How Many Miles To Babylon?

Hey, y'all, check out this photo my cousin took of me and then put on Facebook:



I look incredibly breastacular there. I guess I'm the only one surprised by this but one can't really seen one's own boobs. The angle is all wrong. They look huge, is what I'm saying! My expression is kind of weird, though.

(I'm holding an iPhone, I think, and reading an annotated edition of Lewis Carol's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland that I totally borrowed from my grandfather.)

So what did y'all do for Thanksgiving? I haven't read anybody's journal. Tell me if something cool happened! The only interesting thing I did over the holiday was watch The Chronicles of Riddick on TNT. I'd like to make a joke about how it was Riddick-ulous, but I liked it! It was a pretty good science-fiction action flick. It led to me and Megan (cheapriboflavin) having an argument on the phone over whether or not Vin Diesel is black. My incoherent reasoning was that "Vin Diesel reminds me of Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson, who is of mixed ethnicity but part African-American." Megan countered that that made no sense.

Hey, Megan, guess what. I just got the computer working again so I checked Wikipedia:

Diesel is biracial and has Italian and black ancestry. He has described himself as "definitely a person of color" and stated that he is "of ambiguous ethnicity - Italian and a lot of other stuff".

As a matter of fact (and I found this quite interesting), one of the things that got Diesel his first big role was a short film called "Multi-facial," an autobiographical account of an actor of mixed heritage who can't get cast in white parts because he's too black, and can't get cast in black parts because he's too white.

So I'm right but I'm not going to brag about it because I think I just got lucky. My argument made no sense and maybe was a little racist. I don't know.

Also, a skunk sprayed the inside of our house. I don't mean the skunk was in our house, but I think it, like, sprayed directly into a vent or something because that smell permeates, man.

The Internet! At last! Let's check my email!



That's ... not good. That's what you might call "bad," in fact.



... and I don't even remember applying for this. It's probably not even a real job, just some sort of gigantic pyramid scam. Still, I only have 82¢ left so it's not like they will be able to steal anything from me.

Recently I got interested in Buddhism, and one thing that intrigues me is Buddhist art. Specifically, the representation of the Buddha himself, Siddhartha Gautama. Doing a Google Images search for "Buddha" will bring up a lot of versions of this fat, laughing guy, sometimes sitting on a pile of money:






That's not the Buddha at all. That's a guy named Bodai. I can see how you would mix it up, but yeah. Bodai (or Hotei, if you're Japanese) is a good-luck statue in the Asian world, because the stomach is the center of spirituality and therefore rubbing his stomach will bring you good luck and riches or something.

"Buddha" is a title that means "the Enlightened One" or actually more like "The Awakened One" or "The One Who Is Awake." The whole point of Buddhism is that anyone can achieve enlightenment and become a Buddha themselves. Siddhartha, the founder of Buddhism, didn't consider himself to be the first Buddha or the last, or even probably the only Buddha at that time, though I don't know that for sure. But in the West, when most people say "Buddha" they're talking about Siddhartha Gautama. Or that fat guy.

You see a lot of representations of him in Buddhist paintings and sculpture, and he pretty much always looks the same:



They make you go, "Hey, that's Buddha." I mean, he's portrayed pretty consistently. You've got Buddhas sitting in a lotus position, like above. You've got standing Buddhas:

And, my favorite, reclining Buddhas:

Anyway, I was wondering if there was something written down about the Buddha's appearance. Siddhartha Gautama probably died around 400 B.C. and the Buddhist teachings didn't get written down until about 400 years later, so I don't think they'd be really accurate or anything, but I was curious to see what was considered important to how he looked. For one thing, he always has really long earlobes. It's freaky. Well, I looked it up, and did he ever: 32 main characteristic and 80 minor ones. They're really specific, too:

He can touch his knees with the palms of his hands without bending.

What, like ... he's a gorilla? I just checked and my palms are about a foot above my knees. He must have had really long arms.

The distance from hand-to-hand and head-to-toe is equal (Pali: nigrodhaparima n dalo). Note: incidentally, these are also the ideal proportions according to Vitruvius, and depicted in Leonardo Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man.

Okay, maybe not! Incidentally, most people have a wingspan equal to their height. It's a rubric I learned in art class. Go measure your wingspan and tell me if you're proportional!

I don't see how he can do the palms-to-knees thing, though. Unless he had a really short torso or something.

He has an immense torso, like that of a lion

Oh, I give up.

