sc0urge: (boxcars)
ETA: Scratch all this, the mere existence of the art course is apparently a figment of my imagination. At any rate, I cannot enroll in it. Bluh. Oh and apparently they only offer arts courses on a different campus. Thanks for telling me that, guys.

UGH university ugh courses ugh schedule ugh enrollment ugh self urgh.

I am a complete and utter shaky-skulled idiot dunce, and guess what? I managed to totally bork up enrolling myself for classes, so none of my choices were actually added, meaning they all filled up (most of them even the waitlist was full) and I have had to attempt to cobble together a whole new one. Which means I am now about to add a really piecemeal assortment of courses which are more difficult, take up more time, are worth fewer units, and probably contribute even less to any kind of meaningful degree. I am only just able to piece together enough units to keep my scholarship by waitlisting myself for an arts studio course. Which... you know, cool. It may mean nothing in terms of either of my probable majors, but whatever. Art is awesome, and the kind of panicfrazzle that working to hard on art gives me is a completely different and very refreshing kind of overload. But I'm waitlisted, and not sure I'll get in, and now this means there are two nights a week I won't be able to work as a zombie instead of one, and on one of those days, I'll be going from biology in the morning, to a four-hour chem lab in the afternoon, to a three-hour art studio all evening (with barely ten minutes between lab and studio). If I get in. If.

Which I need to happen, because scholarship. And there is pretty much no other course I could cram into my schedule, and even if there was I doubt it would be one I would enjoy or even possibly PASS.


I'm just... really bad at this, I think. I get stressed, and I'm all 'LOL NOPE NOT GONNA DEAL WITH THIS' so I shut down my brain and refuse to think to avoid total swirling overwhelmed meltdown, but while that works as a stopgap measure and prevents me from getting shitfaced drunk and staying up all night crying or whatever, and is really really good for my high scores on Robot Unicorn Attack, it just leaves me freaking stagnating all over the place, leaving me - still! - without meaningful employment, a planned major, any idea what I want to do with myself, or more than one or two meaningful relationships in my life. (And of course that just feeds into me feeling inadequate, which feeds into me feeling jealous and self-pitying, which just leads into me feeling shitty and petty and childish about feeling like that, which... recursive fractal of emo whiny bullshit.)

I don't really know where I was going with this.

But I've added the courses, so let's just hope I get into this art course and maybe grow a spine and deal with my shit or something.
sc0urge: (Default)
Not only is my tablet dead (can't tell the difference between hovering-over to move the cursor and pressing down to click/draw), it seems I've also managed to destroy my USB mouse (only intermittently connects, can't find which wire is loose to fix it).

Which means I am stuck with just my laptop trackpad. Again.

And for a few brief moments I've had the compulsion to draw some things, for once. Damnit universe. My thumbs do not love you right now. Guess I'll just have to go write this angsty fanfiction instead, you asshole. Such suffering. How do I deal. :|

Other than that - it's a lovely grey day today, so I'm sitting outside in the courtyard by the shops and the transit exchange on campus, by the fountain. Other than the buses and the rush of falling water, it's rather subdued. There's an electronic sign across from me that says it's sixteen degrees out, but my fingers feel cooler than that, so I guess I might pack up and relocate to the library in a bit.

Also, since I have enthusiastically shared this with every flesh-and-blood-interactions human currently in my life: EEE lab this Wednesday EEE! Basic evolution-ey stuff, so there wasn't a lot of playing around with chemicals or knives or whatever, BUT. There was some locust-measuring, which meant I got to manhandle an adorable and remarkably docile locust (Seriously, no hopping, no kicking; it just sat there and let me gather up its four front legs under its body and wrap my palm around its wings and hold its back leg out so we could measure its femur. Such a chill bro.) and have a squee-inducingly chubby little leaf insect drunkenly leaf-dance over my hand (after it was done being scared of all the giant predators around it, which involved some really pathetic/cute 'RAWR I'M BIG LOOK AT ME STICKING MY HANDS IN THE AIR AND ARCHIN' MAH BACK!' posturing). Also there were some stick insects just sitting in a mesh cage acting like sticks, with a printout about their sexual/asexual reproduction and sterile male-appearing genetically-female specimens which show up in lab populations.

