Eh, fuck it, titles suck.

Insomnia for the past two nights, very little sleep. Today I felt surprisingly good, considering. Boxing again tonight, with my father, our new Wednesday night tradition. We haven’t missed a single fight since we started again — quite the discipline. I let him know that I was tired. We had to take about ten breaks because my endurance was shitty, but I actually fought well. I’ve been getting much better, much less fearful. I frequently best my father — owing mostly to my age, I’m quicker.

But in the end he knocked me down. I was losing strength and decided to go out with a bang. I unleashed a barrage of punches, but failed to protect myself from his devastating right hook (usually too slow to catch me off guard). I didn’t lose consciousness, but I fell flat on the floor. I told him I was fine, which was mostly true. My head recovered quickly, and I felt quite good after a few minutes. But I’d had enough. My left elbow was aching.

As I was instructing my dad on the use of his new computer, I logged in to MSN messenger from my iPhone. Who should be online but NF, my e-crush? We start chatting. She seems eager to talk (or she’s just being very polite), writing long and thoughtful responses. Where had she been all this month? She told me she’d been buried in work, which is probably true. We resumed our chat once I got home. I was awkward and self-conscious, as usual. Maybe she was too. I’m pleased that we’re chatting again, although my pleasure hardly equals in magnitude the pain I felt when we stopped speaking. Odd. Cognitive bias. Eh?

I hope we speak more. How can I move things to the next step? How can I ask her out on a date? The prospect of meeting her is exciting. Then again I’m repulsive both physically and socially, so maybe I shouldn’t.

An Important Success; Anti-Climax, Attitude, Neuroses

I’ve been apprehensive about posting for a while now. I have so many ideas, so many drafts, a considerable volume of writing that I have yet to publish here. But my anxiety has made me work-shy.

Anyhow, the anthropology situation has finally been resolved. I should be ecstatic, no? I guess I’m content, but I’m not happy, and I don’t know why. At least the stress is gone. I have new stressors now though.

If you’ve* followed this blog then you’ll know that the saga of Dr. AC had been troubling me for months. In fact, it utterly ruined my August, September and October. Those were months of grave stress, doubt. It was one of the worst periods of my entire life, so terrible that I would think about suicide on a daily basis.

My life, my career, seemed to be imploding in front of my eyes. And yet I didn’t even know what was happening. They were months of avoidance. I lacked the courage to check my transcript, to see if my grades were up, to contact the anthropology department and ask them what was happening. Dr. AC was missing in action. My graduate school application was hanging in the balance, as was my future.

In the end, I was awarded an A in each of the anthropology courses I took with Dr. AC. He was impressed with my ‘Concepts of Race’ paper on the Nazi genocide of the Gypsies. I was elated at his positive evaluation. He even suggested I pursue the same topic as a graduate student. I’ve been checking my transcript since Thursday, when he finally submitted my grades. Today, at last, the As are there. My GPA has climbed to 3.59, as predicted. An A in ‘Ecological Dynamics’ would nudge me into the 3.60, which I consider to be “grant range”. My graduate school admission is not yet confirmed, although I feel it’s fairly certain. (I do still worry that I might be refused).

The Biology Department’s graduate studies coordinator is on the ball, apparently. I just checked my application status and I’m officially “Recommended by Department”! Presumably the application now just needs to be cleared with the Office of Graduate Studies. Cross your fingers for me, imaginary reader.

Life is hardly perfect though. I’m filling my quota of stress and despair with social neuroses. Always a good fallback. Last Fall, my social neuroses were a fraction of what they are now. My living situation siphoned off most of the dread and anxiety. Perhaps it’s no coincidence that I was socially more “successful” then. All I wanted was to move somewhere else. Things have now shifted such that my living situation, being quite good, occupies hardly any of my thinking. I take for granted that I have a nice apartment in a nice neighborhood. I take for granted the convenience of my location. I even complain about my living situation sometimes, internally. I still dream of something better. But my mind needs to be neurotic about something, so I obsess over my social situation. It never ends…

 

*”you” being an inferred, imagined reader more than anything

Two Pieces of Good News

My scale is awfully inaccurate, but today it kept reading 192lbs, a substantial decrease. Apparently my new diet-exercise plan is working! Now that I have “something to lose”, hopefully I can show a bit more discipline. Last night I gave in to my cravings and ate an entire 120g bag of chocolate covered almonds (660 Cal). I wouldn’t want to jeopordize my modestly improved shape by doing that again…

Secondly, today I woke up after 7 hours and sleep and felt… rather good, actually. Energetic, alert. It’s as though the Cipralex decided to kick in again! I wonder if there’s something I can do to keep this happening every morning.

