"Just because you get inspiration out of it doesn't mean that inspiration went into it." ~Hemingway

I have some things I'm afraid of that are rational. Things like car accidents or getting sick. But I've noticed something-- rational fears aren't the ones people think about all the time. It's the irrational ones that always pop into our heads.

Or maybe we notice them more because they ARE so ridiculous. But either way, I catch myself worrying about irrational things way more than rational ones.

I'm afraid that people can see me through pictures of them. Like, if I have a photo of someone on my desk, they can see me through the eyes of their photo-self. This even applies to magazine covers. Consequently, all the photos in my room face away from my bed, so that the people in them aren't watching me sleeping. If they do face the bed, they face the foot of the bed, where the curtain blocks the view (I have a four-poster bed). I turn magazines over if they have a person on the cover whose eyes I can see-- if their eyes are closed in the picture, they can't see me. One exception to this is my picture of Ryter and me, which sort of vaguely faces my bed, but not the head of it. I try to overcome this fear, as it is rather annoying to have to find just the right location in my room to get dressed in. But I still turn pictures around sometimes.

My other irrational fear comes up any time I either have weird food cravings, gain weight in my abdominal area, or have my period a little later than I expected. I have this irrational fear that I am pregnant. This would not be irrational were it not for the fact that I am not having sex, thus, pregnancy would be highly unlikely. I suppose it's conceit on my part, clearly, I am saintly enough to deserve the next Immaculate Conception; but still. I fight the urge to take a pregnancy test despite KNOWING I cannot, can NOT be pregnant. When I do finally become sexually active, I will make sure to inform everyone, so that they can buy stock in pregnancy test manufacturers, because I guarantee that no amount of oral contraceptives or condoms will prevent me from peeing on that stick every few mornings.

Does anyone else have any irrational fears?

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I saw No Reservations with Shrewd tonight. It was a very good movie, and if you like chick flicks you'll like it. If you like chick flicks and cooking, you'll love it. Shrewd adored it; then again, for dinner tonight for just the two of us (my parents have thankfully gone to to the Cape for two weeks and the Brother is in California with his drum corps), she made salmon with cheese polenta topped with tomato and orange pepper sauce, and spinach on the side.

I love it when my sister cooks, she's so much better at it than I am. Plus I always feel like I'm in some schmancy bistro, except the cook eats with me and monopolizes the conversation, and I have to help clean up afterwards.

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New additions to the blogroll!

The Comics Curmudgeon is a very funny blog about newspaper comics and how ridiculous they are. Check it out.

I've also been reading The Dilbert Blog, which is by Scott Adams, creator of the Dilbert comics, and is also quite funny but also often philosophical in nature.

And then there's the perennial geek favorite, Wil Wheaton's Blog.

I've also discovered Rock, Paper, Scissors, Gun, a very well-written personal blog that I've been checking out lately.

Then there's two blogs written by medical types, one by a med student called More Cowbell, and the other by a doctor called Doctor Anonymous.

And finally, another personal blog by someone who can actually write, called Living with Multiple Personalities. Check 'em out!

My inner elbow is sticky and vaguely orange.

I donated blood today. The actual bleeding took half the time it was supposed to, which I thought was interesting. There are a couple of annoyances with giving blood, though. The first is the waiting. You spend more time waiting than actually donating. Then there's the questions.

"Have you ever been outside the country in the past three years? You need to remember every country, and the cities in that country, that you visited."
"Have you ever been to Africa or had sex with someone from Africa?" Because any connection to Africa and your blood is TARNISHED BEYOND REPAIR.
"Does any of your family have any of these diseases that you can't pronounce and have never heard of before?"
"Have you ever had sex with a man who has had sex with another man?" This is by far the most awkward question of the lot. Because while I can just say no, of course, it's like, uhm... what?

If you think about it, in this day and age that question's not even practical any more. I mean, the concern with having had sex with a man who has had sex with another man is that man-on-man tends to mean anal sex and anal sex is high-risk for HIV. That's why HIV initially spread primarily among gay men. But these days as many straight people are infected as homosexuals and as many women as men, and hetero couples have anal sex as well. Wouldn't the question be better phrased as "Have you ever had sex with a person who regularly engages in anal sex?" or "Have you ever engaged in anal sex?" It's not about being PC, it's just that it makes no sense to blame one group for a risky behavior when that risky behavior is practiced equally by all groups.

Then again, I don't think they ever take out screening questions from their list, they just add more on. And more and more and more...

