Let me just be mad

Health update:

I have one uninfected cyst, it's been about 6 weeks that one.

Now, apparently, I have another one, and it may be infected. I'm going to a real doctor next week--I'm just mad about the whole thing.

Surgery may be in order, according to my research, I don't want to deal with it, but at least I'll be home where everyone can take care of me.

But who knows, maybe it will all go away soon.

Sheesh

It appears that this Bartholin cyst thing can be a chronic condition. Go me. At least I went to the doctor before the pain started. Now, I have a teeny bit of pain. I'd appreciate it if you could pray that it doesn't get much worse.

I'm doing some research on the condition, and if I have another flare up in the next 18 months, it may call for surgery. Thankfully, most of the time, surgery is an outpatient procedure, but some gynnie docs are hesitant to do surgery because of the area's sensitivity and complexity. But, the post-surgery pain is small compared to having an infected cyst.

Anyway, I should be on the mend, but keep me and "my special place" in your prayers.

A Simple Request

I'm really really really really happy that my brother is my roommate. But, by convincing him to live with me, I've robbed him of that all-important college ritual of dorm life. Thus, he doesn't have many "guy" friends. So, if you're male, and not annoying, will you be friends with my brother?

Note: Older brother and Baby not included, but Army uniform is free at no extra cost!

Complaining

It has been a relatively eventful week at work. The number 2 employee (whose attendance and timeliness is lackluster to begin with) is off for the next 4 weeks. The supervisor has been out yesterday and today, and will be gone Thursday and Friday next week as well. Normally, having 2 people out shouldn't be a big deal, especially for me, the one with the least seniority and the least amount of responsibility. Of course, all of that is just speculation.

Yesterday, which marked a week of no air-conditioning in the office, the computer that houses the accounting software crashed, and it was up to me, the part-time student worker, to solve the problem because I'm the only person literate enough to use the computer. Still, no problem. I'm an industrious woman, I rose to the challenge, made some great decisions and multi-tasked us back to productivity. Today is a different story. The computer is back up and running, thankfully, as we have had 4 times the usually amount of mail needing postage today. Despite this, I spent my first hour at work (after everyone else had been here for 2) getting things organized and proving to the senior employee that the software was, in fact, functioning properly. I'm finished with rising to the occasion.

It's ridiculously hot in here; Huntington is a sauna and living here without air-conditioning is enough to make someone sick, which I've been for three days. Why should it be my responsibility to manage these things? Why am I the only one here thinking clearly and willing to work? This mail room was totally my haven, and the people here used to be nice and conscientious. That doesn't happen anymore. I'm counting down, 3 weeks and I'm finished.

Blantant Referral

Linda Holmes of NPR's "Monkey See" Blog has this brilliant post about/to Pixar.

This is the post.

Read and enjoy.

The Women of Sherlock Holmes get the Victorian Treatment

This, my friends, is the freshly released trailer for Guy Ritchie's adaptation of Sir Author Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes:



And a link for those of you reading via email.

I like Robert Downey, Jr. as Holmes, and his portrayal will certainly make the character more accessible than Holmes was in any of Doyle's stories. However, I am a bit perturbed to see most of the women acting as eye candy and humor fodder for the leading man. Not to say that Doyle himself was particularly progressive with his women, but at least they were more realistic than the females seem to be in this film. After all, the first Holmes case that Doyle published involved Irene Adler, one of the few able to foil the world class sleuth.

Now, I'm not saying that I expect ground-breaking feminist manifestos in so-called blockbusters, all I ask for is simple courtesy. For instance, Wolverine is both a good story and a great action flick, and no where along the way are bosoms bursting from dresses nor are meek maids flurrying off to preserve their innocence. In fact, Wolverine's love interest, Kayla Silverfox, aside from her strange name, is a well-rounded self-respecting character with complicated motivations and emotions.

In the past 50 years Hollywood has overcome racism, homophobia, and a number of social injustices. Isn't it time women had better treatment in films?

