It's a hell of a role

I would just like to take a moment and thank God for painkillers, without which the last thirty hours of my life would not have been possible. In the same motion, I would like to ask God why, after almost three months of cyst free bliss, does he like to give me cysts when I have five million things due in one week. On that note, I'm writing a conclusion to my paper and going to sleep.

I pressed enter to fast and accidentally sent an incomplete version of my internship application in. I think I'm going to be sick.

My dad came to visit me on Friday. It was nice but it brought a few things to light for me and made me realize that my parents, once again, have ulterior motives for my happiness. We didn't do much, just walked around the mall for a few hours, got something to eat, I got us lost on the way to the other mall and we ended up at Walmart instead. Turns out my parents think I'm depressed. They think I'm homesick and lonely and all this other stuff that almost makes me want to laugh. If they think I'm depressed now, what the hell did they think I was four years ago? Sure, my insomnia's back with the wrath of the gods but that just makes me tired. Plus the trying to cut back on my caffeine isn't helping that much either. But honestly, I'm happier with my life than I've been in a really long time. Just because I sound a little down, doesn't mean I'm depressed. It means that I've only been sleeping a few hours at a time.

We also talked about my internship that I'm applying for. I told him all about it and how happy I was and he seemed like he was genuinely excited about it. Then again, he might be genuinely excited about it but not for the same reasons I am. In order to understand why I was so confused about them applying for this internship in the first place, he wouldn't let me take a job in the city two years ago so this was a huge deal. Then his actual reasons came out, "Who knows, maybe you'll get comfortable there and want to go back" While this is very much a true statement, I've said it before and I'll say it again. I can't stay here anymore. The cold and snow and dampness is driving me absolutely mad and I can't deal with this type of winter any more. I love being warm all the time. I don't mind heat. Some of the most progressive research is being done on the west coast. In order to get as far in my field as possible, I have to go to the research. Especially if the research they're doing is what interests me. But they don't understand that. They don't want to listen to these arguments. They just want to think that they're always right. That nothing I could possibly be saying is true because I'm just a stupid twenty year old girl who's depressed. You know what helps depression? SUNSHINE!

The worst part of all this? I think they've actually gotten in my head enough to start making me think I'm depressed. I know I've never been the happiest of people. I love my cynicism and the fact that I see things in a more realistic light than most people. A few years ago, I went to a Yankee-Red Sox playoff game and I was interviewed by a news crew and I told them that it would be nice if the Yankees won but the way they'd been playing recently didn't make it likely. The reporter looked at me funny and walked away. It's who I've always been and it's the way I've always really dealt with things. But them saying that they think I'm depressed somehow unnerved me. It's been making me question myself and I hate when anyone, them especially, makes me do that. I don't know. I really think I need to get away from them. Just really get away from them and hope to whatever being is out there that it works.

Bah, these journal entries lately have been so negative. Um, happy thought... Oh! Turns out all the guys who live across the hall from me are pretty cute. I discovered this when I did my laundry last night and ran into one of them on my way back upstairs.

I just want to sleep...is that really so much to ask for?

( Lists of Good and Bad...Not Important )

Okay...I think I'm going to go back to freaking the fuck out over my internship application. Ten weeks in NYC doing neuroscience research at NYU. I can't think of a better way to spend my summer vacation. Yes, I do realize that I'm a huge nerd, but I'm also going to do that for the rest of my life soooo I think it'll be worth it. Needless to say, I'm excited and bouncing and feeling slightly nauseas. And I HATE CHARLES DARWIN!!! That is all

( Cut for more creative dumping )

This weather makes me depressed. The endless gray and everything just being cold and wet all the time. It gives me this awful nagging feeling that I'm trapped. It always passes with the weather but I hate feeling trapped at all. Speaking of trapped, I need to get my paper outlined and mapped out a bit better. Oh Skinner, you're lucky you're easy to read and understand.

That lasted all of a week.

Okay, t-minus one hour until the first part of the exam of doom and destruction. I'm ignoring the carpal tunnel flare up because drugs are bad for concentrating and pain is much easier to work through. I'm ignoring the fact that my stomach is not happy that I continually persist to put food in it. I'm also going to pretend that I passed one of the practice exams that I took. I'm also going to pretend that the advice my mother just gave me was useful in some way. "It's just another test" Honestly, if they hadn't been shoving the importance of this exam down my throat for the last three years I might be able to think of it that way, but they have so I can't.

I just need a seventy. I just need a seventy.

This made my heart smile so I thought I'd share. It really does seem like everything needs to come with a disclaimer these days. Warning: Reading this entry could make you giggle a little.



Just covering my bases ;P

Dear me,

Stop staying up until four in the morning unless you plan on working on real stuff. It's not healthy and no one appreciates. Also, despite the fact that you stay up until four in the morning, you don't have time to join games so stop torturing yourself by looking at them. No matter how shiny they are, you'll end up leaving them in two weeks anyway because of your crazy ass class/work/TA schedule. You're going to have to deal with it for a few months and maybe until next year.

