I should really be doing Genetics right now.

The trouble with being depressed is I have an instinctual need to hide it. When I was younger, I used to practically brag about it, using it to get attention, which helped me feel less alone and uncared for. However, sometime when I was in high school I began to understand good attention vs. bad attention, and that, combined with stern cautioning from my parents and my guidance counselor that colleges and employers will avoid depressed people like the plague, made me force myself to learn how to hide it from people I didn't really, really trust.

Of course, this was impossible sometimes. I remember one of my high school history teachers (sucky teacher, nice woman) confronting me because I seemed "sad all the time, and unusually quiet." My 9th grade science teacher picked up on the fact that at the time I was scratching my arms with keys (my mother had removed all sharper objects than that from my room) and burning the hair on them with matches or candles. I had a bunch of teachers talk to me about low performance or falling asleep in class. They didn't send me to the guidance office or anything, they just talked to me and tried to figure out what was going on, and then once they figured out I was already in therapy, suggested that I talk to my therapist about it (to which I replied that I was already doing so) and did their best to keep me on top of my schoolwork despite my total apathy on the subject.

Then last year, I was forced to reveal that I was very depressed to my roommates, because I was bursting into tears in front of them. See, the way I handle stress and depression has been evolving since I was a kid; when I was little, I took it out on my family members, usually my brother and sister. This, while very effective at making me feel better, was obviously not a good thing to be doing, so it slowly morphed into abusing my siblings less and myself more. This was better than pummeling my siblings, but still not a good system, so it seems to have evolved again, this time into crying. A lot. At everything. And sometimes at nothing. While I'd like to deal with it a bit more productively, at least crying doesn't really hurt anybody, so I'm okay with crying.

Anyway, my problem now is that I really don't want to face the fact that I'm depressed, and yeah, I think I need medication again (I will make a doctor's appointment sometime this week). More significantly, I don't want to deal with explaining it to Cellamica. Two results: first of all, Ryter's been getting 95% of my crazy lately, specifically the bursting into tears at the slightest provocation, which sucks because he's not in the best emotional state right now either. Second of all, I am suppressing and faking my emotions around everyone else, trying to seem at least calm and collected, even if I can't pull off cheerful.

I really, really hate it. Plus I have trouble because someone will say something to me, and I have to scramble for a response and often pause for too long before answering, because I'm not actually capable of thinking about things lately. I don't talk much unless prompted and then my replies are slow and sometimes don't really make sense in the context of the question. Meanwhile there's a fight in my head as I'm struggling to bring my consciousness to the here and now long enough to answer a simple question.

There are few things I hate worse than being stuck in my own head, and I am. I'm forcing myself to seem normal, but inside I feel like I'm trapped in a fog. I feel absolutely miserable.

Trying to be both vague and specific at the same time is rather challenging.

It appears this business of bursting into tears pretty much every night that I am alone is going to become a habit.

I'm glad I spent the night at home, though honestly I wish I could have spent another night, or a whole weekend. I did get to get some apples and cider today, and see the ducks at the local apple orchard's duck pond. They used to advertise "FEED THE DUCKS!" and sell duck food, but I think some environmentalist got to them because now the sign says "PLEASE DON'T FEED THE DUCKS-- THEY NEED TO BE ABLE TO FLY!"

And I talked to my dad about Thanksgiving. He refuses to let it be moved to Friday but was okay with eating at 12 or 1 and letting me go to Ryter's family dinner afterwards. The only question is if my aunt can come up that early. My mom will talk to her.

And now I'm back at school, a little later than planned. I think this stress won't go away until I solve the problems that are causing it-- no amount of relaxation will help. I just wish I could say how successful I will be at that.

Not this shit again.

I managed to skip Biostats today. Not intentionally. We were dismissed from Organic and, instead of sitting there and waiting for my professor to come in, I just... left. I spaced. I honestly thought it was time for me to go. I forgot a whole hour of my day.

But oh well. I can catch up later. I'm stressed, is all.

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I'm at home right now, which will help. I talked to my mom about Thanksgiving with Ryter-- she said she's okay with it, but I haven't talked to my dad yet. That will not go as well...

Honestly? I'd rather we just did separate Thanksgivings this year. I think he said they do a deli platter. For Thanksgiving. My mom does a big-ass turkey and a whole mess of side dishes and she's a fabulous cook. She suggested we do the dinner Friday, if Shrewd could get Friday off work, but if Shrewd's at Crate and Barrel she'll need to do day-after-Thanksgiving sales. Moving it would be so unbeleivably perfect... but unlikely. So I may be skipping my mom's amazing Thanksgiving cooking for Ryter. I hope that kid knows how much I love him.

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I played my Marvel Heroes monopoly game tonight with my mom and dad. I lost, spectacularly. Mummy won, and she was talking to Shrewd on the phone for the first 20 minutes or so. It didn't help that Daddy had the TV going for background noise, which makes it impossible for me to concentrate. But it's a cute game, and a lot of fun. Park Place was Magneto, Boardwalk was Professor X, in case you're curious.