His sexual organs are concealed in a sheath and exudes a pleasant odor similar to vanilla

Better get that looked at, dude.

His skin is the color of gold

What, literally?

His body hair is blue-black, and curls clockwise in rings

See, this just proves that the Buddha was good-looking. Someone stared at him long enough to notice the direction his body hair was curling.

His body hair are separate with one hair per pore

... and to map his pores. Sheesh. Isn't one hair per pore what's supposed to happen anyway?

He has a nice smile

This part was written by Buddha's mom.

He has very blue eyes

Finally. A detail I can visualize.

The 80 minor details are even crazier, like number 16 "His navel is without blemish" or 22, "His skin is thick or thin as it should be," and that's where we find the detail that the earlobes should be long "like lotus blossoms" and that he should be emanating a glow "extending around him for two feet."

Okay, so I'm joking around, but the truth is very little of this was meant to be taken literally. It's all symbolic. The hand gestures and position of his body all have different meanings, as do all his weird features. It's like a halo drawn around the Virgin Mary in a medeaval painting. Nobody thought that Mary actually glowed; it's a <i>representation</i> of her holiness. I'm sure everything recorded has a symbolic meaning, I just don't know what, exactly. I heard the long ear lobes represent wisdom.

The thing I do get are the <i>mudras.</i> The position of the hands has a specific meaning. The seated Buddha's hands indicate that he is meditating. The standing Buddha's gesture is of charity, I guess, though it's kind of small so it's hard to see what he's doing with his hands. Another common <i>mudra</i> is that of the index finger and the thumb touching on one or both hands, palms out, and is the gesture of teaching. I think it's cool that you can pack so much meaning into an image with such little things.

My favorite thing about the Buddha images are his expression, though. He always looks so kind and compassionate. I want to get a little Buddha statue for my desk now.

Every year I participated in Nanowrimo, I suffered a complete and total computer breakdown.

Well, now that both my computers are bricks, I feel like it's safe to participate. Longhand.

So Allison Samuels in Newsweek keeps writing articles about one of the Jolie-Pitt kids, Zahara. Who is, incidentally, so darn cute I could eat her up!

Anyway, Samuels' concern is that Angelina Jolie is not taking proper care of Zahara's hair, and to prove it, she linked to these photos. Where Zahara's hair looks fine. Now this whole thing can be a real issue, because sometimes when a white couple adopt a black kid, they don't take the time to learn how to care for hair that is different than their own. Which can actually happen no matter the racial makeup of the family, come to think about it. Caring for a child's hair is a sign of love, and not taking care of it can feel like rejection. It's worth talking about, but I think Samuels has the wrong target. Zahara might be wearing her hair natural and loose, but it looks well cared-for. It's fine.

Look, to prove it, let's talk about some universals of healthy, neat hair. No matter what sex, age, nationality, or race you're of, health hair has some universals:

sheeny

I was going to say "shiney" but it's not a reflecting-your-face kind of shine. More of a sheen, or a gloss. Healthy hair, even when it's dry, will reflect light off the hair shaft. Unhealthy hair looks flat, like it has a straw-like texture, and sometimes gets described as "dry" or "fried."

clean

It's really the scalp that needs to be cleaned a lot. Bacteria doesn't like to live on hair shafts that much. The scalp shouldn't be greasy-looking, dank, dirty, and, of course, debris-free. Hair shouldn't look weighed down around the scalp by grease. It should also smell clean.

untangled

Some people think that the measure of de-tangled hair should be that you can run a fine-tooth comb through it without it snagging. I think that's a little extreme. Hair snags if you disturb it, and a fine-tooth comb can do just that. So I'm saying it should be relatively free of tangles and snags, and certainly free of any mats or, you know, those really big knots that just keep growing. Well-kept hair should move pretty freely when someone turns their head, and not pull painfully on the roots, too.

full

No matter how much hair a person grows naturally, which varies a lot from person to person, healthy hair looks full. Not necessarily thick, but full, with body. Finally, no signs of breakage, splitting hair shafts, or bare scalp from the hair falling out in clumps (male pattern baldness excepted, of course).

I'm trying to talk universals here. The only exception I can think of to what I wrote are dreadlocks, which are technically matted hair. But of course, the dreadlocks themselves shouldn't be tangled up.

Different cultures have different standards for how you should style your hair, of course, and with that knowledge comes some strange ideas about basic hygiene. I'm sure there are people who'd consider me terribly unkempt because I haven't been to a hairdresser in, like, a year. My older sister used to consider her hair a disaster if it had any frizz in it at all, although frizz itself is neutral.

