Inside the Mind of a Deranged Artist

( Pointless Scribble. )

I think it's just another of those inexplicably bum evenings. I don't even really know why. School's going alright, life's going alright, and no new grief's been kicked up in my face lately... but I still feel pretty out of my norm.

Why I equate myself to a dog so often, I don't know either. Maybe it's the name.

I'll eventually put up something happy here, promise.

... I really shouldn't come back to livejournal after long periods of absence for no reason beyond venting anxiety. I shouldn't. But I don't know where else to turn but the pseudo-anonymous empty journal.

I feel horrible in a lot of ways. My jaw's still got a dull ache from the wisdom tooth extraction on Friday. I'm still holding on to guilty sick feelings of being thrown under the bus by the girl from my last entry and completely alienated with passive-aggressive declarations of her wanting me "OUT of [her] life" and to "leave [her] the fuck alone" for good. I'm still trying to scrub the tears out of my eyes from a slip of the tongue that sent one of my best friends offline without a word of explanation, and prompted them to ignore and then hang up on my calls before finally talking about it again. I'm still choking down my father's lingering words at Mom the other night-- yeah, that whole "what we have is an ARRANGEMENT, not a relationship" shtick he didn't think I heard from the hallway bathroom... and I just...

I don't know. I feel inexplicably horrible, despite all the reassurance and thanks and random good happenings that probably should have balanced it all out. I know it will pass, but it feels like it can't.

How such minimal issues can be this devastating just proves what a petty and carefree life I have, huh.

I will get through this. I will get through this. I will get through this.

... I feel so fucking awful right now. I have to say it again. My next entry has to be better than this. It has to be. I can't let myself disconnect any more. It only feels like nothing is going correctly... right?

So okay, I flubbed up a bit and spaced out on the meme that I absolutely could not forget. @.@ U-uh, here's to hoping it's legal to backlog? How many days has it been now?

... Either way, I can still make a pretty decent list of the good.

For one, my sister got a puppy-- some scrawny neglect-case four week old mess of a pit bull boxer mutt thing she calls Bentley. When I first saw him, he was scrawny and a little lethargic, but oh my god so adorable with those pretty slate eyes and a black-tipped brown coat and bawww my inner girl melted at the sight of him. ;A; He's doing better now though, and my parents are letting her keep him. We're all shameless animal lovers on the inside-- even my dad.

I've tried taro root frozen yogurt, and it was actually good, which surprised me. I also had a cheesecake and strawberry filled crepe at the same place, which was excellent. I could only finish half of it before my stomach weaked out, but oh well!

School's been going fairly well, too; I have now very nearly completed a silicone and plaster mold of my head... which is actually a head creature from tampering, complete with dog paws, beaver-tail mullet-esque back attachment, and vestigial tentacle limbs. I can now throw two and a half pounds of clay on the ceramic wheels, despite the fact that I'm impatient when I wedge stuff and wind up with bubbles and centering issues, and I've successfully etched a professional print of Chuchu the rotting zombie deer for critique day.

... Only in my major is this par for the course, I swear.

I'm also going to the dentist in three weeks to get some cavities taken care of, which I'm going to count as a positive because... I've been fretting about the cost and having terrible anxiety issues over it for several weeks now (my teeth don't HURT, but I can see the indentations/enamel loss with a flashlight and they do need to be addressed) and my parents just told me to stop it, things will be taken care of, quit worrying about that when I called them in near-panic the other day.

Also, reading KHR this morning, I could only think OH MY GOD, THERE ARE RYOKA IN SOUL SOCIETY when I hit page nine, and had a horrible laugh. I'm too dinkish for my own good sometimes.

Of course, there's been a bit of bad along the way, too. I've had a little 'spat' (there was a lot of miscommunication and assumption involved, so I'm using this term loosely) with a Gaian work acquaintance who, post-fuss, has more or less turned me into the object of desperate avoidance and still has yet to stop hiding herself on AIM more than a week after the fact. Honestly, I'm pretty blown away with how immature and passive-aggressive she's turned about it all, but eh. If she's determined to burn that bridge and never have any form of reconciliation (or clarification) on things, I can't help that. I'll just have to swallow the bad taste in my mouth, keep going, and hope she doesn't wind up trying to assassinate my character by constantly spinning how I hurt her to others with such a victimized bias.

... But that's Gaia for you. You find people of all walks, and you deal with them. I still enjoy my idle time there and the busywork coloring gives me. So long as that's there, I'll keep going back.

