PTSD

The occasional post of substance would not go amiss

Sadly, I have nothing to offer but linkage. And not even fantastic Doctor Who linkage; rather, a livejournal penned by none other than that godfather of the pathologically depressed, Haml3t. It's just getting started, but oh, it's funny. Good stuff. Go read it.

Sure, Geoffrey Chaucer Hath a Blog, but this is pure emo!genius.

I'm going to turn off the lights, light a candle, and write depressing poetry in my little black book over in the corner.

Oh fuck. The stupid servant came in again. CAN'T THEY SEE I'M TRYING TO BE DEPRESSED AND ALONE?!

Oh. She wants to bandage me up.

Wait, I do have some content. It's not as exciting as Our War for Human Rights (which, for the record, I don't carry everywhere. Just yesterday I left it in the living room while I went to the kitchen for a snack. I am not obsessively attached to a 90-year-old book. Honest. I can't put it down *anytime I want.* I just don't want to.) But still, it's some comments on life in general, and my particular life in, um, particular.


Things I learned today:

1. One of the ambassadors is arranging his chapters chronologically. The other is tackling the subject matter thematically. Guess whose job it is to get the two parts to flow coherently?

2. Any section for which I complete the footnotes will, inevitably, be cut from the next draft. Three times is a pattern, folks. A pattern that says, "hey, stupid, wait to write the footnotes until the draft is finished." Sure, I'm wearing a striped sweater and a flowered skirt, but that doesn't mean I can't recognize a pattern.

Well, maybe it does. Because I'm not supposed to wear stripes with flowers, am I? Damn it. At least my shoes are cute. And the skirt matches the new ink. Not that I chose it for that reason. That would be silly.

3. People don't believe it when you call one person, find out they're in a meeting with someone else, and then claim to be working hard on something you owe to the someone else. Don't know why it doesn't work, but it doesn't. It's possible I didn't really sell the "working hard" bit. Could be the laughing. Could be that I answered with "are you working all afternoon?" and "I'll call you later, then."

Oops.

4. The stars seem to be aligning in order for me to attempt a comp this summer. Hooray. Sure, the one time the bureaucracy works, it's in furtherance of me adding one more thing to the To Do List of Perdition. *sigh.*

5. Adium plays the title and artist from iTunes as my status message. This would be cooler if I weren't trying to force myself to enjoy the shuffle feature. Excrutiating, but I had forgotten how much I like Ben Lee. So this could be useful. As long as the people on my IM list don't assume that I listen to Styx all the time.

And the new Goo Goo Dolls album is much better than it has any right to be. I'm sure they sucked before. Didn't they?

6. It's much easier to control the randomness when I'm not taking any sort of medications. I think I even make sense. Not so much here, but in conversation. A to B to C to podcasting. Even if my sentence constructions are a bit wonky because I was up until 4:30 this morning editing a draft written by a native speaker of Russian. And hanging out on livejournal, where no one says three words when twenty-five will do.

Only, I just realized that I meant to talk about Collingwood and why the lectures I suggested won't work after all, because no one else has read The Idea of History. And also, the part about how much easier it would have been if someone else had asked why my cohort wouldn't argue in class. And there was one more thing, but it's gone again.

See, here I can accept the randomness. Become one with the randomness. Inflict the randomness on you, Loyal Reader.

7. How is it possible to estimate IQ based on standardized school testing? Has Mensa never heard of Kaplan? Also, apparently law school made me dumber. It made me very good at analysis, but bad at math. And math = smart, while analysis = sitting inside on a sunny day reading pre-Spanish Influenza propaganda.

And listening to the Gin Blossoms. And trying not to sing along. Maybe it wasn't law school that lowered my IQ, after all.

[ETA: I don't suppose that I could convince you that my inability to spell is a function of my keyboard? Didn't think so.]

posted by Elizabeth @ 2:21 PM