Monday, September 26, 2005
I talked to my mom on the phone last night and she could hear that something was wrong. Since freshman year I've had these awful soul-crushing depressions each fall, and I swear I don't know how my mom does it, but she always knows...I was just so utterly depressed today. Nothing seemed worth doing. I half considered calling to make an appointment with the psychiatrist at health services, but thought better of it. I would prefer not to go on medical leave, and it has been not-so-subtly hinted that's where I'm headed if I don't straighten up--straighten up meaning eat correctly and exercise in moderation and have fulfilling personal relationships and not have these little (read:big) depressive twinges. As individuals, I like the therapist and doctor and even psychiatrist I see there: it's really the institution that bothers me. These people are really trying to be helpful, as people, but they're constrained by liability issues. This means that health services' motto is basically "We'll help you all we can--within the parameters of Cornell's institutional policy."
Cornell's instituional policy is cordially invited to suck my left one.
Friday, September 09, 2005
Here I am, reading...something. Organic chem stuff, probably (that again? Yes, that again. It's going to be 'that' for the rest of the year. And then the premed requirements will be done, and I'll take the MCAT and...wait. I don't actually want to think about the application process. I can feel myself hyperventilating already). Yes, I have a fork in my hair, too. Who made you the fashion police?
The roommate is gone for the weekend, which is a pleasant change. I've been having "naked time"--which I highly recommend--and listening to Garbage and Le Tigre at nine in the morning if I want to, and generally have been enjoying not having to be considerate of any other human beings while I'm in my room. Not that she's in the room that often when she's here--it's the principle of the thing, the fact that I don't have to worry about her coming into the room and seeing me au naturel and *bam*, becoming that skeevy roommate who lounges around nude. Which would be unpleasant for all involved.
Watched a movie called "8 Femmes" last night, with Catherine Deneuve and a host of other French actresses. Only problem with the movie, which otherwise was fantastic: My French isn't so good, so I have to look at the subtitles; thus 'multi-tasking' is precluded. Don't ask my why I always feel the need to be doing two (or preferably three) things at once; I have theories, but they're "beyond the scope of this text," as my chemistry book so kindly describes difficult concepts that the authors think, frankly, I'd be too stupid to understand.