From both sides of the fence

It's another of those "I have a hundred things to say and I don't have the time to say them so I'll say a hundred other things instead" posts.

Everybody has a way of saying "yes, I'm still alive, yes, I'm still occupying this space!" This is mine. I guess I post these things partially because I feel a certain duty, or rather, I feel that people watching this space may feel a little neglected. It might be altogether silly for the most part, but that's what compels me anyway.

Ironically, the things that I want to write about more recently I've hesitated to do so because they seemed more -personal- or rather thoughts that were so half-baked that I'd want to keep them to myself. This is a contrast to my general approach to LJ: I wanted it to be as complete an account of things I was doing and thinking as possible. Now I appreciate the limitations of this. There is also this strange pervasive sense of insecurity that I've left to sit and see what happens- turns out that it hasn't done anything which means it also hasn't gone away. I suppose I should just go the hell ahead and write what I've been wanting to say since...hell...it's what I'm thinking!

( I'm boring )

If you wanted some productive reading, I hope you didn't read the above cut. If you wanted something worth your time, you'd be better off looking below.

( Aw, what the hell. Not-100% Safe For Work behind this cut )

Wow. I only spent like, the entire day writing this post on-and-off. Now it's almost time to go to bed. I should finish another lecture though.

Later!

An attempt to organise my life and state some proactive goals

Right, so I'm flying to Malaysia in precisely 24 hours, and:

1. My room is still a mess.
2. I have a very important letter and an informal CV to write and send (at least I've done the other submission thingy...that one was particularly urgent).
3. I still have a list of requests that I am going through too slowly.
4. We're missing Malaysia-Australia adaptors.
5. My net died in the middle of some rather delicate conversations as my brother and mother were calling through from the US...

Ooh, that's probably getting irrelevant now.

( These holidays have been spent with my feeling curiously displaced )

In other news, my mother and brother unexpectedly splurged and bought me the complete 120 set of Prismacolors as well as some holdfast (non-fade) pencils...and tree-free hemp paper. ZOMG. My mother and I may not see eye-to-eye but her concerns about the content and the time-consuming nature of my hobbies aside, I have realised (and mentioned to the effect) that she actually likes the fact that I draw (since she drew alot herself too). Still, this tickles me pink in some respects (and, sadly, makes me feel horrid in others). More pragmatically speaking, this does for me something I've been unwilling to spend the cash on: good pencils so that I can improve and branch out my drawing more aggressively. Because I do love to draw, and I do hate not being able to draw certain things because I'm simply not good enough.

Speaking of art, as testament to my inability to stay on task:





WARNING: NAKED BUNNY

Product of yesterday! New character, actually, not entirely new, but he's this guy. As you can see (CLICKY THE LINKY THINGY the thumbnail looks TERRIBLE) I've changed the skull alot- when I first attempted drawing rabbits, I made the amateurish mistake of attempting to let the ears do the work. The styles clashed as I was trying to do...like...a realistic version of Cream (from Sonic et al.) and, like...no. So this guy's my second attempt- or second and third, since the second consisted of an essentially human head with altered muzzle and of course the ears (some hen- I mean manga influences evidently). I suppose this approach was in part successful but I totally freaked strawcat out with those glassy, soulless eyes. Having accomplished this feat in my next quick sketch (quick save for the bloody head, that is, oh boy I struggled) I decided that yes, this approach was definitely not working (another friend called them "killer zombie eyes" to which I had to agree...I will eeeeat your soooouuuullll...) and whacked on an actual rabbit head, slightly modified.

Bingo. We have, for all intents and purposes, an anthropomorphic rabbit, in keeping with my insistence on relatively realistic anatomy. By the way, he needs a name!!! I started out with Dent, or maybe Jack, but neither of those fly. Neither did Felt. Bill I stuck with for a bit but it was indeed a total joke, as was Charlie. Fleet is too corny, but Fleck and Flisk are just way off. It pretty much needs to be monosyllabic, relatively uncommon, but also preferably denoting no meaning except by phonetic connotation. And I majorly suck at giving names.

You'll note that he's the strongest built yet (I decided to make him an exotic dancer for the hell of it, huzzah), and you might even note that I've been drawing more muscular characters as time wears on (Rael was pretty thin, though that is very different now...Morgan was spindly but has broad shoulders, Orlestat is pretty damn ripped.) No, I am *not* developing a muscle-fur fetish! Honest. Though I do have to address the fact that my habits in terms of subject matter are rather narrow in scope. I need to exorcise some demons and draw a larger range of characters. Ah yes, that's a good idea. While I'm thinking about broadening the palette, I also need to start looking at more diverse architecture, hierarchical (religious) themes, more complex drapery and non-flattering, candid poses- all of which I tend to shy away from for a variety of psychologically-based reasons. Which reminds me- costuming tips would also be much appreciated. I wanted to have this sleeve-thingy, but it doesn't seem to go so well with a loin-cloth, and I suck at costuming anyway.

Now, I should finish up what I'm doing and head to bed. Perhaps the reason I'm still feeling so marvellously displaced is because I'm still high on MSG. Also, I may be online whilst in Malaysia, but not a whole lot (and time zone changes, obviously: GMT+0800). After that, I'll be in Sydney until about the 10th (Feb).

So. Later!

