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27 March 2011 @ 06:43 pm
Wednesday I went to meditation society essentially just to give Kelsang Loten a hug, because I miss her. Thursday I took that test and met with friends. I worked most of the evening, took a nap, finished my draft and my essay. Sent off the draft and Claire brought me to campus to give in the essay; we were running late so I ran around everywhere, despite having to cover my cleavage with my hand. *Groans and covers face.*

Went around picking up Claire's friends with her. Bought some milk, mint Baileys and chocolate sauce from the co-op. Helped set up for the party by blowing up balloons and the lot.

Enjoyed dancing around with Claire's school friends, Grace and Tory. Hannah (cute girl from before) showed up with Andi (Claire's friend) as the two are friends. I don't know what it was, but as I was serving them some Baileys I couldn't help thinking/feeling, "Oh great gillyweed they're young." Poof went the attraction. I would like to state, for the record, that this is silly...because I am 21, which is considered 'young' by most standards. The only problem seems to be that a lot of time I feel there is this 42+ version of myself lounging around in my skin, and she's been there since before I can remember; she takes up a lot of space in my brain. Plus, a lot of the 'youth' I saw around me at the party seemed to be youngsters masquerading as adults by trying to incorporate things seen as 'adult', i.e. alcohol and sex. It usually just seems like a whole bunch of people trying to grow up too fast, with the accelerated attempts only showcasing where the youth remains in big flashing lights.

I spent a bit of time reading a book in the corner (quite happily) and chatting philosophy with Grace. Then some dancing that really did me in, until I knew I was bordering the pain threshold that I really shouldn't surpass; I sat down with Tory and took a breather. Hannah pulled us back onto the dance floor and despite knowing I shouldn't, I couldn't stop. I took frequent trip to the loo to get out of it. Eventually I pulled the plug on myself, shaking my head at my stupidity, and hid away in Claire's room - Tory had had the same idea.

Hannah eventually found me in there and drunk babbled all over me. She seemed like an excited puppy and I half thought she'd piddle on the floor out of too much glee. I was exhausted and changed into jammies, uncaring that she was still watching me. Clambered into Claire's bed and used her laptop, but my pain was too much so I settled down with my book and tried not to bite my lip off. Hannah kept coming in and babbling away about 'not using sulfates' because my hair was long like hers and I thought, 'gee, if there's one thing I don't care about more, I'd be pressed to think of it.' She kept telling me that she should 'go check on Andi to make sure she's not being raped by Jamie [Claire's housemate]' and I told her that wasn't the case, given the two had both expressed a desire for rebound sex and half the point of the party was to finally get those two boinking. Alas I was at the end of my ropes with drunken!Hannah so by the 10th time she said it, I responded, "Yes, yes you probably should go check on Andi" and hoped Andi had had the sense to go upstairs and stop mounting Jamie on the sofa. I considered texting Claire to come collect Hannah, or thought perhaps putting a sign on the door would work. A few others came in various states of influence (usually high or drunk) and chatted with me before leaving; I can't recall any of their names, if any of them gave any. At one point Hannah came in an hour after I had started trying to sleep and persistently tried to get me and Tory out to dance; she wouldn't take no and took my hand to start pulling at me. I nearly growled at her, "No, Hannah! I have a bad leg, I told you! I can't move! I'm too old to dance 'till dawn. Go, dance, have fun!"

I was in enough pain that I couldn't lay still so I was tossing and turning. I feared I was waking Tory up (she shared Claire's bed with me). At some point Claire came in and saw what a state I was in, so she brought me a hot water bottle and had me take some of her stronger painkillers. They didn't work very well but after a few walking trips to the loo the pain settled just enough that I fell into a fitful sleep. I dreamed I was back in hospital after my fibula graft, all these tubes everywhere and my leg a constant ache but being too afraid to move it at all for fear I would wreck my operation. The worst part was that the morphine itch was back in my dream and I was scratching everywhere the drug made me, but especially around my face, because that was where the medical tape had been and I was allergic to that.

I woke up to Claire shaking me awake because I was rubbing my face half off. She made me put some cream on it and told me she felt terrible for giving me something in the same drug family as morphine if I was allergic - but I didn't know I was actually *allergic* (I thought it was just a symptom of the drug that showed up in some people) and regardless I was too out of it the night before to have rejected the drugs a second time, not with how much pain I was in - the fitful sleep was better than another night staring at the ceiling trying not to cry, because crying feels futile then anyway. Helped them all clean up and hung out in the lounge chatting with everyone in the light of day, which felt better. Claire dropped me home and I passed out on my sofa.