On top of that, there was a whole preserved duck wing I could poke at and sketch, so with my task of building three and a half wings in the next three weeks, I was very glad of that. And it was damn neat to have an orange-dyed bat skeleton set in acetate. And the skulls of a grizzly/black bear/wolf/cat/cougar. And replica gorilla/orangutan/chimp/australopithecus/neanderthal/cromagnon/human skulls, even if I gather the teeth were all wrong in the prototype humans.

Squee. Squee everywhere. Well, mostly everywhere, but those places not included by 'mostly' are stupid stupid dumb and... bleh nevermind.

(Still mad at you for the mouse, universe. >:[)
sc0urge: (boxcars)
Well, that psych appointment was... not as good as the last.
Apparently this guy didn't even think I really had depression. Um. What.
In retrospect, perhaps I should have just handed him a link to this journal...?

Cut for kvetching )

Sorry, I'm done wallowing for now, I think.

AND ON ANOTHER NOTE I'm going to see Deathly Hallows tonight, which should be radtacular. I've got a Slytherin scarf Mandy sent me and a shirt to match, and while I'm at it I've got a head of bright blonde hair as well. :D Emily spent a few hours this afternoon burning my scalp to excellent effect. Nobody else at the salon seemed to actually believe that a) my hair was naturally that dark, b) that my hair could possibly go from black to pale yellow in one go, or c) the strength of bleach that was applied to my head without my scalp peeling into ribbons or my hair spontaneously combusting. But it looks spectacular and actually feels quite soft.

Anyway, the reason for this hair-upgrade is that there is a fill-in for the dead-and-decomposing Anime Evolution this year - Cos & Effect, up at a different university, is happening August 13-14, and I think I can scrounge together the $20 to go. I also think I might just be able to scrounge together a cosplay, if I set aside a couple of weekends and get my arse in gear. There are apparently going to be My Little Pony cosplayers as well as homestuck cosplayers, so I'm planning on going as this charming young lady filly and this charming young man. But if I can't pull off making two (er, one and a half?) pairs of wings, I might instead scrap the latter and do this ridiculous thing instead, since it only really involves making a lollipop and screen-printing a t-shirt.

(Oh yeah, I may also some day eventually get that Kafei costume done HAHAHAHAHA. Fuck it, next Tsukino.)
sc0urge: (nureru)
Quotes for this evening:

"Oh Holy Jesus, shit, thank you. I will totally - no, I will not pull a Mary for you, but I will come close."

(beat)

"No, wait. Oh Heavenly Gods of Mathematics, I will totally have concupiscent relations with you, provided prophylactics are employed."

(later)

"Last time I checked, I'm a legal adult. I can post the word 'concupiscent' all over my Livejournal. In fact - actually, no, that sentence does not need to be finished."
sc0urge: (ditto)
Oh Gods why did I get into this fandom.

Shuffle

Jun. 16th, 2011 01:09 am
sc0urge: (choices aang)
I have a psychiatric evaluation tomorrow.

Whiiiiiiiiinge. Whinge whinge whinge.

Also I have now seen X-Men: First Class twice. Yes, twice. Last movie I saw twice in theatres was... Iron Man? Dead Man's Chest? Anyway. I think I could listen to an entire movie of Michael Fassbender reading a multi-lingual ingredient label. And gratuitous as it was, I am not yet sick of the shot of Mystique during which one can pretty much hear the producer and all seven makeup artists shouting in chorus, "HERE'S OUR MAKEUP BUDGET, GUYS!"

Not sure I need to see it a third time, though. That high honour still belongs to PotO and PotO alone. xD

Also we didn't win the Stanley Cup or something but transit was interesting all afternoon/night.
sc0urge: (ditto)
I got a call today from the hospital, and now I have an appointment booked for a psych evaluation. Whoo. Thursday after this. And the eating disorder clinic told me they'd put me on a waitlist for group therapy.