I still wonder what happened to the old 'other half' of that duo sometimes, though. Whenever I see any flavor of Diet Snapple or hear Rush, I still think of her and wonder how she's doing.

I'll also be needing to head home early next week, because my mom needs to take my car on the highway for a little road trip to Kansas. From what she told me, my one sane, wonderful, adoringly sweet and spunky Aunt Angie (who's actually had a couple of "lumpectomies" in the last few years) has apparently been diagnosed with full-blown breast cancer-- in the early treatable stages, but... still, just that word remains scary when you hear it about family, anymore.

So I'll be getting up at 8 a.m. on Friday and booking it back to Tulsa. I can chill with the cats, bond/write with Pach and Kia, and maybe see Katie if I'm lucky and she's not dying of work.

That's about it-- what can I say?

Life happens.

... And geez, 21 in less than three weeks. Where does time run off to?

1. Post about something that made you happy today even if it's just a small thing.
2. Do this everyday for a week without fail.

... Today, I wrote a small description about a character suffering some mild trauma from a sudden stop in an airship.

I used the phrase 'just a good wang...' and got my friend to laugh inappropriately, only to make myself lose it as well when I continued on to rant that, dammit, IT IS POSSIBLE FOR ONE TO GET WANGED IN THE HEAD AND HAVE IT BE ENTIRELY NONSEXUAL.

I am dirty and rotten sometimes, but I think it makes life that much better.

Also, silicone caulking reeks of vinegar. I learned today (the hard way) that one should never lean in too closely when applying it to a positive clay mold, because, without a doubt, the smell will knock off your Birkenstocks and curl the nose hair you didn't know was even there.

It wasn't the best day ever in its latter portions, but hey, I've still got nothin' to complain over in the long run. Tomorrow should be full of ceramics (with a cut finger! 8D) and etching and all sorts of fun!

Ciaossu~

... Oh god, how many months has it been now? Who knows. I don't. I'm sure I could find out easily by checking the last date of my entry, but that's entirely irrelevant right now and really I'll just toss up a more coherent retrospect-on-summer post later.

I just wanted to do this. Because I saw it in Kia's journal and it begged me to have a go.

1. Post about something that made you happy today even if it's just a small thing.
2. Do this everyday for a week without fail.

... Today was a very cold fall day-- and by cold, I mean it was 63 degrees when I walked out this morning. With no time for a bath this morning (a normally integral part of my routine that warms me to the bone for some hours at least), I had a pretty nasty chill all the way to class, which was only made worse in first period (Ceramics 1) when my jeans were doused in cold clay slurry that WOULD NOT DRY. But I pulled two cylinders without trashing anything and went to Etching at 11:45 without a complaint.

It was still cold in there (a shocking surprise given that the classrooms are five feet from eachother) and I couldn't feel my hands or feet. I hated it. The cold was all I could think of while my professor-- a man who, by the way, is something like a gigglier, marginally thinner art-savvy version of Santa Claus with Birkenstocks-- gave us demos on inking our copper plates, and when all of that was over, I got to dump mine in the ferric chloride bath for an hour of line-biting and... do... absolutely nothing but sit and wait.

It wasn't a very pleasant wait at first. The metal tables were even colder than the air and it was impossible to draw comfortably. I doodled on Howard (... not a person, I swear) a little, but eventually asked if there was a thermostat to jack in the room. No cigar there-- but the useful part that came out of it?

'You could go hang in the silk screening room by the dryer box,' a girl suggested to me. The silk screening room is a smaller room attached to the etching room, and with a free hour to kill, I was all for it. So I went and sat by the giant metal hotbox for a bit, which was nice, because the air WAS a little warmer around it... and was suddenly hit by an epiphany.

'Hey', I asked my professor, 'could someone sit on top of that thing without breaking it?' He giggled at me (... no, seriously, this man GIGGLES) and said sure...

And thus, I found my mother of all Zen spots in the art building. I feel like a lizard with a sun lamp.

This thing is better than the buttwarmers in those fancy cars, seriously.

... This entry doesn't even have a point aside from rejoicing over that, and you know what? I think it's the best thing ever.

I'll probably start posting again, I think. School's pretty epic this year-- and almost ALL studio classes sans Art History III with a guy who recommends us at least 5 movies per night.

Peace and love, yo. Later.

... Funny, waking up this morning (well, afternoon), there was just something I had to add on top of this lovely FAILHEAP. You know, like the cherry on a sundae.