What I'm saying is, ZJ-P looks fine. In that picture, anyway. I'm no hard-core Jolie stalker and I haven't seen every picture of her in the world. A quick Google search revealed pictures of the little bugger with her hair in a variety of styles, including braids and little puff pigtails, so it's not like the girl never has her hair put up. And I don't know, maybe she doesn't like to have her hair put up. I never did when I was little girl.

Anyway, what do you think? Do you want to send the hair police after Zahara's parents, or do you like little Z's hair? How did you wear your hair when you were four?

I think the real thing we should be concerned about is what Shiloh is wearing. A tie? That is so Avril Lavigne, girl!

Aggh! I have some sort of horrible stye or something in my left eye. It really hurts. Gah.

Today I was doing one of my things - watching the creator's commentary on Venture Bros., which I have gotten re-interested in because I've finally seen the original Jonny Quest cartoon - and Clairbear sat on the couch next to me. It was in the middle of school, but I don't do school, and I don't for a moment think that DVD commentaries are interesting to anybody but me. They aren't interesting even to me most of the time, but you usually learn something from them.

Anyway, the bear and I said hello, and she sat there for a while and I noticed she was crying. Very quietly. I was almost at the end of the episode anyway, so when it ended I turned it off and called her back to the couch and said, "Hey, let's talk." Yeah, that's the kind of person I am. I've gotta finish the episode first. Well, I hate being interrupted! It screws up my thought process!

I was like, "What's up?" And she told me that her peripheral vision in her left eye had gone. It had started to disappear when she was doing her math. She was wigging out. I wigged out a little too, but kept that to myself, and comforted her while I tried to figure out what causes changes in vision like that. I couldn't really come up with anything other than "stroke," to be honest.

I told her that it was probably going to go away the way it had appeared, and then she got called upstairs to continue doing her school (we're homeschoolers). She was like "Okay, but I've gotta take something for my headache." That clicked, right? Headache? Changes in vision? It's a migraine!

So I gave her some Tylenol, and told her to make sure she was hydrated. After lunch, she lay down for a while in her room, but she ended up sitting on the couch with me again, and vomiting a little. I told her nausea isn't uncommon for migraines, and eventually her headache went away. She said her vision went back to normal before she got sick to her stomach.

So, yeah. The whole experience was kind of strange to me. I've never been around a kid with a migraine before.

What's weird is that I've never had a migraine. I've had some bad sinus headaches, but that's it. It's nothing that I particularly want to experience, though.

I mentioned this on my Twitter account, but anyway: a girl who goes to Ike and the fading flower's school died last week. She was about 13 years old, I think? She was in Vanderbuilt hospital and passed away during the two weeks of fall break.

Nobody in my family really knew her. It's still really weird because she died of a viral infection. Apparently. That has to be H1N1, doesn't it? There isn't any other deadly viral illness passing among young tweens and children in this country, is there?

The school was closed today in her memory and because of the funeral, but I think they'll be open the rest of the week. Most of the parents are nervous about sending their kids back.

I went to the beach and I got all freckly.

I did wear sunscreen, but some things are unavoidable. I only got a little sunburn, though - on that place on my back that I can't reach no matter how hard I try.

"Say, miss, did you ever notice that your eyes are a tad uneven?"



Crooked eyes? What are you talking about?



I mean, Jesus. I look like Paris Hilton. If I get a little more ptosis going on, even Shannen Doherty will be all tilting her head when she's talking to me. And not because she's trying to hide her evil eye, it'll be because she's trying to maintain eye contact.

And I wasn't even drunk when I took those photos!

Oh, well. At least now my exterior has a crazy glint to match my insides.

I'm at the beach and I'm obsesssively thinnking about to things:

A) Avatar: The Last Airbender, and
B) whether or not my copy of John Dies at the End has arrived.

I've been fixating on these thongs for weeks and it's really starting to drive me crazy. Why can't I think about beachy things? i'm working on a story and my obsessions are interfering with that too. When I try to concentrate I start thinking about cartoons instead. It's very distracting.