NF and my Neurotic Thoughts

In light of my previous post about BB, this topic seems quite trivial. Truthfully though, it takes up so much of my mental energy on any ‘normal’ day. It really shouldn’t though.

In my perpetually neurotic state, I read over my entire MSN messenger history with NF. If you didn’t know, she’s the girl from OK Cupid that I have a crush on. (Tehe). Call it social anxiety disorder, if you like, I’m intensely self-conscious and self-critical about how I appear to others.

She and I had two substantial conversations last week, but I haven’t seen her online since Friday night. Naturally I assumed she must have blocked me, having grown annoyed. Or maybe creeped out, who knows. I’m sure she found me repulsive in some way. I noticed earlier that she had read my OK Cupid profile once more, late Saturday night, presumably in a drunken state after a Hallowe’en party. Maybe she checked it because she likes me. Maybe when she say it again, she decided she didn’t like me. Maybe she showed my profile to her friends at the party. Look at that dork! At any rate, I’ve been saddened by this perceived rejection.

On reviewing our chats, it turns out I wasn’t creepy or stupid or pathetic at all. In fact I was friendly, respectful, intelligent and reasonably witty. And she seemed to enjoy our chat. After all, why would she spend hours talking to me otherwise? She ended our last conversation with the words “nighty night friend”. Positive, I suppose. I’m thinking too much about this.

NF seems like a lovely, pretty, smart and funny girl. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather date more than her. It would be a shame if this is the last I’ve heard.

Tidings from the Enemy

Had a rare chat with JRC tonight. She’s BB’s youngest daughter, and about as “illigitemate” as a child could be. Apparently the product of a one-night-stand between BB and a woman who is batshit crazy, JRC is actually a very sane, seemingly balanced individual. I hadn’t spoken to her for months, which I felt guilty about. She’s a nice girl…

As our conversation was winding down, she mentioned that BB had a facebook page now. (Although apparently he hadn’t accepted her friend request.) The very mention of BB filled me with a sense of dread, spoiling my otherwise good mood. My fear of him seems to dwarf absolutely everything else. I mentioned that he and my mother never spoke anymore, which shocked JRC. I also mentioned that my mother was suing him for unpaid royalties to the tune of $60,000(?). She mentioned that he was “so stupid”, elaborating that he felt “victimized” all the time. She speculated that it might result from his alcohol and drug abuse, but I suggested that it might be innate. I told her I honestly believed he was a psychopath, that substance abuse merely exacerbated his innately antisocial personality. She seemed to think it was plausible, after which she worried that she herself might be mentally disordered. I tried to reassure her that she was quite normal.

I asked about BB’s health. I was told that he’d suffered a cerebral hemorrhage, that his brain had been operated on. She confirmed that. He had told her he experienced a subdural hematoma after striking his head on something while “partying”. Apparently the surgery had gone well, and he had no lasting damage. Lucky son of a bitch. Apparently he was taking “anti-stroke” medication, which meant he couldn’t drink. JRC told me he sounded sober and “really good”, which I found disappointing. Sober or drunk, he’s a monster.

I wanted to tell her he was dangerous, and that she shoulda avoid him to the extent that she could. But I didn’t have the heart to do that. JRC didn’t know her father until her teens, she never lived with him like I did. Her mother was unfit as a parent and she was raised by extremely cold and controlling foster parents. Her life has sucked, and I can’t explain how the hell she’s so normal. She told me she has a “terrible tendency to put [BB] on a pedestal”, him being her more “sane” parent. I can’t blame her. She must have pinned her hopes on him, because she grew up without any real parenting. It saddens me that this delicate, kind girl’s hopes were probably crushed when she got to know her father. I’m afraid she might be endangering herself (emotionally, at least) by communicating with him. She’s vulnerable and he’s manipulative.

So I’m Basically a Graduate Student Now

Saw Dr. Rodier again today. Immediately afterward I went to Dr. AC’s anthropology office. Empty again. Fuck it, I said. I’m going to find him.

