Mud

I've been typing and deleting because I don't know what to say but I need to say something before I bleed out. There are just too many pieces, more than I can handle and it's all starting to come crumbling down again. I feel shakey and scared and I'm wondering who I can count on. I can't count on myself, I know that much.

My friends have been great. Well, the important ones have anyway. That's what makes them the important ones I guess. They've been trying to say the right things and keep me from wallowing too much. I'm a great wallower. It's a skill. Like knowing when the loading dye is at exactly the middle of your gel without looking. It's a pokemon power. I just made an inside joke that no one who reads this would get. Meh.

One good thing has happened. I've started writing again. Well, that's rather an enormous exaggeration. The truth is I scrawled one poem on the back of a sheet of scrap paper Thursday morning and haven't looked at it since. But I'm looking for my silver lining and I'll fabricate one if I must. See, I'm attempting to stop the wallow.

All drugged up

I'd started a new post last week, had two thick paragraphs done when my mother came in without knocking and refused to leave. So that was the end of that; my own fault for trying to post during the day.

I've been sick lately and the doctor thought it was asthma but the inhaler hasn't been helping much; he also thought it could be allergies, but the allergy meds aren't helping either. So I'm going back to see him Tuesday since it seems to be an infection. I hate being sick. I guess everyone does, I'm just a big baby over it, maybe because I'm lucky enough to normally be quite healthy.

The post I started last week was a rant on arranged marriage and how I hate being forced to pretty myself up to impress some guy I don't even know. Nothing new there, just cliche brown girl stuff. I hate being a cliche.

Spring has sprung, it's finally come....

I work for no money. Volunteer. It's not too bad; the worst of it is the crap music they have going. I could listen to my MP3 player or Walkman but I don't want to seem anti-social. It's bad enough that I hide out at the back of the lab when possible and keep conversation to a minimum. I just feel weird there. Like I don't fit in. I'm not a student, I'm not an employee. I'm just someone who's messed up a great deal and is finally doing something constructive about it. But it's depressing. I should be preparing to defend my Master's thesis now, according to the 'Big Plan' of how my life's supposed to be. I guess one shouldn't get hung up on things like that. I'm trying to fix things. Slowly.

I'm learning stuff, interesting and useful things I can stick on my resume. I do a bunch of grunt work too, some of which is super sucky, like washing glassware and some of which I rather enjoy, like mixing soil. I love doing that, it's relaxing. Feels like working with dough. I don't bother with gloves.

I did this year's first grass cutting on Wednesday. Weather is getting warmer now, soon I can start my sun worshipping. Every year I vow this will be the year of sunscreen but it doesn't last more than a week. Sometimes I'll see something on skin cancer and try again for a few days in July. Forget New Year's resolutions, I'm making some for May Day.

1) Use sunscreen
2) Drink water
3) Talk to people in the lab