![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yes yes, I'm back...
Jun. 29th, 2001 07:49 pmGod, need to read other people's journals to find out what I've missed. Right now though need to do something about the fact that my hands are shaking. This is either a symptom of the fact that I've barely slept for two weeks or a leftover from today's complete and total meltdown on the plane home (shudder... I HATE planes... never want to take one again... oddly enough that's only the second panic attack I've ever had, both of them within a fairly recent time span... ugh, the latest in a long string of bad signs). Normally I have rock-steady hands, right at the moment though I can barely type. Therefore I ask your forgiveness for idiot spelling erros, it's my hands' fault not mine.
Ugh, has anyone out there ever read Catcher in the Rye? It is my considered opinion that it's a piece of shit. No plot, no conflict, no motivation, narrator is very annoying and whiny and spends the entire book bitching about how he hates everything. EVERYTHING. I am NOT kidding. God I hate English class (we've been assured that we'll have to do essays or something on the required reading, otherwise I wouldn't bother).
Hmm. Hands are REALLY shaking. This is slightly worrying. As is the fact that over the past 2 weeks I've had some sort of blazing-fires-of-inspiration thing when normally I can hardly write. Much more alarming is the current level of ritual between me and reality (those of you who were previously unaware of this: I have obsessive-compulsive disorder). I'm gonna try what I did last time this happened, namely near-literally beat it out of myself; unfortunately that's most likely not gonna work. Damn, will have to actually face the idea of going to a psychiatrist. Grr. Last attempt at visiting psychiatrist was disastrous (although admittedly I was 9 years old at the time), his method was to ask me condescending questions, then talk "over my head" to my mom about all the horrible severe cases of OCD he'd ever seen (evidently ignoring the fact that I was obviously paying attention - I can still describe 2 cases in particular), then attempt to prescribe an awfully high dosage of Prozac. (Yes, antidepressants do nice things for your head when you have OCD. Same neurotransmitter.) Fortunately my mom realized he was somewhat more obsessive than I was and I was able to tone down rituals somewhat, thus I escaped; however now I'm having more trouble keeping them in check than I have, ever, since the fourth grade. Do not wish to face prospect of going back; anyone have any better ideas?
Yes, I realize this is a strange and disjointed entry. Blame it on the lack of sleep and the airplane meltdown. Or the cousins. Or today's surreal aspect (for some reason several colleges and Highlights magazine all sent me random mail while I was out of town; I cannot explain this at all; this is only one of many strange things happening lately).
Ugh, has anyone out there ever read Catcher in the Rye? It is my considered opinion that it's a piece of shit. No plot, no conflict, no motivation, narrator is very annoying and whiny and spends the entire book bitching about how he hates everything. EVERYTHING. I am NOT kidding. God I hate English class (we've been assured that we'll have to do essays or something on the required reading, otherwise I wouldn't bother).
Hmm. Hands are REALLY shaking. This is slightly worrying. As is the fact that over the past 2 weeks I've had some sort of blazing-fires-of-inspiration thing when normally I can hardly write. Much more alarming is the current level of ritual between me and reality (those of you who were previously unaware of this: I have obsessive-compulsive disorder). I'm gonna try what I did last time this happened, namely near-literally beat it out of myself; unfortunately that's most likely not gonna work. Damn, will have to actually face the idea of going to a psychiatrist. Grr. Last attempt at visiting psychiatrist was disastrous (although admittedly I was 9 years old at the time), his method was to ask me condescending questions, then talk "over my head" to my mom about all the horrible severe cases of OCD he'd ever seen (evidently ignoring the fact that I was obviously paying attention - I can still describe 2 cases in particular), then attempt to prescribe an awfully high dosage of Prozac. (Yes, antidepressants do nice things for your head when you have OCD. Same neurotransmitter.) Fortunately my mom realized he was somewhat more obsessive than I was and I was able to tone down rituals somewhat, thus I escaped; however now I'm having more trouble keeping them in check than I have, ever, since the fourth grade. Do not wish to face prospect of going back; anyone have any better ideas?
Yes, I realize this is a strange and disjointed entry. Blame it on the lack of sleep and the airplane meltdown. Or the cousins. Or today's surreal aspect (for some reason several colleges and Highlights magazine all sent me random mail while I was out of town; I cannot explain this at all; this is only one of many strange things happening lately).
