I Think I Made You Up Inside My Head

I have, of course, been largely reading comics, of varying nationality.

( FreakAngels )

( Bleach )

( Doubt )

( LOL LIFETIME MOVIE )

For the past week, my stomach has been trying to escape out my mouth.

This makes it very hard to play the withdrawal game.

But, full week with no panic attacks, \o/

This week's attempt at exercise is pretty much made of fail. But that's because either my stomach acid is off kilter again or peanut butter is making me ill.

Tomorrow is back to the psych! I am frustrated, as I was supposed to get a blood test but he put a date on it and didn't discuss the date with me, so I made an appt that was totes not allowed. Also, since I last saw him I have had quite a few major panic attacks, a few minor ones, and been brought near tears by minor discomforts, so methinks some stronger meds are in order.

Also I need his approval to start dismantling my old Effexor.

Why Kids Get Pregnant.

I heard this once, on NPR, and it was one of those driveway moments they talk about. I was screaming at the girl as I drove to work, yelling at her and telling her how wrong she was.

But what it really did was open my eyes. I'd never had any clue why teenage girls might not just become pregnant, but want to be. I had no idea that the problem wasn't stupid choices, or lack of sex ed, but sometimes a deep, profound yearning for something concrete, something tangible. It broke my heart and gave me a lot of hope.

I think, knowing this story, changed a lot of my perspectives. And today, when the news reports that 17 girls promised each other to get pregnant, when assholes use it to say that women, or girls, or Americans, are fundamentally wrong, I turn back to this piece.

I find it really funny that, at the same time as Britain extends their right to hold terror suspects without charge, our Supreme Court strikes down that same argument we've been touting for six years.

*dances on the Bush administration's grave*

"It's not a good day when there's something in your penis." - my dad, his stoicism.

He's doing quite well, catheter notwithstanding. The incisions look downright vile, but clean enough. He's not as stiff or sore anymore. The biggest problem, truly, is the catheter. He's adopted the pregnant lady walk.

New Doubt!

( Spoilers for Doubt 11 )

So!

The surgery went long. Originally, I was going to go to Morristown after work and my mom and I would have dinner then see my dad when he was up. I got to Morristown at 5:30, and he was still in surgery, last update 4pm. He'd gone in an hour early, and he was supposed (lol in our minds) to be out around 5. So I sat with mom and kept her company/upbeatish until 7 when the doctors came out.

Initial diagnosis: The surgery went well. Approximately five hours. The prostate cancer itself appears to have been entirely encapsulated within the organ; a definite diagnosis will come next week, but there were no obvious signs out outside malignancy. Part of the length of the surgery was the 45 minute anesthesia reversal; my dad earlier had a left bundle block with cardiomyopathy in his heart, so they wanted a slow, steady wakening to combat any potential problems.

We ended up leaving; visiting hours were technically done at 8, and both doctors were not optimistic in our chances at seeing him before tomorrow (he'd probably be close to cognizance, at best, around 9pm), so we left, feeling guilty. But we'll be in first thing tomorrow, I'm sure.

The doctors were pleased, in general, with his overall weight loss and his body size (he is large, so everything involved is large, which makes for easier surgery).

My BFF Carolyn/galorette is down for the Belmont, and she and her mom made the awesome trip out to sit with mine for a while around midday. I know she appreciated it; when I spoke to her around lunch she was a bit shaky, and when I showed up at the hospital she was teary, partially due to the delay. But unless dad gets a phone and calls to yell at us, I think everything is good.

Tomorrow, my dad goes in for a prostatectomy.

No, I do not think the fact that this week appears to have been bad luck for people in general means much, thank you very much.

The day will be mostly over by the time he gets out; I'm going in to Morristown after work and my mom and I will eat out, then we'll go back to the hospital and, I suppose, wait for him to be ready for visitors - I'm not 100% sure he'll be ready, even after dinner, for that.

Friday I took off work to help out getting him settled.

And Saturday we go to the Belmont.

The New Yorker Fiction podcast has a reading of "Symbols and Signs", one of my favorite Nabokov stories. It's heartbreaking, and brilliant, and here.

