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It's been raining off and on all day. Not fifteen minutes ago the sun came out and almost the entire sky was clear...but now it's raining again. Silly weather.

Of course, I shouldn't be observing the weather right now; I should be in class. But when I got up this morning I discovered those beta-blockers had made me Weak and Dizzy in the Extreme, and leaving the house without an arm to lean on didn't seem like a great idea. Cue guilt feelings, of course, since I haven't been to class all week what with all the running around going to doctors and shit. And it turns out Dramamine alleviates the dizziness somewhat, but I didn't think to take any until it was too late to make it to more than the last few minutes of my last class. Feh.

*attempts to nap* *fails utterly* *curls up on couch with MCB textbook in a desperate attempt to feel somewhat productive*

Oh look, the sun's out again.
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A small but significant piece of good news: I seem to have finally found a doctor who agrees that my frequent (over the past week, nearly constant) episodes of ventricular bigeminy, despite not being symptomatic of severe heart disease, are still unpleasant enough that I shouldn't have to fricking put up with them. I now get to take beta-blockers, and I can also go back to the corticosteroids that I'd quit taking because I feared they were what was making the arrhythmia suddenly so much worse. Unfortunately, it'll be a while before they can do any good, because my nose is going to be more blocked up than ever for the next few days, or maybe even the next couple of weeks, as a temporary result of the procedure I just had done that's supposed to un-block it in the long run.

Why, oh why, didn't I get any of these things done years ago?

Update

Feb. 25th, 2004 01:38 pm
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I'm a little saner now. The phone's finally working again and I've made good use of it; I've still got work piling up that I'm in no condition to do, as I'm still not getting decent sleep and I'm now having problems with arrhythmia on top of that, but at the moment I seem to be done panicking about it, or at least to be in a momentarily quiet space between panics. And the interpersonal drama I vaguely hinted at seems to have concluded; I'm still reeling from it and will probably never completely get over it, but as there's nothing more to be done about it I can at least begin to get as much over it as I'm ever going to.

Thanks to everyone who expressed sympathy. Mucho hugs to [livejournal.com profile] emmett_the_sane for being there during the panicky bits and to [livejournal.com profile] deyo for providing a shoulder to cry on afterwards.
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I've got work piling up on me, I'm feeling too lousy physically to get it done, my emotional state is fragile as all hell and has already taken some hard knocks, I've got a half-dozen calls I've got to make...

and the bloody phone's gone dead.

I can't take this. I don't even have the energy to scream.
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A friend of mine is in search of published research results suggesting a biological basis for homosexuality, and so far hasn't had much luck finding them amidst all the opinion articles and whatnot. Does anyone happen to know where some reasonably hard facts can be found?
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(actually, that applies to more people than each of those people probably thinks it does)

[livejournal.com profile] capnkjb witnessed an interesting marriage proposal the other day. Apparently I'm not the only one who's lately come to associate dating inextricably with Boggle.
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I've just remembered something rather amusing in the midst of my lack of productivity. Yesterday some guy from the Tribune, I think, came to photograph our choir rehearsal (he arrived just as we'd finished and so we had to break the music out again so he could catch us singing.) Afterward he got our names, presumably so he could label the picture--though he's not going to have much luck at that since some of us had left during the intervening minutes--and jotted down a few words next to each name so he'd remember who was who. Next to mine he wrote "all black."

Hee.

(He's lucky he didn't photograph us during a performance, when we all dress like that.)
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Ordinarily I'd be on my way to the Plough right about now, but after spending the day at home I don't feel much like shoving myself out the door somehow. The rain probably doesn't help; not only is it cold and wet outside, but my energy level is way down. Besides, if I stay home I might actually get a little more work done, and I might actually get to bed at a fairly reasonable hour and thus be able to get up in time for class tomorrow.

Yeah, I'll just keep telling myself that. Sheesh, it's not as though I have some kind of moral obligation to go out. It really is better from a practical standpoint that I don't. I just seem to get these ridiculous guilt feelings every time I pass up an opportunity to be social. I think it's a lingering reaction to the depression: I fear every time I don't do something to cheer myself up (whether or not I happen to need cheering up) that I will immediately become monstrously depressed, even though that hardly ever happens any more.

Then again, in this case a little bit of the guilt is probably justified, as I doubt I'll be nearly as productive sitting here as I ought to be and that makes me feel like I'm wasting a perfectly good bit of self-sacrifice. But I'll get to sleep earlier. Really I will. And that is important. I just need to remember that.
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I had a rather odd dream last night that I wouldn't have remembered if some guy hadn't gotten on the bus with a skateboard earlier this afternoon. I tried skateboarding maybe once when I was a kid, and found it kind of scary, and never really tried it again. I still find the idea kind of scary as I don't seem to have terribly good balance. But in this dream, some friend or other had given me a skateboard and I was zooming around on it, and found it was wonderfully easy. This one was wider and a bit longer than a normal skateboard, but incredibly maneuverable; it seemed like I only had to shift my weight the tiniest bit for it to go in exactly the direction I wanted, and it took corners in a way it couldn't possibly have done in reality.