Finding time to watch "Avatar" has been difficult because every time I turn it on when mom's around she tells me to "turn that crap off" (the mere fact it uses the word "avatar" makes it "non-Christian" to mom and therefore evil or something). Everybody else loves it by now, evil Ike, who used to hate it. I knew he'd change his mind if he actually watched an episode, but I didn't push him and eventually he came around on his on. Now we're all excited and want to see how the good guys are going to defeat the Fire Nation army while Aang confronts Ozai; and what's going to happen to Azula? Will Zuko be the new Firelord? Ok we already know what's going to happen because we watched the last episode but it's more fun if you pretend you don't know.

I wish mom would actually try to watch tv N
now and again. She'd see there's nothing objectionable about it.

The "John" thing I'll talk about layer when I actually get the book. I already saw a copy in the bookstore when Ike bought the white album, and it does indeed have my name in the "thanks to" list.

You know who makes me mad? Roman Polanski! You pled guilty, go to jail, dude! Do not pass go or collect $100.

The weird thing is that most of the Polanski debate has focused around two issues that are really quite irrelevant to the situation. One is that Polanski is a great artist, intelligent man, blah blah blah. I'm not arguing that he's not, though I have to say I've never seen any of his movies. There's no reason to think that intelligent people or great artists can't be rapists. Polanski has had a difficult life, but that doesn't make him an innocent - quite the contrary, people who have suffered great traumas often turn out to be capable of inflicting them as well. It's really, really irrelevant. It's like saying "But he's 5'5"!" So what?

The other thing is that he didn't know the victim was only 13 years old, she looked older, statutory rape, blah blah blah, an interesting moral debate to be sure but kind of irrelevant given that the victim didn't want to have sex with him. She testified he gave her alcohol and drugs, and though she kept telling him that she didn't want it and to stop, he had sex with her. At one point he asked her if she wanted to have anal sex, and when she said no, he did it anyway. Even if she had been 18, it still would have been rape.

Oh yeah, and he pled guilty because he was so f'ing guilty and frankly, if he had just served his sentence or at least not fled the U.S. while trying to appeal it, he wouldn't be in this situation. It's totally his fault and I don't feel the least bit sympathetic towards him. He needs to face the music, man. He did the crime, now he must do the time.

So that's why Roman Polanski makes me angry. And a big middle finger to all the Hollywood elites who are coddling up to him. You make me puzzled. And mad.

So a couple days ago, Mom mentioned in the middle of a sentence that I was supposed to go on the camping trip with the family. I was like, "Oh, I AM?" because dude, this was the first I've heard about it. You want me to go camping? You need to actually ask me. I mean this is something about Dad and Mom that really bugs me. They forget that I exist as a seperate person, basically. Maybe I didn't want to go camping. Maybe I had plans. Maybe I was trying to apply for jobs and I really didn't need to be going out of town randomly. Maybe I fucking hate camping.

Then again, I have even less money than usual, my computer is broken, my phone's prepaid account is down to less than five dollars, and my parents have been going to extra extreme lengths to make sure that I can't watch anything interesting on the TV or access the Internet.¹ I realized that the likelihood was that I'd be trapped at home with nothing to do at all. So I kind of changed my mind mid-sentence. It was like "Oh I am so not going camping with y'all what the hell do Actually you know what? I'll go."

We went to Alabama somewhere. It was okay. I don't know. I don't really enjoy camping. That is, I'd probably enjoy it if I could do it my way, but the way Dad plans vacations is, he draws up a complete schedule of activities, plans the meals, buys the supplies, and books the tickets without ever consulting anyone else. So we end up with one happy guy, and seven miserable people complaining because geocaching isn't actually fun if you aren't allowed to use the GPS thing or the map. Dick.

So I say to myself, well that's pretty much the last vacation I take with Dad, at least until I get my own car. And now I hear we're going to the beach. "Oh, but the beach is awesome! I love the beach!" Except I don't, not really. I can't go shopping, I don't like swimming or crawling around in the sand, and every activity I do is not on the menu. Like - I'd like to go to a nice restaurant, go to a bar, maybe rent SCUBA equipment. We're not doing that. Fuck it, I don't want to go on vacation anyway. I want to find a job! I hate these distractions and roadblocks.

My grandparents are like begging me to go on this vacation. My granny said I should stay at her house if I don't want to go. But I don't want to stay at her house either, and it's nothing against her; she's awesome. I just need to be finding a job, dammit. I'm sick of this fucking life.

Anyway I want to talk about the TV shows I've been watching but I've got some reading to do. I'll see if I can write it later.

¹ Ha! Fail.

Man, I just saw this and about had an aneurysm.

In 2008, Bill O'Reilly said that while Viagra prescriptions treat a "medical condition," "birth control is not a medical condition. It is a choice." And I about spit up my tea.

