So tired/ tired of waiting/ tired of waiting for you

(That's Green Day, that is.)

So, back in the realm of interweb connection after a week out in the middle of nowhere, with only one quick phone call all week (purely to wish a happy birthday to AB.)

Ended up telling JF about AB making out stuff, he was injured and still is-- and not talking to AB, which makes me guilty. I feel bad about it, but he doesn't really have much right to be fucked off with me about it, since I'm not going out with him anymore and he's a hipocritical bastard, since he went out with AB's ex with no qualms ages ago. So I'm just leaving it. If he doesn't forgive me, so be it.

Time in London was awesome and heart-wrenching. I saw loads of people I love, discovered bits of the city I'd never seen before, got drawn in a park, cried, sighed, and screamed in happiness... so much went on. Seeing JB was amazing. I overuse that word. It was phenomenal-- I was so incredibly happy for that short period of time, I'm sure I annoyed him with all my little squeaks and squeezes, but I couldn't help it, I couldn't bottle it. And when he climbed up onto that bus with his duct-taped backpack, not even looking back (probably because he assumed I'd just walk away, instead of standing there with my heart in my shoes) I felt a huge surge of hatred for those damned automobile carriages called buses that have carried the people I care about so much away from me. They've stolen hopes and yearnings and things that make me wiggle and dance, and displaced them to somewhere far-- where they belong, I suppose, but still far enough from me to make me extremely upset.

My brother's civil ceremony was short and sweet, with no big fuss being made despite the champagne and fancy dress (tuxes for the boys and my mom and I wore fascinators, which is the name for those feather and flower thingies, somewhat akin to some flapper head-dresses, except on a hair clippy thing instead.Very fun.)

Italy was even more astounding-- we were in the mountains, kind of near Calgi, and the agroturismo we were staying in was so cool. The house was huge and old and full of character (part of it was 300 years old!) and the views were spectacular (I have not seen this many stars in a very, very long time.) We arrived last Saturday, and I partied pretty much every night except last night and the Wednesday (saving myself for Thursday, which was the "ceremony".) Thursday consisted of people putting the finishing touches on their dishes (since many guests contributed a dish to the feast-- the real ceremony was the meal and the contribution of components from all of the people that Chris and Katie love and that love them.) Even though I hate speaking in public, I did it-- sobbing, might I add, since as soon as my other brother started speaking the little break in his voice as he said "I love my brother very much" set all of us (all three children, and our parents, too) to weeping. The three course meal (Jaysus Fucking Christ, that's all I can say) was amazing, and after that there was dancing and craziness (with a self-saved awkward turtle moment) [and some making out with the bride's brother, which may or may not have happened on a couple of the other nights. achem. Oh, and a naked dash to the bathroom when someone was making their way to the kitchen at 7 in the morning whilst some shenanigans were going on in the banquet hall. *cough cough*]

I swear, I sound like such a slut. Really, if I had my way, I wouldn't be doing all of this. If I could live in the same place I would be quite happily monogamous (at least, as far as I know, in my imagination of what life would be like in such a situation.) But that's not going to happen anytime soon, if at all. I'm not going to say with who, though.

Right now I am at Katie's parents house in the outskirts of London, feeling shite (gut and ovaries and feelings, all.) I may not well see CM (Katie's brother) at all again before I go, which makes me feel more than a little bit weird (obviously, our fooling around was not something made public to the families, though I think our respective moms and other people involved are astute enough to pick up on something.) I hate leaving with no closure... of course, my impulse is leave a mix cd, but I have no burner and only a few songs in my head to go on said mix ('Stay away from me' by the Honorary Title and 'Land-locked blues' by Bright Eyes, in particular, though that could be because I spent quite a bit of my PMS-y day feeling more than a little pissed off at the way he treated me.) Actually, it's less the way he's treated me (he's actually very sensitive and attentive and sweet) and more the way I'm always that girl that people hide or just fool around with, like with T or A or AB or JB even. Always the fuck in the closet (not that I've ever done that... what an intriguing and potentially uncomfortable idea...) It's not a good fucking feeling. I think most of my anger toward CM today was really just an echo of my anger at A last year. And definitely some ovary-related moodswings.

