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Read this if you're new (or bored...).
2004-06-21 - 11:54 a.m.
The stream of consciousness is flooded and cloudy
You know, it occurs to me that celebrities don't actually die in threes. Rather, they die in two and make you wait for a third. Think about it. Princess Di, Mother Theresa, but the other great humanitarian women stayed intact. John Ritter, Johnny Cash, and then... the other Johns stuck around. Then, President Reagan and Ray Charles. People have listed the monumental figures they expected to go next. Nothing happened. It's been a good week or so. We're waiting for the other shoe to drop, but remember: we only have two feet! Ooh, I like that analogy. But what does anyone think of the hypothesis? Anyway, it also occurs to me that I have self-destructive reading habits. Sure, I read a lot of it for research, sci-fi and fantasy for stylistic pointers (And fun!), theological fiction to keep me thinking about my own faith (and fun, if you get the right ones). Lately, I've been looking at magazines to see who prints short stories and what kinds of stories they publish (Thank God for the New Yorker's website). But I also read the journals of Sylvia Plath and felt a double-whammy of 1)inferiority for not having done as well as she by the same point in her life and 2) terror at relating so much with her and knowing how she ended up. Now I'm reading this book, "I Don't Know How She Does It," by Allison Pearson. If you're unfamiliar, it's about a working mother juggling a career, a family, the stress that comes from extreme guilt at taking any time for herself (and the result of *not* taking any time for herself), etc. Great, now I'm scaring myself again. It's been touted as this great book, something working moms can see themselves in and laugh, finding the humor in truth. But as a likely future working mom, I'm scared shitless. I can barely juggle my life as it is, and there's no undeveloped humans depending on me for sustenace. Hell, I don't even really depend on myself for sustenance (ok, some days I buy my own food, but I still go home to sleep). Plus, certain theological fiction has a way of making me feel like a bad Christian. I don't know how many times I've read that *real* faith will cure depression, that if you put all your cares on Jesus, you won't be troubled. Now, don't get me wrong. I beleive in miracles. I beleive that Jesus *can* cure depression. I also know that doesn't mean he *will*, and while faith *can* help, treatments *do* help. But apparently, the fact that I feel bad (sans treatment, albeit) means I don't have enough faith, I should give my life to Christ, and I'll be fine. Sure. Now, fundementalism can be good if combined with true faith and love (as can moderation and even agnosticism and atheism, although the "faith" part is debateable in that one). But I tend to list "depressed people who love Jesus can become happy" right up there with "gay people who love Jesus can be straight" -- not out of the question, I guess, and maybe it happens from time to time depending on the cause, but I really don't think it works that way in the vast majority of cases. Besides, telling me I'm depressed because I'm a bad Christian has the unfortunate side effect of making me more depressed. It's one of those funny things. Not funny "ha-ha", more like funny "get a clue about me before you tell me what kind of christiqan I am and how that has anything to do with what's going on with my brain chemistry." And for the record, I still don't know what's going on with my brain chemsitry. I just know that it's June and I've been noticeably messed up since at least September, and possibly more subtly messed up even before that. Plus fall-winter of Sophomore year. Plus fall of Freshman year. Plus short chunks at various times in high school. Plus large chunks at various times in grade school. I really should find out about that brain chemistry thing. I really should get a physical so I can get a new Learner's Permit and learn to drive, get a liscense before I get a bachelor's. I know I need a gynecological check-up this fall, with the *good* smear, not the cheap one I got last year. I also know I should probably look into, let's say, options I can't obtain on campus due to Jesuit policies. All of these involve my parents' insurance at least, and possibly them making the appointment if I got to our GP. Which means submitting, as usual, to their control (Mom blew me off when I mentioned needing the physical, then snapped at me when I asked about the insurance so I can just do it myself in the healt center). And I don't think they'd handle new pills well, whether they be Wellbutrin or Yasmin. Next year. I'll either be in JVC or grad school, out of state either way, and even if they don't like it, worst case I get a lecture and have to do co-pay myself. One more year. Except I'm scared to get my hopes up about that, and that's not a good sign, is it? Hmm. Ok, back to the books. Here's an idea. I want people to recommend books to me. Here, if you're strictly a d-land fan. Over AIM or email if you know me personally. Sluggites can reach me through the appropriate channels. When I have enough books read, I'll start a book list right here that I'll link up the top of the page. Shoot, that means I have to rework the HTML, put my booklist and diclaimer up with my contact info and archive. Yay. Another project. Go me. In the meantime, I have a short story to finish, another to chip away at, a collaborative work I'm doing just for the fun of that I can't work on until my computer is fixed, and two RPGs on the sluggy boards, plus my KoL game. And that's without keeping up on all the weblogs I read, since my bookmarks are all, that's right, on the screwed-up computer. I don't know whether to complain or feel releived that I have so much on my plate. Well, any thoughts on any of this?
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