hello friends

Hooray, I managed to get to my counseling appointment today. It wasn't entirely useful, though, I came away from it feeling worse rather than better. She noted that it seemed like I was fighting her on the discussing of things, and I was, but mainly because fighting her is also fighting against digging too deep and hitting a vein of pure depressionanium ore. I cried some, though, which I couldn't bring myself to do last week. So that's something I guess. I am so used to trying to not attract too much attention in public -- no saying what I really think in case people think it is stupid; no showing too much emotion because it is embarrassing; etc -- that it is all but impossible to be open in front of some stranger. Even if that is the whole point of visiting her.

I'm going in again next Monday. Hopefully as I go along I will be able to actually say more of what I'm feeling rather than automatically stopping myself short all the time.

After the appointment I had an hour to get to class, so I walked slowly towards Wylie Hall till I remembered that it was Tuesday which meant that actually my class was in the Geology building. My feet are a tiny bit blistered now, but the walk wasn't bad. Even if I did keep almost crying during it, and then during class. Then I had to wait for the bus twice, because the first one that came by was too full for everyone to get on; then I finally came home, ate dinner, and so on. And that's about it.

I'm so tired of the "why me?" factor. All my life it's been "why do I have to be poor," "why do I have to be so shy and lonely," "why do I have to live in (pick one depending on time period: a house so infested with roaches that they will even give calculators a try; a decrepit trailer that literally smells like shit; an apartment where I can't safely go outside by myself; and so on)," "why do I have to be such a miserable person," and on and on. And now since I obviously have not yet had my share of troubles there's a whole new extra-fun "why me" to add to the list. Why did I have to lose Chris? Why couldn't random pointless death at a young age have happened to someone else? I don't necessarily feel great about wanting to foist off sorrow on some hapless stranger, but god fucking dammit why did it have to be Chris. Why did all my hopes and plans and dreams and joy have to go up in smoke, on the very day that my life finally seemed to be getting back on track after TWO FUCKING YEARS spent DOING NOTHING? Lines of thought like "at least he didn't suffer" only get me so far, because then my brain pipes up with "hey while we're talking hypotheticals WHY DID HE HAVE TO DIE AT ALL?" And as much as I want to believe that somehow it is the world's biggest misunderstanding or whatever, I know that it's pointless, because it's true, he's dead, and that's it, the end. Thanks for playing, Jenny, you lose. We do however have a lovely parting gift for you, of potententially more than a half-century of empty pointlessness.

And yet as much as I don't want to live without him (and I really, really do not want to live in a Chrisless world), I still have no urge to off myself. I don't know why. Maybe I just hate myself so much that I figure I'd be letting myself off the hook too easy by putting myself out of all this misery.

WOO I AM THE WORLD'S BIGGEST WHINER. On the less-emo side, that flap of skin on my hand continues to be cheerfully welded back with the rest of the flesh. It's certainly still tender and red, but there is no longer a sharp dividing line to show which bit was wigglin' around in mid-air about 12 hours ago. Ph33r my healing factor, yo.

Every schoolday I set my alarm for somewhere between 7 and 8 AM, depending on when I actually have to be at class that day. Mondays and Wednesdays my class isn't till 4 in the afternoon, but I still get up early -- I like having all that time to do whatever I want before I even have to think about leaving, plus it helps keep my sleeping schedule regular, thus making it easier to drag myself up before dawn when I need to.

Last night I was awake until about 2, so I set my alarm later than usual. And yet I still woke up on my own at almost the usual time.

Huh. A regular, self-regulating sleep schedule. All those months of sleeping at insanely random intervals and fighting desperately to try to be sleepy at the right time and often being awake just in time to not get to talk to Chris much or at all for the day (especially when combined with me having a bunch of stupid stuff to do away from computer AND being a stupid worthless bitch who couldn't pull herself away from CoH often enough), and now I guess I've finally got it. Too late, of course, but I think it is the defining feature of my life that I must miss out on and/or fail to achieve all the things I *really* want, at least until after it's too late for it to really mean anything anymore. If this must mean that good people must die meaningless deaths, then all the better I suppose.

I cannot wait for it to be 2:00 tomorrow. I have been looking forward to my counseling appointment like you would not believe. It won't actually help, nothing will help and I will continue to hurt very much for a long, long time if not for the rest of my probably-horrifically-long-and-empty life. But right now I have utterly no genuine hope, so little bits of false hope to cling to -- one, then another, then another, as each crumbles behind me -- are about all I have to keep me from planning just where is exactly the best place in town to walk out in front of traffic. This is an exaggeration, but I'm not sure how much of one.

Now it is time to do something mindless but vaguely entertaining, in the hopes that I can thusly stop crying.

I've been an essentially sad/depressed person basically since I can ever remember. On the one hand I suppose I've at least had practice, but on the other hand why could I not be sad for any reason but this.

End whining. For now.

So. Um.

I am reading World War Z by Max Brooks, the same guy who wrote the Zombie Survival Guide. It's good. A series of "oral accounts" of fictional survivors of the great worldwide zombie outbreak. I'm not even a quarter in yet and already he's brought up all sorts of interesting things that probably WOULD happen in a zombie plague scenario, but that I never even imagined myself (even though I think more about zombies than is probably healthy). Like: what happens to the organ transplant business?

I am also playing City of Heroes (on Victory, if anyone out there is still playing a MMO that isn't World of Warcraft). I got a free two-week acount to mess around in it a bit with a friend, and then mecha got his own free account, and the two of us realized that we both liked it a lot. So for a little while, anyway, we're going to keep playing. Went out and bought two copies of the Good Versus Evil edition and everything. Of course, we had to hit SEVEN STORES before FINALLY finding them in stock at WAL*MART of all places. But.