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So I was sitting here writing this at midnight, and now I'm crying. Why am I crying? Hell if I know. I'm just crying. And I can't see the screen very well.

okay, so maybe I do know. Maybe I'm crying because I'm so stressed I accidentally skipped a class. Maybe it's because I just finished my third test in less than a week this morning. Maybe it's because I spent 15 minutes of that test on one problem only to realize that duh, 1200 divided by 300 is 4, not 400. Maybe it's because I can't stick to a diet and every time I look down I am reminded of how fat I am. Maybe it's the fact that he, completely innocently, made me feel incredibly embarrassed and ashamed of the one feature of my body that I have always felt really, really self-conscious about and wanted him to approve of. Maybe it's because I have a Orgo quiz Monday and a test in two weeks. Maybe it has something to do with all my Daphnia dying and my turning in a crappy report on them. Maybe it's the fact that my boyfriend has told me that all the not-quite-sex stuff that we do together does pretty much nothing for him, and basically told me to lay off anything more than kissing until I'm ready for sex (not that he's saying that needs to be soon). Maybe it's the fact that this is the first time I've been home for longer than an hour since I went to school, and I can only spend the night, and no one's going to be home tomorrow anyway since it's Thursday and they have to work, and by the time they get home I'll have to go back to Durham so I can be around to spend tomorrow hiking with Ryter, and spend the night before him sleeping in his god-awful uncomfortable bed and not touching him, then go spend Saturday being smiley and happy for his family, and Sunday doing homework. Maybe it has something to do with not being ALONE since... god. I can't remember. I can't remember being alone. And I'm increasingly retreating into my fantasy worlds to the point where reality seems surreal, and I can't fix that problem because I have maybe five friends and they're all so busy with jobs or extracurriculars (you know, lives) that I can't spend time with them instead and have THEM pull me out of this world I've retreated into. And I feel like I can't tell Ryter because he's stressed out already and his problems are worse than mine, and besides, he's the reason for some of mine and that will make him feel worse and when he feels guilty it makes me feel bad for making him feel guilty and ultimately, even if it was his fault, I wind up suffering emotionally more than him.

I'm so sick of crying. The way I stop crying is to retreat into a fantasy, where I'm pretty and healthy and supreme dictator of earth. But when I retreat into fantasy it's worse when I have to return to the real world. So I have to decide if the temporary relief is worth it.

"I and my decapitated popsicle will now retire upstairs, THANK YOU VERY MUCH"

So I have discovered that it's very hard to drive home when you're crying for the last 45 minutes of the hour-long trip.

And now, I'll make you wonder, and start at the beginning.

Let's see... My Day, by Basiorana. After a quick trip to the gym and a shower, I headed over to the school to meet with my old guidance counselor, who was thrilled to see me, showed me the image of me she stitched into her quilt (the little tiny pencil in my hair was priceless), then gave me information to pass along to Shrewd and the Brother about jobs while offering nothing for me.

Figures.

Anyway, I proceeded to drive up to Dover for my therapy appointment, and after that, headed over to Ryter's. I was driving along a long, straight stretch of road at about 50, 55 mph in a 35 mph zone and I passed a cop. Thinking, Aww, damn..., I slowed and kept going, watching as he did a U-turn and followed me to the highway on-ramp, whereupon he turned on his lights and I immediately pulled over.

I got a warning. I mean, he put me into the system and nothing came up, I'm sure, so I got a verbal admonishment and was sent on my way. I've been driving kind of slow since then; I was always kind of proud of the fact that I'd never been stopped by a cop for anything and that's no longer the case, which I find mildly depressing, but I didn't get a ticket or even a written warning so that's good, at least. Ryter mentioned that he'd noticed the Durham police are able to devote much more time to catching speeders once school gets out, so I'll be especially careful this summer.

I met up with Ryter, anyway, and we went to go get stuff for his new lizard tank. He's getting a bearded dragon, got it approved by his landlady and everything. He's really excited, it's cute. He's going to name it Jesus (Hay-SOOS, not JEE-sus), for Jesus shall be his name (He said it, not me...). We got the tank and all, stashed it in the back of the car securely, and then went to get more climbing wood at another pet store, a few towns over. We had just passed the exit we would have taken to go back to his house when the skies opened up in terrible, torrential rain. Ryter decided we might as well keep going, and I didn't object.

We got to the parking lot, headed in, and a few seconds too late Ryter noticed that the lot was flooded. He realized this because his car was in a very, very deep puddle. Like, caulk the wagons and float across kind of puddle. After a few tries, the car moved and he parked. "On three, we run," he declared, and on three, I sprinted out of the car and over to the covered sidewalk, where a man was waiting to inform me that the front bumper of Ryter's car was currently floating in the waters of the Giant Puddle of Doom.

