Swirling
I’m going home tonight! I’m so excited. I’m packing, but the bus doesn’t leave until 6pm, so I have some time to kill. Class from 11:45-12:50 and then nothing til the bus comes. Waiting. Just waiting. Hmm, I should figure out where I’m supposed to get on it. I know that it will drop me off in a suburb of the Cities at like 9. Zack said he would be there I hope he’s there! I get to see my Zacka and my Feety 
Also apparently Zack is having some kids from Winona over. (Parents won’t be home tonight). That should be interesting, right? I hope I still feel up to hanging out with them by the time I get home. In any case I actually did something with my hair and am wearing makeup, for the first time in ages. Weird, yes? Not sure how I feel about the hair, whether I like it or not. But I really don’t care that much at this point. I want to get out of here. Grr!
Last night I worked on the research project for ItR with the group. I got there early (or rather, the rest of the group was late), so I started working on it. I did most of the the work, last night anyway. That’s not usually how it goes. But I looked up all these research papers that we are using and all this crap. I feel like we made lots of progress instead of the general swirling about the drain feeling that project gives me. 
Whatever. I’m trying.
Aaaand now it’s time to head out for Global Change Ecology…
Drugs are good . . .
Yeah, so, I took the higher dose today of Concerta again. I stopped before because I was incredibly anxious, but I’ve been so tired . . . anyway, it occurs to me how very biological my depression and everything is, because I feel so much better. Since it kicked in this morning, my head feels clear and I’m motivated and I can concentrate. I didn’t go to my chem lecture this morning because I was working on chemistry stuff, for Intro to Research, and it was making sense, and I was making progress on it. Weird, right? The point is I feel better (for now), and there is definitely something fucked with my brain, not just me, not just my fault. Which is a much better feeling.
I just kind of needed to write that down, maybe to remind myself when I feel shitty. Because it always comes back; it always happens again. So it goes.
Mental maturity of a 12-year-old boy, yep
I don’t understand. At all. I’m doing all these sort of diagnostic tests on products I made in chem labs, but I have no idea what they mean. Or mostly. Interpreting the data on the spectra in the textbook is not at all the same. It’s pretty and makes sense and I can just look up the answer if I’m not sure. I don’t like not knowing the answer. Also I kept fucking up in lab today and the prof was really intense and I should go ask her for help on this shit, but I hate telling people I don’t know, I don’t get it. Or, I like her, so I care what she thinks, so I don’t want her to think I’m stupid, but she’s seen my homework and crap, so she knows . . .
Stressed out. I really would love to go home this weekend but it doesn’t sound like it’s going to work out. Guess I’ll stay here and sleep. Besides, dealing with all the ride shit is generally a pain in the ass. I did a bunch of things on Ambien that I hardly remember last night. At least I partially remember though. As in, I woke up in different clothes than I went to bed in and I think I walked to campus for some reason and found a paper towel next to my bed with peanut butter on it. What is it about Ambien that makes me eat peanut butter? How fucking bizarre. I also clicked on some link to a scam on Facebook for “a free MacBook”. And put in my name and email address. What was I thinking? Obviously I wasn’t. But I have a bunch of emails in my inbox from this scam. So pissed. I really am a dumbass.
Mmm. I should try to go to my classes tomorrow. All of them. For the entire class period. It’s hard to sit through entire classes. Maybe I should go back up to the higher dose of Concerta because it’s kind of ridiculous. I wish I didn’t take anything. I wish I could concentrate and sleep and not be crazy. Or maybe just less crazy.
This girl we know got a tattoo and posted it on Facebook. Haven’t been on Facebook in ages, until last night and today. Anyway, the tattoo is hilarious. It’s something to do with a heart and a cross and the letter P, “for pain”, she writes. Like I said, hilarious. Yeah, I’m a mean person. Also she’s one of those people who says she’s a Christian, very devout and everything, is waiting until marriage for sex, but is kind of a skank and does everything but actual vaginal sex. Haha, everything BUTT. I’m actually a 12 year old boy in disguise, it’s true. Mentally. Aside from the whole wanting men thing. Did I mention I <3 “that’s what she said” jokes?
PC angst
My computer is being overly angsty. And for someone with Windows, that’s really saying something. I’ve been drooling over the new Macs, seeing as my computer is all screwy. But I really shouldn’t spend that much money right now. It’s just pissing me off right now though, so much, cuz I use my computer so much. SIGH.
I think the roomies are watching Star Wars, while I’m stuck in here working on this paper that I feel like I’ll never finish and whining about everything and its mother.
Massive black holes
Song in my head: “Super Massive Black Hole” by Muse. Very catchy.
So, even though I’ve dropped Gen Physics I, I’m still sort of behind in my classes. Let’s all say ARGH. We were supposed to turn in the spectra of the product from the second lab in Intro to Research yesterday, the idea being the profs/TAs take a glance at them to make sure we haven’t fucked them up royally before we pound our heads into the walls trying to understand what they mean. However, I turned mine in about an hour ago due to my fuck up: used someone else’s vial of unknown from the fridge in the lab for the NMR spectra and had to redo them. Bleh. Also, there’s a paper due Monday in Global Change Ecology on a book I haven’t finished yet. Ordered my books for my online class: $145. Yuck.
