commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (Default)
Is it weird to cry about not being in pain and feeling kind of good?

TL;DR — omg Valium + Gabapentin is all I want for Christmas.

I took a Valium for my dentist appointment, and some of my dad’s Gabapentin afterwards because I have some kind of nerve issue on one side of my mouth that becomes excruciating when people poke around in there idk.

And this evening was probably the best I have felt in recent memory, easily.

I don’t realize how just generally on edge I am until I’m not anymore. Feeling relaxed is such a foreign concept to me that it was almost weird. And my mouth stopped hurting, and the fibro pain that’s been killing my back lately went away, and I was able to straighten my legs after sitting crosslegged without literally rolling around and biting my fist to keep from crying, and EVERYTHING WAS BRILLIANT.

I wanted to play music and write stories and go run around with my dogs outside and frolic in the sun and I’m pretty sure this is how life is supposed to feel for normal people.

It’s long been a wonder of mine how much my depression contributes to my chronic pain and how much my chronic pain contributes to my depression, and this certainly seems to lend support to my theory that fixing the pain would make me a much happier person.

But then I started thinking about how it’s all going to wear off in a little while and then all the crying because askdjfalskdjf I want to feel like this forever. WHY CAN’T I JUST BE A NORMAL PERSON WITH NORMAL PERSON FEELS AND NORMAL PERSON LACK-OF-PAIN?
commotiocordis: (Shoebox)
Facebook wants me to friend my best friend from high school.

You would not think this would be a hard decision.

It's just been so long and so much shit has happened (not between us, but individually) and the fact that we're not close anymore hurts so much, and it just feels like being friends on Facebook is such a worthless thing (especially because I know she won't really use it) that I don't want to even bother. I mean, if it's causing me this much grief just from a recommendation on the sidebar, what's it going to be like if I have to see what her life is like now, without me? I was supposed to be like her, happy and doing brilliantly at a top-tier school and with a bright future ahead, and . . . I'm not any of those things.

Our relationship was sort of bad for me at times, because rather than want to compete against her, I'd pull back in classes we shared so I didn't have to deal with the pressure. And I pretty much only had her, while she had some other friends, so I was much more dependent and sort of jealous a lot (but this is usually the case). But at the same time, she made me want to do better. Her opinion of me mattered like no other peer has ever mattered to me before, and I wanted her to be proud of me.

My memories of high school consist of mock trial, orchestra, my ~issues, and Katie. All of them fit into one of those categories. The problem is that senior year, most of them fit into category three, so when I went off to college, I was really distant from everybody. And then I started gaining weight and that was just sort of a symbol of how everything else was falling apart, and I didn't want anyone to see me. I didn't want to talk to her (or anyone else) because I was afraid they'd want to hang out, and I'd have to make up an excuse because I wanted their memories of me to be how I was near graduation: together, decent grades, a job, and skinny. Which means I hardly want anyone to see me now, when I've pretty much hit rock bottom on all of those things.

Also, there may or may not have been sort of an unrequited love thing going on. I didn't really realize it until years after we'd last seen each other, but I think I spent way too much time angsting over this girl for us to just have been friends, at least on my side of it. I mean, I wasn't sexually attracted to her, but it's definitely the most intense relationship I've ever had. I remember at one point discussing how I'd been planning on us moving in together during college and after, and talking about what we should name our dogs, and she was like "well, I always sort of assumed I'd get married after college" and I didn't speak to her the rest of the day because I was heartbroken. I mean, hello, giant flashing YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH HER sign right there. But, I mean, it wasn't love as most people would define it, I guess? It was just friendship that was . . . stronger. The if-you-are-blind-and-don't-see-the-subtext Xena/Gabrielle sort of relationship, you know? We actually compared ourselves to House and Wilson more than a few times -- I like diagnostics and puzzles and have the more blatant issues, she's better with people and everyone likes her and she was interested at one point in oncology. To be super melodramatic, I felt like she was the other half of my One Great True Pairing, the really forever BFFs, and now I've lost that, and . . . I mean, I feel like there's only one person in the world for you like that, and when that ends, what kind of hope do you have from there?

Idk. I'm not over her yet, apparently.

Despite not having eaten yet today, I'm going to go to bed now, I think. This is too much and now I'm super angsty and I want her to be my friend again but I just don't see how it could ever work out the way I want it to (I'm kind of an all or nothing kind of gal when it comes to my heart). I know that I would still die for her in an instant, and I don't want to have to think about the fact that she probably wouldn't do the same. THIS IS WHY WE DON'T NORMALLY DO THIS SOCIAL ATTACHMENT THING, SELF. YOU JUST SIT YOUR LITTLE SCHIZOID PERSONALITY OVER IN THE CORNER AND KNIT, IT'S BETTER THAT WAY.
commotiocordis: (Jack/Ianto)
Some thoughts on gender. Also sex. So, umm, vaguely graphic things you probably don't want to know about me? ETA: This got SUPER tl;dr, so you can treat the bolded bits like a summary and just read those, if you're interested.



