*heaved sigh of relief*
Charles texted me not five minutes after I put the last post up, and came online ten minutes after that. So now I have my hair down, I'm relaxed, and I'm studying. It's so strange, you would think that I'd be incredibly distracted by the fact that Charles is finally online. Instead I'm able to concentrate better than I have all day, and I'm more focused then I was before. I've gotten used to going through the first half of my day without him around, just because he wakes up so late, but... it feels like I don't really start enjoying my day until we start texting, and I'm not really awake till we start Skyping. Like the rest of the day doesn't count, or something.
I guess that's good, in a sense. If it were that I was constantly distracted around him, and if we got married, I'd never get anything accomplished. That... I honestly don't think that'd be healthy. And there's obviously /something/ that goes on in me when he and I are together. If it steadies me, it can't be bad. In fact, it's probably very, very good. And it's good that there's such signs of balance between us. Even if I don't put much stock in predictions via horoscopes and astrology like Fio does, it's still a good way to get a read on someone's personality. If Charles is 'airy' and I'm 'earthy', that's all well and good. All I know is that he grounds me just as much as I do him.
At least, I hope I do. XD
20100502
Sunday. 2 May 2010.
I'm fretting. And no, it's not about the impending Calc final that I'm waking up at 6:30 tomorrow for. It's for Charles - something that seems to be quite common.
Normally I'd try to shake it off; Ben and Fio are commonly quite helpful in reassuring me in that regard. However, the fact that I've had two texting conversations with Char today, one at 7 in the morning after a message he sent me at 5, and then another conversation at 11 or 12 that ended quickly... He didn't fall asleep before five, and he seems to have dozed off after our conversations, but during the conversations, or at least the first, he kept on about how he wasn't fit for society, how he wishes he had been born someone different. I did my best to push him in the opposite direction, keep his mind at rest, but I'm still concerned. Very concerned.
It doesn't help that it's almost 7 and I still haven't heard from him after our noon conversation, nor does it help that Fio seemed a bit concerned about the lack of a Crumpy.
Needless to say, I haven't gotten much studying done.
It's raining out, and I'm wet from walking around in it; my hair's in a braid and bun with Char's bell on its green ribbon around it. I think I might keep this style. It's nice to have my hair off the back of my neck.
And I've also found out that one of the people working on the internship is a junior with his own apartment for him, his girlfriend, and his pet puppy, and that he'll probably be inviting the lot of us over for grill-outs often. I'm rather looking forward to that; it'll be nice to have a community like that to introduce Char to when he comes down. ...I should just stop fighting it. I'm going to babble about Charles, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. v.v
I can't wait till I get to meet him. Like face-to-face meet him. Nervous and excited, thrilled - I can feel my face flushing just imagining it. My heart's racing because I took a moment to think of how it will be like, having him standing next to me, arm around my shoulders or my waist. And I don't think I'll stop grinning for a very long time. Giddy. Joyful. Filled with laughter...
I'm considering going to the party Fio's thinking of hosting in June, but I'm not sure how it would work with my work schedule on the internship. x.x Maybe I could work more during the first few days of the week and then go during the weekend. I won't know until I get there, though. My main motivation for going would be getting the chance to be with Charles. But I'm also really eager to meet Ben and Fio.
*wrings hands* I don't know what to do now, so I'm going to try not to worry. I pray Charles is alright. I hope he managed to get a good block of sleep, though I'm beginning to doubt it. I hope he's not nauseous any more. I feel bad for attempting not to worry. And I don't know if it's foolish or not to feel that; all I know, in this case, is that fretting constantly will do nothing more then drive me into a panic, and that will lead me to do stupid things; Charles is a grown man...
This is doing nothing to help. I hope Charles finishes his part of whatever-we're-writing quickly. I can't wait to start it. It will give me something to do... Nnngh...