To top that off, I just ate my last packet of instant miso soup 
Okay, I actually feel fine right now, and really those things aren’t that bad. Just kind of annoyed and in a weird place in my head, but not a terribly bad weird place I suppose. Yes, I’m very self-centered and every sentence in this thing begins with “I”. Fuck that shit. I’m wondering what the hell I’m like when I’m not on any medications, seeing as this hasn’t happened (on purpose) in a long time (years, literally). Definitely accidentally forgotten to take the meds before, but I was withdrawing hard core, so it’s not a good estimate. And before that when I stopped taking everything (okay, I was only on one thing anyway, at the time. Imagine that! The good ole days, clearly.) I guess culminated in a hospital stay. At which point you basically HAVE to swallow the pills they tell you to. The thought of coming off all of this stuff though is quite a deterrent to even trying. Sigh. Scary story though: two nights ago I apparently ate a bunch of shit. I woke up in the morning and there was brown junk on my sheets that smelled like peanut butter. I asked the roomies and Logan tells me I ate a bunch of things, which I have no memory of at all. And this is not the first time it’s happened. Great. Jake says it’s all good so long as I don’t try to cook things when I’m on Ambien. What a goddamn nightmare. I like sleeping and I basically can’t sleep these days without chemical assistance. Why is everything so fucked up?
Missing Garrett and the family like crazy. It’s hard. Spring break isn’t for like three weeks.
I keep thinking about this other song too, which isn’t even that good of a song, aside from the guitar part. But the words make me think of that one stupid relationship I was in, and all these overly dramatic things about loving someone who does love you back but wishes they didn’t or feels like it’s a weakness or something. How they should probably consider how that could make the other person feel like shit. Like I said, fucking stupid and overly dramatic. Man, high school sucked so much. I was pretty dumb, but at least so was everyone else. At least? Not sure about that part.
:later:
Isn’t that harder to do? Doesn’t it require more strength to just let go and fully care about someone, without reservation? My head’s in such a weird place right now.
Both Jake’s and Beth’s significant others are coming this weekend. That’s great that they get to see them, but it makes me feel more lonely. I want to go home. I want a kitty!
Fuck. I need to stop thinking so much. It hurts. Yeah, that’s almost as pathetic as it sounds, isn’t it?
Weekend and stuff
This weekend was pretty good. I got a ride to Sauk Centre on Friday and Mom and Dad picked me up. They’d already gotten Zack. We went to a hotel in St. Cloud for the weekend. When we got there we hung out in the pool for a few hours, like we used to do when we were small. Zack and I would swim for hours and hours at a time. Later everyone showered up and we went to Ciatti’s for bruschetta and capellini, which was really tasty It was so awesome to see my family; I wish I could have seen Garrett too. It’s ridiculous how much I miss him; miss him so much I swear it almost hurts. We went bowling on Saturday at the most jankety-ass bowling alley ever. Also ate Mom’s hummus and watched Sweet Home Alabama on TV with Tony. Good times
Holy shit. Last night I was supposed to take an online quiz for physics so I opened it up in my browser and had no idea what the fuck to do, so I just logged out. I decided I fucking quit physics. I do not like that prof. We were doing a stupid lab last week, in which we video-taped a wind-up toy car moving over a grid on the floor to look at it frame by frame to analyze velocity and trajectory. The toy car moved in a straight line, but the prof wouldn’t let us just run the car along the lines on the grid. So, I called her a sadist to my lab partner. I think she heard me though, because she made me demo the next part of the lab, in which I threw a golf ball back and forth with someone else in front of a grid projected on the overhead and someone else taped it. I didn’t want to do it and I kept dropping the ball. She did that thing that teachers do where they ask you to do something, but they really mean just do it now. I said no, thanks, I didn’t want to, but she said yes, please. Gah. Last time I talked to the counselor she told me I should drop the class and sign up for something else, a course for the second half of the semester. I need to sign up for something else because otherwise I wouldn’t be technically full-time, and I need to be full-time to be covered under the parents’ insurance and to get my scholarship money, but the only classes they have are Beginning Taekwondo, which doesn’t help cuz it’s only 0.5 credits or Coaching Softball/Baseball/Track and Field, which are 2 credits (any of them) but they all meet during my o-chem lecture. There’s a thing where you can take less credits and still be considered full-time if you have a disability, and last time the counselor said I should register with Disability Services for taking tests since I have a documented disability (by which I think she means the crazy). Argh. Whatever. No way in hell am I staying in that class. Yeah, made an appointment to talk to her again tomorrow about this mess.
