I surrender.

*Waves the white flag*

Alright, I've had enough. If I"m ever going to get past the cloud of drama that seems to follow me everywhere, 2 things are going to have to happen starting right friggin now:

1) I'm going to see my doc's replacement doc to get a perscription for Celexa. Or something. Anything. This is getting rediculous.

2) NO MORE MEN. No more relationships, no more casual dates, no more "let's just go for a drink and hang out"'s. None of it. I"m done. Not saying I"m turning to the other team, mind you, because women are insane. No, no...I"m just putting any chance of anything happening in my romantic life on the farthest back-back burner until... Well, until I"m mature enough to handle it. Or THEY"RE Mature enough to handle it.

Or someone invents idiot repellant. It could happen.

Part of the reason I"m so adamant about point 2 being a priority stems from a casual "lets go have drinks before you leave town again" thing with an old friend. An old friend whom I've got a few things in common with, and whom I like to talk to about these things. An old friend who used to be medicated...

Anyways, the whole disasterous night not only turned me off of all bipeds with a Y-chromosome, but also made me question my career choice. Which, of course, is exactly what I need. I mean, though the doctors he's seeing aparently haven't noticed yet, he's obviously bipolar, and he's obviously rapid-cycle: He went from too snuggly and giddy to yelling at me and calling me a tease in less than 10 minutes. And if I ever hear the line "Come on, it's my birthday on Monday" again, I'll kill someone. Likely the person using that particular line. But all that aside; now that I've seen Bipolar disorder and alcoholism all rolled into one up-close and personal, I don't know if I can actually handle it. I would imagine that a career-type situation would be different because it would be a professional, objective situation, but it still makes me nervous.

Not to mention the other matter of how well we did understand eachother before we started drinking. We would both go off on tangents, start in one place, and end in the middle of a thought somewhere miles away from where we started. And it didn't matter that half the time we didn't think in complete thoughts. In a way, I could look at him and see myself at 30, 35, maybe 40... And I don't want to be like that. I don't want to hurt people around me and not know that I'm doing it.

So that's what lead to the Celexa. Actually, Mom found out that there's a group of people (over 1000, actually), who have filed a class-action lawsuit against Effexor (rather, the company who makes it), because the literature the company produces lists only a few of the milder withdrawl effects. If I had known before I went on Effexor that, should I have to come off it, there is a risk of developing permanent dependance on the drug, or that the withdrawl can be deadly if done too quickly, or there's a Black Box warning on Effexor (meaning that it has been proven to actually increase your risk of self-harm and suicide while on the medication), I might have looked for an alternative. Scary part? The guy I was talking about earlier had been on Effexor before the Welbutrin he was on last. He said that he's been off it for years now, and he Still gets withdrawl simptoms from it; bizzarre dreams and dizziness and such.

So, yeah. Right now, I'm not a terribly happy person. I just want to stay home all this week and forget about the outside world, but I need to go to work. Real people go to work. You can't just lie on the couch all day, so I'm not.

I'm really starting to hate this.

Other People Suck.

Sorry if I'm repeating myself, but it's been a rough night.

I hate my species.

So, first of all, I get stuck on a line with 2 temps who may as well have been cardboard cutouts with "BLOND" written across the chest. Seriously, they did NOTHING all night, except the most basic tasks of working on the line: paletize, make boxes, pack. There was a mess, so they stood there and watched ME clean it up. Pouches needed to be cut into the tank, and they sat on the end of the line while I did it. The only time they did anything was when Gina (on a different line) came over and asked one of them to sweep, and even then, she did a half-assed job. I wouldn't have minded so much if they were new, but they've both been there for at least 3 months. Get a friggin clue.

Then I sit down at break and continue reading my book (The Goldan Compass, which actually isn't that bad. I'm almost done it), when I realize that the whole friggin book is actually about Original Sin (as explained by one of the characters). So, then I realize that it really all comes down to Sex and Religion. CRAP. I mean, I would strongly discourage anyone with a love of reading to take an english lit course above OAC/Grade 12. You will never, EVER be able to read another book again. I'm reading children's books for god's sake, and I can't get to the end without coming to a debate over whether the Church has made us zombies, or whether the character sees the Bear King as a father figure or potential lover.