Normally I'd try to shake it off; Ben and Fio are commonly quite helpful in reassuring me in that regard. However, the fact that I've had two texting conversations with Char today, one at 7 in the morning after a message he sent me at 5, and then another conversation at 11 or 12 that ended quickly... He didn't fall asleep before five, and he seems to have dozed off after our conversations, but during the conversations, or at least the first, he kept on about how he wasn't fit for society, how he wishes he had been born someone different. I did my best to push him in the opposite direction, keep his mind at rest, but I'm still concerned. Very concerned.
It doesn't help that it's almost 7 and I still haven't heard from him after our noon conversation, nor does it help that Fio seemed a bit concerned about the lack of a Crumpy.
Needless to say, I haven't gotten much studying done.
It's raining out, and I'm wet from walking around in it; my hair's in a braid and bun with Char's bell on its green ribbon around it. I think I might keep this style. It's nice to have my hair off the back of my neck.
And I've also found out that one of the people working on the internship is a junior with his own apartment for him, his girlfriend, and his pet puppy, and that he'll probably be inviting the lot of us over for grill-outs often. I'm rather looking forward to that; it'll be nice to have a community like that to introduce Char to when he comes down. ...I should just stop fighting it. I'm going to babble about Charles, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. v.v
I can't wait till I get to meet him. Like face-to-face meet him. Nervous and excited, thrilled - I can feel my face flushing just imagining it. My heart's racing because I took a moment to think of how it will be like, having him standing next to me, arm around my shoulders or my waist. And I don't think I'll stop grinning for a very long time. Giddy. Joyful. Filled with laughter...
I'm considering going to the party Fio's thinking of hosting in June, but I'm not sure how it would work with my work schedule on the internship. x.x Maybe I could work more during the first few days of the week and then go during the weekend. I won't know until I get there, though. My main motivation for going would be getting the chance to be with Charles. But I'm also really eager to meet Ben and Fio.
*wrings hands* I don't know what to do now, so I'm going to try not to worry. I pray Charles is alright. I hope he managed to get a good block of sleep, though I'm beginning to doubt it. I hope he's not nauseous any more. I feel bad for attempting not to worry. And I don't know if it's foolish or not to feel that; all I know, in this case, is that fretting constantly will do nothing more then drive me into a panic, and that will lead me to do stupid things; Charles is a grown man...
This is doing nothing to help. I hope Charles finishes his part of whatever-we're-writing quickly. I can't wait to start it. It will give me something to do... Nnngh...
20100430
Friday! 30 April 2010!
I AM ON A SUGAR HIGH!
And I"m high on life and can't type fast enough to count for all this energty I get random trembling fits and it's amusing and Lizzy is laughing at me, she's one of mybuddies from PWa nd she's laughing at me but I don't care cuz I got to pet a goat today!
OH SHE WROTE BACK
she's just laughing at me some more.
Sooooooo today I organized the other interns into a war party and then Ms. Looft was like "I'm impressed by your organization and energy!" and I'm like BAH YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS and then I was like What if what if what if? But then people started responding and they were like Awesome! and I think I might have figured out who I want my roomie to be but I don't know yet and
OH SHE WROTE BACK AGAIN
Okay I don't feel like writing any more buhbye
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~EDIT 2 MAY 2010~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Holy crap. I'm beginning to wonder if I /was/ drunk when I wrote this. I didn't know I hadn't made any sense at all. *is caught between cracking up and signing myself up for an asylum...*
And I"m high on life and can't type fast enough to count for all this energty I get random trembling fits and it's amusing and Lizzy is laughing at me, she's one of mybuddies from PWa nd she's laughing at me but I don't care cuz I got to pet a goat today!
OH SHE WROTE BACK
she's just laughing at me some more.
