Personal psychological evaluation

At 1915 I mean to force another pill down - I am very reluctant due to childhood indoctrination that drugs are bad (reference: People can tell me what they've done...) and also it supposedly amplifies this sleepy state. ETA: no, I have found it excites me, not the tea. Meanwhile I am here to explain how my life has evolved as of late to a wider audience than Katie, Janelle, Lauren, Liane, and Matt (the people I have contacted outside my home), in a manner uncomfortably close to Solzhenitsyn's most popular novel A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, but that has to do with my temporary fascination with that unfortunate facet of Soviet history, ah: the GULag. (I promised the last person of that list I would discuss the GA's relation with Night [Gulag Archipelago, not General Assembly which is how I've always seen GA standing for] as soon as I stabilised from this rollercoaster of emotion which I have ascribed to the Levetiracetam 500 mg tablets my neurologist has suggested I sample, but I'm getting ahead of myself, and will explain that part later, and how it is sadly different from the females Cecil has sampled in The Feminine Specimen. My alternate hypotheses are I haven't slept well for the past however long, I've just returned from the hospital, I haven't been exercising as regularly, my cats have been keeping me up, and I have been texting people in the middle of the night.
I am of the opinion my life is interesting, so that is why I tell people about it.

*picks up the cat who keeps her awake*Collapse )

Oh, did I say that part yet? (I am reiterating from conversations I've recently had, so don't reread this looking for it) The stuff about why I don't like English, but I love Latin/Greek/Persian/Hindi/Urdu? I think so, since it has to do with being distinguishable from the crowd, and I don't like being bored by people telling me stuff I already know like the back of my hand, since Latin and my middle school Latin teacher's hilarity then my high school teacher's being the student of my Latin professor. Aw, it's true I am embarrassed I have such difficulty picking Matt out from a crowd, but that's because he doesn't look different from anyone else, in my opinion. (He hates when I say that, and when I talk about him on my blogs. For this reason, I only talk about him on LiveJournal and not DreamWidth, so that he can inspect what I have said about him, as we all like to hear what other people say about us. But I honestly have trouble telling! Anyway, I think I showered him with praise for his toleration of my constant state of mental confusion, so he should be content enough with it. My mother suggested his behaviour is to exhibit dominance over me, which I will tolerate since I have unfortunately semi-recently discovered a fascination with BDSM. It probably has to do with how I am fascinated with the GULag. I'm sorry!)

That's the other thing: I will not tolerate boredom, so I always have something I'm doing, like In The First Circle by my side. This unfortunately means that I am constantly low on sleep, but is the zek's life any less interesting than when I first saw it in One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich? I say no. But Matt is beating that idea out of me, since he says it's no less appalling than Night, which I hated almost as much as Rudy Simone's Aspergirls, which advocates mediocrity, just like everyone else, which upset me. ETA: Now I understand why Lauren was apologising to me over the phone! She told me she wanted to make me feel better about myself, since a lot of people aren't "normal". But that individuality/Abby Normal insistence is also counter to the Communist ideology, but I have to depart now and read Solzhenitsyn until the :15 mark when I am sampling this drug the doctor suggested I try...

Victory! I rescued this from the mess that LJ transformed it into for some unfathomable reason. However, maybe not victory, since I seem to be still not all the way mentally stable... it may have to do with the fact I am still recovering from WTF happened last Thursday...

Whuh? What happened to my life NOW???

*pet kitten in lap* In my shower, I decided that life would be most easily progressed if I decided on a permanent basis to spend an odd hour writing to an even hour reading (to "replenish the creativity streams" as J. Cameron enthuses in her varied books e.g. The Creative Way). Then I got into an argument whether even hours (0000, 2000, 4000, &c) would be reading or writing. My conclusion was to start with whichever I found myself doing at one or the other. For this reason I am going to be writing until 2200 - besides this, I have my draft of Verst After Verst, which is honestly a frightening ride through my mental scenery! My parents are going to bed at that point, so it will be turbulent, but then I an straighten that out eventually. I decided in the morning I would default writing to harness my morning energy, then in the evening I would default reading, especially since I must spend the most time in my room and I've lazily spent most of my laptop time in the dining room (in my typical spot).

This is doomed to failure, due to the lacunae of life interfering. But the idea is almost set in stone. Anyway, I have been buried in some really interesting books as of late, such as R. Heinlein's The Moon is a Harsh Mistress and R. Kipling's Kim.

I'm going to retire now. We'll see if this works to create anything fun!
  • Current Mood: confused confused
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I remember writing faster than that in the past!

