A bland update on a bland weekend.

It’s been another long week, but it’s over, and the less said on it, the better. Except for the fact that Mae is sick and didn’t get the Sophomore Advisor spot, which means she’s feeling miserable and second-guessing herself left and right. She’s also avoiding me, because I threatened to straight-jacket her ass into a hospital if she’s still sick today. Or to call her mother. I’m just trying to pass chemistry, understand Calculus, run my three pages of the newspaper, and get a little sleep–and in that order, it seems.

Mae and I didn’t go to the formal last night. Her stomach virus was still hitting her full force, and I was just tired and turning my frustrations with the newspaper around and around in my head, mentally trying different solutions and ultimately rejecting them. I made sure she was in bed with phone numbers for my cell and the Thorn office, then headed down to the Thorn office to do chemistry and brainstorm ways to fix my current dilemma with the newspaper.

I was woken up this morning by my mother calling me. This was good, since it was 08:30, and I’d wanted to get up at 05:00. Few hours difference there. She expressed worry over my mental state, but who the hell sounds any kind of decent right out of bed? Morning breath, full bladder, hunger, fatigue, and worry over the rapidly disappearing weekend hours do not make for good morning chatter. I love her anyway, though, because she and the Old Man sent money. (Yeah, yeah, I know I complain when they send money normally, but we’re talking “bank accounts about to be suspended” kind of broke here, lately.)

Continue reading A bland update on a bland weekend.

So I’m probably the caboose of this train, but…

This “Three Questions” bit that’s been going around is interesting. I’m not sure how much response I’ll get, but I’ll open it here. Three questions, anything you want. I reserve the right to not answer if the question could get me or someone else in a world of hurt or trouble, but other than that, it’s all fair game. Whatever you want to know.

And don’t be afeared to stick your name on the comments. I don’t bite.

Continue reading So I’m probably the caboose of this train, but…

Smile. It’s good for you.

So… I’m feeling better. The mental/emotional boat is rockin’ a lot less severely, even if the anxiety and jumpiness haven’t completely abated. And I’m keeping food down again, which is always a plus. (Particularly after a two-day stint without…)

I pulled something of a preemptive strike on my chemistry prof and e-mailed him Sunday night to tell him I knew I bombed another exam, that I would be willing to take a (non-credit) exam in a week or two to show that I can, in fact, master this material, and that Dr. M is helping me understand things. Hideous as this sounds, the good news is that about half the class failed. My second, crippling fear (after my grade for the course, bien sûr) was that I would be the only one to fail (I was the only one on the first exam). However, now Dr. J is frustrated that he isn’t able to adapt his teaching to our (lack of) learning, and we are frustrated (me to tears) that we can’t get what should be simple. It’s a damn general chemistry course. I don’t know about anyone else, but I just need a good algorithm–I understand the concepts, and how the equilibrium moves with the addition of constituents, but damned if I know where to start working the math of the situation. So there’s my goal for the week. Plus understanding this thermochemistry stuff before I get completely befuddled.

My mother called this afternoon, which had me worried all over again. If she had just waited for another couple of days, I could have played nice on the phone and smoothed things over, but I was busy, and in the middle of something. I was probably a bit terse as I explained they needed to call my cell phone to get in touch with me since I’ve moved into the Thorn office, that one of my classes wasn’t going so well, and that, sure, she could fly up here to be a passenger on the trip back to Charlotte, as long as she doesn’t bring Ali–I’ve got enough shit to fill up my trunk and back seat, easily. She ended the conversation with, “Well, since you’re so busy, I’ll let you go…” which does not bode well for a lack of concern on her part, which will spread to my father when he gets the money I sent back in the mail. My anxiety is not supposed to be contagious.

I don’t know if I look frazzled or bitchy (probably the latter, alas), but people are treating me with kid gloves, and it’s a weird feeling. I expected to have my throat slit twice over an editorial choice I made last week in the paper; I spoke directly with the more… aggressive… of my two potential attackers earlier today, and she said naught on the subject. I suspect attacks are being fielded, though. Bridget just gives me these looks (of the pitying sort) every time I see her that make me wonder if I look like I’m ill or something. It doesn’t help that I can’t really explain why I’ve left when she hints about it–I’m the one being the weird, whacko bitch right now, not her, so there’s no point in bringing my problems out to bother her, and it would serve no purpose other than to make her feel bad.

Continue reading Smile. It’s good for you.

Needing a weekend from my weekend.

I don’t know what is wrong me right now, but I am a mess, and it needs to stop. I’ve been crying all weekend randomly, my stomach is is knots and is completely refusing to hold anything I put in it, and I am so tired.

A week in review: Last Sunday, I got news that two of my bestest friends ended their four-year relationship. Four damned years. Talking on the phone with one of them that night didn’t alleviate my fears of something drastic happening when I could do absol-fucking-lutely nothing about it. Not that it was anything that was said, but four-year relationships can hardly be ended without a great deal of pain, and I worry. So that started anxiety (nightmares and sleepless nights) about possible suicides or violent crimes or any other variety of things that haven’t seemed to have happened.

Monday thru Wednesday, I worked on a take-home midterm for my databases class that was very frustrating. We have barely done any practice on the concepts we’ve covered, have no idea where to find practice for the things we’ve been talking about, and then bam, here’s a ridiculous midterm. So come Thursday, I opened discussion on the exam in class and let him know exactly what I thought of it. I despise anonymous feedback–I know I talk and write in a particular way, and I suspect my feedback is hardly ever anonymous to the prof who reads it, so I have no problem going ahead and signing my name on it, or just talking face to face about it. I wasn’t… mean, per se, but the failings in the way the class was structured became very apparent in taking the exam. All I wanted was for him to provide some ways for those of us that care to practice–there’s no need to go through the rigamarole of assigning homework and grading it, but something would be nice, because we don’t even know where to start. Although I suspect he will be lenient in grading, the entire situation was frustrating, because our only opportunity to really bring the grade up will be on the final, and I still need to learn the first half of the term’s material, in addition to the second half, of course, before I take the final. So that’s frustrating, because I really fucked myself over this term in a class that I wanted to go so well.

Wednesday I got some bad, and potentially horrific, news about a friend’s health. Insert anxiety (see above about nightmares, etc.) about various possible maladies. I don’t think I will be fully reassured until I hear about test results.

Continue reading Needing a weekend from my weekend.

taking joy in human unreason