Sooooooo today I organized the other interns into a war party and then Ms. Looft was like "I'm impressed by your organization and energy!" and I'm like BAH YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS and then I was like What if what if what if? But then people started responding and they were like Awesome! and I think I might have figured out who I want my roomie to be but I don't know yet and
OH SHE WROTE BACK AGAIN
Okay I don't feel like writing any more buhbye
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~EDIT 2 MAY 2010~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Holy crap. I'm beginning to wonder if I /was/ drunk when I wrote this. I didn't know I hadn't made any sense at all. *is caught between cracking up and signing myself up for an asylum...*
20100429
Thursday. 29 April 2010. Part II.
You are the partner in this duet.
You have played longer then I have; you have the ability that comes from years of practice and experience. I am new, but I have raw talent for the shaping, and a sense for the music.
When we both pick up our instruments, you ask me to count off, and I look to you to make sure the tempo is right before I start. You know the gesture I use the beat before, and we come in together.
Sometimes one of us goes too quickly or slows down, but the other will be consistent there, to reign the other in or tug them ahead. I'll adjust to your pitch, you'll lead the volume, and we'll both follow the flow of the music.
Harmony or melody, we both love what we play. The beauty of song soars in both of us; we acknowledge the skill of our partner, and our own skill, but for the moment only the notes on the page and the sound of beautiful notes vibrating through the instrument matter. The melody shifts between us, each changing it slightly but always a form of the original. And the harmony supports whoever plays the melody, blending and caressing and complimenting the theme, making something good by itself become something wonderful, something alive.
Together, you and I play a duet. It is an old song, with a theme even older; it is a variation on music that many people scorn, but that even the best are lulled by. Together, we play a duet, and it is called Love.
You have played longer then I have; you have the ability that comes from years of practice and experience. I am new, but I have raw talent for the shaping, and a sense for the music.
When we both pick up our instruments, you ask me to count off, and I look to you to make sure the tempo is right before I start. You know the gesture I use the beat before, and we come in together.
Sometimes one of us goes too quickly or slows down, but the other will be consistent there, to reign the other in or tug them ahead. I'll adjust to your pitch, you'll lead the volume, and we'll both follow the flow of the music.
Harmony or melody, we both love what we play. The beauty of song soars in both of us; we acknowledge the skill of our partner, and our own skill, but for the moment only the notes on the page and the sound of beautiful notes vibrating through the instrument matter. The melody shifts between us, each changing it slightly but always a form of the original. And the harmony supports whoever plays the melody, blending and caressing and complimenting the theme, making something good by itself become something wonderful, something alive.
Together, you and I play a duet. It is an old song, with a theme even older; it is a variation on music that many people scorn, but that even the best are lulled by. Together, we play a duet, and it is called Love.
Thursday. 29 April 2010.
I can tell you now, I won't have the time or energy to write a blog-post later, and I want to get back into the habit, so I'll write now.
Just glanced out the window - I'm very, very glad I got my sunmassage earlier, since it's all grey skies now. Spent about a half hour just lying on the grass in the amphitheater, napping very, very lightly (lightly enough not to really be considered napping), watched birds, read a little bit. Mainly just gave myself time to soak up the sun and the grass and the sounds without worrying or stressing. It was very soothing, and very healing. Although the stress is returning again, what with lab reports and a presentation + skit + another presentation in Arabic... I'm braced and ready. Things will go alright, and if they don't... I'd rather be healthy then have good grades, although if I can have both, that'd be great.
My presentation is on Islamic arms and armor. Just a quick thing, thrown together... but I'm mighty pleased with it. :3
And I'm really REALLY looking forward to this writing thing with Charles. I can't wait to figure out what kind of character I want, write her out, have her interact with his, see what he'll think up and respond to it. If we really do get to the point where we can publish or go semi-official, I will be overjoyed to the point of my pleasure being orgasmic. But even if we just end up screwing around, I'll still be very, very, very happy. Thinking about it even distracted me enough during my shower, so I didn't get all sad and depressed!