I'm making a second attempt, today, to get fully off Effexor. I tried last Saturday, then came down all slidey-minded and nauseated, so I gave up. We shall see how we wake tomorrow.

...So I came home from work and my mom, gleefully, goes, "You have mail!"

So I trot to the counter. I look. She goes, "It's your AARP CARD!!!"

D: I tear it open and yes, I now have an AARP card. Of course, I have to send them money to use it, but.

Um.

I'm 25!

So one awesome thing about Netflix is the ability to do a marathon of favorite actors/directors/etc. I figured I should log on and get the majority of the French films Jean Reno's in, as he is made of awesome. I just watched "Empire of the Wolves".

Oh my god.

The first half is really interesting. There's a woman with no memory who discovers her entire face has been reconstructed, leading her to believe she's been vanished for some reason. And there's a crazy serial killer running amok in Paris's Turkish underground, torturing and disfiguring his victims, who all look(ed) the same.

Yes, these two plots DO come together.

Jean Reno is this crazy rogue ex-cop who's brought in by the guy investigating the serial killer because he knows the area. He proceeds to be generally batshit, and violently so, much to the dismay of his new partner. Soon they discover the girls that have been murdered were all accidents - the serial killer isn't a serial killer, he's an assassin who's looking for one specific girl. A girl who was swept up in a raid by the Paris police, and promptly disappeared by the anti-terrorism squad, who lobbed her towards the military, who ran some experiments regarding memory...

Ayup. Amnesia girl is the girl.

This is where the plot moves from gripping thriller to OMGWTAF bad spy/adventure movie. The girl gets the doctor to restore her old memories, and promptly becomes a cold-blooded killer, as she used to work for this Turkish gang and was one of their best militants. She was a drug runner, but she wanted out, so she stole all the cocaine they gave her and bolted. The serial killer is an assassin sent to track her down. Jean Reno, n00b cop, and the girl convene in...some sort of gigantic, awesome crypt where the cocaine, lots of guns, and grenades are also conveniently stashed. The girl gets the grenades, bolts up the stairs, and sets off an explosion. n00b cop manages to scramble to safety, and Jean Reno falls 15m into the depths.

n00b cop goes to the office, covered in blood, cocaine, and dust. He makes a professional snafu by threatening the head of narcotics, so narcotics pulls all his files. Somehow (still pretty damn bloody), he convinces his boss to send him to Turkey - now he wants answers, and is going to track down the assassin to get them.

So, Turkey. The girl, who prior til now has been running for her life from a Turkish gang, decides to go BACK to Turkey, which is where Jean Reno surprises her. n00b cop tracks the assassin all the way into a desert, where he promptly calls the guy out and is surrounded by about 50 angry gang members. They proceed to the inner sanctum of the leader of the gang, where they meet the girl and Jean Reno.

The leader is about to kill the girl when she pulls off some super-awesome move and kills him. Jean Reno and n00b cop engage in a firefight with the assassin's men, but don't worry! Narcotics division hooked up with the fucking MILITARY, who are providing backup. Jean Reno and n00b cop go to rescue the girl, they kill the assassin, and all is right with the world.

I swear to god, it was like I was watching three different movies. The cop story was one movie, the amnesiac girl was another, and then it all culminated in some horrid spy-movie send-up (no, really, narcotics got the fucking army to play along?). The entire amnesia plot was a red herring, which is a shame, because it was one of the better plots.

All in all, the first half of the movie is a great thriller, and the second half is great for lols.

My dad's family has, officially, entered the race for, "Which side of the family is crazier?"

It's clear the anxiety part came from my dad. He and his brothers also tend to do stupid little sorting things - not OCD, because they can stop and they aren't being affected, but OCD-like. Also, there's a serious history of addiction on that side of the family. However, until now my dad and I were the only ones on that side with some sort of diagnosed illness.

Note: "until now".

My Texas family - I call them that because they really are, in a way, Texas family. Devout Southern Baptists, a drawl, red-blooded Republicans with guns and motorcycles and all that. There've been issues down there before - one or two of my cousins has a clotting disorder, one has Asperger's, the eldest sort of ran away from it all to end up pregnant at 17.

