Monthly Archives: November 2009

A few things I don’t often dwell on.

I’ve made it a habit to let (force?) my mind to wander to other topics when I become emotionally dissatisfied with its focus.  Tonight, I have just a few of those to share, in the hope that maybe, just maybe my acceptance of them will set me free.

Topic #1: I am struggling to hold on to a friendship I can’t help but feel is doomed.  How I could have been so close with someone in such a short period of time makes me want to believe there is more, but with each conversation we barely have, with each new picture I see, I feel more and more disconnected from her existence, slipping further from her reality.  I want to fight for it, but I can’t seem to find a hole in the ice so I can get back to the surface.

Topic #2: I still feel betrayed, or I wouldn’t find pleasure in the fat alcoholic being…well, himself.  There will always be a level of vanity that permeates any situation that seems clear of superficiality.  He might be ecstatic with his life, but he’s still a fat drunk.  I somehow find pleasure in that, probably because I can’t imagine true happiness existing at the bottom of four Budweisers.  Maybe I just haven’t found peace.

Topic #3: I’m amazed at how far from emotion (on the whole) I’ve run.  I let everyone see a little piece of Linda, but no one gets the package.  I’m full of defenses, perhaps?  It’s quite sad when there’s no family to divulge everything to, no best friend to offer support regardless of situation, no one to call when I ace a test or decide I need to share a sudden thought that only really has meaning to me with.  I don’t miss these things often, but once in a while I remember what it was like to feel, to trust, and I wish I knew how to do those things again.  But I can’t help but note the comparison between the pain that accompanies the loss of them and the complacency that surrounds their absence.

Topic #4: My dreams have been occupied by someone other than he-who-caused-a-year-of-pain-and-anger.  Yes, occasionally John Cusack, for some wacky reason.  But also, the man who still feels like my net.  Of course, if you were to Google how many times I’ve said/written those words, it’s kind of a common notion of mine.  So, once again, I go back to being the estranged strange girl who can’t even trust her own instincts.   Someone who’ll be there for a random relationship-like experience, because it’s just enough to satisfy a longing, but gone for weeks thereafter.  Don’t try to capture me; I’ll probably just run away.

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I was never the type to talk about the movie in the parking lot…

…and tonight I didn’t have to.  I, finally, after planning on it for quite a number of years, went to the movies by myself this evening.  I had mixed emotions about the situation as well as the movie itself.

Being alone creates an air of aberrant behavior, so combined with my out-loudedness, I do actually look like the crazy lady.  But if you can manage to not be bothered by the notion of being alone, which, might I add, Woody Harrelson helped me conquer, then you probably wouldn’t care if you looked like the crazy lady.  (However, why be “out-loud” at all, if not for other people to hear?  So part of my being obviously feeds off of the image.)

Down sides to being alone at a movie: no one to point out the things that you missed, or see deeper meaning in something you didn’t.  No one to snuggle up to.  No one to discuss “favorite parts” or discrepancies with.  In my case, though, I never have a favorite part–I’m a gestalt movie-goer apparently.

Up sides to being alone at a movie: no one to talk through parts of the movie, or “get” something you didn’t, promising to “tell you later,” but then later forget.  No one to create any kind of awkward touchy tension.  No one to ask, “so, what did you think of it?” when it’s over.  Why I don’t like that conversation I’ll probably never know.  Probably for the same reason I don’t like “how was your weekend?” but I’ll probably never know that one either.  Maybe I just like to be non-conforming.  Who knows?

It helped that no one else sat in my entire row, I think.  Well, either that or it gave me a complex that I need to shower more often.  It kind of just felt like I was sitting in an uncomfortable chair in the den watching  a movie I couldn’t pause.

The movie, though, I liked.  It did all the things a movie should do, and I think a smidgen more.  I laughed (’cause, come on, it’s John Cusack), I got all misty eyed at the humanitarian and father-daughter parts, though I “kept it real,” I was scared when all of the natural disasters happened, I wondered if any were possible, and I felt quick-witted for picking up on some subtleties, despite their very biblical connotation (i.e. the ship Genesis, the kid’s name being Noah, the llama in cargo).  You’ll see–when you see the movie.  I’m sure there were more, but it took me a while to realize they even existed, so I wasn’t really paying too much attention to begin with.

Oh, and also?  Love you, James Cameron.  Can’t wait for my December movie-of-the-month: AVATAR!

And The Lovely Bones, but that’s with the Book and Movie Club Meetup.