After personally making a point during yesterday's blowout when the subject of Xanga blogging was brought up that no, the Delete button was not a magical tool that would reverse what she wrote about us when she "was crying and slightly angry" (a quote taken directly from her Jan 18th entry post-realization that, ohae, the information had leaked), guess what happened?

The "mad" entry mysteriously disappeared.

Now, while this seems to completely defeat so many of our statements and appears to be an effort in backpedaling, whatever, I don't really care. If she wants to try and wipe it from the record so no one else ever gets ahold of it, so be it. I have a word document for posterity and future reference anyway.

But the kicker? The thing that REALLY made me want to stand up and PUNCH THE NEAREST KITTEN I COULD FIND?

(Of which, for the record, there were thankfully none present. Poor kittens didn't deserve that. :<)

Now there's a NEW entry on the journal she now KNOWS we have access to and HAVE REVIEWED ALREADY, consisting entirely of:

"Thursday, January 22, 2009
[Roomie's name clipped for anonymity] Shall...

keep her emotions to herself..."

...........

Okay, Trouble!Roomie? Honey? If, following our LONG WINDED DISCUSSION last night, this is truly what you got out of it, then... I give up. No, we weren't telling you to keep your "emotions" to yourself. We're telling you that you need to WORK on said emotions and that YOU QUITE POSSIBLY NEED TO GET PROFESSIONAL HELP FOR THEM, because they are obviously NOT in your control anymore.

Bottling them up?

Yeah, great idea there-- because that totally doesn't make for a wild psychotic breakdown later on.

... Were we talking to a brick wall that's really this thick?

REALLY?

I think this may be my official 'giving up' entry for this girl. You hear me, honey? You're free up to carry on with that adorable tragic heroine role, and if you want to pretend the three of us evil stepsisters are conspiring against you and want you to WITHDRAW FROM TEH WORLD and that you're just a damn victim who "doesn't understand" what she could have possibly done to earn these things, FUCKING HAVE AT IT.

But if you bring it up to me personally anymore, try to manipulate me in any way, shape or form, or even attempt any blatant dickery when I'm in earshot, I will call it to your attention as bluntly and straightforwardly as possible.

Breaking into a happier note, however...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KIAAAAAA! 8D I wanted to call you at Midnight last night to warble it through the phone, but then I remembered it was a school day and didn't know if you might be asleep already, ahahaha ;;;

TELL ME SOMETHING DO DRABBLE OR SCRIBBLE FOR YOU, PLEEEEASE?

So, tonight we finally wound up confronting Trouble!Roomie for real. The results of said confrontation were... interesting.

It was a lot less screamy and violent than I expected, actually; the girl in question was willing to sit down and managed to keep her tone of voice almost level throughout the exchange. We (as in myself and the other two sane girls in the house), in turn, managed to strip an impressive amount of would-be hissing out of our voices and conveyed most points in an informative fashion as questions were asked, but...

I don't know how I feel about any of it. A part of me is severely disturbed-- probably even moreso than I would've been had punches wound up getting thrown. Just... the look on her face, that false smile that I only saw fade when Amanda told her point-blank that she felt she needed help (as in, the psychiatric kind), the way she played off all of our points as equal fault while still managing to dodge any ACKNOWLEDGED personal blame is... agh. AGH AGH AGH.

My brain, it hurts.

Another odd point I had brought up to me after the fact was how she challenged my reasons far more than the other two's-- probably because she assumed I was spineless and would back down if "called out" on my word. Rather than that, however, I quite happily shot her own 'points' down and refused to retract even a single statement.

... Because, contrary to popular belief, I am capable of standing up for myself. :< There's a difference between being politely reserved and being a pussy, dammit, and I am most definitely NOT the latter in situations of epic dickery.

Once everything important had been said (including the fact that we can't live together after this semester), however, I promptly ducked out and slunk back to my room. To be perfectly honest, I didn't want to stay out and 'make up' or 'play nice' like what seemed to be happening with the diffusion gossip that had been started up. I wasn't in a mood to associate with her, period. I'm still not, and I may really never be.

I won't be making any improper stabs at her or going out of my way to alienate the girl-- but on the flipside, I outright refuse to choke down my feelings and associate with someone I'm genuinely NOT COMFORTABLE being around for the sake of cordiality either. That's called bullshitting, of which I have no desire to participate in. As it stands, the person I thought was my friend may have very well never existed from day one, and the woman I share my territory with is someone I'll merely be coexisting alongside (hopefully in peace) until the school year ends. That's about all I can say for it, really.