No love,

Me

So apparently I'm still an amusing little thing for the universe to play with. My original plan was to graduate in December, work for a few months, leave when the weather gets nice. But now, because my school is run by a bunch of jackasses, there won't be a ceremony in December. Naturally, I was a little upset that I wouldn't get to walk the stage but no big deal. Whatever, I could deal with it. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of telling my mother this. So now, I'm stuck in my house, with my parents, until May of next year. I don't know what I'm going to do. I'm going to have to move out. I don't think I'll be able to do it. Living with them the additional three or four months was going to be hell. I can't stay there until May. I don't know. I'll figure something out. Especially since they're so restrictive on me as it is.

On the bright side, I rocked the oral presentation yesterday. I've finally gotten over my fear of talking to large groups of people and only froze up once or twice. I think I'm definitely going to do my thesis on Skinner. He's just too influential to not do it on. Plus I think I can get a good thirty pages out of him, his work and his theories. Plus he's written so much that it won't be a problem getting eight primary sources of writing from him. So that leaves poster for psychopharmacology on quetiapine, emailing my social psych professor so I can do that poster alone, doing my human bio paper for tomorrow and working on my five paper assignment for psych of gender on Crash and prejudices.

And now that I've gone and quit all my games I'm feeling all fic-y. Eh, I'll write something later...

In the grand scheme of things, I know I'm being petty and probably a terrible person but I'm going to rant anyway. Because that's what happens when you take away my coffee.


They said no caffeine next week, last week. So, like the good student I try to be, I skipped my coffee, tea, soda, caffeinated beverage of choice this morning. This way my fitness test wouldn't be all screwy. Now, I will do just about anything for a grade so going without coffee, while quite painful for someone who has several cups a day, wasn't such a big deal. Until I found out that they moved the fitness test to next week. Bloody bastards. I NEED COFFEE. You can't tell me no coffee and then take away the reason I can't have coffee.

Okay, I think I'm done now... I'm going to make a cup of very strong tea and lay down.

I hope that this is the right thing to do. It feels like the right thing to do. I'm just not going to have anytime. I love to write but I'm going to need to keep my head as close to the courses I'm taking as possible. I'm teaching, I've got my job at Starbucks, plus all my classes. I couldn't keep up if I tried with any of my games. I just kept thinking about what happened last year and how I couldn't help but begin to resent the games I was in. I didn't want that to happen this time. I felt like the people that I played with eventually resented me and I didn't want that to happen, especially since I do play such prominent characters. I also know how frustrating it can be to be wanting to plot and not being able to get in contact with the players. Not that it's happened recently but it can get frustrating. I didn't want to be that person. So I'm sorry to those of you I play with but I have too much work. Too much work and not enough time.

Oh...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY REN!

( Cut for ranting and bitching )

Needless to say, my first day of teaching didn't go so well. I'm going to drown my sorrows in psychology texts because they almost always make me feel better. I also need to pick a psychologist to write my thesis on but I don't know if I want to do Skinner or Jung. Skinner's a behaviorist and Jung's a neo-Freudian who bordered on humanist. Hmmm... There's also Kinsey but I don't know if I could handle writing 25+ pages on him. Or if my parents would allow me back in the house if they found out about it :P So many decisions. At least I picked out something interesting for my other classes...or at least have an idea for my other classes.

On the bright side, I think my Human Biology professor was completely confounded by me today as I'm not a science major but knew all the answers in lecture today... I love making people think twice. And I'm going to an open casting call for America's Next Top Model in a few weeks. I doubt I'll make the cut but who knows. Should be an interesting experience either way.

This weekend I need to:
1. Get together with girl from my Social Psych class and work on presentation on folk wisdom
2. Start a rough outline on my thesis.
3. Get started on my psychopharm poster
4. Study for my comprehensive senior psych exam
5. Start study guide for Ch. 1 in Human Bio
6. Read Ch. 1 for Psych of Gender

I think that's it for now... Good thing I've got three days and most of Friday to do it.

Yay! My writer's block absolved itself! I'm not at home any more! I love all my classes despite the fact that they might kill me this semester with the work load I'm taking on. Whatever, it can't be worse than last year. Plus, if they continue to be as thought provoking as the one I had today, then I'll never have to worry about writer's block again. I wrote a four and a half page, unassigned paper on the religious fanaticism that has lodged itself within our state curriculum. It's incredibly boring and bashes Darwin for being a religious fanatic which makes me happy because I learned something new today.

Tomorrow I run my first workshop. I'm a bit nervous about it and I sort of want the students to like me. Not so much that they like me for who I am but that they like me for my teaching methods and skills. I like to think that I look outside of the box at the implications beyond what is immediately presented and a lot of people don't like me for it. But I'm hoping I can contain all of my enthusiasm about science, at least in front of the other students.