Now, I'd really like to think this dream was a metaphor for something, as I certainly haven't been thinking about skateboarding at all lately and I still don't plan to. But a metaphor for what, I just don't know.
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(from [livejournal.com profile] tshuma and [livejournal.com profile] noirem)

What song, if any, reminds you of me?

*Put this in your journal too. The answers might surprise you*
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Is it just me, or does "shibboleth" sound like a word that really ought to have been coined by H.P. Lovecraft?
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Cuddling is a goodness. Touching in general is a goodness. Geographical limitations are distinctly not a goodness.

Clearly the government should be taking all that money that we know is being wasted on the military and using it to fund research into more efficient methods of transportation instead. Like teleportation. Somehow I think that'd help a lot of us polyfolk out.
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(courtesy of [livejournal.com profile] cyan_blue)

Nickname in high school?

Didn't really have a consistent one. I did have one friend who nicknamed all the members of our little group after Mortal Kombat characters. I was Sindel; I'm sure anyone who's played the game and has met my Attack Hair(TM) can easily see why. And I had another friend who gave all the members of a different little group Latin names. Mine was Lupa Mirabilis ("strange she-wolf," according to him, though I get a lot of people interpreting it differently), and I used it as an online handle for years, though I've moved away from it lately.

Sport you were into?

Eh, badminton was kinda fun, but I took gym class no longer than I had to. I did spend a year or two taking archery lessons at a range over in the next county, though. That was serious fun, but expensive at times.

Had a circle of friends?

Several, and they shifted over the years. To some extent I stuck with my best friend from junior high and the circle that formed around her (and the other circle that formed around her later, before the first circle sort of re-formed again), but I did drift away a bit during freshman year to hang out with some of the guys from band and science club (one of whom I admittedly had a crush on, but crush or no crush he was one of the most entertaining people I've ever known), and toward the end of senior year, when my best friend and I were starting to drift apart anyway, the folks from that year's Academic Decathlon team started hanging out together a lot, and they were mostly guys so I felt more comfortable among them. Both that group and the original circle remained in contact after graduation and still get together during summer and winter breaks (or at least they still did two years ago, which was the last time I had a chance to visit the old hometown myself.)

Best subject?

Math and French. Straight A's in both without even trying, at least until calculus whapped me upside the head.

Worst subject?

History. I can never remember dates unless they're dates of things that happened to me or someone close to me. That was the problem I had with history in general; all these events we had to learn about were too impersonal to get any kind of foothold in my brain. If only history classes were taught from a perspective of "this is what it was like to be Joe Schmoe living in country X in the Yth century," like for example if the textbooks were all works of historical fiction, then I'd enjoy history a lot more.

Perhaps there should be a third category here: Worst Subject that Should've Been My Best. I did excellent work in my English classes but almost failed one semester every single year because I didn't actually bother to do the work half the time. Just couldn't get into it for whatever reason. Fortunately all my teachers either handed out extra credit assignments toward the end of the year or let me make up work they weren't strictly supposed to let me make up, and I pulled off B's and even A's in the end.

A teacher you owe life lessons to?

Don't know if I can chalk up any life lessons to my teachers, really, except perhaps for a few "life's not fair" lessons. I had some really good teachers, but they didn't teach me Profound Things, they just were generally cool. I think the serious life lessons didn't start to hit me until college, and even then I owe them more to friends than teachers.

A teacher you wanna kick in the ass?

Well, my AcaDec coach was aggravating to deal with plenty of times, enough so that we got into a yelling fight at one point. Then there was the guidance counselor with whom I also got into a yelling fight (some people turn out to be assholes at the oddest moments.) And of course there was my biology teacher, who would mis-grade papers because he was lousy at math and then refuse to re-grade them. I was late to my next class countless times because I'd stayed after to argue with him, the most memorable occasion being when I discovered a puzzle he'd posed on an exam actually had two correct answers--and he marked me down for putting down both of them. I never did get him to see the illogic in that.

Oddly enough, though, it seemed that for the most part the teachers who annoyed the living hell out of me were among the ones who had the greatest respect for me as a student.

Freshman year:

Much like junior high, only with a bit less mockery and a few more happy memories.

Sophomore year:

Much like freshman year, only with heavier coursework.

Junior year:

This was the year things started happening for me socially. I discovered the goth crowd and, later, the gamer geeks, and more importantly, guys finally started to take an interest in me. The degree to which I blossomed as a result of that was just phenomenal. My stepmom worst enemy moving out of the house was no bad thing either; pity it was only till I graduated.