And plus, my DA account has 80 profile views. I can't wait to get this... I guess it's a zendoodle on there. Actually, I haven't looked at it yet today. Things that I think are good when I draw them at night usually look like crap in the morning. *checks*
Huh. Actually looks kinda neat. *goes to fiddle with it some more and posts in the process*
Just glanced out the window - I'm very, very glad I got my sunmassage earlier, since it's all grey skies now. Spent about a half hour just lying on the grass in the amphitheater, napping very, very lightly (lightly enough not to really be considered napping), watched birds, read a little bit. Mainly just gave myself time to soak up the sun and the grass and the sounds without worrying or stressing. It was very soothing, and very healing. Although the stress is returning again, what with lab reports and a presentation + skit + another presentation in Arabic... I'm braced and ready. Things will go alright, and if they don't... I'd rather be healthy then have good grades, although if I can have both, that'd be great.
My presentation is on Islamic arms and armor. Just a quick thing, thrown together... but I'm mighty pleased with it. :3
And I'm really REALLY looking forward to this writing thing with Charles. I can't wait to figure out what kind of character I want, write her out, have her interact with his, see what he'll think up and respond to it. If we really do get to the point where we can publish or go semi-official, I will be overjoyed to the point of my pleasure being orgasmic. But even if we just end up screwing around, I'll still be very, very, very happy. Thinking about it even distracted me enough during my shower, so I didn't get all sad and depressed!
And plus, my DA account has 80 profile views. I can't wait to get this... I guess it's a zendoodle on there. Actually, I haven't looked at it yet today. Things that I think are good when I draw them at night usually look like crap in the morning. *checks*
Huh. Actually looks kinda neat. *goes to fiddle with it some more and posts in the process*
20100428
Wednesday. 28 April 2010.
So much time has passed since I last posted, and yet so little. The dates on my posts tell me that less then ten days have gone by. I feel at least a month older. Perhaps it's only my exhaustion, bone-deep from want of sleep, want of mental resources, want of emotional power. I feel myself giving out, but I can't bring myself to be concerned.
I got this message via Facebook from deacon Hurst, whom I contacted a little less than a week ago. We've been exchanging words at a relatively slow pace, but I appreciate the amount of thought he's putting into his thoughts and opinions.
"Sounds like you are getting to the root of some of the issues and I am glad for that. I am here to help however I can, although you won't always like what I have to say (noone ever does...haha). Just a couple of thoughts to chew on. Your Mom and Stepdad know you better than anyone else. I know we always believe the 'true love' of our life knows us best, but that is not true until many years of marriage/relationship build that knowledge. Your parents are concerned. You seem to be making some choices that are out of character then asking for advice and not necessarily listening to those who know you best. I think this might be part of the issue with not being able to talk things over with your Mom. She sees that something just is not sitting right-I think this is all related to the depression/psychological concerns you shared in the last email- and she is concerned that you are making choices when your 'choice barometer' may be of whack. Frankly, I share similar concerns. Please follow through with your thoughts and see a counselor-I'd suggest a Christian counsellor. I thnk this will help you step back a bit and view the situation from a distance. I do wish to continue this conversation as well, I will continue to write a little at a time, but would like to have some facetime as well."
Do mom and Pa really know me that well? They see my outside habits, but is it vain of me to say that they have proved to know less than they think about my internal workings? The fact that my parents think I don't listen to them, especially after I seek advice, proves that. Charles can attest to the amount of time I spend mulling over what they say, even if I don't go along and do what they suggest all the time. It's a gaping wound, one that's been growing, a small cut that's scabbed over and been pulled open again so many times that it grows larger instead of shrinking. And (this is something I've known for quite a while) mom gets very, very defensive if I say anything that comes within two miles of something that can be vaguely considered a personal attack. How do I confront that? How do I prompt healing of this wound?