Well, I kinda disappeared off the net for a while again...so much for doing a pic-a-day. Also, I'm running out of wasted paper (thanks to too many out-takes). But yeah, I might as well regale you a brief account of the exams anyway:

( 3 exams and 1 scribble later... )

Now, finally, I also did manage to finish that pic I mentioned earlier- so I'll blab on about that now:





First off, I'm testing this sparkly new VCL feature that I remember Ch'marr (the administrator) mentioned some time back before I even had an LJ...it's basically the beginnings of a cross-posting comments system. I just want to see what it looks like, since I do not think I'll be enjoying any "additional exposure" as such a system would probably bring- audience on both LJ and anywhere else is small, and I'm not sure whether I'd actually want people commenting on the journal through VCL or what, because, as you can see, I tack everything in the same place. Either way, it's a thumbnail so CLICKY THE LINKY THINGY (yay, I get hits) because the full size pic is pretty large- it has to be.

Anyway, so this is yet another Rael-vs-Arael sparring pic (well, I haven't posted many online, but I have a collection going.) These seem to share the following characteristic features: a) Rael is always on the back foot, b) they spar in a grassy clearing surrounded by fairly dense foilage, c) ...I can't think of a third feature, uhm, it's always a motion-filled pic? That'll do.

One reason I do not draw the half-dragon characters nearly as much as I used to (back when they were my ONLY characters) is because the wings are a real pain in the butt. However, since anthropomorphic characters aren't realistic by any stretch of the scientific imagination, I've become a little less anally retentive about it...and also I am getting a bit better at the anatomy as well as appreciating principles of motion. Since I was watching Lateef and Tony have at it, this scribble has a distinct capoeira influence. Rael is hitting the deck while Arael sweeps overhead in what would probably have been a triple 540 (outside cresent right, inside crescent left and finish with a jacknife). All very showy and stuff.

As a result of that, the background (which takes the most time as usual) is divided into two parts- as an exercise in framing. Rael's motion is vertical, whilst Arael's is more horizontal, or perhaps radial to some point below the bottom of the picture. Then there's the perspective from somewhere directly behind Rael's left foot. All in all, something I haven't tried before, and I'm not altogether displeased with how it turned out. The tint was the result of several hours of trying to fiddle with the settings in grayscale before giving up- I thought since I already tampered with the background digitally, why not that too.

A final side note- I decided to dispense with niceties and gave Rael a slightly anatomically correct touch- mercifully obscured by motion blur. However, I was not intending to do the same with Arael (I'm not referring to the breasts, although they look more appropriately placed for a moving body than previous attempts), but very sloppy penmanship did it for me. I couldn't be bothered correcting it as this page had too much white-out on it already and it was written on the back of my anatomy notes anyway. I mean, whatever!

Okay, now it is so far past my bedtime that I will have to set the alarm, lest I fail to wake up and miss my exam...which would prove most displeasing.

Dong, out.

Before I start this post, I have to share a bit of humor.

Yesterday was a very windy day. Even though this building was double-brick, I could feel the gusts of wind buffeting it. Needless to say, if a relatively squat double-brick building from the 70s was quivering from the wind, what to say of flimsier structures?

When my sister returned from an outing, she asked me if I had seen what happened to the garage roller-door in the parking lot. I hadn't, but I probably should have. It had vanished sometime that morning and was no longer sitting in its usual place- framing the garage door. In fact, it was nowhere to be seen, from the sixth floor balcony of our apartment.

Apparently it had blown off and toppled, taking with it several bricks of the supporting wall and a sign that read "Parking for RESIDENTS ONLY". Somebody (or an army of people) had snuggled it into what was supposed to be our car spot. The only problem was that door weighed nearly a ton...and given that I can barely lift either end of a grand piano (which is equivalent- imagine attempting to hack-squat that much), not only must there have been at least three or four people handling that door, but it should have made a godalmighty racket. Either way, I missed the entire event, so it shall remain a mystery to you also.

So onto what happened on the 23rd:

( Sis )

( Kitty )

So at any rate, birthday wishes go to both my sis and my kitty :P Now I think I will go and do something about all the bunch of loose ends that is my life presently.

Dong, out.

Alright, I had better explain what spawned that random post about being ashamed. If I slip into rant mode, bear with it, turn a blind eye on it, do what have you with it. Just don't bug me about it.

Yesterday (or the day before) I got a wicked migraine which continued well into the next day regardless of pharmaceutical intake (and I'm not taking that codeine shit because it apparently misbehaves in my system and gets me stoned for an unduly long period of time- last time I took the stuff it fucked up my maths assessment). I'm getting all these weird neuro problems for the first time while at uni- the tinnitus flaring up, the labyrinthitis, (well the breakdowns aren't exactly a once-off), and now this. I know that it was my middle cerebral artery as the pain was localised to somewhere in the left parietal lobe, and while I had some photosensitivity in my left eye and nausea, it wasn't that the pain got to me so much as it lay under my skull, and damn, that really irritates.

Also, I haven't been exactly mister sunshine the past few days. ( Long post. Read if you give two shits. )

Ultimately, while my desires necessitate a certain love, the drive for the ambition is fuelled by hatred and anger. And because it runs so deeply personal, that is why I always get my way. Because I don't care which or how many motherfuckers get in my way, I'm not stopping, and I'm not giving up. I'll show the lot of you just what futile really means.