Over the past couple of years, I've begun to sort of question my gender identification, but I always end up feeling . . . idk, inadequate. I have long hair and I wear skirts literally all the time, I must be like the femalest female who ever femaled, right? When I go bra shopping, I look for things that push them up rather than push them down. I can tick absolutely zero of the standard outward-appearance indicator boxes for other-than-cis-genderism.

But I was looking through an old notebook a few months (maybe a year?) back, and something in there triggered a memory of being very young (7-8 ish) and in the shower and sort of daydreaming that I was pregnant because I was both male and female, and had managed to inseminate myself internally. (Weird, I know.) And that was a running thing, the feeling that I was both male and female. I mean, I knew it was biologically impossible, but that ~fantasy stuck with me for years.

Beyond that, you had your standard tomboy stuff -- I spent every day at the gifted program in elementary school playing kickball with the boys during recess; I remember one of my friends moving back in with her aunt for the summer across the street from my house and saying "Okay, let's start on your tomboy-ification" because she'd spent the year getting her hair brushed and wearing fancy clothes and I wanted a friend to climb trees with; I thought makeup was a fun toy back in third and fourth grade, but in middle school when girls started wearing it to actually wear it, I wasn't interested (save a bit of the black eyeliner goth stuff for a while, but even that got given up on all but special occasions). Those by itself, obviously, indicate nothing about a person's gender identity, but I feel like it's sort of a record of my never feeling female. On the other hand, I never felt male either. I never pressured my mom to let me buzz my hair, or pitched any more fits than the usual kid being forced into a dress for Easter church; I even chose to go by Alexandria instead of Alex in middle school (though that was more because I wanted to be unique than anything else).

As I got older, I spent late middle and most of high school pretty sure I was a lesbian, but I think that's because I wasn't interested in penetrative, penis-in-my-vagina sex, and thought that automatically, logically meant I was a lesbian. It was also a role to play, an identity that I could have -- I still call myself a homo all the time, even though it's not 100% accurate, just because I want to claim that experience, to be a part of that identity that as an other-than-mainstream-branch queer I sometimes feel I'm pushed to the side of. (That gets into a whole other long thing that there have been plenty of diatribes about by people much less tired than I am, so have some keywords like biphobia and erasure and Google it yourself.)

But still, I remember somewhere in earlyish high school (I was probably 15 or 16) watching an Oprah about women with huge clitorises with my Dad omg it was awkward at the time, and it being mentioned that they were pretty much just like little penises, and wondering aloud why that would be a bad thing. He said it was probably just image, or being worried the people they're with will think they're not female, but I didn't really get it. You still have all the female bits, you don't have to deal with the stigma of outwardly presenting as other-than-cis-gendered, and you get a mini penis that could be used (as one of the women's anecdotes related) for penetration; what's not to like?

Late high school/early college, I started to wake up to my boy attraction (thank you, David Tennant), but realized that I still wasn't interested in PIV sex. I get sex dreams pretty much never (maybe two or three a year, idk) but the few times I did, it was always oral/handjob, frot, or me as the penetrative partner (with a strong slant toward the latter two). Okay, dreams, I figured, we'll see if there's anything to this. It's very rare that I would fantasize as myself with someone else (I always masturbated to fanfiction without putting myself in either player's place really, *shrugs*), but I sort of tried it a bit, and holy shit does imagining fucking Olivia Wilde with my invisible dick get me off. Imagining jerking off said invisible dick is also surprisingly helpful. Frot (with both males and females) is pretty much Number One and has turned into my hugest fic kink ever. So, um, okay then. Apparently, my subconscious had a point, and I kind of want a dick.


But I don't want to be male. Not particularly. Not consistently. I've expressed a desire to be male when doing things like going to the Adam Lambert concerts, because I wish that things like painting my nails and putting on tons of makeup and glitter were expressed to other people as the alternative gender performance that they really are for me, rather than it just being something that girls are expected to do. I'd get a hysterectomy simply because I have such severe premenstrual dysphoric disorder and it's the cause of much misery and suicidal ideation, but I don't think I'd ever get top surgery because my breasts don't really bother me. I'd love to magically have a penis, not gonna lie, but I don't know if I could stomach ever doing something so drastically radical and unchangeable to my body, and definitely not at the sorry state of technology that bottom surgery is now (for those who haven't spent ages looking this up and thinking about it -- probably another sign that I wasn't just investigating for Roommate and Scientific Curiosity -- a huge huge percentage of FTMs don't get it because it's like $200,000, and even then comes with severe risk of losing sensation and has only mechanically-assisted function and isn't even always able to pass, like most good MTF bottom surgery is).

Speaking of Roommate, I spent quite a while not talking about this (or even really thinking about it) because I was sort of worried that maybe I was just feeling this way because she had been exploring her FTM-ness and I just wanted to . . . be special like her? But now that I'm thinking about it, it goes back so far that I think it just took Rachel to make me realize that maybe this was a thing and not just that my body issues were just standard low level eating disorder and the fantasizing about having a penis thing was a minor and probably-should-be-suppressed-if-you-ever-want-a-working-relationship quirk. Would I ever have expressed it anywhere but my own fantasies if she hadn't been around? Doubtful. But I don't think that makes it any less real, I guess?



