Oh God.

In some ways, it's a relief. For the first time in my adolescent/adult life, I can finally say my problems are bad enough that I can't actually feel guilty about what other people are going through. Some of these problems are my fault, others are not. But the reality is, I'm freaking out.

Here's the list:

-I'm in the middle of a personal crisis, reevaluating who I am and what I want out of life for my future and for my relationships
-I have a test tomorrow worth 20%, and I haven't started studying
-I got back to Kingston to find out my stove doesn't work
-for the next three weeks, I have things going on each weekend (QCF stuff)
-for the next four weeks (not including the upcoming one) I have a major essay due each week
- I need to apply for summer jobs
- I have cramps
- I have no money
- I just found out the QCF speaker for this Thursday is cancelling... again.

Okay. Now that I've got all that lined up, I need to go do something about some of it.

Wish me luck.

Books, books, and more books!

I've read a lot this week:

Finished "A Mind of It's Own: A Cultural History of the Penis"
Finished "Mounties from Dime NOvel to Disney"
Started and finished "Othello"
Started and finished "The Picture of Dorian Gray"
Started and finished "The Great Gatsby"

I feel kinda proud of myself -- especially because all these books (with the exception of the first) were books for my courses, and therefore homework. But at only one or two points this week have I actually felt like I was doing 'schoolwork'. And I've had lots of time to see friends, have baths, watch tv, and question the meaning of my life too.

House

I'm terribly addicted to this new medical show, House (thanks, wnd ;), and I think I've finally figured out why.

In many ways, it's everything I hate in a show. Needlessly gory (lots of drilling into people's heads and poking needles in their eye, all in the name of making them feel better), endlessly repetetive (each show follows exactly the same format: person x gets sick, they make some wrong diagnoses, person nearly dies, Dr. House makes a brilliant deduction and saves the day), and frighteningly callous (Dr. House gets mad at patients families when they question his diagnoses after he's already been wrong several times, and the doctors routinely decide they need to give someone drugs that will make them sicker in order to diagnose them. blarg?)

But what keeps me coming back is House himself. Craggy-faced, cold-hearted, mentally and physically scarred, totally dysfunctional at everything but medical diagnoses, I am fascinated by the character. He has all the callously witty one-liners I wish I could have -- but can't, since I actually care about other people's feelings. House is abrasive and truly unique.

It's the same phenomenon that keeps me watching CSI -- I don't care about the mystery, or about the gory things, or about the cool technology -- I like Gil Grissom. Like House, he's a loner with no passion other than his work, but he says just enough cryptically nice things to keep me from hating him. And he's a mystery. I like people who are mysteries.

And the crappy thing is, I can't even skip through the gross/stupid parts. Because the problem with liking characters is, they're all through the episode. Snappy dialogue and brief moments of emotion could happen anytime, so watching the episode with my finger on the fast-forward button just won't do. It'd be way easier if I just liked knowing the solution to the mystery -- then I could watch the first five minutes and the last, and presto, I'm done. But no, I like the characters, so I have to watch the whole damn episode.

I have become the proverbial moth to a porch light -- I keep coming back despite the fact that I don't like the show. Do producers do this on purpose? Are they trying to see how far they cam push physical grossness and repetitive storylines without losing viewers? Are they trying to see how much character trumps plot?

I'd love to work through this some more, but I've got to go now. CSI is on.

Better Mood.

Ka-pow!

And just like that, I'm in a better mood. Nothing's changed really: I'm still poor and have lots of work and I haven't found my socks.

But surprisingly, shopping therapy kind of worked. I bought a pair of army surplus socks which are actually really comfortable (and cheap!) and a pair of expensive (but on sale) socks which are really really nice. Also, Joel came over about an hour later with boughten socks for me. Nevermind that they were wool and made my feet itch -- he had planned to keep some of them for himself anyways and is happy to have all of them, and I appreciated the gesture.