On the side of pros, however, I get to sleep in tonight-- which should be a relief after puttering through my whole hectic day on an hour and a half of sleep thanks to some migraine thing. Dreaming seems like it might be therapeutic, y'know?

... Though I'll sleep with the doors discretely locked from now on, I think.

Please, God, let this worthless drama just be over now so I can go back to a simple life of scribbles and typing again without stress.

Okay, okay, maybe it was my fault for checking Trouble!Roomie's Xanga dabbling again today in the slim hope that there'd be some post of sudden post-breakdown mental clarity, but...

"~~~~~*****UPDATE*****~~~~~
About an hour after i wrote the above weblog, I exited to find all of my roomates were gone. Like for the weekend. Locked their rooms and left. Without notice and without goodbyes. What wonderful people. At least they cleaned up their messes in the living room... OH WAIT they didn't. Thanks guys! Don't worry! I'll clean up the mess to make sure the bugs do not invade the apartment.... *le sigh* I guess now I have quiet to work on homework and lines... haha, yeah right..."

This is just another of those little stabs that sticks out at me in particular. Why, exactly?

Well, maybe it was the fact that Amanda and I made a conscious point of emptying the dishwasher, putting said dishes inside away, RELOADING the thing and disposing of the apartment's cumulative trash overflow before we hightailed it home... JUST SO SHE WOULDN'T HAVE ANY GROUNDS TO STAND ON FOR COMPLAINING THAT WE'D LEFT A MESS FOR HER TO CLEAN UP.

Just... jfkdasdfa seriously, this is... absolutely ridiculous. I'm at a loss.

WHERE IN THE WORLD IS SHE GETTING THIS STUFF FROM?

No, the living room was not particularly messy in any dramatic way, shape of form when we headed out-- and no, the apartment has no vermin, nor will it develop an infestation in our absence. We didn't leave any horrible messes to be dealt with, dammit, and I-- ... yep, still at a loss. Part of me is starting to think that she's just... creating some odd fantasy world in her brain and twisting reality to the point where she's this Cinderella-esque tragic heroine: always picked on, shat upon, hated and loathed by her MEAN MEAN ROOMIES STEPSISTERS.

I've just given up trying to apply logic and rationality to what's happening here and, though I really desperately want to believe the hope's still there for some magical epiphany when we force it to her attention this weekend, I severely doubt it's going to break that cleanly.

Having explained the situation as best I can to my mother today, she's told me to sleep with my bedroom door locked. :<

... Nn, geez, I just wasn't built for drama, I swear. My brain's too simple for this kind of ridiculous tail-chasing dizziness.

Sleep... seems good now.

And hoo boy, have I got some stories to tell.

So a lot has happened since my last entry-- the majority of which is, by and large, not altogether important. I managed to survive last semester with three A's and a B (ahaha WHOOPS NEGLECTED ESSAYS FOR HUMANITIES) to show for it, and this next term has loaded me with an unimpressive 12 hours of joy composed from the following:

Fundamentals of Speech
Political Science (... or something similar, I fail sob)
Intro to Business
... Aaand the important one to clench my final core before I move on to upper tier art classes, of course: Sophomore Portfolio.

I've already survived one week of said classes and, to be perfectly honest, I don't feel like any of them will be too terrible. S.P. is a little more cut and dry than I was hoping for (it's centered more on the technical aspects of creating an artist's statement and arranging pieces properly than actually MAKING stuff), though the professor seems nice enough. My Politics professor is a 38 year old man who I swear to god doesn't look a day over 25, has something like three Masters' degrees, and will be testing for his fourth degree black belt this year. His teaching style is... interesting, but engaging, and the fact that my class has a fair lot of witty smartasses present has made it all the more entertaining.

I think I may wind up liking it more than initially anticipated.

Christmas was more or less an orgy of fuzzy socks and bath robes and warm sweaters on my end, and generally awesome. I also had the joyous opportunity to hang out with J.P. for a full day on the tail end of my break, and... a-ahaha, god, it's almost pathetic that I'm a solid six years in and still head over heels.

... B-But we went out to a pizza place for dinner and I tried to look nice and put on my amber perfume from Grandma and he really liked my pinstripe vest and jklfsdajfasdfa *ENOUGH OF THIS NOW, ONWARD, TO OTHER THINGS!*

I think I'm a hopeless bleeding heart inside, really.

I'm home for the moment though and enjoying a night with the pets, siblings and parents, which has been particularly nice considering that I've just recently found out one darling roomie of mine might possibly be STARK RAVING PSYCHOTIC.