I talked to Tiara earlier today about all of this. I was... upset, to say the least. About the fact that, out of the two options I've been given, I'm going to hurt someone I love. Because I do love mom. She's my mother; of course I love her. My family on one side, Charles on another, but from what Tiara told me, and from what I can tell, this choice is the best. When I have no sure-fire, obvious solution, it becomes a matter of me doing what's best for them, or me doing what's best for me.
One of mom and Pa's old arguments against Charles was from a mis-speaking on my part; I thought it unwise to tell them that I was up till 3 (a fact that I let slip) because he had told me his feelings for me were far more than friendship; instead I told them that I was helping him work through a few problems. Which, in a sense, was true. But they were saying "A thirty year old man shouldn't be asking for mental help from an eighteen year old girl! He's obviously got problems." I couldn't go back and fix what I said, later - the damage had already been done.
I find it ironic now, that Charles has helped me with so many problems in the last few months, the more recent ones things that mom and Pa have no clue about, or know very little. I doubt they know the full extent of how much this has effected me. I can imagine going home and just going into my room for quite a while, catching up on sleep and private time, and mom and Pa giving me strange, offended looks at the dinner table. If I try to explain how exhausted I am, mom will most likely say something along the lines of "You're younger than us and we do more in a day than you do, you're being a fool for whining," not realizing that I speak of mental and emotional exhaustion as well.
I have half a mind to just let a breakdown happen in the middle of the living room, including the still-existent, if not subtle, fears of Pa. Actually express myself, show the bit of temper that has only flashed all of twice in front of them. It would be unwise, and would probably accomplish nothing then making me go back to my room in embarrassment after I have been told in no uncertain terms that I'm only exaggerating, implying that I've been thinking way too much and digging too deeply into the simple fact that they only love me and want the best for me.
*sighs and removes glasses, rubbing at my eyes* I'm on my way to doubling my dosage of meds - my old counselor and my old psych doctor both told me that I'm introspective and self-knowledgeable (not in those words, of course) enough to be able to increase or decrease my dosage as I see fit. Night-terrors and terrors that come when my mind and hands aren't occupied; a strange fascination with daydreaming about incredibly violent and morbid things like having to deal with the fact that my house blew up while I was at a friends' and my entire family died and I saw the corpses - what's really bad about that is that I get some sort of strange pleasure from it... somehow I've never questioned that. I always assumed it was just a need for attention, so I made up scenarios where I'd have attention... but... it makes no sense, now that I think of it like that. And that points to some sort of weird desire to... punish myself? Throw myself into grief? I don't know.
I doubt myself and my decisions and my thoughts all the time; I don't trust myself, which I think is good, because... I'm not trustworthy? I can't tell if that's bad or good, healthy or unhealthy. Only today did I realize that it might not be as alright as I thought it was to be able to switch out of depressed moods very quickly if I was required in a social setting. Just because I didn't feel sad didn't mean that the emotion was gone. Does it? Again, I'm not sure. I can honestly say that once I've cried and released the swell of emotion, I can start laughing again within two seconds if I'm in a social setting. And the laugh turns genuine very quickly. Like... within ten seconds quickly. So, looking at it like that, I can go from crying sincerely to laughing sincerely in the space of about 15 or 20 seconds, depending on the mood.
Mom sees that and assumes I'm over the emotion. It's what I assume, too. But if the emotion is done and over with that quickly, when it was enough to make me cry... something doesn't seem to line up.
It's all assumptions. Those are just some of the thoughts. I got two reference books from the library today, one an encyclopedia of children/adolescent psychology, one on adult psychology. They're both kinda old, but... I just really want to look into this. Because if any of these are severe signs of something that only Charles has been able to pick out (not even a psych doc, not even myself)... I want to get it solved and be back on my feet as soon as possible.
Lord God, help me through this. You made me like this for a reason. But you have plans for me, too, plans for a future, plans for hope. Those words have gotten me through rough times in the past. Speak through them once more. Show me hope again. Show me faith again, give me the strength I need to get through this. I see your hand in it already, however faint the traces. You know my agony, just as you know my joy, just as you know my mind and heart. I have no words, only need, only thanks.