I word-warred with myself for twenty minutes in preparation for the big upcoming season. As I reported to my light sister, I wrote far fewer words than I am accustomed to spewing in that kind of time frame - 279 words. I calculated that with that kind of output the famous NaNoWriMo standard of 50000 would then take me 57 hours.

What I want is virtually impossible. However, it's worth a try! And I'm having fun on the way. Maybe I'll come back to 750words, since I found it helpful. I'm just a little leery of whether it costs anything these days. It doesn't seem so, but it also seems to have forgotten me. Maybe later I'll sign back up.

I watched the new LiveJournal movie. I don't think it properly illustrates the wankfests of the past. But, then again, that isn't really a major plus to the wonders of the platform. I suppose one can't really record how that makes one feel.

Earlier today or yesterday I had a globalisation disagreement on DreamWidth! It made me come across as narrow-minded and supportive of big business overwhelming small ways of life, which is pretty entertaining, considering that is exactly opposite of how I feel.
My opinion on it is that globalisation should happen so our diverse communities have less chance of becoming stratified. I see globalisation as meaning everyone has a new access to everything everywhere.
Maybe that's childish. I've only been around for a couple of years, so I don't really know or understand.

Big Things Coming!

So, I'm reviewing my Israeli/Palestinian/Persian/Arabic/Communist notes for the big shebang of the CPUSA's advertised discussion, which will probably start before I'm done composing this post, so I will just keep it in a different window while paying attention to that. I'm going to close out of FB since the NaNoWriMo group is distracting me with its random pinging.

Read more...Collapse )

So, I hesitated to share all of my notes with the panel of people which assembled to determine my elegibility for their program, hence likely forfeited the possibility. It may not have worked out, though, so I am relieved.
  • Current Mood: contemplative contemplative

Eradicating Panic

Tomorrow at two in the afternoon, I meet with the coordinator of the SEARCH program. She is a busy mental health professional.

SOC: What are you going to do?

Well, Socchan, I wrote out a plan in my newest notebook. I plan to follow it as exactly as possible, given the unreliability of my prediction of what Ms Epstein is like. I have spoken with her on the phone twice.
On top of the second page I inscribed BREATHE 5 BREATHE (inhale, wait for a count of five, exhale), then on the next line I wrote out my exact location. On the page before I wrote out my idea of what work included, which includes Marxist philosophy.

Maybe I could find the global coordinates! ♥ ちょっと待って...
40° N 75° W!

Then I saved one of the myriads of curricula vitarum I printed for today's career expo, which was so largely business-centred it made me uncomfortable enough to hide in the Library after conversing with ten people.
Three of the items on my CV are ante-crepite, six post. I will happily point out when that was to put my history into the proper perspective - namely, I've done double the number of activities I highlight on the piece of paper after breaking a leg literally than before.

SOC: Will it go splendiferously?

Socrates, that's MY word.

SOC: Does that proposed neologism not come from splendour and the Latin second principle part of to bear?

Why do you know Latin better than I do?

SOC: Haven't I been at it a few years longer? Is it not my second language, too?

I don't count Latin as my second language since no one else does in my age category, Socrates. I also don't count Japanese as my second language since I never studied it formally.
Nor do I count German since despite it being the next language I explored after Latin, I never studied it outside of high school. Russian I tend to say, but then everyone else speaks it better than I do, so I have to go with Farsi, which kind of translates into French, but it's no good. Greek is laughable. I normally don't count Chinese at all, since like Russian, everyone else speaks it better...

Socrates, thank you, speaking of languages got me adequately sleepy.
Song that never ends

Life's Continuation

I'm still alive! Sunday afternoon I went with my mother to hear the '14-'15 season opener of the Philadelphia Orchestra. ♥

That was nice.Collapse )

So, I hope life is coming along okay!
I'm enjoying the rooibos tea the container claims is gypsy. This is a part of the writing project - see, my MC gets pulled onto a gypsy caravan. Unfortunately, it seems like the racism stuff I talked about up there is creeping into my prose. Oh well, this is just a draft, and I may just get rid of the whole enterprise.

Research Entertainment

Verst After Verst has been the best thing that popped into my head this year. I haven't written any part of it for a little while, but it is helpful to organise my continued research. Soon enough I'll force myself to review my psc and Russian notes, since I distinctly remember pondering this general topic and stuff similar to it for years. (I remember being intensely afraid, which is making me hesitate from whipping them back out immediately.)