Man, it really bugs me that certain hormonal medications, because they prevent ovulation and implantation most of the time, are labeled "birth control" and put into that vast domain of icky girl things that only whores use. I guess I'm cranky about it because I don't have sex and yet I have to take birth control pills.

They only cost $8 a month, and my doctor assured me that was the cheapest thing out there - not sure if he's right but it's really cheap, so who cares, right?

I have about $25. If I refund that person who said they never received the book they ordered from me, I will have $4. I need to get the next month of BC pills, which cost $8. And the power supply for my Mac crapped out again, transforming my Mac into a brick so I need to replace it which will cost anywhere from $20 to $50. Oh dears I am in the negatives. It's at times like this when I really do wish I had a credit card.

I should make it clear that I don't mind paying for the medicine, or anything else, really. I just don't have the money. I'm applying for jobs but it's like ... I need it now. So ... I guess ... the only thing to do is to wait on the birth control and do the refund.

I've got this teacup with change in it on my dresser. I'm gonna go count it and see how much it adds up to.

Nobody loves me anymore.

---

My sister busted the screen to her digital camera. I think I might ask for it when she gets a new one. I don't necessarily need a screen to take pictures, do I? You just look through the camera-hole.

---

My seven-year-old brother has taken to telling me to get a job and move out of the house, telling me I'm lazy and I need to get my butt in gear. Pretty humiliating, right? Of course, he also wants to move in with me and for me to earn a couple hundred and buy him a Nintendo DS so he can play video games all day. I'm sayin', his worldview may not be totally realistic.

A guy from AT&T came out here to fiddle with the U-Verse (DON'T GET U-VERSE, by the way) and the result is that I can suddenly connect to the Internet. I think he must have reset the settings on the router, because my dad had blocked my MAC address. It's possible that my mom's complaint about the Internet not working was caused solely by the kids playing Sims 2 on my computer for the last few days, because whenever my wireless card is on downstairs, the whole system shuts down. Internet, TV, everything. Don't get U-Verse, by the way. Buggy thing.

I expect that my dad will reset the ban thingy on the Internet tomorrow when he gets up at 6.

Some of y'all might have been thinking, "Why don't you just do whatever it is that they want you to do to get the Internet back?" But they haven't asked me to do anything. They want me to get a job, yes - I want me to get a job - but they probably wouldn't give me back Internet if I did have a job. It's weird and I don't know what to do about it.

I got a notice from Amazon.com from somebody wanting a refund because they never got their book. I definitely mailed that book to them. I think I still have the receipt. I'm trying to decide if I should refund it anyway or if they're trying to scam me.

I hand-wrote asakiyume a letter and sent it to her. That was fun.

I'm really into Buddhism. I got some books on it from the library, but they didn't really have much about what I was interested in. Our local library has shitty selection, and I never go to the much nicer ones in Nashville.

In general I don't feel anything these days. I feel kind of numb. And bored. Mostly empty. It's hard to get motivated to do anything but sleep, and then I have weird dreams. Last night I dreamed about House getting stranded on the side of the road. Then I was Michelangelo painting the Sistine Chapel, and boy was it a bitch. It's really hard to paint on the ceiling.

The antidepressant I'm taking now works by dialing down all my emotions. I can just repress them better on it. That's a good thing when I am very anxious, depressed, or panicky - the emotions still appear, but they are much less intense and don't stick around for a long time. The same thing goes for all emotions, though. I don't feel as creative, either, it's like trying to think with cotton stuck in my head. I'm in a bad place, a very bad place, in terms of my financial and personal situation, but I can't feel anything about it. It's strange. I want to stop taking my antidepressants. I suspect that if I do, I will eventually have another emotional breakdown.

Worst than the last.

Which was worse than the one before it.

But maybe it's worth the risk. The scary thing isn't that I can't go on like this. I could go on like this, for the rest of my life. If I don't make a move, nothing will change. Ever.

My dad got mad at me for something and banned my MAC (has nothing to do with Apple computers) address from connecting with the wireless router.

I don't know what he was mad at me for but my parents say they don't want me on the Internet at all. Basically, they want me to get a job. I want me to get a job too. I told them that you mostly apply online these days but they're not having it.

Anyway, my dad has blocked everyone's internet, but he unblocked Ike's computer because Ike has to do school quizzes online. He doesn't know that I have a password to an account here, and everyone's in bed. So I'm online. Which is cool. Maybe I can apply for a job.

