is a star, which gives off heat and light and energy without which life would not be, and which exerts gravity, without which planets would not orbit it, and would sail off through space, and not receive the heat and light and energy. Somehow on Earth, and possibly on other planets we are unaware of, there was land, and water, and oxygen. And there then, out of something, came creatures that could breathe the air, and drink the water, and not only could exist in this environment, but came to need the environment's aspects to survive. And then the creatures could think, and grow, and reason, and they became more, and different, and adapted to the world around them, and then after what seems an eternity, adapted so much they learned they could adapt the world.

            There is dark matter and strange matter (which is actually called that, and is possibly the best name of any scientific concept, I feel) and antimatter, and something driving the galaxies away from each other at millions of miles per hour, and time, which can be measured, but does not exist, but still changes absolutely everything that does exist and nothing can escape its whims. Oh, and there might also well be entire other universes, in which absolutely nothing I have said is true whatsoever.

So I saw an ad for Kay's jewelers on television, and it is about gifts, and the woman says that her relationship nearly did not make it past the first anniversary, because her boyfriend gave her, as a present, a one-person floral teapot, and that essentially signified that it was over. He then, the next year, purchased her a ring, and that thankfully proved that he actually did love her. I know it is an advert for a jewelry store, and therefore wants to guilt you into buying jewelry, but I would have squeed over the teapot, and used it everyday, and given them a hug. I have no idea what I would do with a ring. I don't wear jewelry. And I'd feel horribly guilty wearing it due to the expense, anyway. A ring would make me feel awkward and discontent. Teapots are lovely.

I'm happy with myself. :3 Honestly. Society is a peculiar thing.

It is but one in the afternoon, and already today has had a larger concentration of Good Things than the last month or so. :3

1. So the Long And Winding Saga of my magically vanishing wallet-and-all-within has finally drawn to a close, at least as far as I can tell, for since the bank had not sent me the pin number for my new card and it had been a week since i'd recieved the card I walked down to the bank, and asked if I could just be told it, and I set things right, and FOR THE FIRST TIME IN TWO WEEKS, I HAVE MONEY. :D I WENT FOR A WALK, AND BOUGHT TEA AND SNACKS AT SOMEPLACE THAT WASN'T THE UNIVERSITY ....

2. and then I used it to buy this. (lol, yarn. surprise surprise you guys.)

I have no regrets. It is 3 skeins of Noro Kureyon, crazy Japanese rainbow yarn, and along with that shiny blue wool/linen blend on the left, it is going to become one of these. brooklyntweed.blogspot.com/2007/04/noro-scarf.html

3. And then, on my walking around, I encountered the most fabulous cat that does not belong to me or anyone I know (for my neighbours and I have some fabulous cats between us). He ran down from his porch, bounded up to greet me like he had known me for ages, was black and white and just slightly old, as the black bits of his fur were speckled with the occasional grey hair, and I think he'd broken his tail sometime in his life, as it bent in a most peculiar way over his back and did not move. He would not let me go for about ten minutes . . . and I think random cats who bolt off porches and rub on you for ten minutes are good omens indeed.

So one of these days, I'm not going to be ill, and I'm not going to be a squinty-eyeballed sleepless fevery wreck, and it will be great. Bit of a bother that day's not today, though, but what can be done, really. I am supposed to be writing about Sumerian mythology but I seem to have finger dyslexia and dust in my intellect and also I'd rather be curled up in a ball groaning softly until I passed out and maybe felt better upon awakening, so you might be able to see that i am not particularly motivated to get my work done.
At least i can knit without feeling worse. my ravenclaw scarf's passed the 4 ft long mark now, it has to be 12 ft or incredibly close by the 20th of february, which is entirely not impossible.

ohgod I want to shove my head under a pillow and drink a litre of camomile tea, but those things cannot be done at the same time, and also drinking a litre of tea in one go is not advisable. i would go have a bit of wine because that on occasion makes me have less of a headache but then it would probably react with painkillers and make my liver explode.
craaaaaapity crap.

I am quite probably the only person who actually suffers knitting injuries with some degree of regularity.
During the course of a sock I stabbed myself under the thumbnail with a dpn twice and did something really weird to my right index fingertip doing the toe decreases and it doesn't want to move properly anymore. Please do not tell me what this says about me because I already know. .___.