Actually, at one point, I did come up with a reason why Sex&Religion are the two main themes of every lecture: Fashion. Well, for sex, it's fashion. Religion is a permanent part because it was monks that founded Universities... But Sex is new. In the '60's (for what I gather), lit was about Religion and "The Man"/"The Institution"/Commercialism. Everything was about whether our values were preserved or compromised by the end. Now, because of sexuality becoming more commonplace and babies having babies and whatnot, we turn our attention to sex. Kinda sad, really. I'd prefer it if a story could be about what the author intended it to be about, nothing else.

Of course, this lead me into the big debate with Gayle: Will Matt ever actually call? He said he would, but I'm guessing not. I think I'm more dissappointed because I thought he'd be a good lay than because of his potential as a partner (he's more fun than future), and I need a good lay. Or some better meds. And, as Gayle mentioned, I'll be returning to North Bay in 2 weeks, so what worry have I? The great white North, where the booty runs like a river! Alas, no. I don't think that getting into anything with the new roomies would be a bright idea, and even though I have one friend who has all but offered himself up to me, I don't think I want to go back into that either, because, amoung other reasons, he already has a girlfriend, and I don't share well. Tony isn't exactly reliable, and Todd... no. for what I've heard, he's "happy" (or momentarily contented), with his new "are they/aren't they" gal. I've had my fill of his drama anyways. That lead to my quote of the night, by the by:

All men are asshats to some degree, leave it to me to sleep with their king.

[this portion of the rant was edited out because it got a bit too personal. I'm sorry if I offended anyone.]

I'm sorry if I'm on a bit of a rampage tonight. I'm just frustrated. This weekend, my mother told me that Dad turned to her one night and said, "You know, this year, Sparky's going to find someone, and he's going to be the one." Mom said she's had that feeling all summer. She did last summer too. And the one before that... But adding Dad's voice to it? that was just underhanded. I mean, I don't want to feel even more like I've let them down, and that feeling, that GUILT should sertainly not be invading my personal life.

Fuckers.

(P.S. anyone willing/wanting to argue the above points can let me know. I'm open to it. Actually, I feel like a good scrap.)

The Rules

Ok, so it appears that I need to make these rules public. The Management (namely, me) holds the right to revise, change and make additions to these Rules at any time.

1)Anyone talking about politics (academic, social, Canadian, World, etc.) in my presence should expect to be punched in the face. Seriously, I don't know, I don't care, and the only thing that ever comes out of these conversations is hostility and negativity, neither of which I can handle at the moment.

2) When I say any of the following, in any circumstance, under any conditions, my wishes are to be RESPECTED and ABIDED BY no matter what effect it has on another party, myself, or the situation:
-No.
-Stop.
-It hurts (should ALWAYS be interpreted as Stop Immediatly)
-I don't know (should ALWAYS be interpreted as Stop, Discuss)

Failure to abide by these will result in immediate cessation of the activity/conversation, and my swift departure. There are no first/second/third warnings.

3) If I don't understand, you will explaine. You will, under NO circumstances, become angry or patronizing because my mental capacity is not up to your standard of "par". I'm sorry, I'm really trying to keep up, but it appears that I'm just not intelligent in the same way you are. If you insist on belittling me, or making me feel as though I have somehow "failed", I will remove myself from the situation.

Those are the ones for now. I'm heading home for a nice, long, 4 day weekend. If anything else comes to mind, I will post them when I get back. For now, I suggest you all review the rules, and their concequences.

This is it, people. I am a doormat no longer. Wipe your feet elsewhere.

"Old News": Yanga-tastic?