Much rain, bumper-fetching and bumper-cramming-into-the-back-seat later, the water-swept part was secured in the car, and we went to the pet store. Shoes squishing, I also stopped by Fashion Bug to grab a dry shirt for when we got back to his apartment. And, on the way back, it started to hail, too, so I was suddenly petrified I'd come back to see my car damaged or something. And, tornado watches, flashes of lightning, nonstop thunder... Yeah, not so fun.

Plus we got back to his apartment and the power went out, which displeased him greatly. But we set up both the terrarium and his bookcase, then went out and bought a chess game in a lull to occupy ourselves (he checkmated me in three moves, then in four moves-- I fail, but hey, I voted for Pretty Pretty Princess), but as soon as we got back, the power went back on.

None of this has anything to do with why I started to cry on the way back home, though. I'll go into it more when I'm not so tired, but suffice it to say that I'm very frustrated for my inability to ask for things I want. Need, yes, I'll ask for that. Want, not so much. It's driving me crazy.

"Explore your own world by working together with your friends."

Today is the Caristia, or the Caro Cognito. It's actually a kinda cool holiday, all about reunion with your families. Even the most workaholic fathers spent time with their kids. It was sort of a relaxing, non-religious holiday, a break from all the other holidays.

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So... oh my god. I saw Sophocles' Electra tonight, performed by the Drama department. First thing I have to say: They did a really good job. No one tripped over lines except once, and I forgive Orestes on account of him practically spewing in his rage against the establishment.

Because it was punk rock Sophocles.

I have to say, the girl playing Electra was impressive. She definitely pulled it off. She even managed to scream in time to music without it sounding like she was just being a punk rocker. Or screamo. Clytemnestra wasn't as good at that, because she didn't have as much as a range in her screams. Chorus was also impressive, although there was one girl whose operatic soprano made me cringe. Opera, punk rock, and Greek tragedy all together is stretching it a bit.

But oh my GOD the clothes.

At first there was Orestes' shirtless friend, with funny straps across his chest; that wasn't too bad. Then there was the poofy halter top worn by a chorus member, and the odd hair colors-- but I could tolerate that. Then Chrysothemis, Electra's sister, came out in thigh-high black boots with three-inch-platforms and a swath of pink gauze attached to a black pleather bra that she was perilously close to falling out of.

That was pretty bad, but it was nothing compared to what was to come... In the last scene, the usurper king, Aegisthus, returns home and Orestes murders him. So I figured we'd be treated to another mesh shirt or pants that are quite clearly going to interfere with future reproductive capabilities.

But no.

Aegisthus was wearing a bright neon-green and black striped jumpsuit. And a belt for a tie. No, not a tie for a belt-- he had a studded belt strapped around his neck, so the long end formed a tie. It was so ridiculous that I quite nearly burst into raucous laughter right in the midst of the performance.

Priceless.

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Other than that, my day has been a mixed bag... on the one hand, I cried in front of Group, which was bad and stupid and I hate doing stuff like that, I hate crying in front of people.

On the other, Writer Guy (Mistake called him Facebook Guy but I think Writer Guy works better) and I are getting together to go get lunch next week.

First person to make fun of me DIES. Or... doesn't get a cookie. At least.

I Have a Phlegmatic Temperament

Mild mannered and laid back, I take life at a slow pace.Maybe. Sometimes. I am very consistent - both in emotions and actions. I guess that's kinda true. I tend to absorb set backs easily. I am cool and collected. Aaaaand all accuracy is lost... It is difficult to offend me. Yes. I can remain composed and unemotional. Er-- no. I am a great friend and lover. I don't demand much of others. Sounds reasonable enough. While I am quiet, I have a subtle wit that my friends know well. What is this "subtlety" of which you speak? At my worst, I am lazy and unwilling to work at anything. True. I often get stuck in a rut, without aspirations or dreams. Not so true. I can get too dependent on others, setting myself up for abandonment.I don't really know. I think so.

What Temperment Are You?

Why I Don't Watch Certain Movies Aound Friends

Who am I, and what have I done with me?

I'm sitting here crying, like literally crying, real tears and all, which I only do when I have a breakdown or something. And I didn't have a breakdown, I watched a movie. I'm crying over a movie! The last movie I cried over was AI, I think, and that was years ago and because I was depressed and it was a bad idea to watch a sad movie.

But what really gets me is this- this wasn't a sad movie, at least not the ending, which is what I'm crying over. And these aren't sad tears. I'm a nineteen year old girl and for the first time in my life, I'm crying because I'm happy, because I saw something beautiful and sweet.

Man, I feel like... a girl.

And in case you're wondering, it was It's a Wonderful Life, and I've never seen it before. I can't believe I'm crying because of it- I mean, yes, classic movie and very sweet and everything, but I don't cry over movies. This is me. I don't get emotional over the lives of others!