psalm_onethirtyone: (jesting)
We just found out that my uncle has prostate cancer, which is what both his father and my grandfather died of. The doctors think that because he is pretty young and they caught it pretty early he should be fine, but I know he is really nervous about it anyway. I would really like to solicit prayers and good-wishes for him, since he is basically the living incarnation of Good Guy Greg and truly wonderful person.

I finished my commission -- I was actually rather pleased, as it was ordered by someone who contacted the gallery that dropped my stuff because it wasn't selling, so for revenge I bored the director of the gallery by talking about pig breeds for half an hour when I handed it in.

I'll be back at school on Sunday, which I'm looking forward to. Real internet again! It's so exciting!

I'm still figuring out this DreamWidth thing. I will get it someday!
psalm_onethirtyone: (Disappointed)
So I'm sure everyone is desperately interested in hearing the continuation of the Saga of the Insurance Company from Hell (yes, you are).

Yesterday my doctor told me that she had called the insurance company again and faxed them being all URGENT URGENT MY PATIENT IS DYING PLZ SEND HER HER MEDS, and she assured me, when I phoned, that they had told her I would be authorised to have them within twenty-four hours. So this morning I ran to the pharmacy, because I'm out again.

Where the pharmacist told me, as nicely as possible, that the insurance company had NOT authorised my scrip and everyone was now out for the weekend, so it was unlikely I would be authorised until Tuesday. He also suggested that I call the insurance company and grovel to them on Tuesday. In the meantime, I could buy some meds out of pocket.

Now, because the pill I'm taking does not come in 225 mg caps, which is the dose I take, I have to take three 75 mg caps every day. Which means in order to get by until Tuesday, I had to buy twelve caps instead of four. And because Mama is broke right now, I paid for them with my birthday money. ;___; Which is just a minor complaint, honestly, because at least I have money, but I am whinging because I wanted to get art supplies with it.

So my plan is to call the insurance company on Tuesday. Yayyy! In the meantime, I have incredibly expensive medication, and a twelve-hour shift at work to-morrow.

On the PLUS SIDE, Maria and Mama and I went clothes shopping to-day and I managed to find two pairs of jeans that fit, as well as a really cute denim skirt and even a pair of shorts (which is disguised to look like a skirt, which suits me just fine). Which is great, since usually the fact that I am shaped exactly like a hobbit makes clothes shopping a fairly traumatic experience. I also made cupcakes for a party to-morrow that I will not get to go to, but they turned out really nicely! Even though I burnt my hands, bleh.

Yeah. If it weren't for this insurance thing, my life would be going pretty nicely overall.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Little Breezes Dusk and Shiver)
I really miss my school friends right now. It has to do at least partly with this unholy terror I have that if I'm away from people for too long they'll just forget about me, or they won't want me any more--it's not really logical, it's just one of my biggest anxieties, and it's completely paralysing. Maria's friends are all visiting her over the summer--Lydia's coming next month, as is Elena, and Emily may come after that, and she had Will last week, and later on in the summer she'll visit Will and Elena and Monica.

I got to go see [ profile] mhari in May, which was wonderful, but otherwise I'm going to be spending summer alone. Like always. Which, when I was still in high school and didn't really have any friends in the state, wasn't a really big deal, because it was par for the course, I never had any friends that I saw on a daily basis for a whole eight years. But now that I've spent two years of my friends being available almost all the time, I feel really, really emotionally cut off.

It's also wrapped up in the fact that I really like to be able to touch people, or else I feel distanced from them; I like to hold hands, or cuddle, or just be physically close to people, it makes me feel safer. So I don't have anybody for that (Maria is not a touchy-feely person at all), and also I'm just so scared that I'll get back to school and all my friends there will be all 'whatever, who are you, why did we even like you?'

and for some reason I'm having a depressive episode, and I haven't had one of those in about three weeks, so I'm disappointed. And there are some things going wrong with my plans for the summer; I wasn't able to get hired by any of the places I applied, so my summer job is doing odd jobs for a man at church once a week, I've had writer's block since before I came home and my poetry won't come out, so my MS is still at forty-eight pages and I'll never hit the fifty I want before I try to start sending it to publishers, and I'm only going to get rejection letters anyway, and I never have time to go to Selinsgrove to get the things I need to finish my Big Damn Art Project. And then the priest of our church [Daphne] told Mama she would give me an internship so at least I could get something official out of the summer, but she kind of reneged on that. She's giving me the connexions to meet some people, but nothing really official, and she refuses to believe I'm serious about wanting to go into the priesthood; she keeps referring to it as "[Soujin]'s discernment process" where I decide "whether she really does want to go into religion or not". I know that I want to do this. I really hate talking about it in these terms, because it feels all faux-spiritual and pretentious, but I really do feel called to do this. It feels like I'm finally making the right decision. And even if it's true that kids my age usually change their minds about their career plans and whatnot, it's still at least polite to pretend to believe me when I say this is what I want to do. It really upsets me.

