Good news. I got an appointment, not with a psychiatrist, but with a psychiatric nurse, for March 14 (about a month sooner than expected). I know nothing about her except what the internet can tell me, which is that she can prescribe medication, but also provide therapy, that she works with people who have depression and anxiety, and that she does Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, which Ryter has suggested would be good for me.
If this works out, I won't need to have a psychiatrist separately, which would be good because the only one I could find that I thought I would be comfortable with (I am incredibly sexist about these things) won't take any patient under age 21. Now, I get not taking kids if you don't really feel qualified to work with them, but 21 seems arbitrary. 18 would eliminate parental controls/high school and 25 would be more likely to mean the individual acts like an adult... but anyway.
If it doesn't, I'll have to find another psychiatrist, and I'll probably try to get an appointment with this one therapist whose office is within walking distance of my dorm. That would be awesome, no hour commute. She also does CBS and deals with depression and anxiety, but she can't do meds, so she wouldn't be able to manage my care fully. She might be affiliated with a psychiatrist, however.
I have a few other prospects, all carefully plotted on my Google Maps that outlines the bus stops. However, alas, this first appointment is on a Friday... at 8:00. Like in the morning. With a fifteen minute bus ride to drop me off at 7:15 and pick me up at 9:45.
So yeah. 6 AM wakeup, that'll be fun. Hopefully future appointments can be at more reasonable hours, and hopefully I can arrange to have my car on campus for Friday, because I really, really don't want to be on the bus that early before classes start...
Showing posts with label mornings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mornings. Show all posts
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Thursday, December 14, 2006
I'm sure in 1985, plutonium is available at every corner drugstore
It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.
That might be because they couldn't reserve a room in the Bowels of Hell on such short notice, but meh.
I think I at least will not have to retake the entire course. This is good.
------------------------
I was going to go to the review session last night, but one of the TAs, an older graduate student who used to teach high school, was running it. After the first half-hour, I realized he was still talking about "positive study skills," the major one being "start studying well in advance."
Uhm... this was the night before the exam. And the UN's been cracking down on the unauthorized use of plutonium in my DeLorian.
Anyway, I left that review, and studied on my own until the Chem fraternity's tutoring session. That was a bit more helpful, I'd say. Except the guy helping me was cute, and consequently distracting. But I was proud of myself, because I stayed mostly focused and there were only five babble-moments when I couldn't get my mouth to work right.
Anyway, I went to bed really early- 9:30- on account of having to wake up at the ungodly hour of 6 AM to shower/dress/eat/panic before the test at 8. It's weird getting up that early, because no one else does; the halls are empty and silent. The halls aren't even empty and silent at 1 AM around here. I was first into the shower; this wasn't actually a good thing, because it's not like it's been cleaned since November anyway and the water was COLD even though it was the shower that normally scalds me. I had to let it run for like five minutes.
I think I impressed Loquatia with my ability to get up that early. She was definitely expecting me to hit the snooze until at least 7. She doesn't believe me when I tell her I used to get up at 5:30 every morning for high school, and have not always been the lazy slug-a-bed she knows now.
-----------------------
I'm beginning to wonder if I'm in the wrong major. No, I haven't been listening to my mother, you'll know when that happens because you'll start hearing news reports of ham and feathers on plane windshields. No, I have decided this because I was studying Chemistry, specifically tetrahedral-shaped molecules, and all I could think of was the ancient weaponry that they used to throw down in front of war horses- the kind where a spike would always point up, and the horse would step on it and be unable to continue. Please compare:
And while this helps me remember tetrahedral shape, if you can't study Chemistry without thinking of ancient weaponry, it might indicate an underlying problem. Oh well. I don't intend on majoring in something useless, like history- that's what minors are for.
(This explanation always irritates my English-major mother and German-major father, which is why I say it so much. Mind you, they're both computer programmers, thus proving my point.)