Oh, and that was also the year I realized that not being a Kinsey 3 (though I wasn't familiar with the Kinsey scale at the time) didn't mean I wasn't into girls at all.

Senior year:

This year I finally found my real niche among the aforementioned geeks and AcaDec folks; somehow I feel this was when I found myself in some important sense, or at least began to. I still consider this the one year of my pre-adult life that I can really say was a good one, though I did get my emotions fucked with a bit in a way I won't describe further here because it was part of a situation I'm still dealing with.

Your best friend was?

We'd instantly bonded when we met in junior high, but during high school our personalities started to diverge--or rather, the ways in which we'd always been different became more and more obvious, especially as I started to develop my own personality and rely on her less (and spend less time in her shadow). We continued to spend a lot of time together but found over the years that we understood each other less and less, and our life paths started to take wildly different directions (they've diverged even further since.) We still keep in touch, but more for old time's sake, I think, than for any other reason. Granted, there's a powerful lot of old time's sake there; having each other around during those early years did a lot to keep us sane, and I definitely wouldn't be who I am today if it hadn't been for her. It would've been nice if I'd been more assertive more of the time, but that was a general problem of mine and something I eventually got over.

Your worst friend was?

I never had a friend screw me over or anything, but I did have one or two who were difficult to have in one's life due to things like their consistently getting involved in really dysfunctional relationships. And when you've got a friend who keeps getting involved in really dysfunctional relationships and there's also lots of sexual tension between you, things tend to get Weird. Especially when said friend is also the first person ever to have let you know he was physically attracted to you, thus causing your self-image to improve drastically, but at the same time causing you to be more susceptible than you should be to his attempts to get into your pants given that you know damn well he's not somebody it would be a good idea to get involved with. Not that I actually yielded to those attempts, but a few things happened that I kicked myself for afterward.

Cafeteria food sucked?

We didn't have cafeteria food, we had snack bar food. The hot pockets weren't too bad, and the make-your-own-sandwiches were nice. And the salad bar had baked potatoes--no butter, but they weren't bad with semi-melted cheese on 'em. But then I'm quite adaptable when it comes to food. We ain't no gourmet cooks in my family.

Most hilarious school rule?

None of 'em were that funny, really. The most ridiculous was the tardy policy they instituted my junior year or so: classroom doors were to be locked as soon as the bell rang, and anyone not in class by then had to go straight to detention rather than "disrupt" the class. Apparently one student missing fifty-five minutes of class was better than thirty students missing a quarter of a minute. Most of my teachers didn't give a shit if you walked in a minute late, but the security guards would send you directly to jail without passing Go if they saw you anywhere without a hall pass after the bell, so whenever I was late to school (which I was chronically, I admit), I had to duck into the nearest friendly teacher's classroom and ask them to write me a pass.

Wore uniforms?

Nope. Standard dress code, pretty much, but no uniforms.

How was the prom?

Reasonably fun, like the homecoming dances I'd been to. I was pissed at my female friends, though, because when I'd refused to go due to the bloody high cost of tickets they told me they'd spring for mine, and when I went ahead and bought one and asked them for reimbursement, they remembered saying no such thing. I'd asked my crush (who was also one of my better friends at that point) to go with me, but phrased it cagily so he could interpret it as either a date-date or a "just going as friends" thing, and would hopefully say yes after interpreting it whichever way he wanted to (I'd decided I'd rather go as just-friends with him than go with anyone else anyway.) It worked, but unfortunately we did indeed seem to be just-friends (though for some reason he presented me with a very spiffy present when I arrived at his house that night). I still had a good time, though; we went with half a dozen of our other friends and had the usual amount of fun hanging out before and after and dancing our asses off during.

Who were the prom king and queen?

Oh, gods, like I keep track of these things. They damn well weren't friends of mine, and I'm glad of it. Let the snotty brats have their popularity contests.

Any achievements?

Assloads of academic awards, stellar test scores, and too many AcaDec trophies to carry. If only I'd kept up that level of achievement through college.

Were you popular?

Heh. I think I may already have answered that question. I had friends, and by junior year or so I mostly wasn't teased or anything. The popular set left me the hell alone and I left them the hell alone. Yay.

Best song that reminds you of high school?

Huh boy. There aren't any contemporary songs that make me think of high school in general, but...our school song, which we sang at every pep rally and, for some reason, every time any group of us got back from a field trip, was sung to the tune of "Far Above Cayuga's Waters." I've never actually heard the original song, but if I ever did, any time in the next ninety years, it would bring back alllllllllllllll those occasions in a sort of blur. I don't think that counts as a "best" anything, though. It hasn't been long enough for me to be nostalgic about it; right now I'm still in the "oh, no, not that song again" phase. Apparently it takes a while to wear off when you've heard it that many times--and the general cheesiness of the surrounding circumstances, and for that matter of the lyrics, probably contributes a great deal to that effect.

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