And I feel like Mama's disappointed in me for not being proactive enough, but any time I have to interact with Daphne I just end up feeling so disappointed and depressed that I don't really want her help. I wish so much that I had a spiritual counsellor who didn't make me upset. I'm meeting with her husband Ed to-morrow, who was a spiritual counsellor (and is a retired priest) at Penn State for years and years, and hoping that since he's an actual human being and not an alien ambassador from planet Daphne we will possibly be able to communicate in a way that does not make me miserable, cross my fingers. I just. I want to learn how to organise a fundraiser and run a vacation bible school and pick out the week's hymns and connect the readings together with the season and current events into a big thick woven sermon. I want to learn from someone who loves God and loves the earthly church, too, someone who visits sick people and helps make prayer shawls and runs the book club and teaches Sunday school because that person wants to, but whenever I talk to Daphne she talks like it's all a huge burden that God's placed upon her and she's only doing it because she knows it's the right thing to do. I don't want to learn from someone who feels that way. I want to learn from someone who loves it.

And I want the sink to start working again and the smell of turpentine to go away and for my heart to stop hurting, and I wouldn't mind if only one of those things happened. It just feels like too much of a buildup.

Also, I have to drive to Duncannon to-morrow morning to see the doctor for my physical for my visa for Greece, and that just reminds me how scared I am to go to Greece and how maybe it's not such a good idea and I won't know anyone and my depression will come back and I won't have anyone to reach out to, and my friends will definitely forget me and I won't be able to connect to people because I'm a stranger and the wrong nationality and I'll fail all my classes or I won't be able to get the classes I need to graduate and it's going to be expensive and maybe I should just stay home-- and then I start to have a panic attack. I want to go, but I'm scared.

And really, really lonely. >_<

tl;dr Soujin is a whiny emo kid with hell of anxiety disorder, hi.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Therefore Be Free)
The good: we got the bees in just right. We picked them up in their nuke box from Andy, drove them home, waited until dusk, and then put them into their new hive. They seem to have settled right in, and we're going to check them to-morrow to see how they're doing, as far as the queen and such.

My fish remember me; I went and sat by the pond yesterday and the day before and they sucked on my toes, which is the weirdest and nicest feeling. One of them has a super long tail. He's really beautiful.

I am in charge of monitoring the broody hens, since Maria will be away about the time their clutches are due! I'm so excited. I have to go in and check them every day and see if they have chicks or poults, and take them away right away if they do. Then I whisk them upstairs to the brooder shed that we have slapdash put together in the laundry room.

Maria and I finally saw Iron Man 2, which was awesome, and then spent the afternoon at Michael's spending the gift card I got for my birthday--we bought all this cake decorating stuff we've been coveting for ages, a beautiful set of dyes and cake glitter in two colours and shimmer in one. We're making cookies to-morrow so we can use it all. We're super excited. To-day we cleaned the house while Mama was at work so she wouldn't be in such a bad mood when she got home (she and Dad are arguing about horse fencing again).

the bad: Perci died while I was away at [ profile] mhari's. Mama thinks she didn't keep him moist enough, which I don't know if that's true or not but I don't want to say that it is because I know she'll just feel worse. I haven't buried him just yet, but I will to-morrow. Dad says he lived a really long time for a hermit crab, but since all the websites say you can keep them alive for ages I feel like I just screwed up somehow.

One of the barn kittens died, but I didn't notice in time, so the barn cat moved all the rest of them somewhere else and I didn't see where. I am going to look for them to-morrow--I think they're still in the barn because she's still lurking around in that area and there's plenty of warm, dry hay that's gone loose. I have to bring a flashlight, though, since I tried a cursory look around yesterday and couldn't actually seen in most places.

So--that's all the news.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Everyone is Fond of Owls)
The internet is lagging like a bitch; my bicycle has been vandalised again (again!); it is still hell of cold; I have a paper to write by Tuesday that any other time I'd be thrilled about but which is totally uninspiring right now; I have volunteer work to do to-night that is going to require walking back to campus at 10:00 in the dark and the cold; THAT WOMAN is visiting this weekend so I can't hang out with all of my friends; THAT BOY is screwing with me again goddammit I have never met anyone who blew hot and cold so irritatingly and unhelpfully; Jake is squicking me out again I wish we had never met; I have a ridiculous quantity of homework and the girl from my philosophy class borrowed my notes and hasn't given them back yet--

in short, flist, I am feeling VERY SULKY to-day and wish everything would just go away. AWAY I SAY. Fffff.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Try Again To-morrow)
To-day, at five a.m., I made a very important discovery, a discovery so important that I need to use profanity to discuss it: do not fuck with capsaican, because it will fuck your shit up. I, through a series of events so humiliatingly stupid and mundane that I cannot recount them, managed to massage 15% capsaican solution into the palm of my right hand, and for the last seventeen hours I have tried used topical menthol cream, baking soda, soap and water, cold cream, aloe vera, medicated ointment, aspirin, cold compresses, and ice water, with absolutely no success in relieving the pain.