Reminder

Sometime after finals, I'm going to come back and relate, in detail, all the reasons why Stepbrothers is one of my favorite comedies. For now, a good scene (warning, contains strong language and flatuence:



And a hyperlink for those of you who read this via email: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UT-j_LSWM_A

Happier

While my post title corresponds to an ironically-named Guster song about a biddy being a biddy, I sincerely feel great this week.

Going to the Guster concert on Sunday put a lot of things into perspective for me, as did a phone conversation with my mom, during which she observed that I had been under an uncharacteristically high level of stress this semester. So, yeah, I've been stressed, only I haven't realized it until recently, and now that I have, I actually feel better.

It probably helps that summer will be here in just a few weeks, and that comprehensive exams may soon be nonexistent in Marshall's English department (fingers crossed).

As far as that silly party contemplation is concerned, I'm kind of over that, and, again, must apologize for being rather melodramatic. That stuff too, is certainly in perspective now, and to quote another singer "I'm just happy being me," and it is quite a relief.

Baseball is fun

The National League central division is off to an exciting start.

Rivals St. Louis Cardinals and Chicago Cubs (my fave) are tied for first place.

Longtime trailers, the Cincinnati Reds, with the youngest roster in the division, have won their past two series against the typically strong Brewers and Astros, respectively.

As a habitual Cubs fan and a geographic Reds fan, I'm looking forward to this summer :).

...not that any of you understand much of my baseball lingo.

What it's like to have Social Anxiety

You get dressed up for a party and feel great about it, have talked yourself into giddy excitement, prepared clever anecdotes, and remain poised and confident all day. Then you get to the party and become afraid that no one likes you, that no one wants to speak with you, and that those seemingly inane whispers are really about how no one wants you at the party.

Yes, I try to talk myself out of such illusions. I, in fact, was heartily invited to a party, was talked to throughout the party, had a drink, and tried to look happy and engaged. But, having social anxiety erases all my logic, all my poise, and all of my confidence. It's like a big furry monster stands in front of me the entire time I'm in public. I can't every get around him (thankfully, he smells like vanilla spice, though), and no one can see around him to look at me.

I am aware that I am not an alien. I am aware that I am accomplished, knowledgeable, classy, pretty (maybe?), and funny as all get out, but when I try to project any of these admirable traits, this furry, vacuum monster keeps it all to himself. Then I get anxious, then I get agitated, then I convince myself that I am so anxious that I'm making everyone else anxious, so I start to berate myself for being anxious, but I don't know how not to be anxious, which makes me even angrier with myself, and the cycle continues.

After a few hours into the ordeal, I've fought with myself and this crazy furry monster so much, that I'm tired and cranky, and I fell more than anything else, guilty.

But now, I'm back in my hovel, wishing that I had performed better (for me, it is a performance). I'm calculating and examining the different, clever things I should have said, the different people I should have talked to, the different person I should have been.

It's not as if I don't like who I am, I do, I just assume no one else likes who I am. I always hold part of myself back. I don't know why. Well, in certain instances I do. Sometimes it's a matter of not wanting to hurt someone else, and sometimes it's classic fear of rejection.

What's really unfair about this whole anxiety thing though, what I really don't get is that as everyone else gets better at socializing, networking, friendships, cocktail parties, victory speeches, I get worse, or, at best stand still. There's no handbook for this, no text or novel to teach me how to move forward, no etiquette book on how to be human. And, since I'm a person who loves learning, that prospect is scary.

I think, for serious, that I need a therapist. I tried the prescription drugs, and that didn't work, I ended up being depressed all the time, and it was scary. I can't do that again. I shouldn't be punished for something I can't control.

Of course, I know that I have friends and family who love me. I know this, but this is not a battle I can fight with comrades, this monster keeps me from talking to you about it, from asking for help. But I know you're there for me when I'm ready :).