I don't know any of them very well. I have a hard time identifying with them when we see each other - one of those, "If we weren't family, we wouldn't be friends," sort of situations.

My youngest cousin must be around 10. I don't know what exact age. They thought he had ADHD, so he's been taking medication - I don't know which. Something or other happened, he's not on the medication right now, and his behavior degenerated. Acting out in school. And then, instead of a paper, he wrote his teacher a strange letter about dying.

He's been in the hospital for three weeks now.

I'm concerned for him. It's possible, unlikely but possible, he's just having an extreme depressive/anxiety attack and is expressing himself badly - I know when I was young, if you asked me to tell you what scared me so badly, it'd probably come out funny. But he volunteered this information, in a weird way. The other diseases that would manifest like this, at a young age, do not bode well for his future. The best case scenario might be bipolar disorder, which does also speak to his being in hospital so long.

It's just sad. He's young, and his mom can only come visiting hours, and I don't know what hospital he's in or whether it's even any good - they lived in a bit of a no-man's land.

I'm feeling better (clearly). The EEG almost didn't happen, but it did! And I'm back on pills, huzzah.

As an aside: WTAF did you just do, England?

You were a special filly.

This is one of the hardest things to do, because I have to do it voluntarily.

That's not entirely accurate. I don't have a choice in the not-taking of pills; if I want a better, solid answer as to my mental health's future, I absolutely have to stop taking these pills, and had to Wednesday.

The problem is, there are two dosages upstairs. I know that. And I have to pretend I don't, because I cannot take them.

So, today, I have to try to choke down some food, and try to monitor how much is in my stomach and how much shouldn't be, or else I'll end the day much like I did yesterday - throwing up the food my stomach determined would take too much energy to deal with.

I'm also starting to get a bit scattery and desperate in my thoughts. I spent the night having dreams, and for some reason, when I think of them today, they make me shake and cry. Five minutes away from something that I can focus on, and I'm having the sort of anxiety attacks I haven't had in over a decade.

On the plus side, I decided I want to work for the Axminster Carpet company, because How It's Made just profiled them and it was quite nifty.

My brain is doing that every five minutes, you guys.

Either that, or the whole world shifts sideways, but only in my mind.

Needless to say, I came home early.

There's another 48 hours of this game to go!

(In other news, I am posting from DeepestSender)

DS - Edit: I can't get it to log me in through both systems yet. Hmm.

Reverend Wright has, at least partially, redeemed himself for any transgression, in my eyes.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=90011520

LOL

Honestly, this is one of my favorite mass-psychoses, and I find the timing PERFECT.

a better world. A more honest one, where sex isn't shameful or degrading. I wish this was the kind of world where say, 'Wow, I'd like to touch your breasts,' and people would understand that it's not a way of reducing you to a set of nipples and ignoring the rest of you, but rather a way of saying that I may not yet know your mind, but your body is beautiful

I'm sorry. Is this your way of getting around rejection, by not actually putting yourself on the line and saying, "Hey, you're cute, I'd like to date you/kiss you/meet you in a dark corner"? Or is this your way of projecting your own qualms about sex onto the people you meet, because I know a lot of...people who think a girl is pretty until they find out she's a "slut".

I'm sorry that you are so incapable of human interaction that you cannot find attractive women that would make out with you, because in my experience, there are plenty of women out there who aren't hung up on sex/their bodies. They just like to a) be asked and b) be asked in a way that is commonly recognized as normal human interaction.

I went to a pretty open school, and there was a bit of wank about finding a good medium between "sleeping with everything" and "terrified of sex". I was only once proposed to inappropriately, and that was in the confines of a pre-existing relationship. I never once was pressured into something, and no one was callous enough to reduce the entire, er, "mating game" so to speak to an exchange, like, "Here's five dollars, give me my ice cream." There are plenty of people out there willing to sleep with you, and it's quite clear when they're interested. If you haven't found them, either a) you don't try very hard b) you are a creep or c) you've got your own problems, boob boy, so deal with those before asking random strangers for a no-strings-attached boob grab.