If it's your will, work another miracle tonight. Another one of those small miracles, a bit of healing where no prompt was given, a bit of hope in an otherwise bleak outlook. You gave me strength enough to keep fighting and to keep holding on with just a glimpse of light ahead; have asked you to light a candle-flame and seen you light a beacon.
Work miracles, Father, as you have done so many times before, for so many thousands of years. Amen.
I got this message via Facebook from deacon Hurst, whom I contacted a little less than a week ago. We've been exchanging words at a relatively slow pace, but I appreciate the amount of thought he's putting into his thoughts and opinions.
"Sounds like you are getting to the root of some of the issues and I am glad for that. I am here to help however I can, although you won't always like what I have to say (noone ever does...haha). Just a couple of thoughts to chew on. Your Mom and Stepdad know you better than anyone else. I know we always believe the 'true love' of our life knows us best, but that is not true until many years of marriage/relationship build that knowledge. Your parents are concerned. You seem to be making some choices that are out of character then asking for advice and not necessarily listening to those who know you best. I think this might be part of the issue with not being able to talk things over with your Mom. She sees that something just is not sitting right-I think this is all related to the depression/psychological concerns you shared in the last email- and she is concerned that you are making choices when your 'choice barometer' may be of whack. Frankly, I share similar concerns. Please follow through with your thoughts and see a counselor-I'd suggest a Christian counsellor. I thnk this will help you step back a bit and view the situation from a distance. I do wish to continue this conversation as well, I will continue to write a little at a time, but would like to have some facetime as well."
Do mom and Pa really know me that well? They see my outside habits, but is it vain of me to say that they have proved to know less than they think about my internal workings? The fact that my parents think I don't listen to them, especially after I seek advice, proves that. Charles can attest to the amount of time I spend mulling over what they say, even if I don't go along and do what they suggest all the time. It's a gaping wound, one that's been growing, a small cut that's scabbed over and been pulled open again so many times that it grows larger instead of shrinking. And (this is something I've known for quite a while) mom gets very, very defensive if I say anything that comes within two miles of something that can be vaguely considered a personal attack. How do I confront that? How do I prompt healing of this wound?
I talked to Tiara earlier today about all of this. I was... upset, to say the least. About the fact that, out of the two options I've been given, I'm going to hurt someone I love. Because I do love mom. She's my mother; of course I love her. My family on one side, Charles on another, but from what Tiara told me, and from what I can tell, this choice is the best. When I have no sure-fire, obvious solution, it becomes a matter of me doing what's best for them, or me doing what's best for me.
One of mom and Pa's old arguments against Charles was from a mis-speaking on my part; I thought it unwise to tell them that I was up till 3 (a fact that I let slip) because he had told me his feelings for me were far more than friendship; instead I told them that I was helping him work through a few problems. Which, in a sense, was true. But they were saying "A thirty year old man shouldn't be asking for mental help from an eighteen year old girl! He's obviously got problems." I couldn't go back and fix what I said, later - the damage had already been done.
I find it ironic now, that Charles has helped me with so many problems in the last few months, the more recent ones things that mom and Pa have no clue about, or know very little. I doubt they know the full extent of how much this has effected me. I can imagine going home and just going into my room for quite a while, catching up on sleep and private time, and mom and Pa giving me strange, offended looks at the dinner table. If I try to explain how exhausted I am, mom will most likely say something along the lines of "You're younger than us and we do more in a day than you do, you're being a fool for whining," not realizing that I speak of mental and emotional exhaustion as well.
I have half a mind to just let a breakdown happen in the middle of the living room, including the still-existent, if not subtle, fears of Pa. Actually express myself, show the bit of temper that has only flashed all of twice in front of them. It would be unwise, and would probably accomplish nothing then making me go back to my room in embarrassment after I have been told in no uncertain terms that I'm only exaggerating, implying that I've been thinking way too much and digging too deeply into the simple fact that they only love me and want the best for me.