... No, really. I wish I was kidding with this shit.

To be honest, I'm... mixed about the whole thing. I never held it against her that she was bi-polar, and last year she was completely pleasant and sane and nice so far as I knew, but... well, having been linked to a recent Xanga entry she wrote on events tonight, I... don't really know what I should be thinking anymore.

An excerpt from said entry concerning myself personally:

"I haven't figured out what I did, yet, to make everyone suddenly hate me. I have no idea still who stabbed my tires. I don't know why my roomates hate me. The only thing I can think of is that Kaly still holds a grudge cause i was loud and up late a couple of nights last semester. But I would like to point out she could've told me while i was being loud to keep it quiet as opposed to telling me the day afterward. How do you know when a hermit is trying to sleep when it is always in its shell?

... Y-You know, hearing this from someone you've never once spoken to maliciously and thought you had a pleasant acquaintanceship with is kind of disturbing.

I can't even get into the rest of the entry this was taken from, but it's just generally been unfortunate, and I think all four of us are going to have to sit down and... talk... when we're back at the apartment together. I'm not certain if this girl is just feeling stressed and trying to paint herself in a victimized role for some sort of comfort or if she really thinks the rest of us have done nothing but pick on and belittle her for months on end, but... the rift between reality and her point of view is seriously starting to freak me out.

And then of course I flipped back and made the mistake of rifling through some earlier public entries to find things like:

"I might actually have actually snapped this evening...

I got so frustrated with people being frustrated with other people that i literally slapped myself as hard as i could across my face and then proceeded to hit myself in the head with a metal pan cover as hard as i could. The weird thing is it felt good. I had all these wonderful thoughts on other ways I could mutitlate myself in honor of removing adversity. To stop my roomates from fighting i felt that i needed to place all the blame on myself. All the hate oon myself to make everyone happier... I thne felt the need to leave in the hopes of gaining more pain in the hopes of getting more hurt so others would feel better. It literally took a couple of minutes before my saneness kicked in and logic kicked me in the ass saying something along the lines of "hurting yourself won't stop others from hurting others." I just feel so self-sacrificing sometimes. Like I need to chastise myself and hurt myself so others feel better. Like i need to take on other peoples problems so they feel better. Ugh. I'm mental... I care too much for my own good. Why do I care so much? How is it possible for me to love everyone and everything so much I would hurt myself to bring them joy? I am not telling Brandon this. He'd think me crazy. Wait, he prolly already does. Well, I am. My head hurts."

The person I thought I knew since last year is starting to freak me out. There's something horribly NOT RIGHT about the way this is paralleling with my own recollection of all entry-related events a-and...

Yeah, it's kind of brain breaking. The more I find out, the more unsettled I get.

I really... don't know what to do about it. This is my first real encounter with a falsely infallible and quite possibly perpetually HALLUCINATING obsessively self-martyring manic depressant boy obsessed and emotionally defunct roomie.

Tell me there's a book in the For Dummies series for this? Anyone? Please?...

... Ahahaha I took generic NyQuil at 6 a.m. and it's STILL IN MY SYSTEM WHEEEEE

And I still hurt. And I can't stop coughing. Throat gunk expulsion has only been marginally successful. I just took more drugs and in about 20 minutes I'll probably be passing out again when they start to maul my system. I'm not sure if the drowsiness is a blessing or a curse, at this point.

God I'm at the wit's end of my wit's end. My attempts at enjoying solid food last night were foiled by the coughretching (as mentioned in the previous post) and I desperately want something that ISN'T 99% liquid to eat, except that... hell, I don't even know. Appetite's nonexistent across the board.

IF THIS ISN'T STREP THAN WHAT THE HELL IS IT AND WHY AM I NOT GETTING BETTER. *SOB*

Think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts, think happy-- ...

... Lolol NyQuil's starting to kick in again WHEEEEEEEEEE~

... J-Just hit a big milestone on the sickie scale and coughretchhacked so bad that I threw up, and now I can't get back to sleep.

It's a quarter to 4 a.m. and I want to bawl my eyes out in frustration.

How long has it been now, a damn WEEK? It feels like a week. I shouldn't be ill for a week without getting significantly better and my throat still feels like shit unless I'm heavily drugged. I really really REALLY want to be a wuss and go crawl into my parents' room to beg for Mom to wake up just so I can get a hug or something so I don't melt down, but... yeah, that's a no go. You're 20 now, Kaly, gotta act at least a little mature.

