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And, uh, am sorry for not responding to comments in the last post--life has gotten away from me again and I am not good with communication when I'm stressed. Thanks to everyone who sent me comforting comments, though!

Have spent a lot of time on self-care these last few days doing things that are low-stress, trying to make myself avoid tumblr, going out to eat with friends and attempting to indoctrinate my baby sister with more geekery, that sort of thing.

I was debating writing a birthday post for Writing From Factor X, since I created the blog as a birthday present to myself last year, but I just don't have the energy to write anything right now. I feel a little bit bad about that, because it's not that I don't have things to say, but more that I just don't have the time and the energy to sit down and write out something polished and acceptable to me and, you know, self care.

(Offhand, the topics currently lurking in the back of my head are: the limits of anger in activism and the point at which you write someone off, the ways in which we are arguably reclaiming 'asexual' for ourselves from the very pejorative way it is often used to apply to people, something cogent about how isolating invisibility can be, oversimplification of concepts when doing visibility and how we can avoid that, and that godawful post about the brain worms that being aromantic/wtfromantic/whatever the hell my affectional orientation is left me with, the one that's written almost entirely up but that I'm still hesitant to post. I am not exactly hurting for topics! Just... time. Would be quite willing to have conversations about any of those, though.)

Also, I have photos of my birthday cake! (Birthday cupcakes? Birthday EXTRAVAGANZA?) We did finish making it, about five people attempted to eat it, and I am currently trying to get my lab to eat most of the rest with limited success. Next time I do something big like this, I'm going to make sure I have more mouths. Anyway, photos!

cut for large photo )
sciatrix: (Default)
I have three papers, a test, and a presentation to give next week. I need to spend THIS week working on those so I'm not overwhelmed.

Of course, this appears to have been a license to my brain to squeal and come up with about ten different blog ideas. Aaaaaaargh.
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So not being in classes and having an established routine? Really makes my eating habits go all to hell. I mean, they're not that great in terms of remembering to eat to begin with--I managed to factor in a 10:10 lunch half the time this semester, which is almost not worth it, and then on Tuesdays and Thursdays I often forget lunch period--but at least the routine of the day, combined with the routine of Oliver care, usually reminds me to stop doing whatever I'm finding so interesting and feed myself before I collapse.

Being at home (not in my apartment) is actually really not helping, because everything's different and confusing and I just don't want to eat what my parents have. Also, Oliver is no longer a useful schedule barometer the way he would be at home, because not having to walk him and his being subsumed into family dog schedule means that he doesn't provide the kind of structure that he does in the apartment.

The upside of this is that I haven't been eating very well over the past several days, which rationally I find rather worrying and bad for productivity. I lose focus when my blood sugar drops too low. And yet I can't seem to remember to feed myself, let alone feed myself with any kind of goodness.

It's funny that I'm worrying that I'm not eating enough over Thanksgiving break, though. There's a certain amusing irony to that.
sciatrix: (Default)
...I have written well over 6000 words in the past four days, mostly on AVEN and mostly relating to topics of racism, sexism, and how asexuals should respond to offensive questions by nonasexuals. All of which are emotionally fraught topics which must be handled with thought. And the paper which is sitting here half-done and only mostly due (damn you, Dr. M, and your empty lies of handing back our second paper) is about how to handle the Islamist movement, which isn't hideously complicated or requiring handling of twisty, unpleasant topics, at all. And I've been studying for Biochemistry and practically living out of Dr. W's office where my old tests are for most of the time I haven't been doing one or the other.

No fucking wonder I've been so exhausted. 
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Ahahaha. Yesterday I realized that, amazingly enough, taking an internship where I would be housed with three other students in a host family's home across the country and expected to work eighty-hour weeks selling textbooks would be a very bad idea for me. It's funny how easy it is to get swept up in these kinds of things--especially when I know that I get overstressed and miserable. I suspect I would become overwrought and miserable very quickly in that situation, and I think that a freaked-out cranky Sciatrix would have a hard time selling a product to families. I'm good at being service-oriented and enjoying work, but not when continually dealing with strangers.

I suppose I'm just worried about figuring out what I'm doing for the summer. L and C are going to Italy and I would have applied too, but it conflicted with my REUs. And now two have rejected me, and the third is taking forever and ever and I'm trying not to obsess about it but this is worse than college rejection letters. I want certainty, dammit. I want stability and steady work and I love my classes but the essentially shiftlessness of college life sucks massively.

It's April now and I still don't know what's going on. Next week this time it will have been two months since the last REU's due date. I suppose no news is good news, but it doesn't feel that way. I would almost rather be rejected and take a little time off in May, then come back and work in CollegeTown for the rest of the weekend. At least I could sublease a place and maybe bring the puppy up. Or get a cat. Yay anxiety cycles.
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Domesticity domesticity domesticity aaarrgh. I want a huge teapot and a stove kettle and a little kitchen I can putter around in so badly I can smell it. And tasty foodstuffs and routine and soup with barley and veggies in and waaah why can't I just move now? I suspect I'm being too overenthusiastic about this move, but hell, it can't be worse than the dorms.

Also, coming out as a godless filthy liberal at Gramma's came out better than I would have thought. Could have done with it not just being me, though. Maybe my cousin B and I do have something in common after all.

Now if I can just manage not to fail Biochemistry this semester and beat my filthy grades into submission...
sciatrix: (Default)
Today has been the laziest day ever. And by lazy, I mean "have taking roughly eight hours to complete laundry." (It's still downstairs. I can't wait until I have a machine of my very own to play with.) I bought a Young Dubliners CD, re-read The Merlin Conspiracy for the nineteenth time, and pretended very hard to study for Biochemistry. I even went to the SLC and everything!

Also, there should be some sort of rule about wanting food when you're full, dammit. It is like my brain is going "You know what would be excellent? Peanut butter sandwiches washed down with a massive chocolate chip muffin!" and my stomach is giving the rest of me horrified signals that it is full, you crazy brain, and there is no more room. And I still want the damn muffin, even though there is approximately zero chance of me getting one in the next 24 hours. 

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