Ironically, it may very well mean that before my dreams have a chance to take flight, somebody might have the presence of mind to cut me off by manipulating any number of indiscretions I make and may make in the future. That what would damn me is the same as the very thing I want to change would be the greatest cruelty of all, yet it is merely one that is practiced on a daily basis without so much as a second thought. For the masses won't be satisfied until they know that they're better than someone else.

Damn, my migraine's coming back. At this rate, I'll give myself an aneurysm. Well, it's been a total waste of a day. So I guess I'll go to bed.

So on Thursday I went to the psychiatrist's again to see if I couldn't complete my history today and be done with it. I came away convinced that the doctor I was seeing is indeed a good one, and not a mister-moneybags like I first feared. As a result, I didn't manage to finish my history at the second appointment, but this doesn't appear to matter since my agenda has changed slightly. Here's how:

When I left off last, I was looking at a concrete diagnosis of Bipolar II and some anti-convulsants. Now I wasn't so sure about the whole pills business, but after all, several features of my H_x were very consistent with such a DD_x. And he wanted to see me again, and like my mother, I just wanted to dispense with this business, get the formality out of the way and be done with it. So I didn't think I would have to say very much to him in this appointment.

I ended up going into areas I didn't expect to flesh out much, but just as well I did, I guess, because when reviewing progress, he said that he did feel that maybe the anti-convulsants weren't the way to go after all. In fact, the way he summed up the situation was pretty much the way I was thinking, prompting me to think in turn that maybe it was worth following up to see just how far I can get with this history business. That is to say, this may prove to be more valuable than I initially figured.

I wasn't intending to give him all the pieces or all the major fragments anyway, such as my early childhood (which I have hardly dealt with on this journal) but he cursorarily brought them up and far be it from my interests to tell him that wasn't relevant. Due to time constraints, I now think I have way too much unfinished business, so now it is a matter of figuring "okay I reckon he's a fine psychiatrist, but just how much should I tell him?" Concerns of judgment and confidentiality come to mind at this point, but it occurs to me that these will have to be dispensed with if I am to fill in what I believe are the most important and final pieces of the puzzle. I don't know.

Right now I guess I'm just being reminded of a few things, again. I'm letting certain feelings back into my life and sometimes it saddens me, other times it aggravates me (usually to note muted and dismissive reactions). You could almost say it makes for an emo time, if I should choose to care about that. I was going to post something here but despite having a nice low emo:content ratio in this journal it might be too wallowy for most people to stomach (what can I say, misery truly loves company). And besides, if I should wait a few years while the trash compactor that is social pressure slowly crushes my spirit, perhaps I would be glad in retrospect that I didn't even bother expressing myself in the first place.

Uni starts tomorrow, which means that it's time for me to sleep, and between appointments for counselling, assessment, mentoring and arranging transfers, I'll have significantly less time to do anything much. I hope I haven't raised my expectations of neuro too high.

Alright, exams are now finished. This would normally mean that I'll get back online and stuff, but when I got back today after going on a shopping trip and to lunch with my mother, I attempted to dial up to discover that the modem had...died.

I was not particularly amused, since I pretty much was about to drop dead and was looking forward to catching up with some nice quality time and fixing this journal and all sorts of other administration. Also, I need my marks and to sort out some appointments and for that, I need teh internets.

This is not to be so for a little while, it seems. I was forced to once again go to into town to see if I couldn't get myself any old piece of shit 56k modem to tide me over till the end of the year. No luck- there were a grand total of two. And they cost 80 bucks. And I was very not happy. So here I am, updating from the university computer.

Just briefly, in that case, I will say that these exams were a much more pleasant affair than my normal drop-a-load-in-my-pants exam sessions. I actually knew most of the work (with the exception of the details of much of the health-practice exam, which I somehow managed to be late for), and despite being dead tired, am relatively confident of fulfilling requirements. The Short-Course exam (simulated clinical interview) too was a very pleasant affair, surprisingly, since I normally suck at these things.

I'll probably get the results tomorrow or the day after. It is now my intention to go off and draw horsies, and write uselessly pedantic philosophy essays, and work on my overblown projects. Actually I want to finish some piano-duets I was writing since while I am still apprehensive about my academic progress should I transfer back to Sydney, all other factors tell me that's plainly the way to go!

I should probably start heading back now since my mother is alone at home and I have to switch my phone off while in this lab, so she (if she's awake) may be getting somewhat worried. It'd also be poor form if my sister beats me home.

So I will update...later. Like when I get a new modem or something.

Pleased to say that I almost sailed through the 3 hour written paper with significantly less bullshit than last semester.

Aside from running out of time and realising I could have, after all, answered the last big question (more than a tenth of the paper), swapping all the acronyms in my molecular cascades (cAMP, GTP, cGMP, PKA, it's all the same thing when you're cramming...ooh I think I saw somebody cringe), fudging a question about bronchopulmonary segments (that one was for the physios, not the meds...) and not really knowing the which was which when comparing static and dynamic lung volumes in obstructive and restrictive airway disease...I'd say that exam was relatively easy.

All up, I'm actually expecting to do more than pass that one. Although 80% is a bit of an optimistic estimate.

Now I have 3 more exams to go, so I'm going to pop off the radar again for a bit. However, I will plead guilty to wasting time in my usual fashion! Not to say it was unproductive though. I was studying, um...anatomy. So, a teaser is in order:



I think the only comment I have to add is that I wonder what was going through Netter's mind when he did his slides. And I wonder how tomorrow's exams will turn out. Maybe I should sleep on that one.