But I have to type really quietly.

So I'm online for a few minutes now. My dad blocked me from the Internet again. It's bullshit, I don't want to talk about it.

I overdrew my checking account. Whoops! I don't know what the damage is yet, but I'm depositing $100 tomorrow and Amazon.com will be putting some money in my account .... we'll see how this goes.

I think I will ask if I can spend tomorrow at JoaZaroar Joezarra JoZara - I will have to drive Ike and the flower to school, which means getting up at - whenever they go to school, and picking them up at three, but it might be worth it.

So I am kind of in a weird place. I really want to pack up and leave for SF, but I don't have any money. I need to make money. But one problem is that it seems like as soon as I make money it gets swallowed up in medical costs. I don't know what to do about that! I just have bad luck.

For instance, I finally made a follow-up appointment with the OB/GYN. I was putting it off because I don't like OB/GYN appointments and I knew he was going to talk me into getting on the pill and that costs money too. So anyway, I went in, he talked me into going on the pill, wrote me a prescription that is $8 a month and claimed it was the cheapest thing to do. I don't know if that's correct or not. He also said that if I menstruated it meant I was ovulating, which is not correct, but I decided not to argue with him.

He asked if everything was okay after the surgery? Yeah, kosher, I said. So, naturally, barely a week later on of my incision scars has been acting up. It's all puffy and dark purple, and getting larger. It's weird. I don't know if it's normal or not, but I don't really want to consult with a doctor for something that could turn out to be normal. I don't want to waste money. I also didn't bother to consult with my psychiatrist when I stepped down my dosage from 300mg Effexor daily to 200mg daily. I dunno what he'd charge me for a telephone consult but it would probably be ridiculous. And I really need to get a prescription for wart cream, but I'm pretty sure I'd have to go in for an exam before I could get a doctor to prescribe it, so I'm going to live with my warts for a while now. (Stupid warts.) The only thing I'm going to do is call my pdoc for a refill of trazadone, my excellent sleeping medication.

About a million hours after my OB/GYN appointment, I realized that the doc had neglected to ask me what medication I'm taking and it's changed since I last saw him. Well, whatever. Also, he had a terrible sunburn on his face, except for where his sunglasses were. I'm just saying.

I have two doctor pet-peeves when it comes to costs, now. One is that doctors will never tell you how much something costs before you do it or when they order something. Because they don't want to commit themselves to a price and then discover something and have to up it, I get that. But you can't even get an estimate before hand, just a bunch of blather-blather. My second is the goofy ways doctors write prescriptions, and I've really got to remember to check those before I leave the office. The last time I was at the pdoc's office, the LPN I saw gave me a prescription for 60 trazadone 50mg tablets. I take two a night, so that's one month. With no refills. Why the heck did she do that?! Is there any reason why a prescription for trazadone should be reviewed every month? (Answer: no.) It costs me time and money to get new prescriptions because I don't have refills. And my OB/GYN did the same thing. He gave me a 3-month supply of BC pills, then check back in with him. SOP, right? He wrote it like this:

"30-day supply, two refills"

So I can't just go buy three packs at once. Oh no. I have to go back to the store at the end of every month and pick up a new pack. Thanks a lot, doc.

Anyway, the BC I'm on is Sprintec, which I don't think is a generic - I don't know if you can get a generic? It's only $8 a month, but I've seen lower generic prices. So far I haven't noticed any changes. I'm hoping that it'll be the one and I won't have to fiddle with this again for a long time, because this is a long-term thing we're talking about here.

ANYWAY - I'm out of money again! I'm looking for a new job, though! I don't have internet access at home again. And the scar from my surgery is looking weird.

Knives are sexy!

---

So a few days ago I was worried about money. I didn't have enough to pay the bills right in front of me, and I also knew I was going to accrue some more in the near future, and I have no source of income right about now.

And then I got three Amazon.com book orders. Not unexpected in that school is starting and I'm selling textbooks, primarily; there's always an uptick in sales when semesters start. It's just good timing.

This kind of stuff happens to me all the time, and it's the only thing I'm superstitious about. No matter how bad my general luck is, opportunities do tend to pop up right when I need them. My superstition is that if I have a stroke of luck, and something one-in-a-million happens to me, if I don't capitalize on the opportunity then everything will go to hell.