-----------------------
Okay, I have issues coping with stress, of any kind. My grandmother's the same way, as is my mom. We all developed our own way of dealing with it- my grandmother tries to be strong for everyone else and confides in her sisters, my mother bottles it up inside, and I used to hurt myself or loose myself in a fantasy world. Now, I still use the fantasy world more than I should, but I talk about problems, or write about them. I share them. And since I've learned to handle stressors, mostly through communicating and complaining, and trying to find productive ways to solve my problems, I no longer need to be medicated.
But the thing is, this approach I have makes me see the world of blogging/journaling a little differently. There's this site, Trainwreck, that chronicles the worst blogs and journals on the internet- the mommy blogs, the self-involved-my-life-sucks journals, and the people whose lives are trainwrecks- so bad you can't look away. Normally I totally agree with them 100%, these people are losers. BUT. There's this mommy-blogger who's been on it a lot for bragging about her "incredibly precocious" kid, and she was up on it again- but this time they were ragging on her for complaining about her new kitchen not being all she'd hoped for, when she posted pictures and it's a pretty sweet arrangement. One commenter complained: "[B]ut [I] have to tell you, you complain a lot for having such a BITCHIN’ KITCHEN! B-I-T-C-H-I-N. and [I] can say that, because [I]’m from the 80’s. But what most disturbs me, is that you have so much (healthy, intelligent son, nice husband, nice standard of living) [and yet] you rant so much. And the things you rant about are that you’re son is so smart,(though you’re really humble) is beyond his grade level in intelligence, and that you have this new kitchen you didn’t [initially] want that you have (Sweet Jesus! You have a Wolf range, for Christ sake! AAAAAAAAhhhhhhhh!). ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! If you weren’t so spot on on most issues, [I] would just hate myself for reading this blog! [I] kind of feel that you don’t have a grasp on world issues and what’s going on around us ([A]fghanistan, [D]arfur, etc)."
Uhm, yeah. Okay. So she's a little self-involved. So she complains. But we can't all think about the horrors of Darfur and the civil unrest in Afghanistan all the time. How many times have I talked about Afghanistan? I mean, that doesn't make me less of a person, I just a)don't want to insult anyone by sharing my most likely naive views of the world, and b) have other, more immediate concerns.
Because Darfur is horrible and I'd love to do something to help, but let's face it, it doesn't affect my everyday life. I will wake up tomorrow and I will think about packing to go home, and my mythology test, and the final paper on x-ray crystallography I need two more pages on before Sunday. I'm not going to think about genocide (Probably. Never know). That's not because I "don't have a grasp on world issues." It's just because that's not my life. And I have a pretty wonderful life, I mean, I have problems, but I'm from a well-off family and I never really lack anything I need. I've been sheltered from the world's problems due to location and my community, and I have a wonderful family and a nice standard of living. So... I can't complain? I'm supposed to take all those little things that bug me and bottle them up inside? The whole point of having a journal and a blog is to be able to share the things that are weighing on my mind without needing an actual confidante, who I'd have to like, rope and tie and hide in my closet next to that cowboy I caught my sister for Christmas (oops).
So I won't read that blog because I think she's insufferably proud of her kid, who seems pretty average, maybe a little smart. But I still think that it's unfair to criticize her for complaining, no matter how well-off she is.
-----------------------
I know it's supposed to be embarrassing to wind up as a trainwreck, but if I ever wind up there, I think I'd have to be kinda proud that they thought I sucked that much. Besides, I'd probably get a lot of readers that way. Even if they are laughing at me, not with me.
-----------------------
But there was a paper thing I was supposed to be working on... and a test tomorrow... and I guess I'm supposed to go contemplate mass genocide for a while, too...
That might be because they couldn't reserve a room in the Bowels of Hell on such short notice, but meh.
I think I at least will not have to retake the entire course. This is good.
------------------------
I was going to go to the review session last night, but one of the TAs, an older graduate student who used to teach high school, was running it. After the first half-hour, I realized he was still talking about "positive study skills," the major one being "start studying well in advance."
