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10:00 p.m. - 02/17/03
!:i'm a bubble in a soundwave!.!]
Ah, self-pity. It's unfortunate that I can't channel my self-pity in some productive manner. I would probably be able to fuel the known world with that energy and all this oil shite would fade into the past. I find it disillusioning that when I read Sarah-dela's prediction of a fallen American empire, I felt more relieved than disturbed. I would love to see America rebuild... though historically fallen empires seem to occur almost solely through takeover by totalitarian imperialists, and losing any of my remaining civil liberties in order to play cog in the dictatorial machine is not exactly on my to-do list.

I just realized I'm writing this on "president's Day."

To de-tangify* myself, though, I am managing productivity in spite of self-pity if not productivity by way of it. I've been in competition with Rory Gilmore all weekend, in terms of schoolwork, and it's been mostly a worthwhile excursion. I do well with longer-short periods in which I can do work unsupervised. (For instance, the four-and-a-half days I have now.) I end up using more time than I would during a couple of two-day stints because I don't feel the pressure. I start to enjoy learning again, even if what I'm learning makes me want to abandon ship. I did finally give up on The Mysteries of Udolpho, though. We weren't assigned to read it all, but I decided to do so. However, when five chapters into it, they had done nothing but gone on (more than a few) nature walks, I felt just a bit irritated. I've moved onto Frankenstein, which I'm enjoying immensely, though perhaps only by comparison. And speaking of literature, my sister took me up on my challenge to discover for herself why Margaret Atwood is God and has come to the same conclusion. Mmmm, I'm such a bookbat.

...And, to completely change topics yet again- isn't this a bit odd considering, well, everything?

I am Sunday's Child

What day are you?

I was struck by it. Maybe I was just happy to be the most evolved of the seven days. It's based on my upcoming birthday, as opposed to my actual one, which would have me as the graceful Tuesday's child. The intense heartweather regarding (in part) the last idea of that offered description has hardly lessened. I've fallen back into the trap of a few weeks ago- thinking that this will just magically disappear from my train of thought- though, in my defense, it always did before. I also spent part of the day very, very grateful (once again) that less than 48 hours separate me from my next appointment. I think the traditional week has become more than I can do right now. It reminds me of a certain brother's tactic of skipping school each Wednesday to keep the torture in his week at two-day periods. A somewhat effectual strategy.

Ameliorate is my new favorite word. Technically, it's not my new favorite word because it can't manage to replace my old favorite word, but it's the up-and-coming word in my happy linguistic explorations. It's the type of word you learn and love all the way around, to the point you must ask yourself how you didn't know it until now. More people need to use the word ameliorate in general conversation.

*

I think I'm developing a cold. I may already have one. I have the weird-eye-pain that always signifies impending feverish angst, the trouble breathing, the sore throat. This is only a small fraction of my self-pity, though. Mostly, I've focused that energy into missing home, and realizing a few of the reasons I deserve somewhere far better than that I currently know. Though I must say, I'm grateful to have a league of allies who develop escape plans on my behalf. Most adolescents desperate to escape the homefront face cocky adults who throw around phrases like "you think that now" and "best years of your life." When I describe my living conditions, people cringe, and I appreciate that.

Lots of missing Rogers. Lots of energy spent remembering and feeling sick over that. Some funds spent in search of tangible memories: yogurt pretzels and a portable Simon game. (Dude, you so don't remember how addictive Simon is.) Unhappiness surrounding the spending of such funds resulting from the relentless deprivation/gluttony complex. The, "I need to know I can have things so I won't everything but later I won't want to see any of it" reality. I hate that reality. It's made a little more difficult by the fact that, for the first time in my young life, my parents are giving my weekly allowance. Which rocks on one level. But keeps them from buying me little presents on another. (A scheen of yarn here, a pair of kneesocks there, et cetera.) It's not they're spending less on me by giving me the money on a consistent basis, and I'm sure it's better for me, and it's definitely better for them. But I still feel a little slighted by it. I have this irrational feeling that they don't love me as much now that they don't spontaneously buy me things. How very Quinn of me.

I need to do something about that deprivation weirdness. Granted, I'm probably already doing things about that. But I've never gone into the reasons (beyond a personality adverse to flashing lights and commerical brainwashing) that I despise shopping. Or the reasons I crave it. I've never gone into my pseudo-ed reactions to the shopping experience with a therapist. I've never even tracked down a self-help book on the subject, and considering I can recite bios of self-help gurus off-hand, this is hugely atypical. Downright disturbing. It makes me sound more healthy than I am.

Or maybe it doesn't. I have a hard time discriminating lately between signs of health and signs of illness. I suppose that's what I (or rather, my parents, of course) pay the big bucks for. For instance, the continued avoidance of sf. I can't make myself read and respond lately. If I go, I glance at titles, maybe read one post, and then I'm off again. I can't seek anything out there (though it did occur to me as I wrote the previous paragraph that I could do a search on deprivation issues) right now. And it's kind of upsetting because I like having and offering support in that sort of community. At the same time, I understand that there are times when a board like that at sf are helpful, and times when it's triggering. Right now, I'm having a hard enough time doing what I need to with food. I don't need to think much about other people who are struggling. Though the growing number of people committed to winning that struggle make my heart feel snuggly. And my heart, which generally feels sore and a tad desperate, appreciates this effort.

I am making it, though. That lunch Thursday is still the only meal I've skipped. I've just had some rough spots and a harder time maintaining a decent meal plan that I normally do. If nothing else, I remember (yet again) that my eating disorder is as real as those people who fit the media's vision of this illness. I'm sorry that I needed the reminder, as it's draining to fight so constantly for such small things. And I'm glad that I remembered with so little behavior - and that I came up with better ways of reminding other people (for instance- talking) to keep from perpetuating it. I am making progress. I am.

I'm just...dogpaddling against a significant current right now. That doesn't make the work any less legitimate. So there.

chord

*de-tangify (v.) - to untangle, remove, or return oneself from the course of a tangent

p.s. I think that TATU song was banned locally, because no radio station here has played it in weeks. Anyone know the scoop on that?

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