My psychology classes are all really interesting so far, if riddled with work. I have a presentation to do next week for my social psychology class on the flaws in using wives tales and folk lore to perpetuate ideas. It's interesting but a bit much to have in the first week of school. My psychopharmacology class is really interesting too. I finally have the neuropsychology professor, despite being more than half way through my college experience. He's really enthusiastic about his field so it makes the class really interesting. Plus we're talking a bit about what I want to be going into so I'm really enthusiastic about it too. My favorite class so far is psychology of gender. It's basically the psychology of women but to be politically correct, that's what they call it. All we've gone over so far is stereotypes but there so much I want to know about the class that I take it all in. There are three guys in the class (they're the minority at the school anyway so this is actually a huge number) which should make for an interesting dynamic, but I think they're all soft spoken so it could end up being a huge disappointment. There are two classes I haven't had yet, well technically five but I only just signed up for two of them not for credit and one's a lab so I don't think they really count. But I'm looking forward to those too.

It's almost physical, the pain of writer's block. Trying to push through it. It's like ripping through scar tissue. You know that it shouldn't be there, you know it can only do harm to you in the long run. At the same time you know it needs to be taken out, removed, destroyed. Sometimes the only way to do it is to rip it out. It always makes a mess, and usually isn't terribly good at first. It tears at you, makes you writhe under the force it takes to remove it. However, unlike scar tissue, there is nothing you can take to dull the pain of ripping a new hole in your soul. It's a fresh wound, something new to speak from as the old one had dried up, hardened. You grimace as the first few lines of whatever dribble out. You know it's not up to standard, there's something slightly off about whatever it is you're writing about. You're never sure what but it's shaky or delicate, like if you look at it wrong, those lines will shatter. You're careful. It's a precious few lines of something new, something you've been craving to have for weeks now. It can't be likened to child birth. No, it's not quite as natural as that. Whereas the body is created to give birth and make way for new life, the soul is always hesitant to be exposed. The soul shies away from the rest of the world, hoping that it won't be embarrassed. Praying that it can withstand the pressures it is under. Wishing that it didn't have to live forever and bear the earth shattering conclusions it has come to in its owner's short life time. No, ripping holes to bear the soul cannot be natural. It is why there are so few writers in the world, so few artists. They've all suffered for their work. Perhaps it isn't so far off that writer's block is in fact a physical affliction. Or maybe, the affliction is the cure.

He looked around, breathing heavily. He had to get out. He needed to leave. But how? His eyes fell on his broom in the corner. His eyes darted about to see what he could grab. What he could take to keep what he needed. Most of the photographs were permanently stuck to the wall. He didn't have time to reverse those incantations. Not without drawing attention to himself. He stood in front of them, one last time, and sighed. They would never know about his home life and for that much he was glad. They knew it was bad, that was all they needed to know. That was all that concerned them. His family usually took great care to fix him up before he saw anyone so they didn't have any suspicions outside of heavy emotional abuse. He lifted his hand to his jaw and fingered the swelling around the gash that had been cast there. Grimacing slightly at the pain, he couldn't imagine what they would think if they saw him now.

He moved to his broom stick and threw open the only window in the room. It wasn't terribly large but it was just big enough that he could get out of it. He looked at the door one last time. Regulus. He should go to him. He should say goodbye. But he couldn't risk it. He couldn't risk leaving the room and being seen. He couldn't risk what could happen if they got a hold of him again. His stomach knotted once over in fear. He could practically see the look on his mother's face once again as she threw curse after curse at him. There was no anger, no sadness. The only emotion that existed there was glee. Pure, unadulterated glee. She enjoyed causing him pain at this point. He was a disgrace to her family's name, and she made sure he knew it every time he walked through that door.

His stomach dropped to the floor. He could hear footsteps coming toward his room. He couldn't tell who they belonged to in his panic. He didn't have time to wait anymore. He looked around what had been his bedroom for the past sixteen years one last time before shoving himself out the window, broom in hand. He headed for the only place he could think of, the Potters'. Moments later, Regulus stuck his head into his older brother's room.

"Sirius?" he whispered, not wanting his mother to hear him. But there was no answer, and there never would be again.

Right, so, as you all know I've been having a hell of a time writing. Even getting things out for my oldest characters has been trying and difficult so a lot of what's going to be written here for the next few weeks (until I get whatever's missing back) is going to be fictional unless otherwise noted. So no worrying, yeah? ♥

This thing has lodged a place in my soul
Stopping up everything dry
It aches and tears at all that's near
I've stopped trying to pry

I write and I yearn for release
Yet it seems the harder I try
The worse the pain and agony become
All the words I had have run dry

They say that it comes and goes
I fear it, and begin to cry
This thing it is wedged in deep
Won't be budged with any try

I write and I scribble and scratch
This well I have has run dry
My muses abandoned all of my work
I must sit, I am starting to cry