I think there's a lot of weight to be put on my attraction map. (I'm not sure if that's a thing, but that's how I've been thinking about it for some time now.) Somewhere along the line, my concept of beauty got set with a skew sort of towards the feminine, as this ideal with a feminine face and (generally) androgynous body, and that's more or less my ideal image for myself. One of them, I guess. I'm attracted to people who are more or less that andro-chic look, but I also find a strong aesthetic appreciation for people with more feminine bodies (i.e. curves), and therefore sometimes I'm okay with looking like that, too. Sometimes. The ~feminine me still doesn't like to do her makeup and hair every day, or make a sandwich for her boyfriend because she's supposed to, or stay home and watch the kids, and is definitely still more of the power female, but she's more okay with her curves even to the point of sometimes feeling sexy in a clingy dress or something. It's like I'm bigendered, with the two sides being genderqueer and female. Which is super weird.

I know that most of my gender performance is because it's just easier. The constant skirts is a body image thing, because I have, um, probably some kind of serious body dysmorphic disorder when it comes to my thighs and have a hard time handling looking at them, so it's easier to just wear skirts. The hair is vanity, given, but it fits in with my sort of feminine facial ideal. I'm not sure if I'd rather be flat chested or curvy (the andro or the feminine), but I've got tits. (Pretty easily bindable ones, much to Roommate's consternation, but all the same.) And so I work what I've got; I buy the push-up bras, because I at least want what I have to be perfect. (Hallo, perfectionism/control issues/the root of much misery.)

It tends to mean I attract "the wrong kind of person" for me; I think, because of the typology of people I'm attracted to and my slash hobbies and all of this stuff, etc. etc., if I ever were interested in a relationship, even with a man, it would probably have to be someone out of the queer community. I'm read pretty much as straight, or on very rare occasions, hit on by more butch girls, when I want to be the sort of dominant one or at least equal in a relationship (not that relationships require any kind of dom/sub -- and I do not mean this in the BDSM way, but just in general dynamics; the leader and the follower -- or male/female traditional binary roles, but often they sort of happen, even in friendships sometimes, I find). I'm the toppiest top who ever hasn't actually sexually topped, as we say. Which is why I think I'm not hit on by gay girls more often; idk, maybe I put off dominance vibes, so no one comes to me, but then I don't go out and go after anyone? I mean, I'm not interested in a relationship, really, which is why I have no particular drive to change anything about how I present, but it doesn't mean I'm not super jealous when Roommate gets hit on all. the. time. by lesbians and nobody ever looks twice at me.

I'm not sure if I'm attracted to males (almost exclusively gay males in real life, or celebs with more feminine features/presentation) more often when I'm feeling genderqueer/andro and females more often when I'm feeling feminine, or if it's the other way around. I think genderqueer me is attracted to both/pan, and feminine me is more attracted to the women side of the spectrum, maybe? I notice periods of time when I'm much more likely to look pretty much exclusively at women and periods when I look at both or more men (but I don't think ever exclusively), with androgynous types being somewhere in the middle of both, but I'm not sure if that correlates to periods of feeling one way or the other. (I also couldn't tell you how often I feel one way or the other, because it's not really a line that I jump across or anything.) I know I've never had a sexual dream/fantasy where I was explicitly female with a man (a lot of the time, I'm sort of . . . non-gender specific?), but I've been female-bodied in lesbian dreams.

And when I say attracted, I really just mean aesthetic appreciation. I'm pretty sure I'm pretty asexual. I can look at people and think they are ridiculously attractive, and I can look at people and think I want to spend time with them, and I can look at people and think both, but never do I look at someone and think "I want to have sex with you." That's just not something that goes through my mind ever. The biggest, longest running crush on a Real Life Boy I've ever had, I don't think I've ever had a sexual thought about him, and only fleeting ones for my Real Life Woman crush (but that didn't really count, because she wasn't really a Real Life person because it was literally impossible to have a relationship with her being, um, my teacher) -- I'll on occasion have sexual fantasies about celebs or something, but I know if I ever, for instance, had the opportunity to do whatever I wanted with Olivia Wilde for one night in real life, we'd have dinner and talk politics and maybe cuddle. I remember realizing, at a Halloween party last year, that I hadn't gotten off in a while, and there was a guy there who was kind of cute (in that lighting, at least; turns out not so much, but still), and that I could totally make out with, possibly do him if I wanted to, but I didn't. Not at all. Not even "oh, that'd be nice but I don't really know him so that's dumb"; there was just no desire whatsoever, even when I tried to mentally put someone else (including women) I knew better in his place.

