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11:45 p.m. - 01/14/03
this, that, and the other thing.
I think it's called state-dependence, this tendency to look at the greater picture through the filter of the present emotional scheme. For the moment, I feel relaxed, happy, loved, a little sad perhaps, but all the same- even a little relieved, and what that comes down to is I want to say, "it's been a lovely day." I'm not sure it actually has, but there is something lovely about finally discovering, after over a year of unbearable pain on a semi-weekly basis, a solution to one's Migraine.

Yes, the demons hit again this morning, following one of those same criminal coma-sleeps. At least the trauma in it was relatively low this time- just a few moments in a car with my dad, sister, and paternal grandmother having people attemt to break the windshield with a skateboard. (I'm pretty sure we drove away in tact.) Actually, most of the sleep was fairly beautiful actually. I dreamt that I was following Dave around talking to him more than was healthy and begging him to come see the play (we just finished this summer/fall.) I kept asking him to come, and I finally told him that Tracy had been a big influence on it, and he took my number and seemed more willing to try. And then later, I discovered Rosie in my bedroom, and there was this moment of brilliant surprise and joy, and oh-my-god-it-doesn't-have-to-be-long-distance-love, which only made it all the more outlandish to wake up in the morning and realize that what do you know?- that letter from Katia really did occur.

I also keep dreaming that I'm entirely infatuated with a version of Brooke. She's not exactly Brooke in the real world (who I am, in a "she still deserves the same amount of unconditional respect, love, and admiration I had for her when we were seven and best friends" sort of way, infatuated with during waking hours.) The dream-kind is a bit more cutesy, though. It's sweet and giggly and she's like a miracle in a way that doesn't make sense when I'm away. I don't mean to downplay the miracle she actually is, but this girl in my dreams is nice, too. I'm not sure what to make of it, seeing as I realized over a week ago that part of my affinity toward liking-girls is that I enjoy the playful side of it that comes from a history of spending all my friend-time with girls when I was young. I didn't have any male friends until I was in seventh grade, and so there's this whole playful part of me that seems limited at this point to the female half of the species. There's a cuteness in it, that's nice- a spontaneity that's fun. I'm not sure what else loving Brooke has to tell me, but I do enjoy it much. Oh, and the other night she turned into Natalie (my second best-friend) so there has to be something about all of this. The more I look at my past, the more I've (almost) only been in love with women(however asexually...or not) and I don't know what that means, but I've decided that for right now just exploring is exciting. It's freeing in a way not to have to try and decide based on the pros and cons of each sexuality, not to try and wake up what is rightfully dormant at this point. It's freeing to be able to look at it in a way that is comfortable to me, as self-exploration, as "hmm, well I don't like that particular motivation (say, that boys are scary) so let's work on that." It isn't about deciding; it's about what Shannon once advised so beautifully: to prepare myself for whatever answer does come. For the moment, the question is enough.

Talk about tucking a tangent wherever you like. Goodness. Back to the detested Migraine.

I meant to ask the doc last week whether an otc med like Excedrin Migraine would cause problems the meds I'm already on. However, as is my tendency, I forgot. (The man still has Little Earthquakes, for Christ's sake. If I can't remember to ask him for Tori, I think med questions are a hopeless cause.) So when things got bad today, Mom offered to page him, and I only resisted enough to quell my "but it's such a stupid thing to bother him about" temporarily before giving in and letting her. He called back later, pointing out what I'd worried about- that the pills have a significant amount of caffeine, and especially as late in the day as I was taking them could bring up anxiety/insomnia issues. He suggested I take an alprazolam with them, and within an hour of doing this, I felt no longer migraine-ish and very relaxed. For a moment, I was even sleepy, but I pulled out of it. I got the "you are such a drug addict" response from my mom when I told her I felt "goood" (with three os) but the thing is, I am so entirely unaware of what it's like to feel physically relaxed that when my body really feels that freedom, it's a natural high. and yes, it takes medication to get me there, but I *never* abuse it. I'm just so absolutely grateful that it's there. and I really think that these pills have to be better for me than drnking an insane amount of Coca-Cola all day (after establishing myself as completely intolerant through a strict no-caffeine-other-than-occasional-chocolate regimen the rest of the time). I even got my appetite back because the queasiness was gone! Oh, I can't explain the joy. I will not become addicted to Excedrin. I will not make myself suffer when I could feel better with a pill.

In other news, my siblings and I have been passing e-mails back and forth like notes in junior high, regarding pretty much the same time period. They're all along the lines of "you might have grown up in Neverland if" and some of them are downright tragic (though terribly amusing.) It's not often that my older siblings acknowledge the horror that was our hometown, but they all seemed to get into it, which makes me happy. Even though John and I had to leave out significant figures in our own pain, simply because they came after our siblings' time.

But speaking of school, homebound rocks my kneesocks. I feel like I'm learning again, and enjoying it, for the first time in so long. I've been studying for my 20th century history course (which I have to take instead of pop culture) and most of it I just went over for American right before the break, but it's so refreshing to realize how much I *know* about history now. I've never felt like I had a chronology of historical events firmly in my mind. I've never understood how my classmates could rattle off names and occupations and political motives so easily as they did- things we hadn't even studied! But I'm intrinsically motivated now, and I'm finding it interesting. I'm finding it invigorating actually, to realize that my history teacher was right- I don't give myself enough credit. Maybe school really was the problem. Maybe I wasn't such unedjukabble after all.

Which reminds me, I want to e-mail her to talk shop and to thank her and to see what her thoughts are on quantification of personality. I also want to find a decent source on Woodrow Wilson as I don't understand the discrepancy between his personal frightful prejudice (despite supposedly moral motivation) and his progressive reform. I want to know how a professor turned president, or rather- why- and I want to know how on earth a man who didn't believe in nearly any progressive cause ended up labeled the progressive president. (Mostly I'm just bitter because he was my favorite, based on the American history text, and now my 20th century implies he was, personally speaking, an ass.) Kind of the counterpart to Taft: Instead of believing in the progressive cause and never acting on this, he acted in favor of it several times, but never believed. Questions are raised. I wonder which is worse. And is it practical to wish for a moral president, considering his morals could differ so greatly from ours? I wonder if callous really is better. Oh, the wondering that opens up when a little bit of information is given time to grow. In my form of learning, every few paragraphs require a minute or two of daydreaming. If I ever had a classroom, I'd fill it with students who worked that way and adjust our schedule accordingly. And doodling would be affirmed, always.

But I digress.

chord

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