personal fables for an imaginary audience
2003-05-01 - 11:30 p.m.

It's been a rough day. Way too much crying for my liking, bad when all that comes of it is a headache. And once that settles down it gives room for a rise in heartache. Which leads me back to crying. And the whole viscious cycle.

See, I thought if I could hold the academic together I could hold all the rest together, the so-called life, but today it became mind-numbingly heart-stoppingly tear-cryingly obvious that that part is doomed.

I couldn't pinpoint the exact moment but it was somewhere in one of my psych classes, somewhere after the Lecturer showed the heading "Alzheimer's disease" but before he showed pictures of a tangle in the brain suspected to cause it. Oh, that's right, it was about at the part where he showed a picture of a normal brain and the shrinky non-normal brain and I had a montage of all the problems my mother's been having.

Though the parts where he mentioned it being degenerative and everybody in the room would know (/of) someone who had it, just in case you were wondering, weren't fun either.

I don't know. It's like I'm challenging life to prove it could always get worse and it does. I should probably stop challenging it. I suppose I really need to learn to stop challenging.

But I'm not big on the learning. The part of psych which didn't cause me major trauma and slight mental breakdown was good. We learned of a Spanish Neuro something man (Maniz? Moniz?) who thought some experiments on rats destroying their brains looked pretty damn neat so he did it on humans.

People he diagnosed as having emotional problems, he destroyed part of their brains which would lead to them being flat and unemotional. The fun part is how, 'specially considering anaesthetic at the ye olde time was well, very not good. He'd shove a thingy in the brain and core it like an apple. OR he'd put an icepick through the eye socket til he reached the brain and swirled it around some.

Yeah, pleasant. Karma? He died when one of his patients came back and shot him. Muahahahaha.

I have to finish my stats assignment, nearly done, no where near an all-nighter thank god, more a five-minuter, but I'm dawdling so it's taking longer.

I'm so over people with personal fables. So very, very, over. They make me feel insecure and defensive. That's a psych term actually, but since I'm not your psych textbook, I won't explain, although I suspect people who don't have a personal fable are more likely to look it up.

I'll stop talking to the imaginary audience now. Hehehe...also a psych term. I have psych love. It just doesn't love me.


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