There was once a time that I had a wallet. Well, actually it was a fancy old silvery-metal cigarette holder that I used as a wallet, but I digress. Anyway! Inside that wallet dwelt all number of convenient and delightful things that enabled me to live a decent life. There was my student ID, which let me into my room, let me get meals, and check out library books. There was my licence, which enabled me to drive a car about legally. There was my debit card, which allowed me to have money. Ah yes, dear reader, the Days of the Wallet were marvellous ones, worthy of song and tale! Such a pity that they had to come to an end around midnight last, really.

PART ONE: THE CIRCUMSTANCES
I suspect pilferage but I cannot be certain, for the circumstances are just slightly too off to be mere rotten luck. As my theatre class is three hours long, and insane, there is a fifteen minute break halfway through, which I use to get tea, as I have a crippling, life-impacting tea addiction that needs to be sated at regular intervals. I had money then. I then went back to the class and it was all lovely and then the class ended and I went to the library, did schoolish things, and walked back to my dorm to . . . notice that I was minus one wallet. This would not do.
But by then the theatre was closed and locked, and the library as well, and it was midnight, and I hadn't a cent to my name, no card to swipe to get inside the building, no phone, and no way to go retrace my steps, as everything was closed and locked, windows darkened and silent. Phone, phone, phone, glargflg, if only I could call security! I had to find someone . . .oh! the Honours building! I remembered that had a small security-desk in the lobby, and if it was manned it would not matter that I had no way to enter the rest of the building, for someone would be there to speak to me. Except they were not. But the entryway had a phone on the wall. And it worked. So I called security, informed them of my plight and if I could at all get into the theatre, and was then put on hold for about ten minutes, and the on-hold music was RIDE OF THE VALKYRIES and then OTHER TRIUMPHANT INSTRUMENTAL PIECES THAT COULD BE USED AS A SOUNDTRACK TO CONQUERING. You really do not want to play Richard Effing Wagner for on-hold music to a very panicked individual for near a quarter hour, because it starts to do things to their mindset, namely making them begin to seriously entertain the idea of ripping the phone out of the wall and doing Vikingesque things to it.

RIDE OF THE BLOODY VALKYRIES, WHY WOULD THEY DO THAT. 'Yes hello my wallet's gone and I can't get into my room and can't go try to find it because all the buildings are locked now could you possibly send someone to unlock the theatre' 'BWA BWA BWA BWAAAH BWA, BWA BWA BWA BWAAAAAH BWA, BWA BWA BWA BWA BWA, BWA BWA BWA BWAAAAA'

But anyway the theatre was unlocked and searched (although it was incredibly dark and I was aided only by a flashlight and therefore wasn't sure I made a thorough search) and then the library was unlocked and there was nothing there, but the security guard was a terribly decent sort and let me into my room, and I then had to explain to my roommate why I was being escorted to the door at 1:30 AM by an armed officer.



PART TWO: THE AFTERMATH
I awoke! Buildings were unlocked! A proper search could be conducted, and even if the search proved fruitless, I could go and get a new ID, and get my debit card cancelled and reissued.
So . . . I . . . I went into the theatre to have a look by actual light . . . and I didn't know there was a class on . . . so I tried to back out and hide . . . but oh god there was a scary old lady . . . dear god this is traumatising but I must go on, anyway, the scary old lady saw me, and the class ground to a halt, and everyone looked over and well I couldn't just stand there like a twit now could I, gawping there, I hadn't been able to sneak out unseen and so I apologised, and tried to tell her what I was doing, and I have never seen a more concentrated burst of old lady rage in all my days, I am quite happy that i did not end up blinded by her seething anger, she would not let me finish and I got a very nice little berating in front of everyone, apologised about twenty times, was told in no uncertain terms by her how awful I was and how 'WE SAY "EXCUSE ME IT IS AN EMERGENCY" not just WALK ON IN', I apologised about twenty times more, and told her that I noticed there was a class on and was trying to leave but was seen, and I got berated again and then I finally managed to tell her that my wallet might be there and if I could at all just have a look in the seats and she turned around and screamed at her students, voice utter exasperation, 'EVERYONE! YOU! ALL UP, RIGHT NOW, YOU HAVE TO LOOK UNDER YOUR SEATS!' and I told her that i really didn't mean to interrupt i just wanted to go look up in the corner where i was and everyone didn't have to get up on my account, and I was most likely deep violet in colour by this point, and OF COURSE THE BLOODY WALLET WASN'T THERE and then as I hurried down from the seats to run away in terror and never look back she turns to her students and yells 'DO YOU SEE THE KIND OF DAY I'M HAVING' and I apologised about twenty more times and RAN FOR IT.
IT WAS SCARY. I almost don't want to be a theatre minor anymore because if I might have her as a teacher, and I'm certain she'll recognise me, and as soon as she does, pick me up and throw me through the window, and I will not be able to take the class because I will be bleeding or dead, or she will not have me back even if I do not die of glass shards to the head.

