November 15th, 2004

galadriel decipher

Odds and ends

Awwww, shitfire. Sister Girl has come down with the stomach flu of doom, and was up all night with it. And while I feel sorry for her, I'm terrified I'm going to get it, too. Not only do I have a presentation tomorrow and some pretty major paperage coming up, but I've broken all the capillaries in my face the last two times I've had the flu and thrown up. (There's a specific medical term for it, but I can't think what.) That's what the freaky "rash" I came down with really was--it looks like tiny red pinpricks all over your face, and it's not so terrible, but I can't go to class looking like that. And it takes about a week to go away. And we share a bathroom. Now, for the most part, I can get away with using the downstairs bathroom, but I've got to wash my hair at some point. I'm feeding myself zinc and collecting all the disinfectant in the house and preparing to go to war.



There is now a 2-inch scratch gash right where my hairline starts. I just noticed it in the mirror (while I was downstairs in the bathroom of flu fugitives). Dammit.



If any of you astrology buffs want to go to town on my chart, here it is. I was at astrology.com last night and had it made up for free--interestingly, it's more detailed now than the one I had them make several years ago. Comets and such, user-friendly tables at the bottom, etc. Again, I think there's a difference in "believing" this stuff blindly ("OMG MERCURY RETROGRADE I CANNOT LEAVE THE HOUSE TODAY") and saying, "Hmm, I have a sun (Sagittarius)/moon (Cancer) opposition. That's really interesting. You know... some of the stuff they're saying about that does sound like me. There really is a huge tension in my life between wanting to be independent and wanting to hide out at home. I wonder if they have any advice on how to deal with that...?"



I am obsessed with this Dandy Warhols song "You Were the Last High," for some reason. It all started because I didn't know the Dandy Warhols from Adam's house cat and wanted to see if the rest of "We Used to Be Friends" is as annoying as the thirty-second clip of it serving as the Veronica Mars opener is. And really, it's a pretty cool song. It's just not made for thirty-second clips. (Apparently it's been used all over the place on WB-type TV shows, including on The O.C.'s soundtrack. So you've probably heard it.) And while I was there, I decided to download a couple of other random songs, so I looked at which songs most people had--sort of a de facto recommendation--and I came up up with "Bohemian Like You" (it's okay) and "You Were the Last High." And I cannae stop listening to it, cap'n. I'm definitely asking for the CD for my birthday, but if any of y'all have song or CD recommendations, let me know.



Sigh. I will be off working on tomorrow's presentation. No, really. I'm going to be a good girl this time.

msauvage purple

Fnarr.

I'm having one of those days... it hasn't been a bad day generally speaking, but it's been a bad day medically speaking, and I am sitting here trying to convince myself that I can write a 12-minute presentation and deliver it tomorrow. Because if I can't, I may as well just drop the class and take an incomplete. (Which I can't afford to do.) See... this should not be hard. If I can't do this, I don't know how I'm going to deal with this huge annotated bibliography and then the actual paper. I can't remember if the bibliography is due Thursday or next Tuesday, but I know the paper is due December 2, so I don't have too long to endure finish the whole schmoo as it is. This can be a good or a bad thing, depending on which way you want to look at it.

Despite the medical hoohah, I think it's a largely a psychological block. I just don't. want. to write. papers. This is bad for someone in an MFA program, really. I thought I'd gotten over that after I took a year off after graduation--I thought having to write papers in three languages was what burnt me out. But here I am, doing the same thing all over again, putting things off as long as possible, almost getting a thrill out of it. It used to be in high school and college that I'd wait until almost the last minute, and I'd pull out the adrenaline and get it done. I needed that push to get it done. But now... it's a different thrill I seem to be after. It's the thrill of not doing it at all. And that scares me.

(Somewhere, my agent and publisher are reading this and getting very, very nervous. All I can say is, the day you require academic footnotes is the day you have to worry. Until then, you're in the clear.)

(Not that the medical hoohah is anything to sneeze at, though. I was supposed to hear about the ultrasound today, and no one called. You know, the test to see if I had uterine cancer? That one. And my uterus? She is angry. She is an angry, crampy, evil uterus. Please send help call soon.)

And I love the professor and the Milton class itself, so I don't know what my problem is, other than a general feeling of deathly tiredness (see: medical). I keep trying to put my finger on why I'm getting seduced by this "not doing it at all" thing--do I want to prove to myself that I don't have to overachieve, or achieve at all, and the world won't end? Am I overwhelmed by the book and the medical crap and all? Am I just a lazy cuss? I can't be burnt out on school again, because I had a four-month break from school and I'm only taking one class right now as it is. There's something going on here, and I can't figure out what it is--I have to figure out what it is in order to defuse it and move on with life.

And I'm still puzzling over an anonymous comment made on the entry where I whined (tongue-in-cheek, I thought) about not wanting to write a paper: "See? And you wonder why I don't respect/answer your posts? Surely you have some cramming skills at least? Don't make me lose that last little bit of respect... Turn off that darn computer when RL should take precedence!" I mean, never mind that I went off and wrote the paper and let y'all comment on the entry. And that you generally need the computer on to write the paper. And that it's hard for me to wonder why you don't respond to my posts if... I don't know who you are. No, what I'm really puzzling over is who this was, and why I still care. You can say just about anything to me that you want if I know who you are--it's the anonymous comments that tend to stick in my craw, probably because I can't imagine what the personal motivation behind them was.

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