Yeah. A waitlist. For group. What the hell? Um, okay, healthcare system. You have utterly convinced me of your efficacy and efficiency. (If they were as disorganised and unsuccessful with treatment for any other life-threatening ailment, would people care then? No? Maybe? I'm not sure which way is more disheartening.)

It's kind of something I think about - treatment for GID and for eating disorders seems... opposed, somehow. The one says 'your mind is right and your body wrong; we need to change the body from its automatic settings so the brain accepts it' and the other says 'your mind is wrong and your body right; we need to change your head so it accepts the body's automatic config.' I know that the adage about never really recovering from an eating disorder is true as far as my anecdata can carry it. I know that GID is treated the way it is because this is the only way that seems to work. But then, I guess with gender dysphoria, the trans individual isn't also dealing with an addiction and obsessive-compulsion. There are probably those who would quite happily get behind the idea that gender dysphoria is rather a body dysmorphia, and all trans people delusional. Ugh. I don't even know.

I wish I wasn't so distrustful of the psychiatric establishment. Especially since I have no reason to feel as such, given a rather scant body of experience on which to base judgement. Maybe I'm burned out on psychologists and family doctors. Maybe I just need to ask, as my first question, why a psychiatrist reading the DSM and listening to my self-reported symptoms is so different from me reading the DSM and evaluating my self-felt symptoms.

I'm also grumpy because the way this lab course is being conducted (online assignments, rushed labs, minimal human teaching) is making me really aggravated, and kind of poisoning my love affair with chemistry. I feel like this isn't a challenging course - it's just Nintendo Hard. Sub out depth for shaky controls. Instant difficulty! Except not in the fun way. Argh.
sc0urge: (unagi)


Ribosomes. Mesmerising. *_*
sc0urge: (jiji)
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I knew it! I knew that "Put your paws up" was directed at furries!

I'm pretty okay with being a cross between two humans, but if I had to choose, perhaps Time LordxGreat Old One. Would that just be an Ood?
sc0urge: (cheza)
(Second entry in a row with Marina & The Diamonds title. xD)

Um. Feeling pretty terrible. Well. Up-and-down, I guess. *Right this second* I feel absolutely miserable, but that's just this moment, so ehhh...

It seems that for all my introversion and nervousness and eagerness to hop the bus home each day, my mental health is... well, I have to always be on. Doing something. It feels really weird to think that I was in a better headspace running on veins full of caffeine and a head empty of sleep, roaming the streets of Seattle at five in the morning, sleeping one hour a night, than I am sitting at home in a leisurely manner with time to relax and... well, do nothing.

So I have to be constantly distracted from any possibility of being left alone with myself. No - walking the empty streets of a predawn city is alone with myself. Sitting in the library reading a book on gender roles in 1800's Germany (...it was right in front of me and had a very dashing black and gold cover) is being alone with myself.

I guess it's just being in the comfort and safety of my own abode that drives me up the walls.

Maybe I really am a pirate tramp after all.
sc0urge: (dark)
Maybe I should write an entry. Things have, in fact, been happening. Are happening. Um. Y'know.
I've started class at SFU. I've actually added a biology class. Yay! I mean, finally. Don't ask me why I didn't get around to taking some kind of biology sooner. I mean, it's only been the one branch of the sciences in which I've consistently shown an interest since early childhood. I think it must have been grade nine science that scared me off - fucking mitosis/meiosis. I love penguins and planaria. I guess I don't absolutely adore the mechanics of their cell reproductions. Or something. But this chemistry class - any class that starts off with "What is life?" is fun.

I've also got a chemistry lab - my A-level apparently counts for two 100-level courses, the theory portions, but I don't have the lab portion. I don't know if I can just take the lab portion by itself, though. Well, I guess I'll find out tomorrow when I rock up to the lab tomorrow. Oh, man. The lab. It is bloody beautiful. It has big glass walls facing the hall, so I could see inside, and man. There are biohazard bags and warning signs and bottles the size of my head filled with candy-coloured solutions and and and ~ oh, so excited. Seriously. Biohazard bags. This is already great.