Later.

Today I went to the VDHP (Victorian Doctor's Health Program) to update them on my history (for like the fifth time to the fifth party, zomg), or in this case, about the mood swings and the recent events and troubled relationships etc. etc. so that we could sort out some management strategy (which, as everybody already said, would be a psychiatric assessment). Basically it involved meeting with the director of the program and his asking me "okay then, what is the problem" and then a half-hour of thrashing it out. *sigh* At least I don't think I'll have to do this anymore because it really is quite bothersome. First to the college mentor and to the academic staff of my faculty (to get the ball rolling, that was fine). Then to student counselling (for special consideration- that was a bit unpleasant). Then to the academic mentor (that was a little unproductive except to get recommended to the VDHP). Then to the Christian counsellor that mom liked (at least we're getting somewhere with that, for sure.) And then now this guy.

I get the feeling that he was getting a little frustrated at my rambling. At the end of office hours on a Friday afternoon, I can hardly blame him. At any rate, after all that, he said he was no psychiatrist, but he felt that I was one of those people who may have had greater than average variation in my mood, but not so much that it might have to be considered "pathological". But that it would be good to get to the bottom of it.

Precisely what I've been thinking all this time.

So! Psychiatric assessment of mood swings, 0930, Monday. Then I've had enough of this stuff for the time being. Not like it affects me in any way, but it sure drags on my time. If I had the motivation to study properly that is.

Bah, I have a lot of updating to do, and really not a whole lot of, um...ability to do that. So this update will be about what I did Tuesday morning- namely a practical exam.

Not much to be said, except this:

Q24

A marshmallow was placed in an airtight container and a tube attached to a pump fed into a location somewhere within it. When the pump was turned on, the marshmallow was observed to expand. The tube was therefore pumping air:

(a) Into the container
(b) Out of the container
(c) Into the marshmallow
(d) Out of the marshmallow
(e) Into or out of the marshmallow

If only all exam questions were like this. Actually, no. I'd be laughing way too much to finish the exam. If not for some mind control and self-restraint, I would have probably been reprimanded for disrupting the exam.

Funnier yet, during the typical exam post-mortem while waiting for the second group to finish (stupid holding pattern), I discovered that there were people who actually selected (c). Then I was really struck down with a case of the rofflecopters and lamayonaise. Too bad I know I screwed up a few of the other questions.

While in the holding room, I got a case of the major boreds. So since the world cup and stuff was on and all that, I got a little nostalgic (not really) for the good ol' days of heroics when I was, as I mentioned in the previous update, a goalie for some god-forgotten soccer team at school:



I had a thing for diving and crazy scissor kicks. Often I wasn't worth a damn but occassionally there was the lucky fluke and the even rarer moments of brilliance. And I always wore glasses- they suffered terribly especially when taking the classic super faceball.

Also, that "wham" shouldn't be there but Gihan poked his nose in and scribbled it while I wasn't looking.

I just happened to be sitting next to Mon, who is currently in the throes of the terrible curse known as WoW addiction. And therefore DotA. So she was going on about succubi or incubi or whatever it was. "They're really cool" she said, "they're the most powerful demon you can summon" etc. etc. Then she tried drawing one. So I adapted it.



I mean, if it means I get to scribble a sketch of a hot chick, then I won't complain.

I also played some hacky, which probably resulted in my making those foot injuries a whole lot worse. Darn. I'll get photos of them shortly too actually. Maybe not. Just take my word for it- those bruises are still all blossomy and purple.

After that...well I guess I'll deal with that info in a later post.

Well, I think it's about high time I laid that whole "breakdown" thread to rest, because now it seems that the events have played out sufficiently that all there is left is to live the tracks that have been laid out from them. And try not to get derailed because these tracks skirt very close to various pitfalls and abysses. Namely, I do not want to fail the delayed special exams because it would screw up my scholarship and my academic record and any chances of a possible transfer BACK to Sydney, a plan which seems very much on the cards. I shouldn't be wasting time updating but still feeling directionless, I think I'm going to have to get proximity panic to kick me back into got-to-study mode. Since I am still sitting one of my regular exams next week, this will be by tomorrow.

But for now, some indulgence!

( A largely visual exposition on the delights and banalities of le parkour follows )

Gosh, I'm so brilliant I even impress myself sometimes. Or maybe more appropriate a finishing line: lesson of the day- attempting to do physically demanding tasks while in a depressive state is asking for trouble. I shoulda just stayed in bed.

And that, I think, is what I shall do now. Goodnight.

Well, there's quite a few comments on that little distraction of a post which I haven't replied to yet, but I'll actually read them in a little while. So apologies to airstrip, heyfox and lemurstew for not watching your comments on that post yet.

I really don't feel like updating mainly because I'm freezing and I think I just broke one of my toes stubbing it on the corner of a wall (meaning that I cannot walk on my left foot at all because it ALSO has deep bruising on the heel...more on this in a subsequent post). But it is important, after having written up and posting that giant litany, that I follow with this:


( D-Day )

This was originally handwritten (ten pages!) in the worst period of my depression- so strong that it sapped my ability to even live by doing nothing, and made me wish for nothing more than to simply die and be done with it instead of live in despair. It was originally going to be read at the counseling session but I think there are far more efficient ways in which one could communicate- besides, reading this makes for about a 25 minute long speech. Also note that now the counselling session is done, this is merely a record, not a reflection of my specific state now. I will report on the actual events of Thursday in the following post, hopefully coming soon.