I can't take this anymore. I just got drafted into the play (I have 3 weeks to memorize my lines) because people aren't showing up. People spent 15 minutes bitching about how we only have three weeks until the show and lines aren't memorized, and now they've wasted over an hour playing Character building games that should have been done about 3 months ago. I can't do my work becasue I can't focus, and I can't find anyone else who wants to work on Tuesday at the theatre (my boss asked me to look). GrrrRRrr.

I guess that kinda makes my next "Old News" irrelivant. It's funny: in class, we talked about how fate is a wheel. It appears that what goes up, really must come down.

Yanga…works? - Written Feb 17/05

Well, that's interesting…

Turns out that the Forensic Psych test I'm supposed to have on Tuesday is actually not until NEXT Tuesday. Interesting, because now I have another entire week to study for it.

My Computer's exam isn't looking to be as hard as I thought it would be.

My parents are actually letting me move into my friend's house, if I want to.

I'm feeling much more calm and relaxed… And until this morning, I couldn't figure out why.

Turns out, some whiney wench psedo-spammer on Xforums.net cast a "Yanga" spell on those forumites she deemed to having "penis-sized grey cells" (which is supposed to be an insult to the size of our grey matter/brain cells). I wasn't sure what it meant, but one of the mods posted the definition of a Yanga spell a fire-sacrifice "bringing good fortune"…

Bright kid, that one.

Anyways… Yeah. Spring break has been very good to me so far. I needed this. To be at home, and not really do anything substantial for a while. It has given me time to think about things (life stuff), read, and basically hang out. Also, I seem to be shoring up my creative juices. Before I left, I was pretty sure that well was now permanently dry… I just felt that every story I was forcing down for prose was complete rubbish, and Prof. Stoke's little speech on academic slacking didn't help matters… now I’m here and I feel… things are coming back. I just have to pace myself. I can't keep forcing the issue like I was. I need to get back to the roots of where I was: the place I was when I was most creative. I need to re-find the girl I was in high school.

I don't know if it was my independence/social-phobia, my belief in the white arts, or my innocence… It was something I've lost now. Ambition? I used to do things for the community when I was younger. Internal communication, maybe? I used to come up with some really deep philosophical questions. Maybe, just maybe, it's the subject matter. Back then, I would write about running away, with a deep regret for leaving. Now, I write about the need to run away, and a resentment for staying… I don't think it's a need to remove self from place anymore, which adds to the new-ness, but a need to remove self from self… pick out the parts of me, the bad habits, that I can't have anymore (for sake of my sanity), and finally convincing myself to let go.

Letting Go.

I've never been able to let go. Things that guilted me back in the first grade still haunt me. Things that weren't even my fault follow me, nagging me, whispering "you screwed up then, you'll screw up now"… I can't even relax. I never learned how. The pressure on me since I was young… some times, I can see how unbearable it would have been. Hindsight is 20/20. I'm terrified. I'm not sure if it's reasonable or not… I'm terrified that if I start letting go: of guilt, of anxiety, of [cough] specific people [/cough], that I"ll start losing them. I can't stand the idea of letting go of hope that certain people will shape up, and not wind up on the streets. I can't imagine what would happen if I let go of… well, you know who, and he finds someone else. Or I do. I don't want to lose him, or what we have. He says we won't, but I’m not sure. Sometimes I feel like I'm on a cliff, and I'm hanging from the edge, watching my grip loosen. Sometimes I wonder if there's much left, or what would happen if I just let myself fall away.

Sometimes I wonder where a gal like me could get some cheap valium, no questions asked.

Conflicted

Last night was another horrid night in prose fiction. Well, in truth, it wasn't that bad until after class. My Prof and I sat down for a "chat" about my grades in the class (he did this with everyone) and he called me a slacker. There was a lot of talk about "meeting me half-way" and what my potential would be if I "applied myself". I asked him about volunteering at the highschool he teaches at (he knows about my issues with low grades and acceptance into the Education program), and he told me my best bet was to finish my undergrad and then move to Rochester NY and persue a teaching degree there (which wasn't really what I asked him...) Finally he decided that he may need my help, so after the break we're going to work something out. Then I realize that a) I really, really don't have time to do this, even thought I both want to and need to, if I'm going to get into the program, and b)I may have to stay up here until June, which I can't possibly afford to do. Damnit. Then I get home, and try to relay all of this to my friend Chris. I told him that I felt pretty damned worthless (I did), and that I thought I might just save everyone the time and money and drop ot and go work in the mayonaise factory. His response? "Don't be stupid. Anyways, gotta go ttyl."