And maybe Did You Hear About the Morgans? but that might be a rental later on in life.  It looks funny enough that I might pay money to see it.  (It’s also only $8.50 at PJ Cinema.  Rock.)  I might draft my friend from third grade, Sharon, to go see one of ’em.

Anyways, so much more to say, but I’d rather not plug in Macky, ’cause I’m lazy and comfortable…and waiting to get back to New Moon.  I’m such a sucker for Stephanie Meyer’s books, even if I read one every six months (or more realistically when the movies are going to come out, even though I don’t actually see them in the theater).  I especially liked the pages simply labeled “October,” “November,” “December,” and “January.”  Meyer seems to catch the perfection in a broken heart.  Before you roll your eyes in criticism, look at it this way: if I’m gonna read a romance novel, at least let it contain vampires. RIGHT?

😉  ‘Night, folks.

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NY Yankee Winners & Sore Losers

With all that money the plethora of sore losers keep saying the Yankees have, you think they’d win every year.  But HUH, look at that, the PHILLIES won last year.  I guess maybe, just fucking maybe it’s not entirely about the money.  Jerks.

Now that I’ve said my anti-negativity piece in an ironically negative manner, I just wanted to write a little blurb about how awesome the Yankees did this year.  I vow to watch all the games every season, double in years they win the WS, but I never wind up doing it, and I only manage to follow the post-season games.  But hey-here’s to high hopes and trying again!  27 rings in my 27th year on this Earth.  Corny, yes.  Having absolutely nothing to do with me, also yes.  But it’s kinda neat no matter how ya look at it.

I have been a Jorge Posada fan for about twelve years now.  And to see him still in pinstripes, still with Pettite and Mo and DJ is just amazing and absolutely awesome.  Mo’s comment tonight sums up everyone’s thoughts about the game, I think:  “I was thinking to retire, but I think I”ll stay on another five years!”  You just don’t want to leave the NY Yankees.

Much love, boys.  Much disdain, haters.

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Psychology and you (well, me).

I’ve always considered myself as a thinker unlike many others.  Sometimes I even wonder if I have a disorder myself–some noradrenaline (NA) deficit that leaves me on the ADD end of the spectrum.  But when I consider how OCD I can be about some things, I’m forced to believe maybe I am balanced; so much so that some days I’ve more NA than resulting in one or the other depending on the day.  But seriously–Cory and I had this “how you think” discussion the other night, and it seems if anything, I am at least not the only one with a racing think tank.  I do sometimes find it difficult to concentrate; I sometimes cannot understand assigned readings for class (mostly philosophy, but more recently, sadly, the Conclusion of Darwin’s Origin of Species); I don’t focus on a single thought or thought process–I tend to allow myself to be ADD-oriented and tangent as the brain meat likes.  This can (and often does) lead to a song, which I still haven’t completely grasped the meaning of.

See, all of this “drugs and the brain” rationale I’ve been toying with so far this semester is leaving me extra-intrigued: should I be pursuing something more psychiatry-related?  I’m definitely behind on the course load for it, but it seems to be sticking out most in my daily existence.  For example, see the entire paragraph above.  Heh.  But also, other examples: Steph makes reference to effective Yankee garb-wearing strategies for winning.  This is known as Magical Thinking, and is a feature of one of the diagnosable symptoms in Schizophrenia (SZ).  (I’m not saying Steph is Schizophrenic; magical thinking is very common for sporting events and on its own isn’t a symptom of anything except superstition.)  Or even my very own status message on blacking out wherein I describe the reasoning for it.  And then tonight I watched the first half of the Dollhouse episode I caught the second half of when it aired on the 23rd, and I actually followed (and questioned) Topher’s schpiel on the neuroleptics and their effect on D2 receptors in the brain.  I did notice that he went from mentioning the D2 receptors (responsible for Dopamine reuptake), to 5-HT striatum pathways, which could have been a result from the drugs since many of them work on both Dopamine receptors and Serotonin receptors (more commonly known everywhere except the U.S. as 5-HT receptors), but could the result really be SZ-like symptoms?  I don’t think so, but I’d be interested to learn of the possibility.

I like this class too much.  I’m starting to send out graduate program applications in the next week, and now, now I start questioning if I would rather work with the one thing I swore I never wanted to or would? How ironic would that be?  No.  Cognition–that’s what I care about most.  I don’t believe in drugs for non-serious illnesses, so even though CNS Depressants are often issued for phobias, I’d rather try an exposure or cognitive behavioral measure (at least to start with).  There.  That’s…kind of settled…for now.