( A litany )


PS: The game is up! If you've been reading my posts lately and paying attention...and if you know some specifics...you'll realise what I'm referring to. I think, however, that this makes none of you whom don't already know, so this was kind of a useless post-script.

PS_ii: I know it's hard to think of ways to respond to this in a way that I mightn't find useless or annoying, or you don't need to comment here since you already give detailed feedback...but is it that nobody looks, nobody cares, nobody has the time for either, or nobody knows how to respond appropriately? Maybe it's just that what I'm writing here really doesn't have an appropriate response to it. Your opinions?

First off, thank you to those people who have commented. If I say anything that resembles "emo" or whatnot, please do bear with me especially if I implicitly level false accusations at innocent people, but I'm just more unstable than ever is all.

Before anybody jumps however, I should just go through the events to keep record of what has been happening. Again, the repairman has yet to lodge an appointment to fix up the clock so it's running on a spit-and-string setup to prevent it from completely falling apart. So because I feel rather buggered, I'm just going to be brief and direct.

( I dunno how compelling a read this could possibly be. Um. I get severely depressed. I deal with it. People help me. )

I should at least put down what's to be going on for the sake of completeness, just in case you were wondering:

1. I am still unstable. This will wear away and I'll return to normal, presumably with time.
   
   
2. I am seeing student counselling and will contact the office regarding special consideration. My sincere hope is that I'll get my exams bumped back because I don't know when I'll be able to resume living in full force like I'm accustomed to.
   
   
3. This was a long time coming. I can perhaps get on with repairing and progressing in my relationship with my mother, who has signalled a newfound will to come to terms with other things- but this will take the years that she says I'll take to grow up to decide a few things. I'm willing to bear with that. After all, who knows?
   
   
4. She still wants me to accept god etc. I use prayer as a communication tool, but only earthly, unlike her. However, it seems that the compromise thus far may work out...to some extent. I wonder how this will go.
   
   
5. I arranged to see a counsellor- recommended by Barry. I don't know how this will go, but I am seeing this one with my mother. He is a member of the clergy, and a pentecostal christian which is points for my mother. This worries me if he will start going on the whole prayer path because it should be made well and truly clear that I need some space first and some steps back before anything can move forward. Also, if there is anything about my having to have religion before any progress can be made, I'd sooner punch the window out and slit my carotid with the shards. I trust this will not be the case, though.
   
   
6. From all this, I'm not sure how I should be treating the whole boyfriend business when it comes to discussion with my mother. I know this doesn't do great for my being open and all but she is also aware that we're just gonna leave this issue alone for a little...until we see that counsellor. For the record though, these things tend to (and continue to) draw us ever closer together (how close can one get in an online relationship?) I should just say that he has my complete trust and if I have thoughts to the contrary, somebody slap me and tell me this is not so. I've said that to a few of you already, but this is a blanket statement for those of you who know the fellow. I really do think, though, that even after this "five years", that we'll be just as, or even more so close, although it is sometimes best to display a healthy Humean skepticism with these things, I guess.

Well, I guess it's very late now (about 4am, since depression not only makes the time run slow but the mind run slower). I think I can turn off the detachment drive and haul my ass to bed or something, and try and get on with living. I can be thankful for the help and the care I've received for one, and for the other the ability to seek the appropriate outlets and perform the necessary actions such that I didn't, like many would, fall in the gaps and disappear, and nobody would be able to help them because nobody knew. That's why I write this as a public journal entry. Because I want people to know, and I need to keep myself out of the misconception that baring these things constitutes some kind of inherent weakness, as I can be prone to feeling in those guilt-laden moments.

No, it's not. But I will not wallow around in it hoping people will feel sorry for me. In society, due allowances can be made, but by any health belief model, it behooves me to get back on my feet and use the aids available as fast as possible.

Dong, out.


P.S. Hm. I guess this isn't the first breakdown I've had, come to think of it. As a primary school kid, I was bullied, most severely in grades 5-6, of course by merit of my being "different". It got so bad at one point that it could not have constituted anything other than physical abuse as well as the subtle and not-so-subtle verbal abuse that kids seem accustomed to heap on to the scapegoat, just like a hen-pecking party. Being hen-pecked is no fun, and that's the main reason why I got to be misanthropic, and...well, maybe I'll fill you guys in on the rest of that sentence later.

Well, this is going to be a very up-front, public post. Things are going to be moving very fast indeed for the next few days, which is not good because I am in no condition for this, but on the other hand, this little-mentioned chapter of my life is also going to come to an end very shortly. The final twists in the plot hasn't been written yet, but the inevitables have certainly been revealed.

First, some background. Some of it should be bleeding obvious but I'm going to elucidate and explicitly state as much as needs to be said. And I know it's not great to present it as a list, but

1. As far as I can tell, I am not "straight". I mean, c'mon people, if you've read my LJ in any detail, this should be at least niggling the back of your mind. And I assume if you have a problem with this, then damn, what are you DOING on this journal?
   
   
2. This constitutes a huge problem with my mother. She understands this only as being "homo". According to her, being "homo is not of god". I have no idea what would happen if I attempted to explain to her the notion of "bisexual". I suspect this would probably varying depending on the context, and her mood.
   