Last night I had a dream that I checked peroxidepirate's journal and there was a play adaptation going on of Tamora Pierce's 'Circle of Magic' with a 'straight Lark'. Despite knowing this, I went with some 'friends' and watched the play to find Lark entirely straight and Rosethorn replaced by a heteronormative dinosaur-teacher-man in his 50s - the type you can just tell uses "we do it this way because we've always done it this way" as an excuse. It was pretty much a nightmare. I don't know if my brain is trying to tell me that I don't need the prickly Rosethorn persona I've used since 15 to get through all this (and that I should use Lark's gentler, more agreeable sense of composure), but I hated it. I am none-too-pleased with my brain at this point.

Since then I've pretty much been watching True Blood and that's it. My room is still in a right state. I thought come today, this first Sunday of pseudo-freedom, I'd be enjoying the sun--I was lucky enough to find it outside in a blue sky. But for whatever reason I couldn't.

I think it's hitting me that 'regular' university is over - which I don't mind, because I can honestly say I've had more than enough of essays, group work, presentations, snore!bore lectures, reports, field trips, worksheets, what-have-you. What does get to me is that with a lot of these uni people, all I have left is a few exam days--the sort of days we see each other incredibly stressed before an exam and relieved afterward, all splitting ways to go celebrate another hopeful success. April is spring break and I probably won't see many people; May is exam month and I will from time to time, I'm sure; the beginning of June I graduate. That's a month-and-a-bit left of time potentially seeing these people in any sort of regular way, and then I fly away. It makes me feel guilty for even missing my friends back home - which I know is ridiculous; I can miss Cassia & Crew without it meaning I'm in any hurry to say goodbye in any official way to the people here.

I'm having a wallowing weekend, I think. Sometimes I just have to have those days when I go "this sucks", because otherwise optimism can be so draining and become a falsehood. I'm incredibly lucky that I can be so happy and so stable so much of the time, when it can often take more out of me to get up there and I can't take any of it for granted - in how happy and stable I can be despite it all, I am lucky. But some days I just have to acknowledge that PTSD dreams suck, feeling at least 42 in a crowd of youth and alcohol sucks, a leg that doesn't work sucks, knowing what this much pain feels like sucks, knowing that I have to deal with this much pain until whenever I die sucks and knowing that I will always be this paranoid that this time my leg has really given up and I've shattered things and nothing will ever be the same, well, that sucks a lot too. So whenever I can rise above all that and smile and laugh and twirl and dance? That's lucky and wonderful. Today needs to be one of the days I don't, so I can have some of these dark feelings/fears out today and hope that tomorrow is one of the days I can get back up to the Happy Threshold.

And here's to hoping that when I finally give my dissertation in on Wednesday, all bound and with no requirement for me to touch it again for a long time, I'll have one heck of a happy entry to post.


"Letter writing is the only device for combining solitude with good company."
[Lord Byron]
Current Mood: nostalgicNostalgic.
Nickiperoxidepirate on March 27th, 2011 09:18 pm (UTC)
I hope your week gets better, hon. That sounds like an exhausting weekend in every possible sense. But I hope the wallowing serves its purpose.

Also, I'm really really disturbed by the idea of Rosethorn being replaced by a heteronormative professor and Lark being straight. If such a thing ever were to happen, you probably would find out through my journal, because it would be full of "asdflkjlkasdg WHAT?!" Thankfully, I don't think it's likely.
Kiwi Crocus: Readwrite || Fanfic writer.cranky__crocus on March 27th, 2011 09:27 pm (UTC)
It was definitely an exhausting weekend, somehow - or, less exhausting than I have had in my recent life, but made worse by the fact that I had expected for it to be peaceful. I had intended it to be a weekend of deep breathing to recover from my dissertation writing and prepare me for my dissertation editing (before giving it in on Wednesday). Now I'm just trying to have a peaceful Sunday night so I'm calm for tomorrow's meeting with my supervisor.

I was so disturbed that as well! In the dream I was just sitting there reading your LJ and you mentioned hearing about a play production with a "straightish Lark" but hadn't seen or heard much more about it. I think I ended up going with "friends" who weren't even my friends - I think one of them was Andi from the party, who is actually quite judgemental when she's not drunk.

I sat through the whole thing and then was somehow in it, but behind the scenes, like I was sucked into the actual world of the play - but not real Emelan, since it's no real Emelan without Rosethorn. And I guess she was there sort of watching it all with me and interacting a little, but generally helpless to change it all, so we were just angry together.

I don't know. It was ridiculous. I woke up so angry and afraid that I would be replaced like that too, which is strange, because I have no one like Lark so I can't go being replaced in romance.

Weird. Arse. Dream.

It also really made me want to write Rosethorn/Lark again but I have, like, negative creativity points right now. Not even writer's block. I just got nuttin'. I wouldn't know what to write about or how. I think that's why I stick with Harry Potter fandom always - so many fests and so much fandom, so there's always something forcing me to write if I want it to.