But then again, I think I would have no problem, if I broke past some barriers and was in a relationship, having sex. I enjoy orgasms. (Or, um, I did. Fucking anti-depressants.) But I don't . . . go out and look for it? I have no particular desire to have sex with another person, save maybe for scientific curiosity, but if you were here and I was here and we were really good friends/in a relationship and were bored or (idk if I ever actually get this way, but) horny or whatever, sure; as is an occasional catchphrase in our house, "Here, have some orgasms." I've told Roommate before (I think I was probably drunk, but still) that I would totally do her if she ever wanted to fool around, just because I love her (platonically) and if I can do something that makes her feel good, why not? That puts me more on the aromantic side of the spectrum and would disqualify me from "true" asexuality in some people's narrow views, but whatever.


COOL STORY BRO. Just some things I've been thinking about. I kind of tend to just go "agh, fuck labels" because I am so confusing, but at the same time, I feel . . . idk, like I said above in regard to my lesbianism in high school, like I don't want to get left out of this group that I belong to? I don't generally stress about them, but they helped in this case to sort of ~express my feelings. Of all the things I angst about, though, this isn't one of them. The fact that I'm Ace doesn't disturb me (even though I have the probably unpopular opinion that most asexuals probably could be diagnosed with some kind of attachment or arousal disorder; just because it's a thing -- like Roommate's Gender Identity Disorder, or my redheadedness -- doesn't mean you have to do anything about it if it's not distressful or an impediment to functioning). I imagine the gender thing might be more disturbing if I was desiring of a standard, heterosexual relationship (or any relationship at all), but because of the asexuality, it's just not an issue. I wish that my gender performance could be more in line with how I actually feel I'm performing (see above Adam Lambert example), but that's life.

Sometimes, Roommate and I say we're 200% gay. It's crazy; we're like fucking SuperQueer over here or something. Fuck yeah, house of fabulousness.

I keep reading over this and wanting to add more/change things to make sure it all makes sense, but I think exactly two people are going to read even this much, so we'll just hit post.
commotiocordis: A still image, green on black, of an electrocardiogram readout depicting the heart rhythm asystole. (asystole)

  • Start thinking about what I've got to get done today/tomorrow.

  • Have second panic attack of the morning.

  • Jesus how am I on #2 already I woke up an hour ago.

I wanted to go back to sleep for a little bit (I guess I probably got a decent amount of sleep, but might as well eke out as much as possible on the weekend, yk?), but obvs not happening now without drugs. But I might be okay with that if it stops my chest hurting this much.

The problem is that if I take my sedative things (I'd totally forgotten until a few days ago that that's pm what my migraine pills were), I run into the same reason I couldn't take them all week -- I'm having these panic attacks over fear that I'm out of time/have screwed things up seriously badly/won't be able to perform at the level I need to to make up for my past fucking up, and by taking them, I knock myself out for a few hours and decrease potential time that I should be studying/writing my papers/etc.

FUCK I CAN'T HANDLE THIS.

Idk why I'm using my "requisite monthly suicidal crisis" tag except that it's my new go-to for mental freakouts. We're right around that time, true, but this has been going on for two weeks now. I've literally not been able to fall asleep without a panic attack for two weeks straight, save this past Friday and Saturday when I was able to take meds. This is getting ridiculous.

I mean, as per usual, super high stress about grades and such --> panic attacks and super depression --> not being able to function to go to class/study/write papers/take tests --> bad grades --> super high stress about grades and such . . . .

I'm kind of glad I'm not going home next weekend like I'm supposed to, because I'm pretty sure if I did, I'd end up having some kind of freakout and refuse to come back.

The only thing that's keeping me on the path I'm on right now is inertia. If I actually had the emotional capacity right now to make a reasoned choice about the best thing for my heath and the best thing for not having some kind of psychotic break, I'd be out of here like a shot. I keep saying that I'm done, that I can't do it anymore, but nothing ever changes. I barely pass (though doubtful that's going to happen this time, as I'm in considerably a worse situation scholastically) and just keep on going, and the same stuff happens and things pile up and pile up and get worse and I get crazier and I'm pretty sure there's kind of a ceiling on crazy. Like, eventually I'll stop inching towards crazy and be actually there.


I've sort of meted out that there are vaguely three choices:
  1. I keep going as I am, escalating from depression to panic attacks to, idk, full on crazy, at which point choose options 2 or 3.

  2. I stand up and say "Fine, brain. You fucking win. I am evidently too mentally ill to keep going to school. I'll go be a fry cook or something."

  3. Or I kill myself.
And I'm really really bad at admitting defeat.
commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (Default)
To summarize that last ranttastic emo post, because tl;dr--I'm half-decent at everything, so I never get told I'm good at anything.

But because self-centeredness is to be punished, the universe decides to cow me quite spectacularly.

Got an email from my mom a minute ago. Basically, my dad's had swollen lymph nodes and lately trouble swallowing and pain, and just recently was coughing up a massive amount of blood. Went to the doctor, who sent him to an ENT specialist, who is sending him to (I presume from mom's tone, though she didn't actually specify) an oncologist.

So I feel even more like shit, because now it feels like I spent all morning being really, really undeservedly whiny. I mean, STFU, Alexandria, your dad's probably got fucking cancer. We don't care that you feel like your life sucks and nobody appreciates you, suck it fucking up; at least you don't have an oncologist's appointment this week.