   
3. Joking aside, this means I have always been at pains to somewhat conceal it. I still am at pains to conceal it, because life these days is about identity management.
   
   
4. This means I've been having to lie alot to my mother. And I really don't feel altogether great about this for several reasons.
   
   
5. Next: I am also in a long-distance online relationship. With another male. My first, I should note. Again, anybody reading this journal who even takes so much as a peek around can probably work it out for themselves. It's blindingly obvious once you know anyway. So as you can guess, I've been at great pains to hide THIS too, but for the record it seems to me to be going as good as it could get (eh, and shadduppayerface with those jokes about the joys of first love, you oldies).
   
   
6. I informed my brother of this relationship around the turn of 2005/2006. He took it remarkably well. The reason I told him was because of the above problems with my mother, plus a few more which I shall now list.
   
   
7. First, religion. I've already noted this several times, so to summarise, I'm best described as agnostic. Within the framework of Christianity, I hold liberal views. My mother is a staunch, conservative Christian. This has been strengthening for the past four years or so. I have been hurt indirectly by religion and my history with it has been rocky ever since. But I am emotionally somewhat of a coward (I hate fights) and after my first foray into telling my mother about my real thoughts I was immediately shot down. After this, I just didn't say anything. And thus the snowballing effect began.
   
   
8. Also, my mother describes this big hate-on I've been having against her, and she hasn't a clue why. I'll admit. I held some kind of grudge against her for a long time. Probably a combination of adolescence and immaturity, the sudden onset of misanthropism that I now view as a kickback from the denial of status and the remnants of autism and its side-effects, and so much of the hurt that seemed to be caused by her very care. She has a particular way with parenting that pushes one's limits, which brings out the best in you. Provided that you can appreciate it. I do now. So I hurt her alot because I thought she had hurt me alot. She now uses this point against me frequently because it used to surface frequently until more recently when I realised that my grudge shouldn't be as strong as it was (and later that really I wasn't a misanthrope anymore).
   
   
9. So at the beginning of term this year, things had been coming to somewhat of a head. We had thrashed out some issues in religion, and my lack of faith, and of course homosexuality in faith (me: why do you think the big hate-on with homoness is justified anyway? mom: it's in the bible you dolt, are you gay?) Mom started to fear for my orientation and I tried my darnedest to restore her confidence that I had nothing against her faith. So she started taking more demands that I actually get into it. She really wanted to see my salvation. She cared about me greatly in that regard because she saw it as the most important thing. I have been foolishly trying to tell her to wait up for about several decades which of course isn't going to work, but hey, if C.S. Lewis took so long to get converted, why can't I see if I can stall events until I'm halfway across the globe and well out of reach? Stupid. But I was trying.
   
   
10. Then my brother and sister (who got in on the act) felt it important, since I had discussed this and we agreed that there would be no palatable solution, that she should be informed that I had a boyfriend of sorts. She was thusly informed and that evening abused me for 7 hours on MSN, and 2 hours the following day on the phone. I thought I was going to get disowned then. I remember writing a series of long, panicky journal entries and going around checking my financial options. I then realised that I did have such options, if not somewhat scarce. After some very fast talking, I managed to stall things. For a few months.
    
    
11. But reflection following made me realise that all I'm doing is being two-faced, and not because I'm being malicious. I was afraid. I didn't want to hurt people, and I didn't want to have to go through this acrimonious split-up because I thought there was a hope of salvation. Hope of reaching an understanding. And so I kept going on, lying through my teeth because I thought things might become better, if only we had some time...a little more time...
    
    
12. But it was not to be so. Plans were laid for my sister to move down to Melbourne. These are big plans. Risky plans. Plans involving a lot of money. An apartment. Furniture. A lot of effort. A lot of trepidation on both my part and my sister's part. And the ball was set in motion because I tentatively okayed it.

And so here we are. A shitload of irreversible changes coming in, and suddenly this issue pops up again. I guess it's just as well it's coming to a head now because I've been worried sick about it for a while and it's seriously affecting my ability to study (post-before last I mentioned "deliberately being vague" about something, well this is it). So I'm going to summarise the situation here and now.

First trouble started when mom noted I was feeling depressed. I've explained why- I think: low cycle, exhausted, worried, stressed etc. But also this problem. So I mentioned that I was still in contact with my bf. She then starts getting worried about it. In the meantime, she insists for prayers and that I pray too. This is a painful process for me. But I know mom means well, so I do it.

However, she then prays that I get rid of this homosexuality because it is not of God. I've been pretty damn inauthentic to her about all this shit for a while but really, I just cannot say amen to that. I tell her this. Thus starts shit-storm number one. The old issues. I now am convinced of the following:

a) She will not change her stance.
b) There will thusly be no understanding on this front.
c) There will thusly be no chance of understanding on either front.
d) Anything I say contrary to her is automatically slotted into "arrogant and naive." She'd make a great e-philosopher. Also, "Logic is logic!" especially when you use every fallacy in the book and more just to say you're right. This is probably because she is scared and is trying to do her best to reconcile everything to her beliefs.

Let us grant that I am arrogant and naive. But that she says these things in such a manner shows that she simply possesses no understanding of...well I don't know what to say anymore. I can appreciate alot of her points. But not here. I just don't buy that shit.

So I tell my brother what happens. He feels that it is his duty to inform mom, just like last time. So here we go again...for real.

I should thank him for it. Actually, I think I did. Mom then rang me and we attempted to talk for about an hour or so on the phone. And this is what appears to be the plan for the day:

9:00- See the college mentor. I'm going to detail the problems as best I can. I will take a notepad and list, since I don't feel like repeating myself three times verbally, I had best form a decent framework.

10:30- See my PBL tutor. This was originally to check how I was going with PBL. With any luck, I'm going to spread the word far and wide about this problem as possible. Mom thinks this is shooting me in the foot. I sincerely hope that the college equity policy is truly a reflection of the general cultural attitude in Melbourne like I was informed.

...

Well! My mother just rang again to say that I'm sure we could work things out calmly. I have to note that I am somewhat relieved about that...but I don't know...what kind of solution are we going to reach? There are things I haven't spoken about here that I should probably leave well hidden away. Which kind of sucks.

At any rate, this means you should probably somewhat disregard the editorial slant in most of the above because I was taking quotes from today.

Damnit, you read about these kinds of things. And they seem like these weird, whacky stories. Then some people...they live these stories. I dunno. I'm gonna leave one hell of a memoir.

Stay tuned. I still need to apply for special consideration. This week is officially completely fucked, along with week 2, 3, 10 and 12 and 13.

Argh. Still broken. Where did I put that sticking plaster...

Had my clinical examination today, which constitutes the last trip to woop-woop (read: Heidelberg) for the day. So I get up early, and because they say "if you're late, you cannot sit the exam which means you fail" (because this is a hurdle...god knows what the heck you do after THAT...it's like, "yes, you missed it. You're screwed. See you next year.") I naturally got going good and early too. The funny thing, is that the five minutes between two trams makes the difference between me being 20 minutes early, and me being 10 minutes late. So today, I was painfully early. As were most of us in the group.

However, it turned out that our examiner- a qualified doctor, was going to be late because as our hospital admin said: "It's like EVERYBODY *rolls eyes* decided to come down sick this morning." Well bugger. So I ended up sitting around for a good forty minutes or so. Not that I minded. I did some doodling. It was crap. I wanted to fill the page with all these cute expressions of Morgan, but only three came out with the proportions even remotely correct. But these three turn out to be very useful. You'll see why in a moment.

When I say "clinical examination," I mean physical. That is, we mainly touch, observe and listen to a patient to look for signs of a system's fuctionality. Today, we would be doing either the cardiac system, or the respiratory (last semester it was gastro). The examinations are easy enough since they're only very basic level and serve to give us a general framework of the motions we go through so that we can learn the more comprehensive examinations later. For this reason, I find it highly embarrassing if I get less than full marks. Well, that was only because I got full marks last time. There's a big difference between full marks and a fail here (since fail means less than 50%) so in reality it is ridiculously easy, and NOBODY ever fails this. However, I was feeling very stressed because lately, the exams coming up and all that, I'm quite worried (because I put a lot more into it this time around...I'm sure I've mentioned this already.) Maybe that's why the doodles sucked.

After a while, we managed to snag a doctor and eventually the test went underway. The basic procedure is one by one each student performs the nominated examination on a real patient. This of course can present difficulties, such as with the group before us at the same hospital, who were not only presented with a) a female patient, but b) a female patient who refused to expose her chest adequately (and I mean even just the praecordium). This would have...sucked, since it would have made either examination pretty much impossible. At this point, all the students in my group started stressing out and I just got to feeling so over it all.

Eventually after about an hour, I decided to go in. I was a little nervous because my only practice was on my own mother. That was yesterday (day before now). And I have to say, her cardio is in picture perfect shape as far as I can tell (two strong, regular heart sounds, correlates with a strong regular pulse at all major peripheral points, no murmurs, no basal creps, no oedema...I was impressed.) In fact, her cardio might be just as good if not better than mine ("oh, but going to Melbourne is a torture because I have to walk allllll day for everything!" That pretty much explains it. She's been busy for a while.) But I thought "well fuck it" (a la the great Lewbowski) and that tied things up. The examinee was a friendly old chap with what I think was an atrial (mitral) murmur (three heart sounds, weak, regular) and the accompanying ankle oedema to go with it (making the dorsal pedal pulse impossible to palpate, obviously). And just in case I forgot to check for the basal creps, he sat up and leaned forward just for me (at which point the doctor is like "d'oh!"). Obviously a veteran of the cardiac ward, although no central sternonomy.

After I had finished what I considered to be a rather friendly, relaxed examination (phew!), the doc asks me whether I did the carotid. Duh, of course I did. She put this off to her own absent-mindedness but then while I was washing my hands, she then realised it was because I was standing on the left.

Me: "Left??? But don't we traditionally examine from the right?"
Doc: "Yes, the patient's right."
Me: "Uhuh. So..."
Doc: "You were examining from your right."
Me:
Doc: "Which means you were examining from the patient's left."
Me: "So does that mean I failed?"

Doc: "Well, no, this is a learing process, and really that's just a matter of tradition, because you were all squinched up when feeling for the apex beat."
Me: "Ohhhh yeaaaahhh" (funny you should mention that because I sure as hell noticed something was up.)
Doc: "So I found it a little bit hard to assess you properly because you were standing on the wrong side. But as far as the movements went, you're the smoothest and most practiced of what I've seen so far."
Me: "Umm...good...is there anything else I should note?"
Doc: "Well, not really, everything was alright but I had to take off half a mark because you felt for the dorsal pedal pulse too high."
Me: "Oh...true dat."


Well good! That's out of the way then! So what should I do...I think I'll go and...fart around the waiting room! The remaining girls got pissed off at the commercial channel "Mornings with so-and-so, where we advertise lotsa stuff incessantly and hold inane bargain deals, OMG THEY'RE ADVERTISING A DELL LOL!!!" So we turned it off. And I took to doodling again.



You might as well meet a character I've never mentioned before now. He comes from the Short People Army project. Yes, I know, the SPA is supposed to be set IRL, so that would mean humans, not furries. I'll just be saying that back in 2004 before I had even heard of such things as Second Life and the vast world of MMORPGs (with the exception of Runescape, ha-ha), I was already thinking about the trends in videogaming towards being more like a life in their own right, and having very real repercussions. Which would be pretty much consistent with what's in this article. I have a habit of doing that. I should probably read more.

Anyhow, so the alaskan_hound is like...a completely generic furry character (and plantigrade to boot, since he wears two). Canine, almost indistinguishably lupine- but rather he's supposed to be a malamute (go figure- the eyes are a real drawcard). He's of average height (maybe a bit on the short side, even). He's bulky and muscular (but no, he is not a muscle-fur). His profile suggests that he's played by a nearing-middle-aged closet sci-fi fan who lives somewhere in the backwaters of the US and has a thing about cruiser motorcycles and military hardware (if he was being played by a juvenile you could bet that he'd be all spruiky and colorful and have no less than three incongruous, unique superficial features. There's a good reason why all my characters, with the exception of ONE, are all quite simple.)

But in fact, he's going to be a cover for our hero. I haven't given you any more details here because that'd require me to introduce ALL the major primary characters in the SPA and I don't have time to do that here. I'll just say I have to sort out some of the details because it seems difficult to concieve of how what is technically "recreational" can play to the advantage of political and militant revolutionaries engaged in a silent war. All one can assume is that the government and their operatives are too out of the loop to pick up on this...and then I'll take it from there. It all seems rather complex but it strikes me as an increasingly essential constituent if I want to provide a commentary on changing and pervasive social forces that will inevitably be considered in conjuring up a hypothetical revolution.

Finally, the girls told me I should go but I couldn't as Hazizi had borrowed my watch. So I ended up going on the train with him, whereupon he promptly fell asleep. While I was sitting there, this man stumped in and sat just in the row infront, facing me. He looked rather grumpy. Kinda reminded me of the dude from Bad Santa (watch it!!!) Was even holding a brown bottle in a brown paper bag, leaving me to guess for a while what kind of beer it was until he fell asleep and the paper slipped off, revealing it to be Victoria Bitters. He then awoke with a start and rifled through his pockets. A cigarette- or rather, a roll-your-own. Needless to say the waves of tobacco were literally emanating from him. Then I remembered, he was the one limping up and down the platform asking if anybody had a lighter (which nobody did, since he was the only smoker on the entire platform). So I just sat there for a while, pen poised in hand (I had artist's block but I wanted to do something), while watching him fumble around, pick out some pills from his pocket (prescription, I think), and flick it half-idly, half-irritably. Stand up with an irascible "fuck!" frantically searching through his pockets, before producing his keys and sitting back down- "Thought I lost me keys. I panicked," and promptly placing his feet across the seat opposite him. So I looked, and I thought I saw, just before he left at the Jolimont station, this moment. Which I drew.



The figure reminds me half of a primary school drawing, half something else...but essentially that of a gaunt aging man, bitter as the beer in his hand and his smokes, and his pills. And it was like this was all he had, between him and all of his fifty-something odd years. It was a bit of a poignant thought, but one I almost enjoyed, because in it, somewhere, there was what a more sentimental chap (modernist) might call a truth of life.

I was, myself, feeling charitable, though, so I stopped by my mother's temporary lodgings and we went to buy crockery and lunch. Whereupon I discovered that I really perhaps do have too much pride for my liking. Ironically, I found myself feeling cheap at taking advantage of buying perfectly good (but displaced and orphaned) brand-new crockery for a dollar apiece. Like I was cheating something, or being cheap about something. That, in turn, made me feel dirty.

At least I don't feel bad about that now- it was a good buy, and offers like that are supposed to be taken advantage of. That I was even thinking for a moment that it was somehow "beneath" me signalled to me just how proud a person I was. It's hard to get rid of it, even having cultivated a careful skepticism from where I can appear humble, when I'm really just that doubtful of my own relevance.

I'm still in the down. Mom's trying to heal it with god, and such, but I'm finding that an effort more than anything else. The funny thing is that the other things she wants me to do (deliberately being vague here) just scream at me all the louder, that really, either god is in the voice of the people, or maybe if one insisted on being theistic, that social pantheism, some non-sensical term I just made up right there, makes sense as a representative religion. What makes me feel worse about this, is that they're really trying. I think it'll be good to get away from my room, I've spent too long in it for far too long. I'm kinda looking forward to living out with my sis, and the changes that come with it. I just hope that the other changes I see now that may eventually come, will indeed come to fruition, for it would be the best possible end of a set of unpalatable outcomes.

Exams are nigh. I am nearly ready to be getting ready. Just a little more, and I'll be raring again. I know I can do that.