Also, this morning, in Global Change Ecology, Pete was talking about how we are a few days behind in his lecture schedule, and this kid behind us started saying something about how Pete could save 45 seconds-1 minute if . . . and I didn’t hear the rest because I was taking a sip of my water and I started to choke because I was laughing, and I couldn’t clear my throat, and I was still laughing, even though I didn’t mean to and it was really rude . . . and then a bunch of other people started laughing, not sure whether at me or the kid, but one of them was definitely Logan, sitting right next to me. I had to leave the room. Logan keeps giving me shit about it. I’ve been taking a lower dose of the Concerta because we were thinking it might be making me freak out, but I’ve been getting really tired in the afternoons, so maybe I’ll take more again . . . . I don’t know.
And that was a lot of rambling.
Thoughts on Revolutionary Road
Overly pretentious, never-to-be-finished book review:
Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates
Last night, I finished reading Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates. I haven’t seen the film yet but I’d like to. I don’t think you could possibly give the story the same depth and whatnot on the screen, but Kate and Leo are always good. Even if the movie is completely awful, they’re both ridiculously handsome people, so staring at them for two hours wouldn’t be a complete waste. Right?
Anyway. The book. It is, as the review quoted on the cover by William Styron says, “a deft, ironic, beautiful novel”. I’m not sure why I think it’s beautiful, but that is the word that came to mind as I read the final page. A beautiful story, however, not to be confused with a “pretty” story, because it’s certainly not pretty. Revolutionary Road is the chronicle of an attractive, talented American couple in the 1950s. Their story, and that of the people around them, is all too common. The novel perfectly describes the subtleties of human interaction. The details of the conflict between wheat we feel and what we say, between what we want others to think of us and how we really are:
“Within a minute the talk had turned to children and disease (the Campbells’ eldest boy was underweight and Milly wondered if he might be suffering from some obscure blood ailment, until Shep said that whatever he was suffering from it sure hadn’t weakened his throwing arm), and from there to an agreement that the elementary school was really doing a fine job, considering the reactionary board it was saddled with, and from there to the fact that prices had beenunaccountably high in the supermarket. It was only then, during a dissertation y Milly on lamb chops, that an almost palpable discomfort settled over the room. They shifted in their seats, they filled awkward pauses with elaborate courtesies about the freshening of drinks, they avoided one another’s eyes and did their best to avoid the alarming, indisputable knowledge that they had nothing to talk about. It was a new experience.
“Two years or even a year ago it could never have happened, for then if nothing else there had always been a topic in the outrageous state of the nation. “How do you like this Oppenheimer business?” one of them would demand, and the others would fight for the floor with revolutionary zeal. The cancerous growth of Senator McCarthy had poisoned the United States, adn with the pouring of the second or third drinks they could begin to see themselves as members of an embattled, dwindling intellectual underground. Clippings from the Observer or the Manchester Guardian would be produced and read aloud, to slow and respectful nods; Frank might talk wistfully of Europe–”God, I wish we’d taken off and gone when we had the chance”–and this might lead to a quick general lust for expatriation: “Let’s all go!” (Once it went as far as a practical discussion of how much they’d need for boat fare and rent and schools, until Shep, after a sobering round of coffee, explained what he’d read about the difficulty of getting jobs in foreign countries.)
“And even after politics had palled there had still been the elusive but endlessly absorbing subject of Conformity, or The Suburbs, or Madison Avenue, or American Society Today. “Oh Jesus,” Shep might begin, “you know this character next door to us? Donaldson? The one that’s always out fooling with his power mower and talking about the rat race and the soft sell? Well listen: did I tel you what he said about his barbeque pit?” And there would follow an anecdote of extreme suburban smugness that left them weak with laughter.
“”Oh, I don’t believe it,” April would insist. “Do they really talk that way?”
“And Frank would develop the theme. “The point is it wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t so typical. It isn’t only the Donaldsons–it’s the Cramers too, and the whaddyacallits, the Wingates, and a million others. It’s all the idiots I ride with on the train every day. It’s a disease. Nobody thinks or feels or cares any more; nobody gets excited or believes in anything except their own comfortable little God damn mediocrity.”
“Milly Campbell would writhe in pleasure. “Oh, that’s so true. Isn’t that true, darling?”"
shit, i am freaking the fuck out, for several reasons. oh god, i could really use a sedative. too bad my mom wasn’t down with cynthia prescribing me that xanax. yes, it’s that bad. i wish i could drop classes. i wish i could never see that mean physics prof ever again. i wish i could get this image i saw on the internet of a parasitic insect in someone’s skin out of my head. it’s making me crazy. i feel itchy all over just thinking about it.and i can’t stop thinking about it. what am i going to do?!
fuckin wordpress
fuck cunt damn
i wish wordpress would let me edit the goddamn css without paying extra. 15$ per year for a blog no one visits seems a little but much, especially given that you can’t even make your own themes, you can only edit theirs. gah! i’m annoyed. i want to change the color that links show up on my pages (or rather, don’t show up). they are a very slightly different gray then the rest of the text, which makes them practically invisible.
POOP in a blender
okay, time to study. yuck.