My response? Fuck you. Sorry, but you abandon me, forget I exist for months on end, tell me I can't come over and visit because I'm "too much of a temptation"... I think you're the one who needs to stop being stupid. Jerk.

Anyways, so that all left me in a rather foul mood today, when compiled with the fact that I have a HUGE test on Thursday, no idea how I'm going home next week, Work on Saturday until 11pm, part of my novel due the Monday I get back, a Forensic Psych test on Tuesday, a computers midterm on Wednesday, a re-written essay due on Thursday, an improv night to plan, and about 10 pounds to lose before March 10th. Gah. I go to class, only to sit and wonder what it would feel like to noose myself. I got the essay I have to re-write back, and it got a 73% (which is pretty damned high), but I couldn't feel good about it. Tonight, I got a Forensic Psych test back, and I got a 54.5% on it (which makes sense: That was from the last week of hell. I didn't even study for it because I was writing my Shakespeare essay).

Here's where the conflicted bit comes in: I think I want to do something about all of this. I want to try to be a better person. It's just extreamly hard to kill old habits, and start better ones. I need it, though. And, I know that making changes would make me happier. I want to have an apartment like Sarah's, or Mike's, or even Todd's, where people can come in and feel comfortable. I want people to be impressed with me, and I think I can do it. I just feel a lack of motivation.

Todd and I had another of our trademark "deep" conversations when I was at his place. Long story short, he told me I worry too much, and that I need to just let whatever is going to happen happen. He told me other things too, but they're between me and him, for now. What he doesn't know is that on my last night there, I was awake for a while before I woke him up. I watched him sleep, and thought about different things, and realized that I want to try and be better for him. I'm not the kind of person he wants, we've established that. But I want to make myself better, for him, and for the next guy I'm going to meet who I'll want the way I want him. Or something like that. I don't want to get too deep on that line of thought: the strings might just pull my ribs out.

I'm still in a relativly rotten mood. Tomorrow's going to be a long, stimulant filled day. I need to write more. I got some notes for a story down, but I don't think it's going anywhere, and it feels... Bigger than what it should be. Bigger than my britches, I guess. I need to clean my room. I need to breathe.

Sunday won't come fast enough.

Is there a Doctor in the House?

Ugh. Sick. Cold in the head, cough in the chest... my nose is burning, my face is swollen, and my patience wearing bone-thin. Funny how the worse I feel, the more things that irritate the hell out of me start to appear.

I don't know what it was last night, but there was just something about these two friends of mine (well, one of them has become more of a social acquaintance, the other is too far above me intellectually to really be a friend) that irks me. The one... well, he thinks that the way he works is the way everyone works, and can't take it when the rest of us mere mortals don't understand. The other just can't dumb it down enough for me, I guess. These people are both going to be teachers. I think they're both going to have a great deal of difficulty with a teaching profession, because neither of them have the patience to teach; they expect us to already know.

Another thing that got to me last night: whiney girlfriends. If I ever find a boyfriend, I would ask that he shoot me if I ever get as whiney as girlfriends up here have gotten. I mean, really. It's just unbelieveably frustrating when couples are involved in a game. Just because you're someone's SO (especially the GM's) doesn't mean you get special treatment.

Sorry. I hate everyone right now. My roomates are idiots who don't understand the meaning of the words SHUT THE HELL UP, and even good friends are grating my nerves.

Help Me...

So very tired

I feel rather drained at the moment. I got off work a little over an hour ago (pumping gas again). Nothing really exciting there.