But hey, if nothing else... thank god I'm home. I couldn't imagine going through this up in the apartment. My poor roomies... that wouldn't be fair to them. Hell, it isn't even fair to the people down here.

I admit it, though; I'm starting to get really depressed about this whole damn thing, if only because it feels like I haven't really taken any steps in the right direction. My voice is completely shot, too, and I can barely speak at all, let alone have other people HEAR me.

... If I can just hold out three more hours, I'll be free to take some NyQuil and maybe THEN I'll be able to sleep a bit. Sigh.

I'd kill for some Happy right now.

... O-okay, please, for the love of god MAKE THE COUGHING STOP.

Really, pleasepleaseplease. I'll even beg and grovel, just make it stop long enough for me to go to sleep already. It's gotten worse and I can't clear my throat properly to try and dislodge the gritty SLUDGE triggering it and it's so hard that my gag reflex gets triggered every time which hurts like fucking HELL and...

Yeah, I'm about ready to be though with this. It hurts and it sucks and I want to sleep and I can't. I'd probably cry right now if I weren't drychokeretching in bed so badly. Thank god my stomach hasn't pitched anything up, at least.

... Really, would it have been to hard to ask the roomies to buy me Nyquil last time they were out, brain?

...........

....

.........

Apparently so.

... T-That's it, I give up. I'm hitchhiking home with Padre tomorrow when he gets off work and spending THE REST OF THE WEEKEND AT HOME TO BE SICK IN MY OWN BED. ;____;

.........

Yeah, the flu/strep/tonsillitis/whateverthehell bug has beaten my scrawny butt raw, haggard, exhausted, tired, BRAINDEAD and so forth. I'm tired and congested and I stayed up hacking all last night and my muscles hurt from the constant coughing and jflkdasflja LET THIS BE OVER PLEASE GOD. ISN'T COLD SEASON ENOUGH ALREADY?!

... I can't believe this stupid thing's actually managed to take me out for a whole WEEK of school.

How pathetic am I? :< *SNIFFWHEEZEHACK*

I WANT MY SPEAKING ABILITY BACK. And oh god I hope I haven't already infected two of the other roomies. FIGHT IT, SARAH, AMANDA, DON'T LET IT CONSUME YOOOOOOU~~~

S-Shutting up now, really. I have nothing more coherent to say.

... Yeeep, Hanny's a SICK LITTLE PUPPY AFTER ALL.

Whether or not I actually contracted strep throat remains to be confirmed since I didn't get a swab culture test, but I DID see one of the campus doctors down at the Health Center, and with all my symptoms, he told me he was more or less sure I had it anyway-- which led to a nice prescription of some generic drugs (... Cephalaxin's the name, I think?) which I'm on for ten days now. But the biggest joy of all?

The meds kill the bacteria, but they don't do jack for the symptoms themselves-- so I'm stuck riding out the misery for at least a couple of days before it actually starts to clear up. Still, the chills already have gotten a little better since yesterday and I think a side dose of ibuprofen's kicked my fever, which is good. After my exam yesterday, I skipped Art History and.. yeah, today class was a definite no-no, too, seeing as I can still barely get out of bed to limp around my apartment after SLEEPING A SOLID 16-18 HOURS SINCE YESTERDAY.

... No, really. ;_; After I got home from the health center at about 4 yesterday, I took a bath, crawled into bed, and slept until about... 10:30 off and on, stayed up 'til midnight, crashed AGAIN, and woke up at NOON because one of my roomies knocked on the door to ask if I wanted some soup for lunch.

*SOB* I'M SO WELL TAKEN CARE OF BUT I STILL FEEL LIKE FAAAAAAIL~

B-But anyway, digressing from that, I think I'm gonna most likely be skipping tomorrow, too, because... yeah, this sucks and I'd rather not die on my feet trying to get to Art History... or get anyone else sick. Hopefully by Thursday I should be back in some semblance of working order and... well, if my symptoms aren't clearing up by the time my meds are through, then it's probably Mono (so said the doctor), which I am NOT GOING TO EVEN ENTERTAIN THE THOUGHT OF, NOPE. 8D

*coughcough* So that's how I've been the past couple of days!

I WILL SURVIIIIIIIVE I hope

I went to bed with a sore throat last night and woke up at 5 a.m this morning.

... WITH THE SAME SORE THROAT. AND IN TEARS BECAUSE SAID THROAT HURT SO BAD.

........ AND I'M 90% SURE THAT I HAVE STREP NOW AND I'VE GOT A PHYSICAL SCIENCE EXAM IN 45 MINUTES SOB.