Little side notes I wanted to slip in here (for remembrance purposes):

– Halloween was pretty neat.  Being Supergirl felt fitting, since I try to do it “all,” even if I’m not always capable.  I would have liked a little Big Sis/Little Bro alone trick-or-treat time, like maybe a second trip down the block in the opposite direction, but alas, we had just the one with his mother.  I’m not entirely sure what the story is with my trying to discipline KJ in her presence.  Is it threatening?  Does she think I just don’t have the qualification (or right)?  Personally, I believe I have a pretty good grasp on the brain and development, what with taking a bunch of classes on it and seeing results through practical application, but I can understand maternal defensiveness.  I imagine I will be met with it often should I pursue a developmental or ABA route in my education.  The only difference in that instance though, is that I can simply tell the parent, “I need you to let me do my job.”  The short story is that my 6-year old half brother is the most competitive child I have ever known, and I have a tendency to be around a lot of children.  It’s healthy to an extent, but caring who has more fish sticks or ice cream or the “longer cape” in the instance of our costumes is taking things a little too far.  My attempts at interjection need to be done privately, lest they be challenged, as I was told “he’s only six; everything is a game.”  This is true–he is only six, and most things are games.  But again, there is healthy and there is excessive, and this child definitely teeters over into excessive.  All relations aside, I would say that to absolutely any child that was comparing something with me that wasn’t part of an already established game.  However, with most of the children I encounter (I work reception in a speech therapy office whose patients are 95% children), it is not necessary.  I can understand letting your child learn things on their own, but when the behavior is excessive, there should be a model of correct thought.  Not that I’m necessarily right, but I feel as though unchallenged competition in youth would easily and most readily evolve into competition in adolescence (leading to fighting?) and adulthood.  But hell, what do I know?

– Razz (my car)’s brakes were replaced at the end of September, and throughout October began and progressed making a horrible high-pitched squeal upon my comping to a complete stop.  I finally brought him back to Midas, who performed the brake job, and they replaced them.  I know this not because I was told by Mike (shop manager), but because I watched him call someone up to discuss the bad brakes and saw the guy arrive with the replacement parts.  When he called me back up, he would have been content to simply hand me my keys, had I not stared at him in an “aren’t you going to speak” bewilderment.  He rambled off some “additional” stuff they did to the brakes (made it slicker, or some shit), and then when I still stared in wonder, he added something about replacing them again if need be, but it shouldn’t happen anymore.  I was told to call him if it squeaks again.  Rest assured, Mike, the next time it squeaks, it’s going to Ford.  Thanks for the help, though.

– Good deed day, Part I: Thursday, October 29.  After watching a suspected murder/likely convicted drug dealer get arrested in front of my house, I gave his crying girlfriend a ride to the train and a $2.50 one-way LIRR ticket to Freeport.  I’d rather not get into the details, but I have some innate mother-hen thing going on inside me that would not allow me to drive past the girl whose boyfriend/husband just got arrested wandering aimlessly and crying into her cell phone.  I got a story, and she got a way home.

Resisting arrest.

– Good deed day, Part II: One of the two SLPs that work Thursday nights with me in Commack, left the building after her shift to find her taillight broken due to a parking lot hit-and-run.  She called me to diffuse the shock and figure out what to do.  When I left the office a half an hour later, she was still there, so I waited with her for the police.  I even ran over to the gas station to buy her smokes (I swore I was going to get myself arrested using her credit card & my ID–but the guy, who called me Linda twice, and read her card that said Lisa–was either stoned, stupid or didn’t care, so it worked out).  The cop showed up around 10 and we finally departed near a quarter to 11.  I just couldn’t leave Lisa to sit there by herself, angry, sad and cold.  I know I wouldn’t want to, and would certainly appreciate the company, so I gave it to her.  Mommy-hen thing again, I guess. So not only could I not get to work (that arrest took place directly in front of my driveway), but I couldn’t leave it either.  Quite entertaining, really.

The damage.

– I was going to include a dream synopsis in which there were the crew from SRR, Chris’ family and friends, and a whole bunch of distrust and emotion, but I think I’d rather not remember it, so I’ll just leave it at that.  I figure in a few weeks not even what I just wrote will spark the whole dream recollection.

– I’m taking the Psychology GRE in 6 days.  I should really be studying for that.

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