Uhm... this was the night before the exam. And the UN's been cracking down on the unauthorized use of plutonium in my DeLorian.
Anyway, I left that review, and studied on my own until the Chem fraternity's tutoring session. That was a bit more helpful, I'd say. Except the guy helping me was cute, and consequently distracting. But I was proud of myself, because I stayed mostly focused and there were only five babble-moments when I couldn't get my mouth to work right.
Anyway, I went to bed really early- 9:30- on account of having to wake up at the ungodly hour of 6 AM to shower/dress/eat/panic before the test at 8. It's weird getting up that early, because no one else does; the halls are empty and silent. The halls aren't even empty and silent at 1 AM around here. I was first into the shower; this wasn't actually a good thing, because it's not like it's been cleaned since November anyway and the water was COLD even though it was the shower that normally scalds me. I had to let it run for like five minutes.
I think I impressed Loquatia with my ability to get up that early. She was definitely expecting me to hit the snooze until at least 7. She doesn't believe me when I tell her I used to get up at 5:30 every morning for high school, and have not always been the lazy slug-a-bed she knows now.
-----------------------
I'm beginning to wonder if I'm in the wrong major. No, I haven't been listening to my mother, you'll know when that happens because you'll start hearing news reports of ham and feathers on plane windshields. No, I have decided this because I was studying Chemistry, specifically tetrahedral-shaped molecules, and all I could think of was the ancient weaponry that they used to throw down in front of war horses- the kind where a spike would always point up, and the horse would step on it and be unable to continue. Please compare:
And while this helps me remember tetrahedral shape, if you can't study Chemistry without thinking of ancient weaponry, it might indicate an underlying problem. Oh well. I don't intend on majoring in something useless, like history- that's what minors are for.
(This explanation always irritates my English-major mother and German-major father, which is why I say it so much. Mind you, they're both computer programmers, thus proving my point.)
-----------------------
Okay, I have issues coping with stress, of any kind. My grandmother's the same way, as is my mom. We all developed our own way of dealing with it- my grandmother tries to be strong for everyone else and confides in her sisters, my mother bottles it up inside, and I used to hurt myself or loose myself in a fantasy world. Now, I still use the fantasy world more than I should, but I talk about problems, or write about them. I share them. And since I've learned to handle stressors, mostly through communicating and complaining, and trying to find productive ways to solve my problems, I no longer need to be medicated.
But the thing is, this approach I have makes me see the world of blogging/journaling a little differently. There's this site, Trainwreck, that chronicles the worst blogs and journals on the internet- the mommy blogs, the self-involved-my-life-sucks journals, and the people whose lives are trainwrecks- so bad you can't look away. Normally I totally agree with them 100%, these people are losers. BUT. There's this mommy-blogger who's been on it a lot for bragging about her "incredibly precocious" kid, and she was up on it again- but this time they were ragging on her for complaining about her new kitchen not being all she'd hoped for, when she posted pictures and it's a pretty sweet arrangement. One commenter complained: "[B]ut [I] have to tell you, you complain a lot for having such a BITCHIN’ KITCHEN! B-I-T-C-H-I-N. and [I] can say that, because [I]’m from the 80’s. But what most disturbs me, is that you have so much (healthy, intelligent son, nice husband, nice standard of living) [and yet] you rant so much. And the things you rant about are that you’re son is so smart,(though you’re really humble) is beyond his grade level in intelligence, and that you have this new kitchen you didn’t [initially] want that you have (Sweet Jesus! You have a Wolf range, for Christ sake! AAAAAAAAhhhhhhhh!). ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! If you weren’t so spot on on most issues, [I] would just hate myself for reading this blog! [I] kind of feel that you don’t have a grasp on world issues and what’s going on around us ([A]fghanistan, [D]arfur, etc)."