I-I'm going to brave the test, but dammit, I'm not even making myself sit through Art History afterward. I want to crawl home and make a beeline for the Wellness Center and maybe a doctor to STOP THIS INCREDIBLE SUCK AND FAIL AND OW.

Yeah, great reason for a journal update out of the blue, isn't it? I< *SOBCRAIKILLMENAO*

God I hope I have enough money to pay for a doctor's office visit if I need it. ;_; I called my mom in tears when I came to this morning and, if push comes to shove, I may just... skip class and crawl home for a day or two.

SICK SUCKS OKAY.

Okay I STILL never figured out that whole crying on the birthday thing BUT I HAVE COME UP WITH AN EXCELLENT EXCUSE FOR IT.

... It was the realization that I'm officially halfway to the obligatory midlife crisis age. Yep. YAY TWENTY.

Still, I'm feeling much better and punting myself into LJ again-- courage/backbone/ability to speak to people I desperately want to talk with again is still at 0%, but I'm... er, gonna try and work on it. Because dammit, I can't be afraid of being a pest forever. AND I MISS THEM. ;_;

Sooo anyways, back on the subject of life and the like, last night someone in a white truck hit a power pole down the street and knocked out the apartment's electricity for several hours. It was bad enough that I heard the 'CRUNCH' of the impact (yeah, it was that close) and was then informed that a TREE had caught on fire because said truck EXPLODED OR SOMETHING... but then, of course, every dullwit in the entire complex had to start running around and SCREAMING outside like chickens with their heads hacked off. Yeah, because no electricity for a little while means that OH GOD THE SKY IS FALLING.

GOOD JOB GUYS. I<

But eh, I digress there. Being a young hippie and all, naturally I had a small army of candles sitting around to light the apartment with (mmm lavender/patchouli/jasmine) and before we'd ever gotten home to deal with THAT epic fun, the roomies dragged me out to some strange art-block in Oklahoma City called The Paseo. It was... strange. A little unsettling in places (so many people at night in a foreign place D: ) but I was in a group, so it was okay. We stopped by the bookstore on the way there, too, where I picked up D. Gray-Man Volume 10 and Katekyo Hitman Reborn 8.

... Yeah I read them online and don't own any other volumes in official format like that BUT DAMMIT I WANNA DRAW IN THE STYLE MORE AND IT'S SO MUCH EASIER TO SKETCH WITH SOMETHING =LITERALLY= IN HAND. ;w;

Good lord though, seeing KHR and DGM that far back is like... creepily nostalgic. BOTH THEIR STYLES ARE SO MUCH MORE ADVANCED NOW WTF. And the translations, good lord, I can't even get INTO those. THEY SOUND SO WEIRD. D: ... *has gotten way too used to the Japanese naming/speaking systems in those for anything else to sound right*

So this post has really been a lot of rambling about nothing b-but that's just life SO I CLOSE IT NOW WITHOUT FURTHER CAPS ABUSE 'KAY.

C-Ciaossu, all ;;;

So I'm 20 today, though it's been kind of a strange and uneventful thing altogether. The girls and I all had class at skewed times of day, so we're going to just... try and go to dinner tomorrow at my treating from Mother. I'm sure it'll be fun.

I managed to score high A's on both tests I received back in Humanities and Physical Science today, which was... nice enough. My Humanities essay on Classical Greek Influence got full credit and no markdowns, and I didn't accidently sleep through my alarm clock at 6 a.m. like I feared I would.

Katie called me at midnight exactly (to the minute, I'm not kidding) to wish me a happy birthday, which damn near brought tears to my eyes. And then of course when I started talking to my mom 30 minutes ago after finally realizing what I wanted (... presents are a little selfish I know but I really DESPERATELY want an electric blanket or heating pad-- just jkfladsf ANYTHING TO JOG MY CIRCULATION WHEN I LOSE IT PLEASE ;_; ), I started to sniffle a bit and wound up sitting there on the bed with tears streaming down my face. They still haven't stopped yet, and the stupid thing?

I don't even know why I'm crying.

There's not a reason for it. I'm not PMSing, I don't really have anything depressing or horrible in my life to be causing it, but... I don't know. It's inexplicable and illogical and pretty damned stupid. I'm frustrated by my lack of control and ability to justify it.

... And my stupid hands and feet still haven't gotten the feeling back. AGAIN.

klfdskjakkafsl I should be more cheerful than this. Really I should.

Maybe a hot bath will de-numb me before bed.