I am also also in love with this video, which is a pairs skating adaptation of the Million Ways dance. I used to love watching figure skating when I was younger, and then it started getting really boring because really all the skaters do basically the same thing over and over again, with a few exceptions. These two have made it interesting again, at least for the span of four minutes.

I am also also also generally feeling a bit better about stuff than I was a month or two ago. Part of this is because we are getting a handle on the whole going-back-to-school thing. We should be getting our financial aid packages in soon, and there should be enough money to survive on; we'll be getting our old bursar bills paid soon and then we should be able to actually register for classes; and, perhaps nicest of all, we've secured what looks to be a very clean and quiet two-bedroom two-bath apartment that is on a bus route to campus and is affordable. Probably the last one of those left in Bloomington. Ours now, suckas!

Oh, and I've also started taking a daily vitamin, which is just a good idea anyway, plus if I was sad and listless because of any deficiencies then not so much any more. "Deficiencies" does not look like a real word. Maybe I spelled it wrong.

So that's about it until the next time I post, which will probably be in, like, five years. Or not. Either way.

PS: Mike's Halloween costume fills my heart with malicious glee. (He is the guy in the first three pictures!)

[cilbuP] EATer of Chris's eyebrows, Jenny says, "Man, I am being scary today. I cleaned the room, AND dusted the various tables, AND cleaned both the rodent cages, AND vacuumed."
[cilbuP] EATer of Chris's eyebrows, Jenny says, "*AND* was awake way before noon."
[cilbuP] EATer of Chris's eyebrows, Jenny says, "now my noise is bleeding, being productive is bad for my health"
[cilbuP] EATer of Chris's eyebrows, Jenny says, "heh, noise"

Now it is mostly better, though.

Some random guy IMed me while drunk last(?) night (I can't remember anymore, it has been a hectic few days), and he was amusing enough that I'd be willing to talk to him again and see if he's as pleasant while sober, but Trillian simultaneously says his screenname is not online and is online for the 18th hour and running. So I dunno.

The nosebleed happened just as I picked up a cookie. Let's see if picking up the same cookie again causes another gush... hmm, nope. Mmm, oatmeal!

Nobody cares that I threw up :( :( :(

Maybe if I mention that it hurts to breathe I will get sympathy. Yes, it really hurts to breathe. Unless I just take tiny shallow breaths, which means that all day I have been incredibly short of breath due to not being able to just breathe like a normal person without my throat and upper chest aching.

Stupid whatever is causing this. Allergies or an infection or flu or something. Aliens, maybe. Whichever. Stupid.

Also, CafePress has been holding on to twelve bucks of my money for like three years now, and the amount's going up to 14 soon. Once it gets to 25, they will cut me a check and give me my sweet, sweet moneys. So buy some stuff. Or some other stuff. Or some other other stuff. I can tell I have been using ssh too much lately because my fingers want to use shift+insert to paste, not control+v.

La la.

Curse your sweet furry little face, Doyle. I only got to sleep like three and a half hours before you woke me by REPEATEDLY SLAMMING YOUR SALT WHEEL INTO THE GLASS OF YOUR CAGE. And now the thing in my brain has flipped over to "no more sleep for you" mode.

I know mecha hates when I post these things because it makes him upset when I don't have things I need, but neeeeeeeed. PROZAC.

It figures that the first night in almost a week it takes me less than an hour to fall asleep, I wake up five hours later still exhausted but stuck awake.

I need Prozac bad.

[cilbuP] Owner of Chris's eyebrows, Jenny says, "Y'know what's fun?"
[cilbuP] Owner of Chris's eyebrows, Jenny says, "Spending two hours and about thirty bucks at the laundromat, getting to the point where you have folded clothes all over a table waiting to be put away, and then learning... that they allow smoking."
[cilbuP] Owner of Chris's eyebrows, Jenny says, "So now our freshly-cleaned towels smell like an ashtray."
[cilbuP] Owner of Chris's eyebrows, Jenny says, "It's enough to make you cry."

I should point out that cigarette smoke makes me near-violently ill. But oh, oh no no no no, nothing must interrupt your addiction to a deadly drug! Feel free to keep pulling all those carcinogens into your tar-black lungs without regard for those around you... I'll be the one in the corner trying not to vomit from the pounding agony of the headache you and your oh-so-important habit have caused me.

Fuckers.

okay, this is really, really, really funny

It's getting a bit annoying to have to take two hours to fall asleep and four to wake up. No, seriously. Went to bed at 2 last night, finally fell asleep around 4, alarm went off at 10:30, and I finally actually got out of bed about 15 minutes ago.

I also had a dream wherein I was someone other than my actual self, and Kevin Spacey was psychotically stalking me. Despite my best efforts to escape, he wound up kidnapping me and keeping me in his hideout at the local zoo. No, seriously. The dream had this whole involved storyline involving security guards on the take and everything. Apparently Kevin Spacey just likes kidnapping women, having them live with him for a while (not for sexx0rz, just for being there and never being allowed to leave), and then... doing... something with them. Probably killing and throwing in a ditch. To make room for the next one, y'know.

I'm not going to be able to watch anything with Kevin Spacey in it for a while. Especially not anything where he's the bad guy.

So apparently I didn't manage to sleep through the night, even with a powerful sedative. I don't remember it, but mecha says that he stepped on some bubble wrap on the floor and it was loud enough to wake me up.

Blerg. I am so tired of being tired. It's like this constant fog that I have to push through to do the tiniest thing. And if I give in and nap during the day, I get a headache for my trouble! Does that happen to anyone else? Napping almost always == headache? Everyone I've mentioned it to before thinks it's weird.

I'm not really that cranky, or anything, if there is confusion. A little annoyed, but for now I haven't yet succumbed to my semidaily depressyness. Perhaps it is because I have cereal. Mmmmmm.