Obviously, I'm jumping to the worst-case scenario, but it looks bad. Made even more bad-looking by how my mom tacked on to the end "By the way, this is more than your siblings know," meaning "Don't tell them," meaning "Oh, shit." But LOL, perfect example of how even my family knows what a heartless bitch I am--"don't tell the kids because they might get upset, but here's a medical puzzle for Alexandria!"

The worst part is that she's absolutely right. My first thought was "Ooh, glad I didn't sell back my oncology textbook!" Fail.

Idk, it's made so much worse by the fact that I'm not there. When I first came down to college, it was sort of the same thing--his diabetes had been under really great control, but what that means to an endocrinologist is that you aren't going into high blood glucose ranges at all, which makes lows more common. And though highs are what kill uncontrolled diabetics over time, lows kill you overnight or when you pass out at the wheel or something like that, and having been in the car where that almost fucking happened, I was really uncomfortable leaving. Same thing here--I mean, I'm not in tears with anxiety or anything, but I'm much more concerned sitting here getting the second hand information than I would be if I were home and could make him let me go to the onc with him (as I often do when somebody in the fam goes to the doctor for something being wrong, since became the medical expert in the family when I was very young) and get the info told to me as if I were a doctor rather than (I say this with all affection) dumbed down for my parents and telephone-chained to me.

THAT IS ALL. Didn't pay attention and made way too much food and still absently ate it anyway, so my stomach hurts and I'm tired and my laptop charger is all but totally not working, so I'm 42% on the tablet and (hopefully) 100% on Tosh away from being totally computerless. Gah, the shitstorm, when it hits . . . .
commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (Default)
To summarize that last ranttastic emo post, because tl;dr--I'm half-decent at everything, so I never get told I'm good at anything.

But because self-centeredness is to be punished, the universe decides to cow me quite spectacularly.

Got an email from my mom a minute ago. Basically, my dad's had swollen lymph nodes and lately trouble swallowing and pain, and just recently was coughing up a massive amount of blood. Went to the doctor, who sent him to an ENT specialist, who is sending him to (I presume from mom's tone, though she didn't actually specify) an oncologist.

So I feel even more like shit, because now it feels like I spent all morning being really, really undeservedly whiny. I mean, STFU, Alexandria, your dad's probably got fucking cancer. We don't care that you feel like your life sucks and nobody appreciates you, suck it fucking up; at least you don't have an oncologist's appointment this week.

Obviously, I'm jumping to the worst-case scenario, but it looks bad. Made even more bad-looking by how my mom tacked on to the end "By the way, this is more than your siblings know," meaning "Don't tell them," meaning "Oh, shit." But LOL, perfect example of how even my family knows what a heartless bitch I am--"don't tell the kids because they might get upset, but here's a medical puzzle for Alexandria!"

The worst part is that she's absolutely right. My first thought was "Ooh, glad I didn't sell back my oncology textbook!" Fail.

Idk, it's made so much worse by the fact that I'm not there. When I first came down to college, it was sort of the same thing--his diabetes had been under really great control, but what that means to an endocrinologist is that you aren't going into high blood glucose ranges at all, which makes lows more common. And though highs are what kill uncontrolled diabetics over time, lows kill you overnight or when you pass out at the wheel or something like that, and having been in the car where that almost fucking happened, I was really uncomfortable leaving. Same thing here--I mean, I'm not in tears with anxiety or anything, but I'm much more concerned sitting here getting the second hand information than I would be if I were home and could make him let me go to the onc with him (as I often do when somebody in the fam goes to the doctor for something being wrong, since became the medical expert in the family when I was very young) and get the info told to me as if I were a doctor rather than (I say this with all affection) dumbed down for my parents and telephone-chained to me.

THAT IS ALL. Didn't pay attention and made way too much food and still absently ate it anyway, so my stomach hurts and I'm tired and my laptop charger is all but totally not working, so I'm 42% on the tablet and (hopefully) 100% on Tosh away from being totally computerless. Gah, the shitstorm, when it hits . . . .
commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (Default)
You know what bothers me? The fact that I've never really been good at anything.

Ironic!LOL, Alexandria's melancholy when she's 28 hours from failing an organic chemistry test she can't get her stupid ass to study for and has slept weirdly (and by weird, I mean in 2 hour bursts with a very low total hour count) all week. It's 5am, which is probably the reason, though I've never found myself unable to allow the slightest stimuli to throw me into ". . . I fail" mode no matter what time of the day it is.

Wherein I mope and act all juvenile and emo while espousing how I fail. )
commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (BoP)
You know what bothers me? The fact that I've never really been good at anything.

Ironic!LOL, Alexandria's melancholy when she's 28 hours from failing an organic chemistry test she can't get her stupid ass to study for and has slept weirdly (and by weird, I mean in 2 hour bursts with a very low total hour count) all week. It's 5am, which is probably the reason, though I've never found myself unable to allow the slightest stimuli to throw me into ". . . I fail" mode no matter what time of the day it is.