Uhm, yeah. Okay. So she's a little self-involved. So she complains. But we can't all think about the horrors of Darfur and the civil unrest in Afghanistan all the time. How many times have I talked about Afghanistan? I mean, that doesn't make me less of a person, I just a)don't want to insult anyone by sharing my most likely naive views of the world, and b) have other, more immediate concerns.
Because Darfur is horrible and I'd love to do something to help, but let's face it, it doesn't affect my everyday life. I will wake up tomorrow and I will think about packing to go home, and my mythology test, and the final paper on x-ray crystallography I need two more pages on before Sunday. I'm not going to think about genocide (Probably. Never know). That's not because I "don't have a grasp on world issues." It's just because that's not my life. And I have a pretty wonderful life, I mean, I have problems, but I'm from a well-off family and I never really lack anything I need. I've been sheltered from the world's problems due to location and my community, and I have a wonderful family and a nice standard of living. So... I can't complain? I'm supposed to take all those little things that bug me and bottle them up inside? The whole point of having a journal and a blog is to be able to share the things that are weighing on my mind without needing an actual confidante, who I'd have to like, rope and tie and hide in my closet next to that cowboy I caught my sister for Christmas (oops).
So I won't read that blog because I think she's insufferably proud of her kid, who seems pretty average, maybe a little smart. But I still think that it's unfair to criticize her for complaining, no matter how well-off she is.
-----------------------
I know it's supposed to be embarrassing to wind up as a trainwreck, but if I ever wind up there, I think I'd have to be kinda proud that they thought I sucked that much. Besides, I'd probably get a lot of readers that way. Even if they are laughing at me, not with me.
-----------------------
But there was a paper thing I was supposed to be working on... and a test tomorrow... and I guess I'm supposed to go contemplate mass genocide for a while, too...
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
My Throat Hurts.
7:00 AM: Alarm clock goes off for the first time. It plays static, as I still haven't bothered to change it to a local radio station. I hit it and it shuts up.
7:15: It goes off again. I hit it again. Loquatia rolls out of bed and starts getting ready for class.
7:30: The actual alarm goes off, with annoying buzzing. I hit it again.
7:45: Goes off again. Hit it again. Wonder briefly before slipping into unconsciousness how much Tacita, sleeping above me, must hate me right now.
8:00-9:00: Alarm goes off every fifteen minutes; at some point, Tacita gets up and leaves.
9:00: I finally roll out of bed. This two-hour wake-up is why I'm fairly certain my neighbors have no qualms about playing their annoyingly loud video games at all hours of the night.
9:30: Having read my morning comics, while bundled up in my comforter since it's FREEZING, I go to shower.
10:00: Done showering. Horrible water pressure this morning. I get dressed quickly, then check my email.
10:20: Breakfast. I can call it that because it's still morning.
10:40: Start packing up stuff to go home. We have to unplug everything, including appliances, before we can leave. Plus I'm bringing home my laundry, including my sheets and blanket. And two pillows, because last time I went home I realized that all my good pillows were at school. And my school books. And attire suitable for job-hunting. Because that's how I'm spending most these four days- except for Thursday, when everything's closed, I'm going to be looking for a job for Christmas break.
11:20: Already packed and now bored. Try to find stuff to do online.
11:21: Out of stuff to do online...
---------------------------
I didn't want to study any more- I felt there wasn't much more chemistry I could cram in, and I didn't really need to study for Latin. So I was really, really bored. I swept the floor. I wandered around the room and checked stuff. I started writing a journal entry, but it got too long and now I'm rewriting it... yesterday's post was pretty long, let's not prolong it any more.
But I think I did okay on the tests, despite my miserable grade on the last Bio test he handed back. 74. Yikes. I felt really ready for this test, though, for one simple reason: the professor gave us EVERYTHING we could POSSIBLY need to know for the exam at the review session last night. It was somewhat ridiculous, actually; he had a copy of the test in his hand and he was doing sample problems for each one. I knew not only what was going to be one the test, but in what order. Not complaining, though. Not at all.