That's really why I was so distraught over the check. With the money on it, I would have enough to move out of the house. It's a really big coincidence that I would be presented with a check in my name when I happened to be finalizing moving-out plans and the major barrier was money, right? I felt like there was someone screaming at me, "R, IF YOU DO NOT TAKE THIS MONEY YOU WON'T GET ANOTHER CHANCE;" not like another chance to get $1,450 for basically nothing, but another chance to move out. Irrational? Sure, it's totally superstitious and I know that; but I can't help but believe it.

Anyway, I do admit I have a weird attitude toward money, in that my relationship with it is mostly dictated by chance and luck more than anything I plan. My attempts to control it have left me battered by the wayside; now I just admit I have no idea what the future will bring and kind of go with the flow.

I hope I can improve things once I get back to feeling like I am in control of my life, but I'm not sure when that's going to happen. For instance, tonight I was going to mail some of the books I sold and pick up a prescription, and Mom took the wrong car! Ngah, I hate that! Though that's sort of unusual behavior for her, actually, my point is that this kind of thing happens fairly often around here, and because I don't feel in control of my life or my environment, I don't feel confident that I can keep any promises or commitments I make; and I really just don't want to make any at all. I wonder if my other siblings feel that way when they're home; I've never asked them, but I should. At least it would indicate that it's not so much me as this environment.

When my OB/GYN entered the room, the first thing I noticed about him was that he was sunburned. Really bad, along his cheeks and nose, with the shadow of his sunglasses unburned. I guess he just came back from his vacation. That just make me resent him, somehow.

He gave me a prescription for a BC pill that costs 8 dollars a month at Wal-Mart or Kroger, he said. I forgot to ask what it's called. And since I don't have a co-pay and I just got two book orders from Amazon.com, I'm actually doing OK this week. I'm going to see if I can't put some of my books on eBay for auction. My signed books. Anyone fans of ... Robert McCammon? Carl Hiaasen? I've got signed copies of "Gone South" and "Skin Tight" if you're interested.

On the flip side, I either just sprained my neck or else I have instantly caught meningitis. Damn. I don't even know what's hurting in there. Maybe I ... pulled a tendon? I don't know much about neck anatomy. I'm gonna go drink a glass of club soda and stare at the ceiling.

I'm trying to avoid making bad decisions. I very much want to reduce my dose of the Effexor. I feel like it's too much. But this isn't a decision I should make myself. I need to visit a good psychiatrist, because this is serious business medicine. Neurotransmitters are a big deal, right? (I also need to see a good OB/GYN about my hormonal disorder but that's not as important.) I'm in a pickle when it comes to money right now, so I don't know if I can figure this one out. But the important thing is that I don't make any rash decisions because I've run out of sleeping pills and I'm sleep deprived and jumpy, like a decision to taper down on my Effexor because I feel bad.

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In other news, I've been trying to figure out what exactly is wrong with my life. Some things are fairly obvious but others I keep forgetting about. So I've been kind of taking stock of my life. This is what I've got so far.
1) I'm unemployed. Duh. I obviously need to get a job, but simply having a job isn't my only problem here; I don't have a career. It's not really something I've had to think about. I've always known what my calling is, but how to support myself while doing it has never been clear. I think the solution here is more complicated than just getting a job; it's also about choosing a career and really dedicating myself to it.
2) I live with my parents, who are totally lame. My dad thinks barbecued baloney is the height of sophistication. Also, they won't let me watch anything that's not rated G, cut me off from the Internet, and generally make my life miserable, and I really don't get any benefits from living at home beyond free room and board. Which is a lot, yes! But at what price sanity? I'm going to move out. (I also live with my siblings but for the most part they aren't lame. Just mildly annoying.)
3) I keep going to church even though I'm an atheist. I need to tell my family who I really am, whatever the consequences.
4) I need to finish college. It wouldn't take very long because it's just one class; but my psychological problems with it are a big deal. I'd also have to pay for tuition myself, something I'm not used to doing because I was sort of taught I was entitled to full-tuition scholarships. Which reminds me ...
5) I need to establish credit. After I get an income, right, bitches?
6) I've stopped writing. I need to start writing again. I don't expect anybody but other writers to understand this one, but it's really fundamental to me. I think about writing all day, every day. It's one of the most important parts of my self-image (if I were not a writer, I don't know how I'd define myself.) So how could I go for so long without really working on anything? It just happens. I can't work without a quiet place where I can concentrate. I also need a certain amount of security, reassurance, and privacy, which I haven't got here. I find it really difficult to write in public, or when I'm around people I know. They read over my shoulder and I hate that.
7) My haircut is stupid. I need a new one. I also need new clothes but I don't really know if I would change my wardrobe if I could.
8) This one is really awkward, but I've got to find a way to start being honest with my third- and fourth-degree relatives again so I can reestablish real relationships with them. It got all twisted up a few years ago and right now I'm in a tight spot whenever I talk to them. Obviously, working things out with my first-degree relatives first would help that, but it's probably more important that I start being honest again.* See number three.
9) Speaking of number three ... I have some other things I need to come out about. But I'm not rushing anything.
10) I have too many psychological problems. I need to get more stable and sane. I'm not sure how to do this, exactly. More exercise? Fish oil? EMDR? Electroshock treatments? I suspect getting my ADHD treated will help, but I'm not pretending like it will solve everything.
11) I need to get out more. I don't have very many IRL friends. Right now I have none.
12) I'm a virgin, which is laaaame. Hey, wait a minute! I don't actually want to date right now. Most of the month, anyway. But I do want to keep growing as a person and getting new experiences and stuff, if you know what I mean. It's not that I'm opposed to the idea of dating right now, but it's just not very high on my list of priorities. But still, this is something that is probably a concern in the future. It's kind of like the PCOS thing; on the backburner for now!