So this is what is driving me. I am afraid of plagiarism so I am writing down all information about each source and whatever else I've been reading lately, since I can always get rid of extraneous data after initially providing it. It may be on the wasteful side, but I am afraid of plagiarism so that is powering me through whatever.

I am probably citing also the notes I mention reticence from accessing, since they are a very credible source of information directly from my professors.

This bizarre post time has to do with my having fallen asleep immediately after dinner, so having energy now.

Edit to change plans, for originally I had titled this Research Hiatus, but I don't see that actually happening.

Awoke in an economic mood.

I decided you can't hate conservatives, even after considering the idiocy of George W Bush, since conservatives just have a different idea of what is good.

This is the only relevant thing I have this morning - I ate some of a torte for breakfast, then I have an interesting Farsi movie [and 11 books, um, travel, Siberia, tea, Orwell in Burma, the Taliban (which is just the plural for "truth-seeker"), and our friend Lenin].

The thought which brought me onto the Internet: the opportunity cost is too great to sleep past 6.

How didn't I know this sooner?

I guess I knew the basics without actually researching, but it'd probably have been somewhat more practical to be directly told exactly what happens when suffering hypothermia than, ah, the eternal infinity of world conflict, which I can clearly see for myself via the news.
(Then again, I think I was told to watch how I dress, and literally given an ushanka last October since I was being stubborn about my ideas, as standard - I'm getting old! That's more frightening to me than the stories of what the terrorists have done.)

At least now I have the ability to separate valid information from political pandering! Or, ah, at least a significantly increased suspicion of all that Lenin tells me. *page turn*
(The comedic stuff my family has constantly on, Pravda, Xinhua, Al Jazeera, FOX, the New York Times, and People's World all have suspicion-rousing biases, too, of course, but it's not quite the same.)

It looks like I've constantly forced myself to live through mild hypothermia especially immediately before and after I danced through the PRC.

Today I got inducted into the next big disabled people who don't know what to do with themselves any more programme - I may call the lady back on Monday to hear again when it began. Thankfully, learning about the Heat Escape Lessening Position made me feel better about myself than hanging out with friends. Not to imply that today was a deadend exercise! My long-term friends have been my friends for this long for specific reasons. ♥

What Must Be Done?

My title is reminiscent of Lenin's signature "What Is To Be Done?" I call it signature since I already pored over it for an intensely long time in HIS424. It makes me think of this dire, serious man shrugging with a confused look on his face in a comic way.

Right now, technically, I'm in the middle of his Persecutors of Zemstvo and Hannibals of Liberalism. What's been slowing me is the impulse to see if I can drudge up who Dragomanov is, but when I've left the book for a while, I forget entirely what I wanted to do.
*is here now so puts that name into the Internet to see what comes out*
Maxim Dragomanov, whom a Ukrainian University is named after, not unlike Lomonosov.

I have a great deal of Russian literature at my fingertips. I finished puzzling through Gorky for today, but he'll be back tomorrow. (I have a novel of his in Russian! A dilapidated copy of Жизм Клима Самгина. *research* Okay, Life of Klim Samgin. An unfinished novel series. So that makes me less inclined to read all of it.)
I feel at the forefront of the battle, but for what? I've slowed in composition of Verst After Verst since I'm dreadfully afraid to talk about suicide, which is where the story has brought me. After all, that insanely-famous comedian (Groundhog Day star, I don't recognise anything else he did) killed himself this week!

I don't know if this piece of music is in Hindi, but that seems highly likely. *scans comments* Да! How did I nail that?

I still don't know why Pushkin is so popular. My parents told me they've never heard of him. I told them, no, in the Russian culture. "Greatest Russian poet." (Dad: "Like James Joyce in Ireland?" - I said I guessed, then remembered toiling through Joyce in high school and assented.)
I struggle with poetry, generally not seeing the point, though I've been trying to incorporate several verses into each chapter of VAV, due to how close a verst (distance not unlike a kilometer) is to a verse.

Katie wants to either co-author a story with me or not write anything at all. I find that frustrating, due to the solitary nature of writing, or at least, in my experience.
I feel like that's just bullying me, but if I say so, then I imagine she'd say let's just not bother.
That's as good as if it were already said and done. Hence I'm not even privatising the sentiment.

So, I'm headed to my friend's tomorrow, where she's promised me lovely teas.
It seems that according to my mythos, I'm a tea aficionado, besides an international literary genius and an expert in Russian, Chinese, and a few other mysterious tongues such as Ukrainian, Farsi and Japanese. Um, нет! Not anything in comparison with many of my friends. I don't like most teas or ways to say stuff. My aversion to poetry, I sense, is key here.