Thursday, November 4, 2010

DISCLAIMER: Nothing I Write Here Is True

Not even that title.

Having read this over before posting, I feel that this needs another disclaimer: I am not a psych case.  I am a thoroughly with-it, under-control, normal human being on hyperdrive.  But no, really, you'll understand when if you get that far down the page.  I am never in therapy, very rarely cry and do not project angstiness into the world on a regular basis - I had that gland removed as soon as I got up here.

Oh, and Blogger is being most irritating and insisting that I have filled up my free 1GB of space in Picasa and must pay Google $5.00 a year to upload any more.  See the sacrifices I make for you, dear reader?  I shall pay it, but you must promise it will not be in vain. 

Well, that chemistry test was far more entertaining than expected.  We were all sitting there working on our stoichiometry problems as our teacher sat in front of his computer when, about fifteen minutes into class, Single Ladies started playing very loudly.  He looked utterly stunned, and after we'd all taken a second to absorb the fact that the music was coming from his speakers, he stammered that it had been a pop-up, that he'd been looking at e-brochures.  Nowt so queer as folk, I suppose... but the poor man was mortified.

Another week down, and there's Pulp Fiction in my future.  I do love weekends.  One afternoon last week I called in sick (I was, genuinely, suffering from the effects of exhaustion, eating nothing but pretzels for two days, and an English essay) and turned off all the lights in my room except for the fairy lights, and just laid on my lovely wide bed and dozed and read The Restaurant At The End Of The Universe and listened to a rain storm.  When excused from classes here, one can't really go about looking healthy, but I had visitors and we sat and chatted for a lovely long time.

So, on Tuesday something really weird happened. 
I was in chemistry, and started laughing.  I don't know what about, but I couldn't stop, and after a moment I was breathing really hard because I was scared, I felt like I was suffocating, and for a minute the whole world lived under my hair and it was red and prickly and getting very hot.  There was nothing outside of me with my head on my desk laughing because I felt like someone hated me, oh, so much and was about to beat me, and there was nothing I could do about it.  I was so dizzy, I sat down on the floor with my head between my knees, but that was too hot so I sat up, but couldn't stand up and I was utterly terrified.  And then I was back to normal, on the floor, and extremely cold.  The teacher sent me to the nurse, who called it panic but wasn't too concerned - I suppose that it's so stressful here that people go nuts a little more than the admissions staff let on.

But then it happened again that evening.  Less of the laughing, more of the fear.  They found me on the stairs in the school and took me back to the dorm, and I went to bed at 8:45 still terrified of something.  This does not happen to me.  Ever.  Never  (see above).  I have never once felt like I couldn't control my body because of something emotional, and I couldn't stop thinking about it, which sent me right back to the edge of it again.  My parents, while completely well-meaning, weren't of enormous help when I talked to them on the phone or, as I later found out, when they talked to the school nurse (who is really, really cool, just so everyone knows.  I love her).  It's as if...well, you know how the entire universe - wait, wait, my probability drive is informing me that some of my (millions of) readers might not have read The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy or any of the following books.  If you are one of these people, please, stop reading my trash and go buy yourself the bible-bound copy of the series.  They changed my life, they'll change yours.

While you're waiting for your amazon shipment to arrive, I'll give you a little excerpt to illustrate my point(s).

To explain - since every piece of matter in the Universe is in some way affected by every other piece of matter in the Universe, it is in theory possible to extrapolate the whole of creation - every sun, every planet, their orbits, their composition and their economic and social history from, say, one small piece of fairy cake.

I'm sorry.  I realize I have now made it impossible for you to do anything else but sit and wait for your books to arrive, checking your mail every ten minutes as I do for the lens that is going to arrive for me and my darling camera sometime this week (hopefully).  I hope you picked one-day shipping. 

So, my little episodes during chemistry and structured are our small piece of fairy cake.  Following so far?  And my mother, loving and missing me as she does, was naturally concerned.  However, she brought science fiction rather too far out of its realm of credibility by extrapolating from that a whole Universe of reasons I might be in such a 'psychological state'.  Yes, you see where this is going... It's impossible that I hadn't slept enough or eaten enough that day, or that a few neurons just got in a little spat and decided not to be on speaking terms for a little while.  The idea!  No, of course the thing that has to pop into her head is that I must be having so much sex that even Dan Savage is jealous, and of course the accusation (posed very caringly as a timid question, of course) just sets me off again.  I always answer all such inquiries in the negative and start questioning whether, at a distance of two hundred and fifty miles, it's really any of her business.  That's where I get in trouble.

Anyway, the result was a good long talk with the nurse, which only turned to contraceptives at the very last minute, and I'm feeling quite all right now, thank you for asking.  In fact, today I felt rather tremendous.  It seemed that they were pumping extra oxygen into the school building, despite quizzes in chemistry and maths, and I and, perhaps just through my lens, my friends were quite bubbly and gay.  Perhaps it's just the concept of the weekend.  Play rehearsal was lots of fun, too, and now I just have to finish editing a very dull essay for English - where we've started Huck Finn, and I expect to enjoy it rather a lot.  There's one person in the class who simply should not have been placed in AP Comp, and he's grating awfully on the teacher of late - she nearly threw him out the other day when we were working on Mark Twain's "The Damned Human Race." 

All right, I'll wrap this up now.  I have no pictures for you, of course, but I'll throw you another Marina And The Diamonds video - embedded, this time.  Social commentary... how on earth would I get through the day without it...

Hollywood infected your brain, you wanted kissing in the rain!  
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