Imagine, if you will, the sensation of a burn. Now imagine that this burn is all over the sensitive parts of your hand. Imagine your tiny nerve endings screaming "GET YOUR FUCKING HAND OUT OF THE FIRE GODDAMMIT" unceasingly, with one breath, for seventeen hours, and imagine that you are trying desperately to comply but you can't because your hand is NOT IN A FIRE. Also, no one around you is offering much sympathy, because to the whole world, including you, your hand looks perfectly normal.

I read somewhere recently that the military is attempting to develop weapons using this kind of nerve-stimulating technology, so that they can do stuff like break up mobs and give women self-protection devices that inflict pain without any actual wounds or physical damage. Well, I think it should be illegal, that's what I think.

I lost it around five this afternoon and had a screaming, sobbing breakdown, but now I have moved to the cold, frenetic stage. Eventually it will go away. It has to. And if it doesn't, I'm going to go out back and chop my hand off with the turkey axe.
psalm_onethirtyone: (It's a Little Sad To-Night)
To-day is a bit of a mish-mosh of things.

I spent altogether too long doing things while listening to Istanbul (not Constantinople) because it drives Sagramore crazy. This is too fun a discovery. It makes Sagramore absolutely nuts, and it has been stuck in my head all day.

Maria spent to-day looking for things that have washed up during all the flooding. There's a lot of scrap metal we can sell, and she found a pink golf ball as well. The best thing, though, is still certainly the miracle turtles we found Wednesday, the little Russian Doll turtles. There is apparently a bridge up by the covered bridge, that Maria thinks would be nice to have, but hard to move, and so prettily made that it probably belongs to somebody in a more serious way.

Together we all managed to figure out Sunday's New York Times crossword. I hate crosswords because I am so bad at them, and yet I can't stop playing them.

(Daddy is really sick and can't see practically at all. Maria is scared and it's making her angry. I wish we were insured for the surgery and I don't think we are. I wish we had more things to hold onto.)

It seems like we've all started doing the thing I used to, where I would make up something to keep on trying for, no matter how far off or silly it was, so that I wouldn't just give up. Mama keeps saying, when I change jobs, like it's a promise or something.

Maria baked new bread to-day, and the whole house smelled like it. When it was finished I cut off a hot piece and ate it with peanut butter, like a blessing, and felt blessed. I've started a sort of daily ritual of praising my physical self to reassure me, and so in the morning or evening I'm always talking to myself, saying pretty things about my hair or my feet.
psalm_onethirtyone: (End of the World)
Well, that's it. I'm dead. The entire world has flooded. XD

We all got up at seven to come to the old house and bail water out of the basement for three hours. The Mahantango is over its banks about fifty feet in either direction. All of our paths are covered up.

It's amazing. It's the second Great Flood. I am entranced. And also REALLY REALLY COLD from standing waist deep in water for three hours.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Gold-Sun Glory in the Wind)
Has been a v. Mordred day, which fact I resent incredibly. I hate being Mordred (for one thing, everything tends to go wrong).

My nose is v. cold and I put my hand down on the coffee burner, but I did find out that Rachel lives about fifteen minutes away from us and her mother delivers our mail. We discussed carpooling to work. This is excellent news.
psalm_onethirtyone: (SHEEEEEEEEEEEP)
Well--Calico had two seizures to-day, one at ten a.m. and one at eight p.m. Daddy's going to take her to the vet to-morrow (I can't), and I called the Aunt to see if she had any advice, but she said it could be anything from epilepsy (since Cali is an outdoor cat, we can't say for sure how long she's had seizures, really) to feline leukemia, so the vet was definitely necessary. The problem, I guess, is that we can't really afford to do anything if it's something major.

So, in a very serious after-dinner conversation, we agreed that if it's something like leukemia, or a tumour, we will just make her as happy and snuggly as possible and let her die. There's no way we could pay for treatment. And that's--well, that's natural, to die. And we'll put her in good earth.

Of course, she may just have a bacterial infection, in which case there's not really a problem. Still, it's a little scary.

