(no subject)
I'm sorry for metaphorically dying on you guys. By which I mean "disappearing and ceasing to make posts, as I am wont to do on websites, this one particularly". I don't know why I say "you guys", because no one actually reads this rubbish.
Anyway. My college semester ended and it started again yesterday. Stuff happened. I'll explain it in anachronic order. I'll start by talking about what happened last night.
I was supposed to spend the night at my aunt's house. This is typical of Tuesdays. I go to her house and I sleep there and that's convenient for when I go work at her school the next morning.
Now, what I wasn't expecting was to have a giant fit of headache and nausea while I was there. While I was attempting to simultaneously do homework and fight back homophobic comments on an online article with snarky-but-true responses (for the curious - I succeeded at doing both. And I did my very best. And I think I did quite well.)
As soon as I forced myself to send the e-mail to my teacher (it was for Psychology, and I'll say a bit more about that momentarily; we all had to write one page - as in, would fit all on one page - regarding whether or not we believed in free will or determinism. While I believe in both at the same time, I believe "more" in free will, so I wrote about it), I felt an intense need to vomit. So I went to my aunt's loo and attempted to do so. (Ever notice how, sometimes, you have to "attempt" to vomit even though you already feel like doing so? It was like that.) I didn't vomit. I took a shower, then, to see if it would make me feel better. Partway through the shower, I felt the urge to vomit again. So I got out of the shower, set out a trail of towels leading to the toilet so as not to get the floor wet (the toilet is in its own little room apart from the shower - my aunt has a weird house), and hovered over the toilet, vomiting for perhaps a little less than a minute. This is rather a long time in terms of vomiting. After that, I flushed the toilet, cleaned up the little bit of mess that still existed, and went back to my shower. When I finished with the shower, I got dressed again, made myself some tea, and went to the back bedroom that I was supposed to stay in. All perfectly normal. I read just sat in bed with my tea, reading Hitchhiker's Guide (fact: my absolutely beautiful copy of all five books got lost about half a year ago. I found it that night under the bed. I was so happy.)
After a bit (after my head started feeling less headachey and I didn't feel so wibbly-wobbly when I stood up), I went out and announced to my aunt (who was watching telly, as she often does) that I had vomited and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to work for her tomorrow. She told me to relax and that I shouldn't work (it's always a bit hard for me to admit that I shouldn't work, and it's even harder when someone agrees). But we ended up getting my mum to come for me. In the meantime (which was a few hours) I sat, read, had tea, occasionally texted Sofya (who...she just sort of John Watsoned me, which in this case I figure meant "put up with the dumb, rather silly things I had to say because I'm mostly intelligent and she's my friend and she said sort of emotionally reassuring things in the face of sickness and stuff like that"). I ended up going home and sleeping for twelve hours (as in, I went to bed at 11, got up at 11). I voluntarily slept in so long because I was having interesting dreams and I didn't want to get out of bed in hopes that I'd drift to sleep again and resume them. (I did. I was sort of excited because I think I was having sort of a sequel to a dream I'd been having another recent night - I may end up talking about them if I can figure out a sense of coherency to them.)
I later talked to my mum regarding the reason for my vomiting. We concluded it was because of bad Italian food and stress. Yes, I think I may have for the first time in my life vomited out of stress. I now know how one of my other friends feels. (I had a friend who used to very frequently vomit out of stress; weirdly enough, yesterday was her birthday). The stress easily could have come from my new college classes, which were yesterday.
I have biology, English, and psychology. I think I'm going to enjoy psychology the most. The biology teacher will probably be informative and funny, but he spent most of the time going over the syllabus and telling us what the class will be like (understandable; first day and all). The English class seems to be rather dull, and there's something weirdly intimidating about the teacher. The psychology teacher both loves and hates Freud, and we're going to do dream analyses on ourselves. After class, I told her that I'm asexual and even though I find hearing about the psychology of sex to be quite interesting, a lot of the Freudian stuff may not be applicable to me because of my orientation. I was deathly afraid that she'd tell me something was wrong with me. Instead, her exact phrasing was "fantastic", and she said she looked forward to seeing my perspective. That made me happy. But yeah. Stress occurred today. In the form of school and stuff.
So other than school (which is important but not nearly as eventful as I'd have thought) I didn't do anything yesterday. Other than that and the getting sick. I wonder, was I stressed without even noticing it? Was I stressed without realizing it until I had to throw up? (Well, I bet bad Italian food assisted the vomiting, but do you see where I may be going with this?) Maybe stress works in mysterious ways. Blimey, I don't know how I feel about stress anymore.
My exact plans for the day are to stay in my room, sit in my bed, read Hitchhiker's Guide (sometimes aloud; I realized I have a great capacity for comedy in my reading voice and I like doing the character's voices), play Zoo Tycoon 2, maybe get some productive things done, and listen to the Decemberists and other music. I'm sort of looking forward to today.