I've also had a doctor's appointment. Man. Bringing my father into the office as a meat shield actually worked wonders. She was, of all things, actually kind of sympathetic and helpful. Wow. She's going to push me through some urgent-access thingumajig to see a real live psychiatrist for a real live psych assessment (the last time anyone actually thought to be sure of exactly what mood disorder might be going on and which treatment was appropriate was when I was fourteen, and even aside from the fact that at that age pretty much the only thing a psychiatrist can do is diagnose depression and sling Prozac around, as the good doctor herself said 'a lot has happened since you were fourteen').
In the meantime, she's given me a prescription for some kind of anti-psychotic medication which is actually only really used for anxiety and sleeplessness. It has some grotty side effects (weight gain, boo) but there are some upsides (possible missed periods, woo). And to be honest, if it works and I can stop being so twitchy and neurotic for a bit, I'm happy. It won't mess with either depression or bipolar, which was kind of why I stopped taking fluoxetine in the first place. I mean, my mum had bipolar. My sister... I'm not privy to her diagnoses, but the last time she had a presscription filled, it was for lithium, which is a mood stabilizer, not an antidepressant. But I'm not going to start taking it just yet, because it can raise blood sugar, and I'm also getting eight hundred million blood tests done - well, I don't know the number of tests, but there's a lot of writing on the order sheet. I'm going tomorrow morning. So that should be a load of fun.
sc0urge: (later)
Guess what! This hostel has computers available for use! 8D

I'm here.

Did you know you booked me into a co-ed hall/room? So far all my dormmates
are Aussie boys. Also, they charged a $20 deposit for the room, but I plan
on making up for that by scarfing as much of their free breakfast as I can
manage. I even got free supper tonight (tacos, SCORE!) but given the
nocturnal basement-dweller schedule the con follows I'm not sure I'll have
much luck taking advantage of that particular offer.

Also, the bathrooms here are mega swank. Though it took me an
embarassingly long time to work out which ones were the bathrooms... (Hurr
durr, they're the ones with the tortoise in a bathtub on the door! I'm a
fricking genius!)

Anyway, there are some other people going to the con here in the hostel,
which is kind of cool.

(...and now I really really would like to take this ACE bandage off... Curse me, having not enough clean actual binders!)

...

Apr. 19th, 2011 07:38 am
sc0urge: (Default)
Why is it that I only have the desire to post when I feel as though I have no words in my fingers?

I feel like leaning too far forward to catch hold of something just out of reach.

I'm just a mess of panic attacks at decisions and revulsion at the touch of my own skin.

Fuck. You can tell I haven't slept.
sc0urge: (avatar)
I just joined up with a website where users correct each others' blog entries as a means to learn a new language. It's better than it sounds - I think. But given that the language I'm trying to learn, and thus the pool of English-language entries I see... Well hello, current events.

It's a weird feeling to see posts on the earthquake from those who experienced it first hand, in all manner of syntax and skill level, while I'm slaving over a two-sentence post comprising nothing but infantile drivel over how this picture of a spider has cute little stripey legs. Because that's what I can manage to say. That's about ALL I can manage to say. It made me kind of see - perhaps just see more clearly? - how much I rely on words, how much they are a part of my experience of the world, an extension of my senses. Feeling divorced from that fundamental character trait feels, to be honest, kind of scary, and really a bit frustrating.

Then again, there was an entry that popped up, the first sentence of which read 'I can't tell what I want to say in English.' There we were, two people looking at one another through the strange spaceless void that is the internet, probably in quite different circumstances (for all my angst, I didn't just weather a massive earthquake) yet feeling much the same way. It's one thing to feel small. It's another to be a mote of dust in an empty room and glance through a sunbeam to find yourself facing another feathery speck glancing back.

Her English, I must say, was much better than my Japanese. And by 'much' I mean I want some kind of Medal of Understatement. Or, like, Bottlecap of Understatement, if that's more appropriate. Or... I don't know where that metaphor is going.
sc0urge: (Default)
Playing open-ended creative games (Neopets, Farmville, The Sims) is hell on my creativity.

Action-adventure role-playing games on the other hand...

I've been playing Ocarina of Time, properly, for the first time ever. I've been known to play around in the Lost Woods or maybe beat the first dungeon, but mostly I only rode around on my brother's coattails just sitting around as a little kid watching him play or booting up his old save file and running around totally overpowered, killing tektites and riding around on Epona. So it's actually really fun to boot up this old game and get stuck into it. It's nice to realise that as old as this game is, as jagged as the polygons on the Great Fairy's breasts are, I still found myself wandering around the forest temple in awe of its twisted scenery, still jumped three feet in the air the first time a Wallmaster dropped from the ceiling and grabbed me (...bastard).

And, as I've been playing, my brain has been shadowing the motions of the plot, taking snapshots of the images, finding inspiration under all sorts of wooden crates and in all sorts of time-warping-fox-shrieking-brain-eating zombie infested graves. No, really. Those zombies. They still scare me. That chorus of low moans, the way they stand there staring, then that horrible scream, and everything else freezes as it does this weird underwater shuffle towards you, and if you're too close, you suddenly have this tangle of limbs and throaty noises clamped onto your neck and it's shivering and sucking the life out of you and you can't get the fucking thing off.

But. As I was saying. Creativity. The NaNoWriMo idea with which I started, before the butterflies and politicians and opium? The one about the heroic sociopath and the boy with the weeping stone eyes, the one that died? Suddenly Cait finds herself in a bar, confronted with a suspiciously youthful sorceress (and her strange companion, enslaved to the last heartbeat in body but not at all affected in mind) who sends her on a quest for which the only reward is a clean death. And now, thinking about the lack of timeline in the Zelda series, I blurt out, without thinking, "What if I wrote sixteen short stories, unconnected but for the names of the protagonists?" and then decide maybe that's not a bad idea...

Why yes, this would be why my Neopets are starving and my FB feed is mercifully uncluttered. :P
sc0urge: (solidor)


I. cannot. write. this. damn. character.

I was copying down some song lyrics so I could kill multiple birds with a single stone, but I got to that one little 愛 and found myself scratching out some of the worst kanji I have ever attempted to write. WTF? It's not even a particularly difficult character! Why have I resorted to grabbing scrap paper and drawing little practice grids? I may yet sink to tracing, at this rate. But it's none of the others giving me this trouble. Just 愛.

I fear this may say uncomfortable things about my character.
sc0urge: (avatar)
Terri has me transcribing Miyazaki scripts for plays (this is slightly less illegal than it sounds). I'm about a third of the way through Princess Mononoke, and the leper chief has this interesting line:

世を呪い、人を呪い、それでも生きたい...

The interlinear translation on the transcript I have translates this as "I curse the world, I curse people, and yet I still want to live." The subtitles on the movie, however (these may be fansubs or they may be a rip; I couldn't find my disc D:) translate the line as "The world is cursed, people are cursed, yet still we want to live."

Two completely different meanings. I don't know which one I like better, or how to phrase it in English to retain both interpretations...
sc0urge: (hoho)
CULLEN: You cannot harm me! I am made of sparkly-ass diamond~! Because this is the skin of a killleeeeerrrrr~! *bawww*
ELRIC: ...Oh, fucksake. *transmute*
CULLEN: ...?
ELRIC: *stab*
CULLEN: *dies*

Alphonse and Alice, meanwhile, are making daisy chains and singing campfire songs.

Fffff

Feb. 17th, 2011 06:25 pm
sc0urge: (Default)
I should go swim. It would be good for me. It's not going to mess up my knee, but it might make my weenie little lungs a mite less pathetic. But that involves swimming. And that involves... swimming in a swimming costume in a pool with other people. And, like, changing in the gendered change rooms. Urgh... I used to really like swimming, too. Dear ignorance: can I please have you back for a bit? I really liked not caring.

Oh, and while I'm whining: I had a midterm today, and completely fucked up using quadratic equations. You know that giant square root sign? That really glaringly obvious one, written right in the equation that I copied out multiple times in each question that used it? How the hell did I miss that?! What the hell-arse-balls, self?
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