In the meantime she is sleeping on my bed, and got eggs and leftover beef stew for supper, so she's feeling pretty good. :)
psalm_onethirtyone: (And She'll Go Mad)
Excitingly enough, we were robbed last night.

At church to-day, Shirley took one look at me and started pulling at my shirt and saying, "Oh, you need to cover up your bra straps!". She kept poking my shirt and trying to make it modest. It's a soft white tank top that goes under a much prettier crinkly white long-sleeved blouse that's meant to be worn open. Maybe I shouldn't wear it any more! This is the second time someone's commented that it's revealing.

(the first time, it was one of the librarians. There was a boy who had removed his shirt in the library, and I went back to let her know, and I said, "There's a boy who isn't wearing a shirt--". She said, "Neither are you," and looked at me pointedly. As I said! I should probably stick to wearing it at home, seeing as it elicits such a response.)

In any case, they took the CD players out of the cars, Mama's digital camera, and my car keys; as far as we can tell, nothing else. I remain glad we're moving--I assume the Mennonite neighbours won't do this.

At church to-day, Rog gave me a colouring book of anatomy, a college-level colouring book! XD I love it. I need to write him a very pretty thank-you note. Eheehee.

(This song in my subject line, I need to upload it; it always makes me cry. It's very--meaningful. To me. Amy gave it to me; Amy has this way of knowing what will touch me.)
psalm_onethirtyone: (Soujin's People)
Charlie died on Sunday. Gayle died Monday night. I'm going to have to call my professor and tell her I can't make class to-morrow. I have to go to Gayle's funeral.

Charlie didn't even have anybody. The newspaper obit didn't give a funeral date to go to. I don't know what Bobby's going to do without him. He sang Bobby to sleep every night. I don't know who's going to sing to Bobby any more. And the obit was only about four lines, because nobody even knew him. I should have written one and sent it in. I should have done something so they could see somebody loved him. I loved him.

And I didn't even know Gayle was sick. They told me she was fine and she was just as the hospital for routine stuff. They told me she'd be back next week. They said she was fine. Three weeks ago I took her to the mall and bought her popcorn shrimp, and we went shopping. It's just not right, it's too sudden, they don't let us say good-bye right.

I wish I knew when Charlie's funeral was, or where he's even buried. I miss him so much. I can't even stop crying.

I wish I wasn't working to-morrow. I don't know how I'm going to handle working until ten after this. The funeral is at ten and then I'm going right to work, and my heart is crying, I just wish it hadn't been so sudden. There was plenty of time to let Grandma go.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Our Lesson)
A defining characteristic--

If you go away, and if you go away for a long time, when you come back I'll also be here, and it will be like you never went away at all; I always wait. You come back and I'm there, if you want me.

(I'm burned all over my arms and I have sleeping cancer in my shoulder; these things happen, you get used to it. To-night I have a date, and I won't be home until eleven-thirty, at best--these things offer happiness, you take them and hold them in your hands.)
psalm_onethirtyone: (Cascade Pond)
Oh, right...!

Leaving to-morrow at six. ^^ Back next Saturday or Sunday or something. I am going to the place in my icon! armed with camera and hiking boots and other necessaries of life, like a metric tonne of books. Mmm.

(Oh, man, did we have an adventure getting my prescription refilled. I forgot to pick it up to-day when I left work, and I remembered half an hour before the pharmacy closes, so Mum and I dashed out and drove to Newport, where we discovered that our hard work was for naught, as the insurance company was not paying for me to get my meds until to-morrow, long after we'd be gone. So that left me with two pills and a week of time, and--augh.

So we were going just to buy some (at over five dollars apiece akfjasdfjasklfasjkl), but the pharmacy people were really, really nice and actually telephoned the insurance company to ask them to override and get me my meds a day early, which after ten minutes or so of finagling they did. And everything was okay! Sure, it was nine and the pharmacy people wanted nothing more than to get the heck out of there, but insurance-paid-for pills are only sixty-six cents apiece and come in bottles of thirty.

All is well. But, boy, were we worried at the time. I was all out.)
psalm_onethirtyone: (Lieder ohne Worte)
I think this song is the only thing keeping me sane sometimes.

Mama's best friend Susan, who I wrote about on Maundy Thursday, who's been sick from her chemo, she died. We're going to the funeral to-morrow. Her husband asked Daphne to ask Waen and me to be greeters. Mama is very broken right now.

We're all having trouble, too. I think everything is sliced up like it was broken and then someone set the pieces back so that they're in a shape of what they were, so that there's space between the ages. And we are trying to manage, and it's all funny and piecey, too. But we're trying.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Window)
To-morrow I will light lots of candles for lots of people.


psalm_onethirtyone: (Default)

January 2012

12345 67
89101112 1314


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags