insane

It's sunny outside, I thought I could feel it. I can't. I feel fine but I'm uninspired.

Writing is a good laxative. Realised last week was just adjustment time and got over it. Got over stuff with X. Got over most everything really. Called T very late. 2 am. It was a full-moon thing. It's a poor excuse. I just wanted to ask him about my blog. And tell him that all was good because even if he did read my blog, he doesn't deserve to feel like an ass. Because this year was all quite good really, fun and enlightening. So yeah sometimes the world feels like it's off to run away with axed portions of me, sometimes I feel like glass with smudgy fingerprints. Not his fault. My choice. And mostly just me being negative. But his phone was off. Shuts it off when he sleeps. Ass. (Haha. ) Still, could never do that, shut off all contact at night, phonophobia be damned. Night is a time for accidents and bad thoughts and emergencies.

Thoughts of black-markering out X. X hurts. I fucked up with X. I don't want to see him anymore. I do but I can't. He tells me talking with me makes him smile. Makes him feel better already. It makes me feel very very very sick and sad to hear that. But even that feeling's not enough.

Went dancing with sister and husband and his brother and his wife. Drank more than anyone, faster than anyone, stood firm, amazed family, mouthed all the words and and danced and laughed along.

Caught a bad cold. Lost my voice. Called my mom for mother's day sounding like a dying toad. She sounded a bit discouraged. Talked to my grandmother. She had waited up to talk to me too so I had to. She sounded as appalled as expected. I know she would have preferred to have preserved the fantasy of me perpetually healthy and cheerful, foreign lands or no foreign lands. What had I caught like that? What had I done wrong? Was I not keeping warm? Was I taking care of myself?

Couldn't call. Wanted to call. Didn't want to call. Called. Won't pick up.

Feel tired and unfeeling. Feel ok. Have report to write. Don't want to pick a professor for my project. Told everyone I already did. Don't want to do a project. But only one term or so left. Just want to live this out and decide what I really want. I'm an ok scientist but not superb. I adore chemistry but it panics me, never feel like I can go deep enough, broad enough. Just spread myself thin. I can do numbers and equations, my specialty, big whoopdidoo. Every once in a while I get it, but can't communicate and don't know what questions to ask. I can't present and I hate working on anything that's in the least open-ended. I still get good grades. I'm good with grades. I don't study much. I write things last second. Sometimes after last second. Way after last second. Can't seem to do it anymore.

Displicined, effective academic research may not be for me. I think I just want to teach.

Was supposed to see a doctor this week. Two. One check-up, one of the psych persuasion. Can't remember what day or time. Should call and ask. What if I already missed? Owe fine for two missed appointments already. Owe the university books and a CD. Own the corner store a DVD. (Again.) And is it just me or did someone cut my cellphone off?

This can't be that hard to do. Life, that is. I'm not even that poor. I'm not even that busy. I'm not even that stupid. I swear. Um. Sometimes I feel like an idiot savant. And then I don't know which one is hyperbole, the idiot, or the savant.

What if they put me on ritalin? Can you imagine me on speed? What if they hyper-focus my thought and I can become like the streets of Amsterdam, all parallel and perpendicular gridding, all one-way identical streets? Easy to find a venue though, as long as you know where you're going. Otherwise you're completely lost. Actually, I like Amsterdam, though I nearly rolled a friend's parked car into a canal there once. I thought you can't turn off an engine when it's still on 'drive'? I turned the key so I could open a window, saw the fast approaching red boathouse sitting in the canal making its way towards me, panicked and pressed on the accelerator, saw the even fasert approaching boathouse, panicked more and pressed the brakes hard and turned the key back. I don't drive. It all happened in a second really. Key-Boat-Stop-Press-BoatBoatBoat-NottherepressotheroneNOW-Or key-Breathe.

What if I like to meander and detour? Picnic in roundabouts? Where is that line between personality and crazy? The fucking up of life, right, that's the line. How fucked up exactly? Like above paragraphs?

Yes, maybe.

I can't seem to get out. I write here to remember this. That I must.

Oh I forgot, owe a cab driver 12 dollars too. He told me to get my act together. I think that's a sign.

Reponsible. Need to be responsible.

On another note, apparently, when you get a leaky ceiling it requires you to talk to 40 different people about it to get it fixed and paid for. I did not know this. This is all new to me. It does not help that I sound like a 5 year old and look like a 15 year old, so everyone asks to speak with my mommy or daddy.

I did not know that, despite all being in the same company or affiliated, you are required to place each and every one of those concerned on your lap, give them a candy and then recount the full history of your leaky ceiling, from its germination to its death to its aftermath and rippling consequences. Tell them tales of the interesting obstacles your ceiling faced and strenuous treatments it underwent. And when it's all done with, light up a pipe, and ruminate with them on what the future of your ceiling might be. That is until the next "again, again!". And you must spin it longer to them each time, it is a never-ending story.

It was early spring of 2006, early morning. I stepped down from my stairs half an hour after a steamy shower when- much to my surprise and chagrin-

But the questions- Where was your leak ? On your ceiling. And what was the cause? Your shower? So the leak is in your shower or from your shower? How did the water get to your downstairs then? Oh. Kitchen? Where else on your first floor? Entrance? Stairs? Could you be more exact? We need it for our records- When did you first report the leak and where was it? Oh we're asking again because we're the claims department. So what happened with it? What turned out to be the problem? Are you aware of your deductible? - Cost? I don't know I'm just the plumber. You'll have to ask- I'm the project manager. I won't know until the plumber arrives. He should be here in twenty minutes, I lied so he thinks your house is completely flooded - So what's your deductible? -How much water was there exactly? What's your insurance company? Oh they're the ones who referred us? - No dad, they haven't given me an estimate yet- Cost? We're going to be calling the adjustor about that soon, so you can expect a call from him- Oh we're just here to pick up the fans. Noisy buggers huh? Are you sure you didn't have one more fan? We have report of a big red industrial fan- Oh we're just here for emergency repair. That spot's not emergency- Yes well my current status is that there a couple of holes in my ceiling. Well, because they had to knock it out to dry. Well, where the holes are is where the leaks once were. Sure, I can tell you where the leaks once were again- You do know you have a deductible right?- Did you call to report this? Called three times you say? Well who did you talk to? Was it Helga? We don't have that on record here. When did you call the plumber? Oh we recommended them to you? -

It's fun distraction. I could keep a blog about that alone. Could refer all interested parties to it for a blow by blow account of all the details, every hour on the hour, as it happens. Would save me some time.

On the bright side, some of the people stopping by to check out my infamous ceiling are HOT.

But ok, that was a huge tangent.

What I meant to say is I looked over my blog, felt good about T after all, didn't even feel too strange to read over, felt cool, will cover that later.

But then felt bad about me and the constant cycles of pathetic angst and hopeful renewal over this year. Something needs be done. Time to make a plan.

I also really need a vibrator.