I then shuffled in humiliation to the student services office and got a new ID, at least, and finally had breakfast, which was basically lunch by that point, and then inquired at every lost and found remotely near where I'd been the day before and seriously, I am probably never going to see that wallet again ever. So I asked where the nearest bank is, so I could cancel my card, and walked down the road they indicated, and there was no bank where I was told there would be a bank, and now I don't know what to do because I walked about a mile already. But I was amid civilisation and did not despair entirely, and went into a Tim Hortons and asked where the nearest bank was, they said downtown. I asked if that was right or left.

They pointed straight ahead.

I asked again, they pointed straight ahead again, looking at me now with slight pity, and I had made enough of an arse of myself already that day that I did not press the matter, and left. Turned left just for the paisley blazes of it, as I essentially knew what lay to the right and recalled no banks, while the left was an uncharted land. Aaaaand did another fair bit of walking, and passed a smallish old cemetery and slowed down, to have a look at it, as it was rather pretty, and the small building where the corpses of those unfortunate enough to die in wintertime and therefore remain unburied 'til the spring thaw reside was covered in vines, and then a small boy in a black coat ran at me, 'YOU! I SAW YOU AT TIM HORTONS! I CAN TAKE YOU TO THE BANK! IT'S THREE MILES!'
I know, don't get in cars with odd children who randomly appear in cemeteries, but my mental state was very close to ludicrous desperation, and three miles dear god aarghfl.
So I found myself in the seat of a car driven by a schoolteacher whose voice sounded like she was speaking through a clump of dry grass, and she told me how she was so ill the principal told her to go home, and I tried not to breathe too deeply as I thanked her profusely and informed her of my plight, and Nathaniel-Who-Frolics-In-Graveyards sat in the back seat and told me 'The four best things the English brought to America were wars, disease, apples, and horses. I'm writing about Roanoke for school.'

But anyway. I got to the bank, I cancelled my card and am set to get a new one in a week or whenever they actually bother mailing it, I got a new ID, and as soon as I can stomach the thought of sitting in the DMV will go get my licence replaced. Yes, I'm now out 75$ of Borders gift cards and a fancy antique cigarette case and a wee bit of dignity and Wednesday and 55$ in actual foldy money and ID replacement fees but as this morning I hadn't a penny to my name, couldn't get meals, couldn't get into my room, and couldn't even take the bus (no fare!) and therefore could only walk to wherever I needed to go, and this evening I am able to buy food, and can use my student ID as a free bus pass, and can therefore go places, and in a week will have a debit card again. I'm still sort of fucked, yes, but I've reversed the bits that would've made me ABSOLUTELY fucked. :3

And it was warm today! I'm not asking for a maddeningly early spring, but so long as I know that winter's not over and there shall be more snow, I'm quite capable of enjoying a few randomly warm days here and about. I sat on the steps of Coburn and read a book and ate an apple. It's been over a year! What with construction and all . . . even though it's been renovated, it is still a closed dusty old haunting brick building that no one lingers about or even goes near and is still the source of many a strange and lovely idea.

It was a randomly invented name appearing on a storefront in one panel only of a not . . . very . . . artistically admirable attempt at a comic book I began when I was fifteen. In rummaging through my desk a few years later I found said comic book, flipped through it, had a chortle, and for some reason the name 'Vexworth' hung around in the back of my mind without my knowing, and surfaced when I was trying to think of a not-awful livejournal name. Then, because I am slightly uncreative, it became my deviantart name, and my name on a few other sites, and eventually an odd sort of pen name with an elaborate and highly improbable yet quite exciting dashing debonair and adventurous backstory. Mr Vexworth has probably fought robot elephants on an airship just because he felt like it.