Also, I got to make fun of him, which always lifts my spirits. Terrible, but true. I mock him mercilessly with verbal wit and he gets all grumpy looking and usually responds by poking me or throwing things in my general direction.

Plus, I just watched the end of "About a Boy". It's a cute movie.

But probably most importantly, my best friend got a job!!! Wheeee! Biku had been worried about it for a while, so I was too. It's kind of hard to start a new life post-education when you haven't gotten a job yet. But now she has one! Wheee! It makes me happy when things go well for other people.

I'll probably be depressed again sometime soon, but for now, things are good.

Bad Day.

It's only 11:30, and I'm having a really bad day.

I lost my schedule and my two favourite pairs of socks. The schedule I can just make another one of, but the socks are annoying because I go hate losing things (especially when I have to recollection of when or where or how I lost them). Also, now I have to go buy new socks, which just reminds me how very very poor I am.

I had to haul myself out of bed to go to an 8:30 class this morning where I heard my professor rave about TS Eliot's 'The Waste Land'. I loathe the poem with every fibre of my being, but it is my professor's research subject, a poem which she has "read obsessively" since she was fifteen. So not so much with me criticizing the poem openly.

Blarg! I am angry and sad and frustrated. And I'm also angry that I'm so angsty about such little things. I feel weak for needing to complain like this.

A Meatless Existence.

Well, not really. Y'see, I've decided to give up meat for Lent. Partly as a way to learn self-control, partly as a way to recognize that I'm a rich North American, and partly as an act of piety. In any case, there are various caveats and addendums to my meatless existence:

1. I can eat cheese and eggs. (this just makes sense -- going vegan would be way too hard).
2. I can eat 'meat essence'. (this one's for my housemates, so that I can make chicken cacciatore and other dishes without having to eliminate the meat, which would make them sad. Especially Kobuta, who loves her carnivorous ways. Basically, I'll just remove the meat and eat the dish, without having to worry about the juices. Ditto for using beef or chicken stock in recipes).
3. Fish is allowed. (this one I have the hardest time justifying, for some reason. Basically, the idea is that if I'm about to start gnawing my own arm, I'll crack open a can of tuna and keep the animal within at bay. Also, again, it makes things simpler for me and my housemates and our communal food preparation)

So far it hasn't been too hard, but that's because I'm only a day into things. Who knows, Kobuta and Wnd could find me gnawing on one of our frozen 'meat cookies' by 11pm tonight, with juice dribbling down my chin and a crazed look in my eyes. But we'll see.

As with many things about my faith, I'm not exactly sure why I'm doing this. I just know I want/need to.

In other news, I realized how terribly addicted I am to Penny Arcade when the site went down for two days and I nearly went crazy. I hadn't realized how much I depended on those bizarre geeks with their profanity and hilarious linguistic references to games I know nothing about. But the site's back up now, so I guess the crisis has been averted.

Just relax.

Coming off of my second day of running around like a mad woman (a 7:30 am church service, three classes, three meetings, laundry, making dinner, baking bread, showering, running a book study, another class, doing readings, doing research, another meeting... and that's just since yesterday!) I have this tidbit of advice for others. Well, mostly me really.

Don't panic.

The worst part of a long, busy day is the worried anticipation beforehand, where I fret and fume over being tired, losing something, not remembering to pack my lunch, etc. etc. Then I get into my work, get interested, get absorbed, and all of a sudden I'm done! And y'know what -- that was actually kind of fun.

Not fun enough that I'd want to be this busy normally, but not as terribly bad as I thought. I work myself up into this freaked out state where my stomach is roiling and I'm all tense, when all I have to recognize is that I'm actually pretty good at organizing myself. I can handle it. I really really can.

So don't panic. As they say, it's the anticipation that kills you.

PS -- I hate William Carlos Williams. I don't care what vast significance his redwheelbarrow had, what deep insight he was trying to impart about rural life or art or whatever -- it's still a terrible terrible poem. That is all.