---------------------------
Last night I got an IM from a girl in my Bio lab section, saying she'd have to move the meeting to 3:45 because of work. I was like, "what meeting," which is never a good sign... There's this group lab report in Bio, on plant cloning, that we're working on. I don't have to do anything but compile the data, which is good; I'm so horrible at Lab that I think they decided I shouldn't be allowed to write anything myself. But apparently there was a meeting today to make sure I got everything from them.
Oops.
I was kinda planning on going home, remember? Well, that changed, I had to call my mom and have her tell Daddy to pick me up at 4:30 at the earliest. Bummer. Little change in plans.
And, to make matters worse, when the girl IMed me, she informed me that she couldn't actually get in touch with anyone else in our little group, because I was the only one who had provided her with my screen name. Either that or she got it off Facebook, I'm not sure. Anyway, I happened to have one other screen name, so I sent that guy a note about the change in time, but the last member in our group was completely inaccessible. I sent him an email at the address he gave me but it bounced back, and my normal stalker-routes on Facebook yielded nothing. So I went over to the library at the time we were supposed to meet originally, 3:00, and I sat down, intending to just plain wait and tell him of the rescheduling when he arrived.
BUT someone else had told him of the rescheduling when they happened to run into him. So total waste of time. Grr.
---------------------------
Daddy picked me up right on time, and after five- yes, five- trips back and forth up 2 flights of stairs between my room and the car outside, I was ready to go. Got home and watched Stargate, Dead Like Me, and House. I've missed television. My only exposure to it is CNN or Fox News in the cafeteria, and I ignore Fox News.
---------------------------
I just want to say one thing before I shut up and go to bed: Just once, just once, I want to see a teenager on House that doesn't use drugs, has never used drugs, doesn't have sex, has never had sex, and is an all-around good-kid, but gets sick anyway. Because not only do those "good kids" exist, they're just as capable of getting weird obscure diseases as the druggie sex addicts. At least, most of the weird diseases. But honestly, as much as I love House, I have NEVER seen a teenager on this show who wasn't secretly having sex or doing drugs. Or openly having sex or doing drugs. Whatever.
There are kids out there who are not Dungeons and Dragons types or uber-religious but who don't have sex or do drugs. I know this because I'm one of them, and my best friend is another, and her boyfriend is another, and KT Mack, my friend from high school whom you can find a link to on the sidebar, is yet another. And I bet any of us could contract a horrible genetic disease that we didn't know about and wind up with like 20 different symptom diseases. But you won't see us on House, because we're not examples of how today's youth is a bunch of sex-obsessed potheads.
Uhm, God? Hi. It's me. Uh... please ignore that previous statement. I really don't want any of my friends to contract a horrible genetic disease. Especially since I'm the one with a parent who's adopted and consequently has no medical history for his biological family, so if anyone's getting a horrible genetic disease, it's gonna be me...
7:15: It goes off again. I hit it again. Loquatia rolls out of bed and starts getting ready for class.
7:30: The actual alarm goes off, with annoying buzzing. I hit it again.
7:45: Goes off again. Hit it again. Wonder briefly before slipping into unconsciousness how much Tacita, sleeping above me, must hate me right now.
8:00-9:00: Alarm goes off every fifteen minutes; at some point, Tacita gets up and leaves.
9:00: I finally roll out of bed. This two-hour wake-up is why I'm fairly certain my neighbors have no qualms about playing their annoyingly loud video games at all hours of the night.
9:30: Having read my morning comics, while bundled up in my comforter since it's FREEZING, I go to shower.
10:00: Done showering. Horrible water pressure this morning. I get dressed quickly, then check my email.
10:20: Breakfast. I can call it that because it's still morning.