*sighs and removes glasses, rubbing at my eyes* I'm on my way to doubling my dosage of meds - my old counselor and my old psych doctor both told me that I'm introspective and self-knowledgeable (not in those words, of course) enough to be able to increase or decrease my dosage as I see fit. Night-terrors and terrors that come when my mind and hands aren't occupied; a strange fascination with daydreaming about incredibly violent and morbid things like having to deal with the fact that my house blew up while I was at a friends' and my entire family died and I saw the corpses - what's really bad about that is that I get some sort of strange pleasure from it... somehow I've never questioned that. I always assumed it was just a need for attention, so I made up scenarios where I'd have attention... but... it makes no sense, now that I think of it like that. And that points to some sort of weird desire to... punish myself? Throw myself into grief? I don't know.
I doubt myself and my decisions and my thoughts all the time; I don't trust myself, which I think is good, because... I'm not trustworthy? I can't tell if that's bad or good, healthy or unhealthy. Only today did I realize that it might not be as alright as I thought it was to be able to switch out of depressed moods very quickly if I was required in a social setting. Just because I didn't feel sad didn't mean that the emotion was gone. Does it? Again, I'm not sure. I can honestly say that once I've cried and released the swell of emotion, I can start laughing again within two seconds if I'm in a social setting. And the laugh turns genuine very quickly. Like... within ten seconds quickly. So, looking at it like that, I can go from crying sincerely to laughing sincerely in the space of about 15 or 20 seconds, depending on the mood.
Mom sees that and assumes I'm over the emotion. It's what I assume, too. But if the emotion is done and over with that quickly, when it was enough to make me cry... something doesn't seem to line up.
It's all assumptions. Those are just some of the thoughts. I got two reference books from the library today, one an encyclopedia of children/adolescent psychology, one on adult psychology. They're both kinda old, but... I just really want to look into this. Because if any of these are severe signs of something that only Charles has been able to pick out (not even a psych doc, not even myself)... I want to get it solved and be back on my feet as soon as possible.
Lord God, help me through this. You made me like this for a reason. But you have plans for me, too, plans for a future, plans for hope. Those words have gotten me through rough times in the past. Speak through them once more. Show me hope again. Show me faith again, give me the strength I need to get through this. I see your hand in it already, however faint the traces. You know my agony, just as you know my joy, just as you know my mind and heart. I have no words, only need, only thanks.
If it's your will, work another miracle tonight. Another one of those small miracles, a bit of healing where no prompt was given, a bit of hope in an otherwise bleak outlook. You gave me strength enough to keep fighting and to keep holding on with just a glimpse of light ahead; have asked you to light a candle-flame and seen you light a beacon.
Work miracles, Father, as you have done so many times before, for so many thousands of years. Amen.
20100419
Monday. 19 April 2010.
Hoooooly crap. It's been what, two days since I updated? Three? This is bad. But, honestly, I kind of view the Charles-chats where we're on Skype for hours as my journal time. Strange? Yes. Disliked? Not in the slightest.
Anyway. I'm in ChemE Comp right now, listening to a process for finding the number of degrees of freedom. I'm not sure what that means. Like... oh. I think it has something to do with the number of variables you have to solve for as opposed to the number of equations you have to solve them. Actually vaguely interesting. Matt just walked in, five minutes late. Poor kid.
Wait, overspecified is bad? No solution exists?? ...oh. There are too many specifications. That would be why. Whoops. I think I might just get a PhD in chemical engineering; I don't want to deal with all that factory junk. Just wanna research. I don't know. This summer should be very telling.
Urk. My left hand hurts. A lot. Like... pinky finger is feeling numb a lot. I think that might be bad. >_<
Haha. "That's when we get spontaneous unintentional disassembly of your reaction equipment." [long pause, I'm the only one chuckling] "That's a euphemism for explosions." This professor is awesome. Yaaaaay reaction rates that suddenly spike when you only have the lower rate planned for...