... Okay, so I've been neglecting the journal among other things. I should at least post a little update on life to cover the past few weeks.

In short:

I'm back at college, three weeks into classes now. Waking up at 6 a.m. for an 8 a.m. lecture four days of the weeks is killing me slowly.
I'm in an apartment now just a few blocks off campus. Pallas and Amanda are my roomies. Sarah (new girl, but awesome) is our fourth. We each have our own bedroom and bathroom, plus a communal kitchen and living area.
I have my driver's license now, and a car. She's a gray (blue-ish gray?) '06 Taurus and her name is Marigold. I love her dearly liekwhoa.

... And to top it off, I'm sick. Or I feel sick. I don't know which it is, but last night I hit the exhaustion wall at about 9 p.m., fell asleep before 10, and when my alarm went off at six, I felt queazy enough to just shut it up, roll over, and go back to sleep again.

I proceeded to miss my first class of the year (which attendance doesn't count for thankfully) and sleep until 10-ish, and have since been a vegetable. Only within the last hour did I cram some macaroni down my throat as the first meal of the day, but my hands have yet to stop shaking and my head is still aching.

... Oh, and It's three weeks until my birthday.

I'll be 20. Yeah, finally not a teen anymore soon.

... ..... ............ Life's going by faster than I can keep up with sometimes, ugh. And where's it all heading, anyway?

I really, really don't wanna go to philosophy in a couple of hours. Not if I'm feeling like this, uuuurgh.

And an edit, because... hell, I dunno.

Maybe I need it.

I feel like I'm losing people again. Or maybe failing at something I don't want to admit to. It feels like all I have left is one hand to cling to, and the others have all walked away. And the more desperate I get to reach out and try grabbing someone, and the more weeks that drag by, the more I worry that I've just become a pain and I'll never see them again.

.... jklfjsaljfa I need to stop freaking myself out.

It's probably the sick thing or the PMS again. I always get lonely and down on myself right before the ovaries declare war. *sigh*

... I'm in a weird place right now, but I'm not sure where that place is.

I've been incredibly productive with my digital art lately, but something feel's kind of... off. I'm missing people like crazy and yet stricken by that stupid compulsive fear of bothering them, so by the time I finish typing 'hello' in my chat window... I've lost the gall to press Send. It's funny, and a little stupid, and horribly illogical-- and here I am calmly analyzing my own stupidity at 4:41 a.m.

The logical part of my brain is really wondering what the hell the rest of me is doing.

........ Maybe I need to sleep. My brain seems to get neurotic when it's pushed to the limits of exhaustion constantly.

I want to hear some familiar voices again. Crickets and mockingbirds don't make for the warmest company.

... Ever have one of those days when you could just curl up in a hole and never see the sun again?

Or hell, even a half day-- or a fucking hour, or a moment. It's just... one of those. Or something.

Thanks, Dad, for giving me the kindly inclination to break down sobbing in the car while we're on the road. Thanks for making me shake for a good 30 minutes straight and lay there with my head between my knees in the grocery store parking lot, debating whether or not it's better to pray you get back faster so we can get the hell HOME or if I'm better off willing you away for longer just to catch my breath so I'm not quite as hysteric on the way back.

... Thanks for listening to me when I warn you that can't back out of the driveway by myself yet and then blowing up when, surprise, after you refuse to let me turn around and force it anyway, I miss the right angle a little. Because a curved inclining hill which turns INTO A curved inclining hill is JUST LIKE PULLING OUT OF A PARKING SPACE and I REALLY have enough experience to do it without batting a lash.

Thanks for yelling at me when I don't see the bank, and when I go five under the speed limit because I'm still terrified of driving a god damn several ton hunk of metal-- and thanks again for getting even worse when I speed up and you lecture me that I'm suddenly too fast.

Did you ever stop to think that I might be messing up because you're making me a nervous wreck?

... And please, please, for the love of god... don't get so pissed at me when I beg you to give me street by street directions. I'm scared to death of everything out there; all I'm ever focussing on right now is being technically sound and, no matter how HARD I try (and I ALWAYS try, regardless of what you seem to think), I can't form a map in my head. I just... I can't. My brain doesn't multitask and I have absolutely no sense of direction. Saying "I'll let you figure the turns out yourself" when there's a turn-in coming up that I don't know is there/coming up and then getting livid in that silent, jaw-muscle-clenching-and-quivering 'I could explode at any moment and inevitably will' way just... just...

I don't want to do this anymore. I just don't.