Looking at that list (which is a little intimidating) ... I think a big part of changing my life will be moving to a more supportive environment. By supportive I just mean someplace where I feel like I can be myself. Getting verbal support is important to most people, but to me it's uber-important. I'm affected by praise and criticism more than most people, and while that might change, it's not going to change fast enough. There are some people in my family that have a real habit of being negative, like my big sister, and it's not that I don't love her; but I just recognize that she's going to do this now. So I've learned not to tell her about any plans that I'm making because of her negativity. And there are some people in the family who just don't like who I am or can't resist fighting with me; or who seem to enjoy making fun of me, and I can't control their behavior but I can control how close I am to them. So I do hope moving away will make a big difference. I will still have some problems to take care of, though, and I'm not sure what to do about everything.

I respect and like Catholics, but, not having been raised one myself, I don't always remember the little details of Catholic faith and doctrine.

I was just reminded, by something I read, that official Roman Catholic doctrine is that all contraception is wrong. I know devout Catholics take this seriously and all, but it's just so silly. I giggle every time I think about it.

Reading a Catholic website didn't help the giggles. One I read said that sex was "special body language" and that contraception introduces a "false note" between partners. It's just I honestly never thought that mutual respect between married people could be construed as sin! Weirdoweird.

Anyway, I know there's a lot of Catholics and former Catholics on my friend's list, so can anyone explain to me how the ban on contraception is explained? What are the scriptual and doctrinal reasons behind it? What about the use of hormonal medications to control other medical conditions, like PCOS? Oh p.s. they also prevent pregnancy. What about other hormonal medications? Why is natural family planning not considered birth control? If non-reproductive marital sex is not okay, why is the NFP method okay? Are marital oral sex, masturbation, anal sex, or mutual masturbation considered sinful? What about sex toys? If you're a guy and you accidentally ejaculate before the penis has been inserted to the vaginal canal, is that a sin? If you're doing the NFP method and you get horny during the fertile time (which is what happens, right, ladies?) what are you supposed to do?

I'm genuinely curious. If my giggles offend you, I beg you to indulge me in a little humor here. After all, I have PCOS, a hormonal condition often treated with birth control pills. I could find it offensive that the Catholic church thinks I'm a sinner for wanting to treat a condition I have, through no fault of my own, even though I'm not using birth control pills for birth control, nor have I ever had sex. But mostly I find it silly. I'm respectfully giggling.

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So my parents and most of my family are at the Creationism Museum. I begged off because I've read so much about it on the web that there's no point in my going. I have to go make dinner now, because the fading flower and Ike are complaining that I've done nothing, I'm so lazy! (translation: Help us! Help us! We're starving!) I really shouldn't help them, but I'm going to do it anyway.

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Oooh! I just thought of another Catholic thing question: what if you are taking an antidepressant that keeps you from ejaculating? It happens. Are you required to stop taking it? Oh, and why is NFP okay but pulling out not? Why are the numbers on the effectiveness of NFP so dang hard to get? When I googled I kept finding message boards and articles that basically said "You should avoid HBC because of the side effects it causes"; isn't that an irresponsible notion to spread amongst Catholics?

Edit: Dammit, Fabio!