It's so strange, looking at it. The two guys I've dated before Charles have been brilliant with math, and honestly that chafed me a bit - I may not like the subject, but it felt like I had to work at it until I was /as/ good as them. With Charles it's different - yeah, in the sciences I'm beyond him. But holycrap he's further along in English. I worry that having a girlfriend who constantly rambles off into these rants about science chafes him. I worry a lot. But for myself - it just makes things that much more comfortable. Is that selfish? Egotistical?
Hand is less numb. I think it has something to do with typing. I'll just keep with this in short bursts. X3
Ten minutes left in class. This is supposed to be a work-on-the-problems-we-give-you kind of class. Our professor is lecturing us on things we're not supposed to learn till next year. Lordie. Oh man. We're actually doing something hands-on. This is so strange...
In a completely unrelated manner, I screwed around with my hair last night before I went to bed, and will probably fiddle with it once I buy bagels and cream cheese for food. Actually used the styling gel that I've had in my cabinet for... a good four months, I'd say. And some sort of shine thing. Should be interesting. Very, very interesting.
Our professor gave us three minutes to figure out how to do something and submit it. I have no idea how to approach the problem. Sometimes I really wish I was majoring in something less science-y and less frustrating. But that's the price I pay for wanting to do something world-altering with my life. I'm so idealistic it's painful. But my hopes will come crashing down soon enough, I suppose. Might as well enjoy it while I can.
Anyway. I'm in ChemE Comp right now, listening to a process for finding the number of degrees of freedom. I'm not sure what that means. Like... oh. I think it has something to do with the number of variables you have to solve for as opposed to the number of equations you have to solve them. Actually vaguely interesting. Matt just walked in, five minutes late. Poor kid.
Wait, overspecified is bad? No solution exists?? ...oh. There are too many specifications. That would be why. Whoops. I think I might just get a PhD in chemical engineering; I don't want to deal with all that factory junk. Just wanna research. I don't know. This summer should be very telling.
Urk. My left hand hurts. A lot. Like... pinky finger is feeling numb a lot. I think that might be bad. >_<
Haha. "That's when we get spontaneous unintentional disassembly of your reaction equipment." [long pause, I'm the only one chuckling] "That's a euphemism for explosions." This professor is awesome. Yaaaaay reaction rates that suddenly spike when you only have the lower rate planned for...
It's so strange, looking at it. The two guys I've dated before Charles have been brilliant with math, and honestly that chafed me a bit - I may not like the subject, but it felt like I had to work at it until I was /as/ good as them. With Charles it's different - yeah, in the sciences I'm beyond him. But holycrap he's further along in English. I worry that having a girlfriend who constantly rambles off into these rants about science chafes him. I worry a lot. But for myself - it just makes things that much more comfortable. Is that selfish? Egotistical?
Hand is less numb. I think it has something to do with typing. I'll just keep with this in short bursts. X3
Ten minutes left in class. This is supposed to be a work-on-the-problems-we-give-you kind of class. Our professor is lecturing us on things we're not supposed to learn till next year. Lordie. Oh man. We're actually doing something hands-on. This is so strange...
In a completely unrelated manner, I screwed around with my hair last night before I went to bed, and will probably fiddle with it once I buy bagels and cream cheese for food. Actually used the styling gel that I've had in my cabinet for... a good four months, I'd say. And some sort of shine thing. Should be interesting. Very, very interesting.
Our professor gave us three minutes to figure out how to do something and submit it. I have no idea how to approach the problem. Sometimes I really wish I was majoring in something less science-y and less frustrating. But that's the price I pay for wanting to do something world-altering with my life. I'm so idealistic it's painful. But my hopes will come crashing down soon enough, I suppose. Might as well enjoy it while I can.
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