Last week his graduate student J told me that he was Associate Dean of Arts now, spending most of his time at the Arts and Science administrative building. So that’s where I went. At the reception, I asked straight up if I could see AC. Errr, what for? asked the young, reluctant receptionist. About a course, I told him. Do you have to see him, could you maybe talk to me instead? he asked. No, it has to be him, I replied. Well, what is it about? I mean, he’s the Associate Dean, he isn’t that available. I stood my ground admirably. After all, I knew AC personally, I have a rapport with the man. I can see him if I very well please. I explained the situation. Couldn’t you email him? asked the fellow. He hasn’t returned my calls, doesn’t answer his emails, he’s never at the anthropology department. He’s a very hard man to get a hold of. He paused. Alright, I’ll go see if he’s in his office. He came out again a moment later and told me to step inside, He’ll see you. Last door to the left.

I was nervous. Dr. AC had been a phantom to me, a spectre for some months. There he finally was, in the flesh, sitting in the corner of a large, clean, brightly lit office. It was slightly surreal. His hair was shorter. He looked better and happier than ever. An idealized AC in an idealized office. [My name], he said in his even-toned cheerfulness. Have a seat. I obliged. We chatted, he seemed pressed for time, but was happy to discuss everything I asked about. He’s a very attentive fellow. He’d gotten all my work, graded it, and submitted the grades. They hadn’t shown up yet for some administrative reason, but would soon. It’s not your fault, it’s mine. He was apologetic, very nice about it. I told him I’d been worried. I told him all I needed were those two courses to get admitted to graduate school. We’ll get you graduated. I asked him what he thought about my papers. We decided on a meeting on Thursday, at his lab. I left happy, relieved. I’m a bit nervous about his evaluation of the papers, but I shouldn’t be. His input is quite valuable, and we could have an excellent discussion about the topics I wrote about. At any rate, all of the papers I submitted to him met my own standard. They were quality papers.

I went straight to the office of the biology graduate coordinator. She didn’t look that happy to see me. Then again, she never looks happy. I handed her my forms — I’m going to be a teaching assistant! I told her the situation, and she said she’d hold off on my application until my grades came in. (Unless that took too long). Right now, it looks like I’m in.

Everything turned out pretty good.

I’ve had a mostly shitty year, and it was mostly because of my courses and my grad studies application. Everything is pretty much resolved now. I doubt AC knows how much agony I went through. And he shouldn’t know, because he doesn’t deserve that guilt. My future looks bright. I’m going somewhere.

Not so inept after all…

What. The. Fuck. I barely studied for the Ecological Dynamics midterm. I barely ever went to class. I didn’t even sleep that night. And yet I got 82.5%! This has got to be a mistake. I actually did above average. Either they curved that shit, or they were super lenient. I’m quite pleased because I thought I was fucked. I just calculated my average right now, and it turns out I’m just over 85%. I’m acing the goddamn course, even though I hate it and I never go. I must really be a genius.

Late Night MSN Revelations

DM made one of her occasional appearances last night. We ended up having a very involved, frank discussion about our 2007 relationship. It’s been a long time coming. I think we’re better friends for it, now. It’s a shame we chat so infrequently. I think we’ll probably see one another again, someday.

More or less simultaneously, I was chatting with OK Cupid girl. I finally got the name and, wrong though it may feel, I’m currently creeping her facebook profile. Incidentally, stalking is exactly what she feared when she gave it to me. But facestalking is socially acceptable, or so I like to think. And c’mon, for somebody worried about stalking, you’ve left your profile open to the world. As it happens, her OK Cupid profile (photos included) turns out to have been surprisingly representative.

What the fuck am I doing?

I think I’m crippled.

Pills and Women

Last night’s sleep was fitful. I probably only slept 6 hours, but I don’t feel that bad, considering. It’s the Cipralex. It stimulates me. I don’t know what to do, really. If I take it in the morning, I reach my energy peak in the afternoon, and to my extreme dismay I reach my energy nadir in the morning. (Which means I sleep a lot and can’t wake up). If I take it in the evening, my sleep sucks, but I wake up feeling alert and refreshed. Fuck it, I just can’t win!

I corresponded at length with the girl from OK Cupid last night. Things are looking good, I would say. Turns out we attend the same university, which wasn’t a huge shock. She seems to be a very clever, funny girl. I’m even a bit intimidated. She seemed to have more confidence and composure than me, despite describing herself as an “awkward dork”.

Sex drive still limited. It’s almost like waking up one day with a superpower. Most girls have come to appear rather mundane. I think I feel the same about BF, however. If things work out with the OK Cupid girl, I’m worried I won’t be able to perform sexually. Or maybe I won’t even care for sex with her. I’m thinking too far ahead, as usual.

Good day.

Strange Development

I think I may have lost most of my sexual desire. It’s never happened to me before… Must be the Cipralex. It’s a disturbing development, but also an intriguing one.