10:40: Start packing up stuff to go home. We have to unplug everything, including appliances, before we can leave. Plus I'm bringing home my laundry, including my sheets and blanket. And two pillows, because last time I went home I realized that all my good pillows were at school. And my school books. And attire suitable for job-hunting. Because that's how I'm spending most these four days- except for Thursday, when everything's closed, I'm going to be looking for a job for Christmas break.
11:20: Already packed and now bored. Try to find stuff to do online.
11:21: Out of stuff to do online...
---------------------------
I didn't want to study any more- I felt there wasn't much more chemistry I could cram in, and I didn't really need to study for Latin. So I was really, really bored. I swept the floor. I wandered around the room and checked stuff. I started writing a journal entry, but it got too long and now I'm rewriting it... yesterday's post was pretty long, let's not prolong it any more.
But I think I did okay on the tests, despite my miserable grade on the last Bio test he handed back. 74. Yikes. I felt really ready for this test, though, for one simple reason: the professor gave us EVERYTHING we could POSSIBLY need to know for the exam at the review session last night. It was somewhat ridiculous, actually; he had a copy of the test in his hand and he was doing sample problems for each one. I knew not only what was going to be one the test, but in what order. Not complaining, though. Not at all.
---------------------------
Last night I got an IM from a girl in my Bio lab section, saying she'd have to move the meeting to 3:45 because of work. I was like, "what meeting," which is never a good sign... There's this group lab report in Bio, on plant cloning, that we're working on. I don't have to do anything but compile the data, which is good; I'm so horrible at Lab that I think they decided I shouldn't be allowed to write anything myself. But apparently there was a meeting today to make sure I got everything from them.
Oops.
I was kinda planning on going home, remember? Well, that changed, I had to call my mom and have her tell Daddy to pick me up at 4:30 at the earliest. Bummer. Little change in plans.
And, to make matters worse, when the girl IMed me, she informed me that she couldn't actually get in touch with anyone else in our little group, because I was the only one who had provided her with my screen name. Either that or she got it off Facebook, I'm not sure. Anyway, I happened to have one other screen name, so I sent that guy a note about the change in time, but the last member in our group was completely inaccessible. I sent him an email at the address he gave me but it bounced back, and my normal stalker-routes on Facebook yielded nothing. So I went over to the library at the time we were supposed to meet originally, 3:00, and I sat down, intending to just plain wait and tell him of the rescheduling when he arrived.
BUT someone else had told him of the rescheduling when they happened to run into him. So total waste of time. Grr.
---------------------------
Daddy picked me up right on time, and after five- yes, five- trips back and forth up 2 flights of stairs between my room and the car outside, I was ready to go. Got home and watched Stargate, Dead Like Me, and House. I've missed television. My only exposure to it is CNN or Fox News in the cafeteria, and I ignore Fox News.
---------------------------
I just want to say one thing before I shut up and go to bed: Just once, just once, I want to see a teenager on House that doesn't use drugs, has never used drugs, doesn't have sex, has never had sex, and is an all-around good-kid, but gets sick anyway. Because not only do those "good kids" exist, they're just as capable of getting weird obscure diseases as the druggie sex addicts. At least, most of the weird diseases. But honestly, as much as I love House, I have NEVER seen a teenager on this show who wasn't secretly having sex or doing drugs. Or openly having sex or doing drugs. Whatever.
There are kids out there who are not Dungeons and Dragons types or uber-religious but who don't have sex or do drugs. I know this because I'm one of them, and my best friend is another, and her boyfriend is another, and KT Mack, my friend from high school whom you can find a link to on the sidebar, is yet another. And I bet any of us could contract a horrible genetic disease that we didn't know about and wind up with like 20 different symptom diseases. But you won't see us on House, because we're not examples of how today's youth is a bunch of sex-obsessed potheads.
Uhm, God? Hi. It's me. Uh... please ignore that previous statement. I really don't want any of my friends to contract a horrible genetic disease. Especially since I'm the one with a parent who's adopted and consequently has no medical history for his biological family, so if anyone's getting a horrible genetic disease, it's gonna be me...
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