Wherein I mope and act all juvenile and emo while espousing how I fail. )
commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (BoP)
So, my days continue. I do science in my lab, fail at science inexplicably if it's organic chemistry, write poetry in the hour or two I have before poetry class on Thursday to hand in and am apparently not suck at it as I've got one of two As in the class, volunteer (sort of unvolunteery, as it wasn't exactly my choice) at this children's science museum, eat too much, exercise too little, and hate myself to excess.


Poetry )

Organic Chemistry )

Biomolecular Interactions )


I do need to stop just taking graded tests at their word. I'm not really checking any of them over at all, even just to see what I missed and make sure I learn it, which is bad. Mostly because I don't want to face these grades again, you know, as school is my entire measure of personal success. Basically, I'm pulling the same self-defeating shit I pulled all through high school except now I'm pulling it where it really matters and I'm not going to be able to sneak by anyway because This Is It.

I'm so fucking terrified that every little thing is going to be the one that stops me from going to medical school. I mean, I've talked about this frankly before--if I don't get in to medical school, I'm probably going to kill myself because I do not know what I'm going to do with my life. I've been saying that forever, but as this possible future appears to be becoming a probability (my MCAT scores on the practice test sucking, now my grades as usual being not good), you'd expect that I'd back off from that a bit, especially as how I've been all "Ooh, I wish I could do this and that and major in this and go work in politics blah blah" lately. Not at all. It's not because I don't know what else I can do with my life (I'd have to switch majors, but I love politics crazy hard, and I could see myself teaching AP biology or chemistry [ha! but I did well in genchem] or even English), but because this is, on Alexandria scale, the ultimate failure. If something that has guided every single decision I have ever made in my life ends up not coming to fruition, what the fuck have I lived the past 19 years for?

Anyway. Either my nap today was more productive than I thought (I was waking up every couple of minutes, though, so I doubt it) or I'm more miserable than I thought, because I just realized that it's the second day of daylight savings time, so my body should think it's almost 6am (though it's 5) and yet I'm not tired. Massive headache that I had most of yesterday and came back a few hours ago is also probably a contributing factor. Blargh.
commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (Not for me.)
Home for the weekend. Monday's going to suck epicly, because I haven't done any of my homework and won't be getting back until late on Sunday night (probably 11), so I don't know when that's getting done. Tack on test on Tuesday, test on Wednesday, and because I skipped out on Friday's classes to leave on Thursday to go do some market research thing, I got a 0 on an organic chem quiz thing (they drop the lowest 5 of 20, but the 6 or so we've done so far have all been *really* low and I can't fucking figure out why) and missed the video that explains most of the last chapter we covered in biochem that will be a good 1/3 of the Wednesday test.

So, pretty epic FML at the moment. I'm sick as well, and being home when it's temporary and I have this major deluge of homework waiting always makes me stressed all to hell, so I'm panicky and miserable. It really hit me at one point that if I were somebody else, I could just blow all this off, get married and stay home and raise my kids. Ahh, the easy way out. (Not that, you know, raising kids is easy and anything but very emotionally taxing, but possibly slightly less mentally taxing than graduate-level molecular biology courses.)

<--- As usual, this was written a week ago. Was opening up LJ to bitch about how I broke a nail and have to spend my entire Saturday doing practice runs of the MCAT followed by the GRE from 9-5ish tomorrow, and it popped up the beginning bit that I’d forgotten I’d lost when the tablet locked up on me. So, elaboration.

Do you ever get that? I have aunts and uncles and people in my classes that were/are married at this age. At younger than this age, even. And it kind of makes me wonder what I’m doing. I guess science, is what. And I’m cool with that; I don’t date, and I’m not really interested in it , I don’t think, but there’s this feeling like I’m missing out on something. It was the same way with parties and such in HS. It wasn’t my style of evening just because my friends didn’t do that kind of thing, so I knew I wouldn’t like it because nobody I liked would be there. But would I have gone. . . idk, clubbing or something if people I liked were doing so? Yeah. I probably would have had a good time, too.

I’m not even 20 yet, but even just thinking about when I hit that, it seems like. . . idk. It’s not me. I don’t feel like a grownup yet. I want nothing more than to stay home and tag along when my parents go to the store just because I’ve got nothing better to do, and to have the whole family to interact with (even though it’s not like we get along horridly well—much better in short spurts, like when I’m visiting, which is prolly why said desire for interaction is present atm; I haven’t spent long enough with them in the last month and a half to break through the novel of being back home and get to the ‘blech, siblings’). I know the biggest reason that I’m now okay with maybe going to SLU for medical school (that’s the only other St. Louis one) rather than just being all WashU!OMG (which I will never, never get in to since I went to the college I’m at, which is sad because I love it so hard. Single greatest fear right now is that I ruined my chances for medical school all together by taking this scholarship and going down here instead of to one of the more prestigious undergrad places that I got awesome scholarships for but that natch, couldn’t match up to this offer of everything) isn’t because I’ll be able to maybe live at home and thus actually maybe not come out of school OVER NINE (hundred) THOUSAND dollars in debt, but rather because I’m not good at forging connections with people, and if I go to Mizzou or the MD/JD place in Illinois or somewhere else, I will end up with zero local support system.