Third problem-- afterwards I felt kind of drained (ha ha, no really) and weak, and thanks to a scheduling confusion with Alex and the car I wasn't able to eat before work, so I was sore and weak from both factors. I ate on my break but I was already feeling lousy.

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I got dinner at this Mexican semi-fast-food place and the girl behind the counter recognized me. She asked if I went to UNH. I said I did. She said, "Oh, I think I saw you there, when I was working..." It took me a few minutes before I realized she was the omelette girl at HoCo. Who I only ever saw at HoCo, where I almost never ate, while hundreds of other people came through there every day. And yet, she remembered me.

I was torn between "flattered" and "creeped out." It was a bit surreal.

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I realized something as I was straightening up at work today. I was looking for Christmas gifts. That's not really unusual, I did that at TJ Maxx, too, and the Discovery Channel store is going out of business and all so I figure I should get some shopping done before the end of the summer.

What was unusual is I was thinking about getting a gift for Ryter.

You know, it first struck me on Tuesday when I was talking to him about going to the Highland Games in the fall. I was never obvious about it, but you know, before Tuesday I'd never allowed myself to believe this would last longer than a couple weeks. I wasn't planning long-term. I've never planned long-term for relationships; I just assume that they'll end soon and prepare myself for it. That way I'm not concerned when they do.

So now I'm suddenly realizing that I am planning ahead, I'm expecting this to last a while, and it's kind of scaring me because I feel like I'm setting myself up for a fall. Like I'm afraid that now that I'm actually starting to feel safe in this it's going to end, and instead of just taking a deep breath and going back to bemoaning my singleness I'm going to really get hurt.

I'm trying to ignore that fear, though. I need to overcome this. It's just a matter of facing it.

"The smart thing to do is to start trusting your intuition."

I didn't do anything today, really, except I found my purse. I wanted to go outside all day, but I couldn't think of anything to do out there, and every time I heard people outside my door my heart started to race and I couldn't leave the room. This was despite having to go to the bathroom-- I didn't want to have to walk past people, or see people.

I'm beginning to worry about my sociophobic tendencies. I mean, I thought I was supposed to be getting better with therapy... I was doing much better at the end of last semester, and I thought that was a sign that things were looking up for me. Now I sit alone in my room with the door closed for the whole goddamn day, because I don't have any friends to hang out with, because I have six people I consider my friends, of whom only two ever actively seek to spend time with me. One of those two is my roommate, and the other one knew me since kindergarten. I've managed to become a recluse when I'm living in a dorm. It's actually somewhat impressive.

I can't do the things I used to do to improve my spirits, like drawing or writing fiction, because I get too nervous when I hear people walk by and I can't focus on the subject matter. I can't get lost in my fantasy worlds like I've always needed to, in order to calm down and not have to think about real people and the constant judgment I perceive from them (yes, I know that it's just perceived and not real judgment, but I still have the emotional response to it despite my mental awareness of the truth). So instead I read online comics and browse Wikipedia entries. If I was living at home, I would at least be able to watch TV and totally block out reality for a while, but I don't even have that option here. I claim to be bored, but the truth is, there's lots of things I could be doing. Unfortunately, not one of them will alleviate the anxiety and resultant depression I feel. Most of them would make it markably worse.

I can't decide if I should give up and go back on medication or not. I know that if I report any of this to the counseling center they'll send me to talk with the psychiatrist and I'll be back on psychiatric medication. That fact depresses me as much as anything else in my life right now. I know I should take it if I need it but I don't want to need it, I've needed it for the entire time I was a teenager and I want it to be something I leave behind as I get older, something I outgrow like body glitter and waking up at 4 AM to catch a 7:30 bus.

But don't worry-- if I start to think about hurting myself in any way, I'll be at Schofield in an instant. Right now I have absolutely no desire to inflict harm on my body, so it's just a question of if my unhappiness is affecting my life enough that I need medication to function properly. I just want to be DONE with this crap.

I Am 44% Abnormal

I am at medium risk for being a psychopath. It is somewhat likely that I have no soul. I am at medium risk for having a borderline personality. It is somewhat likely that I am a chaotic mess. I am at medium risk for having a narcissistic personality. It is somewhat likely that I am in love with my own reflection. I am at high risk for having a social phobia. It is reasonably likely that I feel most comfortable in my mom's basement. I am at low risk for obsessive compulsive disorder. It is unlikely that I am addicted to hand sanitizer.

How Abnormal Are You?