Going back a few days: I re-arranged my room. I think it's going to work better for me this way, with the exception of my bed being under my window and said window being drafty... oh, well.

Good enough.

Actually, I've been sick for the last couple of days. I thought I was getting over it, but now I feel a bit feverish. I'm sure I'll be fine soon... Hopefully by mid-next week.

I'm really starting to get annoyed with other students, though. We really do think that we're the centre of the known universe, don't we? It's music, mostly, that's bothering me. At exactly 10am every day, my roomates start blasting their crappy dance music, with the bass cranked. Shortly there after, my other roomate wakes up, and because she can't stand their music either, she puts on her country music, full blast. And, every thirty seconds, someone drives past my window, and all you can hear is "boom-boom-boom..."And I'm on the third floor!! If I try to put of headphones and listen to my music and drown all that out, I have to have it loud enough that I can't do anything else: I can't think with music that loud, but I can't focus with Keith Urban on one side and Eminem on the other.

I'm going to have a nap. My head is throbbing just thinking about it. I'll post again later.

Last call...

The bars closed an hour ago. Three floors below me, drunken university students are now stumbling home after a night promoting the country stylings of "Save a horse, ride a Cowboy!" Whoever is in the room directly below me is blasting something with a droning, nauseating baseline, and my roomate has just staggered in again, and doesn't realize how loud she's being. There was a time when I wanted to be a part of that scene: party girl in all the pictures; a legend on my own campus. Now, I seem to prefer the quieter venture of a glass of cheap raspberry wine and flash animations. The last call I recieved tonight was from a friend, asking me to join him at the Country Pub. I declined. I had more fun at Heather's with Sarah rolling up D&D characters than I ever could have watching first years drink themselves stupid to the tune of twanging guitars.

Today revealed a lot. First, that friendships are tricky devils: they appear out of nowhere, and somehow manage to slip under the radar and into our lives. I realize now that I can't remember how I met most of my friends. They just kinda slipped in. It's a pleasent thought, really. knowing that those people who've created some of my most treasured memories, whether they be RPGing with bad coffee on a Friday night, Opening night of so many plays, or sitting in a coffee house discussing life in general, just slid into my life, as much, I suspect, as I slid into theirs.

Second, and this is the more unfortunate one, is the other meaning of "Last call..." I made a choice today, regarding one of my best friends. I had been playing his keeper, and it appeared that almost everyone, including his professors, had given up faith in him. This morning, I lost faith. Sometimes, no matter how good their intentions, people take too much from you, without offering or providing enough in return. In Antony and Cleopatra, the play we're studying, my professor highlighted that relationships are a matter of balance: take something, and you will be expected to return it. That is the basis of a friendship. Take my time, my energy, my encouragement, my persistance... eventually, I will ask you to return it. This friend, it seems, cannot return enough of what I've provided. At the advice of many people that I trust, I've decided to stop. His self destructive behaviour is unfair to himself, and to me; he refuses to do more than float through life, blaming everyone and anything else for his problems. It appears that Tough Love is the only thing that will get through to him. My problem, the one I'd been unable to get by until tonight, was that I was afraid that if I walked away from him, if I pulled free and left him to his own devices, he would only get worse. Now I realize that I'm right. He will. But I have to move past that. I can't let him drag me down with him. It is amazingly painful to watch someone you love come apart. I see now, that the more I tried to help him, the more he resisted, for whatever reason, and this has made him...worse. Physically, Emotionally, Academically, he has given up on himself, relying only on my faith, his girlfriend's faith, and what pride he has left, to prop himself up. I hope that removing myself from this will help him to see how much. And I hope that I can do it. I hope that I can rid myself of this addictivly "toxic friendship" before I become worse. I have become too dependant on others. I know I've said this before, but now, more and more, it's getting worse. It has to stop.

Tomorrow will tell. Tomorrow is his last chance to prove to me that he is salvageable. And it will be my first chance to prove my will, either way.