I think that might be a part of it. As much as I love [livejournal.com profile] bleakone to death, she’s the only friend I’ve got down here. I mean, it’s not a huge difference from high school, where I had lots of friends in school, but once the day was over they went and did things and I just went home. It feels different because I knew those people for years and talked to them every day and there was a lot more time to socialize in HS because it wasn’t as fast of a pace. Now, sure, I’m friendly with a couple of people (mostly ones who are in multiple classes with me or in my lab), but if pressed could I tell you their last name? Probably not. It doesn’t help that poetry’s my only class that’s not OMG SCIENCE AT BREAKNECK SPEED, and that one’s filled with god types (wearing my ‘Support Gay Couples’ shirt on Tuesday just to see how scorned I get—no kidding, we break into pods to sort of workshop on each other’s poems and invariably, there’s at least one poem out of the group that talks about how it’ll all be okay with Jesus) which, though often nice and were some of my best friends throughout my school days, are generally not my type. I’m just kind of lonely, I guess. I feel bad when I tell [livejournal.com profile] bleakone my awesomesauce stories ten billion times, but I want to Tell Somebody, you know, and Tweeting stuff and posting it on here (when I ever do—the Twitter is really making me pare down my info, which is good because I’m always way too verbose for anybody to read all the way through my stuff on here; the fact that I’ve always got so much to say that I never get it in under one page makes it daunting to update because I never get it done in one sitting!) is okay, but, you know, there’s not as much feedback as you’d get with an actual person.

And at the same time, I’m not . . . emotionally strong enough, I guess, to be one of those people with loads of friends. Not that I'm emotionally weak or anything, I suppose, I think I'm just weary (and wary) of it. So as usual when I’m whining, I don’t like something but I’m not going to do anything about fixing it. *sigh*
commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (Default)
Spoilers for 1/23's BSG )

I've really got to pay better attention to these. I think my ADD has progressively gotten worse, as TV's just something I can't do anymore. I'm always also checking my email and playing a game and eating a bowl of oatmeal, etc., etc. and with shows like BSG, you really need to be watching closer than that. It works fine for stuff like Psych, but I find that even with House or ER, people (or the characters) wi'll mention something that happened last week and I won't know what they're talking about even though I just watched it.

Spoilers for Psych )

Beta'd some fic recently. That was fun. Yet always agonizing--I always want to point out as many things as I think I can help with, but I don't want to make it seem like the fic is bad or make too many suggestions because I think it's worded awkwardly or something that are changing things that are just part of their style. It was (presumably--I just sort of assumed as the author writes femslash and the main characters appeared from the first chapter I read to be these two) Kim/Olivia of SVU, which I've never seen. Frankly, I was so pissed with the casting of Kim (the actress is barely old enough to have feasibly graduated from law school, much less worked in DC and then be assigned to Manhattan's elite Special Victims' Unit) that I haven't paid much attention to her character, but I'll definitely have to now, especially if my betaing skills are retained past that first chapter. (I may have scared her away.)
commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (Default)
Re: Rick Warren. What's next, James Dobson to preform next year's Red Mass? Seriously. Sure, he's not going to be doing anything official in the administration (as far as we know), but this indicates that Warren's got more than a little influence over Obama, which is not a good thing when you consider that according to Wikipedia, this guy has stated that homosexuality is an intolerable, unnatural way of life and thus not a human right, denounced evolution, and compared atheists to Mao, Stalin and Pol Pot.

Got home after exercising and spending hours between Big Lots (where I just took a while), Wal-Mart (where I stood in the express line for 20 minutes, because the cashier kept letting this guy try his denied credit card over and over and fiddling with the computer and such), and then Shop N Save. Got fat free hot dogs at the last, which I didn't realize I'd been missing until I was in [livejournal.com profile] bleakone's room last week and her roommate made a veggie dog and my stomach practically did backflips with the longing (as the fat free ones taste similar, prolly because their meat content has been cut down to "has been on the same refrigerated grocery shelf as meat" levels). Reason I went to the other two, though, was looking for an electric warming throw blanket thing for my mom for Christmas. Turns out that Dad had just checked for in-store availability and didn't see that it said that they weren't in stock at our local Wal-Mart, and so assumed that they were, when really it was just that the local one wasn't listed at all because they never carry it.

Grades come out Monday, as they're all due from the teachers before 5pm, I think, Saturday. Which is why a lot of them were pushing up the finals to the week before, as that's earlier than usual for them and they didn't think they could get them all graded that quickly, I suppose. I see it with some of the more populous classes (some kind of psych 101, or my gym class, even though that was all done electronically so there was no physical grading for the final), but my mythology teacher has what, 60 students total? 19 in my class, though that's an honors section, and her other two are more specialized, upper-division (I think one's graduate) courses, so I presume that it'd be the same or less. She only pushed one of hers up, but maybe that one required a more grading-intensive final than ours (which was in the second-to-last time slot of all the finals, I'm fairly sure) did; essays or something.