Anyway. My college semester ended and it started again yesterday. Stuff happened. I'll explain it in anachronic order. I'll start by talking about what happened last night.
I was supposed to spend the night at my aunt's house. This is typical of Tuesdays. I go to her house and I sleep there and that's convenient for when I go work at her school the next morning.
Now, what I wasn't expecting was to have a giant fit of headache and nausea while I was there. While I was attempting to simultaneously do homework and fight back homophobic comments on an online article with snarky-but-true responses (for the curious - I succeeded at doing both. And I did my very best. And I think I did quite well.)
As soon as I forced myself to send the e-mail to my teacher (it was for Psychology, and I'll say a bit more about that momentarily; we all had to write one page - as in, would fit all on one page - regarding whether or not we believed in free will or determinism. While I believe in both at the same time, I believe "more" in free will, so I wrote about it), I felt an intense need to vomit. So I went to my aunt's loo and attempted to do so. (Ever notice how, sometimes, you have to "attempt" to vomit even though you already feel like doing so? It was like that.) I didn't vomit. I took a shower, then, to see if it would make me feel better. Partway through the shower, I felt the urge to vomit again. So I got out of the shower, set out a trail of towels leading to the toilet so as not to get the floor wet (the toilet is in its own little room apart from the shower - my aunt has a weird house), and hovered over the toilet, vomiting for perhaps a little less than a minute. This is rather a long time in terms of vomiting. After that, I flushed the toilet, cleaned up the little bit of mess that still existed, and went back to my shower. When I finished with the shower, I got dressed again, made myself some tea, and went to the back bedroom that I was supposed to stay in. All perfectly normal. I read just sat in bed with my tea, reading Hitchhiker's Guide (fact: my absolutely beautiful copy of all five books got lost about half a year ago. I found it that night under the bed. I was so happy.)
After a bit (after my head started feeling less headachey and I didn't feel so wibbly-wobbly when I stood up), I went out and announced to my aunt (who was watching telly, as she often does) that I had vomited and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to work for her tomorrow. She told me to relax and that I shouldn't work (it's always a bit hard for me to admit that I shouldn't work, and it's even harder when someone agrees). But we ended up getting my mum to come for me. In the meantime (which was a few hours) I sat, read, had tea, occasionally texted Sofya (who...she just sort of John Watsoned me, which in this case I figure meant "put up with the dumb, rather silly things I had to say because I'm mostly intelligent and she's my friend and she said sort of emotionally reassuring things in the face of sickness and stuff like that"). I ended up going home and sleeping for twelve hours (as in, I went to bed at 11, got up at 11). I voluntarily slept in so long because I was having interesting dreams and I didn't want to get out of bed in hopes that I'd drift to sleep again and resume them. (I did. I was sort of excited because I think I was having sort of a sequel to a dream I'd been having another recent night - I may end up talking about them if I can figure out a sense of coherency to them.)
I later talked to my mum regarding the reason for my vomiting. We concluded it was because of bad Italian food and stress. Yes, I think I may have for the first time in my life vomited out of stress. I now know how one of my other friends feels. (I had a friend who used to very frequently vomit out of stress; weirdly enough, yesterday was her birthday). The stress easily could have come from my new college classes, which were yesterday.
I have biology, English, and psychology. I think I'm going to enjoy psychology the most. The biology teacher will probably be informative and funny, but he spent most of the time going over the syllabus and telling us what the class will be like (understandable; first day and all). The English class seems to be rather dull, and there's something weirdly intimidating about the teacher. The psychology teacher both loves and hates Freud, and we're going to do dream analyses on ourselves. After class, I told her that I'm asexual and even though I find hearing about the psychology of sex to be quite interesting, a lot of the Freudian stuff may not be applicable to me because of my orientation. I was deathly afraid that she'd tell me something was wrong with me. Instead, her exact phrasing was "fantastic", and she said she looked forward to seeing my perspective. That made me happy. But yeah. Stress occurred today. In the form of school and stuff.
So other than school (which is important but not nearly as eventful as I'd have thought) I didn't do anything yesterday. Other than that and the getting sick. I wonder, was I stressed without even noticing it? Was I stressed without realizing it until I had to throw up? (Well, I bet bad Italian food assisted the vomiting, but do you see where I may be going with this?) Maybe stress works in mysterious ways. Blimey, I don't know how I feel about stress anymore.
My exact plans for the day are to stay in my room, sit in my bed, read Hitchhiker's Guide (sometimes aloud; I realized I have a great capacity for comedy in my reading voice and I like doing the character's voices), play Zoo Tycoon 2, maybe get some productive things done, and listen to the Decemberists and other music. I'm sort of looking forward to today.