Speaking of mood swings today, I cried (or started to) a bit on the plane today because I kept thinking of JB. I haven't heard from him since he got back to York, and I know he's busy studying for exams (and it's not because I haven't heard from him that I was crying/on the verge of~) but I can't help but worry that things are fucked up between us. In my book, that would be a travesty. (no, not an executif or d'action)

Sometimes I can't help but think that some of my dramatic mood swings in public are purely to get a reaction out of people. For example, I get the sneaking suspicion that I wanted to cry to get CM to talk to me more than U (who I am fucking jealous of, but not attracted to at all. Usually if I am that jealous it's because I want to be that person and find them very arousing. In this case, it's purely attention- [and possibly self-assurance] -based.) You'd think that I would know my own intentions and be able to control them, wouldn't you? Not so. The Drama Queen rears her head and poises her claws to rake out any ounce of self-contol and respect I have to render me once again a pain-in-the-arse, paranoid teenager-figure. Fuck. And right this minute, I feel that way again, because I am secretly hoping that CM will walk in the door again and we can have a proper talk before I depart in the morning. Somehow, I doubt that's going to happen. Oh well, there's always Facebook stalking, right?

This is one more day on the verge of tears

['Failure by Design', by Brand New]

I start to like my body, start to feel comfortable again despite disordered binge-starve patterns... and then I try on clothes that I think should fit, and they don't, and I want to break down and never eat again. Except I don't do that, instead I go an eat the best parts of a 28-serving package of peanut m+ms in 3 days. I gross myself out, and worry about the epigenetic traits I'll pass on to my grandkids. It's not the fat that grosses me out, it's the eating patterns. This is what makes me hate myself with a burning rage that is otherwise reserved for the likes of ignorant bigots.

Hey, man, now you're really living

[the Eels]
Feel like rubbish today. It occurred to me that I have not taken my meds in 6 days, without thinking about it-- it also occurred to me that my fucked up mood swings might have something to do with it, so I'm going to take some tonight and try to make an appointment with a doctor to get my prescription refilled, because I really can't afford to do something to the detriment of myself just because I'm bull-headed. I have enough unhealthy shit going down right now.

Right this moment I feel pretty bad about the SJ thing. I feel like I'm exploiting the attention he gives me, and falling into the same shit I played with CD last year. I feel like I'm holding a horrible double standard, and treating him with the same kind of crap that I am always paranoid people are treating me with when I like them more than they like me. That's not fair, and it's not making me like myself any more. Plus, I really should hunker down and focus more on school for these last few weeks, and then I'm in England, and then this summer's going to pretty much be hell.
Speaking of CD, he wrote me a myspace message today, talking about how he's so sad and misses me but he knows that my feelings for him are no longer there (eek. can't bear to tell him they never really were. CD's one of the bigger mistakes I've made in my large repertoire of fuck-ups) and he can resign himself to his fate and move on, but I have to tell him that. I seem to get myself in this situation quite a bit, where this person that I led on for a little bit because I'm a bitch or attention whore or even because I thought I liked them goes gaga and I feel like the worst person in the world but I cannot conjure up emotion that is not there. I can't stand lying, either... I can do it (not sure how convincingly), but I hate it because it makes me hate myself, and I have enough of that without lying. I also hate to hurt people, though, and that seems like it's just going to happen. Doesn't make it easier, though. Fuck.

I was given a meal plan to help me get back on track. Instead, I have been blatantly ignoring it/deviating from it. I am now afraid to write down the things I have been eating and the way I have been feeling in my food diary as I'm supposed to because I'm afraid of being judged by my therapist. Who I tell a fuck-load, but she couldn't handle everything that goes on in my life (well, what do you know? Neither can I, apparently.) I know she's trained for this shit, but I can hear her tone of voice, I see her little mannerisms shift, I know I've made her uncomfortable before and could easily do it again-- this is why I feel like I could be a good psychiatrist, I can read people pretty well.

Actually, I've been thinking about what I want to do medically, and I feel like I'm leaning more away from psychiatry, more toward family care or something a little more broad... I obviously don't know, though. I still have dreams of marrying cognitive therapy with movement therapy and art therapy. SJ said something about trans folks (or anyone that deviates from the norm, really) being afraid to call an ambulance or go to the doctor when they need to, because of the way that they can be received, which totally fucks me over and makes me so incredibly upset and furious with the myopic world view that so many people have. If I could provide any degree of solace in the medical profession for people who are denied their dignity in the usual health care field, I would be honored. Now how to actually go about it is another matter. I can't exactly put that on my personal statement. :P

Also, on applying to med schools and stuff: I'm reminding myself-- especially when I get freaked out about things-- that this is me attempting to follow my dreams. I've come so far already, and I have agency in deciding how and when it goes down. If I really want it, I can achieve it, and get it done well ("Get 'er done!" hehe.) And in the end, if I don't get in this year? There's always next, and maybe I wasn't meant to rush through it.

Then somebody loves you just enough

(Bernard Fanning, from Powderfinger)

Today was a tough day. I woke up from a dream about being molested (very vivid, extremely disturbing.) to groggily drive to school and sit through chem and bio, all while feeling nauseous and guilty about food and anxiety about the test I have to turn in by Thursday morning. Then I got a text from J (a million minutes late, because the Science Center apparently sucks whatever signal there is along with a few souls.) For the past three weeks I've been diddling along, trying to get on with whatever approximation of living I've been doing. Today, I realized to what extent my ways of coping with saying goodbye involve forgetting. Trying to forget the way it felt, so that I can't compare it to the present; trying to forget that I even met him, that we ever interacted... which is horrible, and really sad. It's not that I actually succeed in the attempts to forget, but after all the goodbyes I've said in my life, why am I unable to look back and reminisce without the poignancy, the nostalgia becoming overwhelming? Why can't I just enjoy the re-hashing of scenes and sensations (insofar as much as possible) without wishing to not be in this moment (which is definitely something I want to avoid)?
With this goodbye, in particular, I have run the gamut (so to speak) of reactions: I've been angry, sad, hurt, and even relieved to some extent (the latter mostly being because I was having trouble focusing on studying, when I need as close to a 4.0 I can get to apply to med school-- so far, I'm at a 3.89, or something.) But today, (and the other day), when I heard from him spontaneously, when I was alerted to the fact that I'm still on his mind despite everything that's going down in a new and exciting place, I was struck. Struck by how much I miss him, by the very fact that I'm important, by how much I was holding back, by the strangeness of my mode of coping, and by how it seems so callous. No wonder I'm afraid of being forgotten, when this is the way I deal with things. I braced myself for a big reaction at the beginning, when I thought I had time to deal with it a little more... but now is when it's hitting me, when it's been three weeks or so. So I try to deal with studying for my tests and struggling with myself for control of anything, when in actuality all I really want to do right now is write and cry and sleep and draw and dream, and then maybe go dancing when I wake up.

up on the rooftops

(listening to punk rock...that was all we had--I'm ashamed, but it's Mest.)

Last night, I got in a funk, and went driving with the windows down and music blaring. Then I got a text from MK, who I haven't heard from in ages and was kind of my go-to vent-at buddy for much of my winter break. He asked me how my weekend was, so I told him bluntly: it was great and really relaxing except for that exact moment. So I drove around a lot more, texting him back and forth, and then-- at 11:30pm-- decide that I'm going to go for a walk and he'd be the best candidate for being up for going with me, despite the need to get up at 6 the next morning. So we meet, and walk, and I vent... my shoes hurt my feet, so I take them off, and we walk until 1am. Nothing is resolved (not that I expected anything to be, considering the layers going on, plus him not being involved in the slightest-- usually hashing things out does help me figure out what's wrong, at least, though.)

Then today, I've had a really relaxing and pretty great day, and yet I wind up in a crappy mood again.

I can't seem to approach this in a prose form, so I'm just going to go the easy way out and make a list:
*still worrying about calories and stuff in a way that I would not like to, i.e. in terms of losing weight rather than being healthy and happy
*feeling guilty for wanting to escape my parent's house, while aware that this sentiment is unfounded
*worrying about my knees giving out on me (and all the implications on my running/well being thereof.---I am aware that I seemingly equated my well being with running, but that's not entirely true. Running helps, though.)
*feeling paranoid about my personal interactions (or lack thereof) with most of the people I consider important in my life at this particular moment. I'm thinking this may be a function of me feeling off-balance, since I can usually feel more confident about my interactions when I have a stronger sense of who I am and how I want to perceive myself.

None of these things are new. None of them are things that I have not dealt with before, in some capacity. But given that I am more aware of my previous faulty coping mechanisms, I feel somewhat as if I am grasping at wisps of clouds at the top of a mountain.

*********************
Speaking of mountains, I went to Dahlonega today and hiked. I loved it, I felt wonderful (except a few knee twinges), and it was refreshing. Exactly what I needed before trying to crack on with my work this week. As it gets warmer my idea of camping out on the weekends with my books becomes more and more appealing. I don't know where my tent is, though, which might be a slight deterrent to that plan-- not to mention that it's going to get cold again next week. Bloody Georgia can't make up its mind about what season it's going to be