Anyway, that mythology final was bad. I'm fairly pissed about that. I'd thought (and others had agreed to the point of overtly encouraging me to stop working on the older Ovid stuff during breakfast right before and study Odysseus--LOL, all of a sudden I wonder if that was purposeful) that most of the final would be over the parts of The Odyssey we hadn't been tested over yet, with 50% at most of comprehensive material. Nope. This was the third test that contained Odyssey material (1 & 2 were all Ovid, 3 was half and half, and 4 was all Odyssey and Oresteia), and yet Ovid was easily 80, maybe 90% of it. The only bits of the Trojan War stories (Odyssey, Oresteia) were in a 10 or so question matching section at the bottom of the 4th page of the test, matching names to identities and one "identify the myth in this picture" thing. And Wednesday night, what did I do but finish the Odyssey instead of studying the Ovid myths. So I used to be able to say that I was getting an A in everything but gym. Fairly sure that's no longer the case, as this was a good 25% of my grade that I'd be surprised if I pulled a C on. It's hard, because I know I know most of the stories so if you just prompted me a bit, I would be all "Oh, and then [blah]". It's tough to do the matching then, too, because you can't tell if you recognize these two items as a pair because they go together, or because you just know both stories, or because one's a family member of the name that really fits with the story and that's why you're connecting the two (because everything's intertwined somehow in Ovid--the man's king of "Oh, and speaking of" transitions), etc., if that makes any sense.

Slight oddness tonight. More in my reaction of a perception of weirdness than the actual thing. Was hanging out in the kitchen, fixing one of my newly purchased hot dogs, when I heard my dad talking to Mom's rabbit. Okay. I'm not really a fan of that animal, but whatever. I look around the little island bit that separates the kitchen from the dining room (which is in turn connected to the living room, where the rabbit's cage is), and he's down there next to the cage petting it. It's not that my dad's an unnafectionate fellow, or dislikes animals or whatnot (he championed the original adoption of Rascal as well as probably every other animal we've had in the house save the rabbit), so I'm not sure if I was just projecting my dislike for the rabbit (I'm not sure where that comes from, whether it bit me a few too many times or what, but I'm just not a fan) onto him, but it surprised me. In a very pleasant-surprise sort of way, as it was quite. . . idk, touching. He was uber gentle (I spelled that "gentile" at first, and then went "LOL, Christmas"), and yet I suppose because of his size or whatnot, the rabbit was still scared (I feel like I've written about this situation almost exactly before because I felt the same way then--shall have to peruse my tags and see if I'm not just deja vu-ing). I don't know. It was touching, okay? Something about it being a rabbit, too; I'd see him petting Rascal with no such out-of-place feeling. Maybe it was the combination of rabbit + him having to squat way down to be anywhere near where he could reach the cage on the floor + talking to it (in not a crazy way) that sort of created this dichotomy of rabbit/giant human (saving my mild, occasional feelings of paternal intimidation for future exploration, LOL) that was cool to see.

Too much analysis, way too late at night. Without classes, I've evidently shifted back to my up-all-night cycle within all of two days. CIRCADIAN RHYTHM, WHY ARE YOU BATSHITCRAZY?
commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (Default)
I want to do my life over again. And not make such a fucking mess of things this time.

If only.
commotiocordis: (carmen)

Your Score: Loser- INTP
46% Extraversion, 73% Intuition, 60% Thinking, 26% Judging

The rest of the results. Plus an odd picture of a monkey. )

That's about what I usually get on these things, actually.

And the more real analysis bits (well, the ones that fit--and they fit really well) from here:

In seasons of low energy level, or moments of single-minded concentration, the INTP is aloof and detached in a way that might even offend more relational or extraverted individuals.

A major concern for INTPs is the haunting sense of impending failure. They spend considerable time second-guessing themselves.

Feeling tends to be all or none. When present, the INTP's concern for others is intense, albeit naive. In a crisis, this feeling judgement is often silenced by the emergence of Thinking, who rushes in to avert chaos and destruction. In the absence of a clear principle, however, INTPs have been known to defer judgement and to allow decisions about interpersonal matters to be left hanging lest someone be offended or somehow injured. INTPs are at risk of being swept away by the shadow in the form of their own strong emotional impulses.


YESS to all of the above.
commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (Default)
Sometimes I feel like I'm a bad person because I get fiercely, fiercely jealous occasionally. Mostly over friends. Idk. Jealous/depressed, I guess. It seems like crazy, stupid elementary school behavior, but if I think/find out that somebody doesn't like me as much as I like them, I sort of shut down. One of those "you're not your best friend's best friend" things. That situation seems to happen to me a lot. That's almost definitely my fault, though, because I get v. v. attached and devoted to my friends. The problem is that most of me says that that shouldn't be a bad thing, but the rest points out how often and how hard I end up getting hurt by it.

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