Updates: Media (lyrics) has a new layout. I could never figure out how to lay it out, but it's easier to navigate now. I'm still working on a better duplicate Mamblog mod. I'm trying to make submittions easier but the poetry form died for some reason. Quizzes are also on their way from the old site. Joomla content isn't very code friendly so I'm having to rewrite old code. You can still click on News > AH v21 > Screen if you wish to use the quizzes.
July 12, 2002 (7:22pm) Partial for the better part of the year seems like a life sentence to me. I've been there a month almost to the day and I'm about ready to take off running. I don't even go to the cafeteria for lunch anymore because I can't seem to get in and out without at least two people giving me hell about my eating habits. The key word being "eating." If I'm going to the cafeteria at all it's for food but since they can't seem to keep their mouths shut when I go I've decided to hang out in the bungalows for the entire hour. They can't mock me if I'm not there. Besides, I'm never hungry for lunch these days. Maybe it's the confict that's getting to me in the morning group. The people taking their shots, the facilitator not letting me process. It's all I can do to put up with it five days a week, three groups a day. It's five hours of structure every day but if I get out of there still in one piece I'll about fall over dead. Sure I've got some major issues to work through but some days partial doesn't seem like much help. In fact half the time I feel worse, more hopeless when the day ends. I'm not sure where to draw the line but I'll keep with it as long as they tell me to. My pdoc seems to think I'm unable to make it without partial five days a week so as long as my insurance complies, I guess I'll do my best to hang in there. I've never enjoyed being happy for too long anyhow.
July 31, 2002-2 (11:06pm) this puerto rican woman with broken english told me my soft voice was just me being passive aggressive. she then grumbled something in puerto rican and stormed off. *scratches head* did i miss something? i came home and consulted my mother. we debated the situation for a while but...nothing was concluded. this one guy and i are feeling like our space is being a bit intruded upon by all these new people. ["...a southland varsity football player under investigation for rape, details at eleven"] I told him I'M feeling like the newbie. In symptom management group we were doing muscle relaxation, the WHOLE BODY kind. Some people were laying on the floor, some comfortably laying back in their chair, one or two even sleeping. I was scrunched up in a chair, I could only try a couple of the relaxation things. I couldn't go all out and just got more tense doing so. the facilitator asked me if i knew why, she said being always tense keeps me ready for "fight or flight." i told our half group of familiar faces this morning about that guy grabbing me on Monday, about the flashbacks it triggered, and about my blood pressure and pulse "careening in swoops and boutds." of course, maybe i should just keep my mouth shut since i'm pretty sure i know what caused it recently. this increased prozac has almost killed my appetitie. i'm tempted to ask if he can remove one medication and increase the prozac to 60mg, the max, but then if i need it increased down the road i'll have to go through side-effects of adding a new, unpredictable medication. apprarently my sister, parents, cousin, and my cousin's boyfriend are all going to dinner for my sister's 23rd birthday wednesday. my father's even coming home for it. i should be going but i'll have to order a salad and i hate being pressured to eat. i know i'll inadvertently ruin the evening, just by being there, by ordering a vegan meal, diet soda, and not wolfing it down. to be seen eating anything at all would be quite spectacular in my eyes, not in theirs though. my mother said i could use my meds to get out of celebrating for my 21st (my sister's been planning it for the past year now) but i don't want to ever bring that up with anyone. i asked if i would ruin her birthday by not going. i still have this fear though that i'd ruin it by going as well. i don't want to sleep tonight. i'm feeling inspired, full of ideas, wired as hell. maybe i'll sit and sift through hoards of photographs, memories that'd be better left forgotten. this project, though unapproved, had better be unforgetable for my own sake. though i have ideas in my head, a behind the scenes kinda thing you'd have to see to believe, and understand. sort of an "inside" deal, probably better left...inside. it's cool when i get this way as long as i have something to apply it to, or else it's just wasted energy. i want to write my religious studies paper on the religious customs pertaining ot muslim or islamic women. due in one week. this will of course depend on the amount of published information available. my fall-back would be a paper on Siddhartha, extremely boring. of course my professor has the final say. he may not like my original topic.
July 31, 2002 (12:42pm) my heart feels heavy in my chest, like it's joined my stomach in protest against the things i've done to my body. war has broken out inside of me, body vs. mind. the way i feel right now, i'd say my body's winning out of sheer stubbornness. it has the will to live, i'll give it that much. writing in this non-elecrical, batery-free, 100% portable, cheap, disposable, paper journal seems...oddly archaic. the tap tap tapping tune i'm used to is replaced by lead pencils being drug across paper sheets forming words, phrases, entire thoughts, but it takes some time. i wonder if my thoughts would be the same if i let them come out faster, would they come out differently? or are thoughts, like events in one's life, destined to happen? how boring it would all be if that were so. what's the use in living if we're only reading scripts, playing parts? wouldn't it be best if we could write our own scenes as we go along? i'm tired, as you may well see but there're others here who find it oddly amusing to sit with me here, to come and go as they please, stripping away every ounce of creativity.
July 30, 2002-3 (7:20pm) I drove up to Mt. Wilson today. Certain people were pretending they were worried so I left. I couldn't sit around here all day with things the way they are if she was gonna be here the whole time. She was supposed to be at work today. I just didn't tell her I was going because she wouldn't have let me without us fighting over it first. i dreaded coming home, i wish i could have been gone longer. the drive only took an hour or so even though it seemed to take all afternoon. i had so much fun, if only there was snow, i would have driven to the summit. i've never been there and it's hardly a stone's throw away from where i live. i've heard terrible stories of car accidents, drunken classmates, icey roads, but i'd never been there. never felt the need to go, and never had a reason, good or otherwise. it was a nice drive, i think next time i'll bring my camera.
July 30, 2002-2 (6:13pm) I have this constant feeling that there's someone behind me, but there never is. he's always with me. i feel his hand gripping my arm. i used to find the need to check for a buise that faded years ago. when my mind drifts i'm being jolted aware by my memories. tears have been falling all day but i don't think it counts as crying. i've been having odd flashbacks since yesterday and my eyes seem to tear every time i have one. i'm surprised it's all that happens. my mother asked me if i was okay, "you don't like like you're okay." that's proof enough i need to figure out how to keep from bringing this home with me.
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