Let’s start with this simple sound: GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH*headdesk*HHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Yeah, that’s about how I feel right now. So lemme give you a rundown of my day thus far:

9:00 a.m. –> get up, get dressed, go to Prof. Bowling’s office to register for classes. Now you have to realize that almost ALL classes are closed by this point, including many of the 3000 level history classes. So now I go and register on paper and get signatures.

10:00 a.m. –> go to the Registrar. The Registrar’s mindfuck assistant (who in my opinion, can burn in Hell and be eaten by mutant dogs) is so nice as to inform me that I can’t register until TOMORROW AFTERNOON. Okay, why, you may ask? Oh, because that’s right: I’m a second-time ’round sophomore. Turns out that: a) the little French course I was FORCED to withdrawl from (and also in which Dean Lincoln promised me there would be no reprecussions whatsoever) gives me below 30 credits. b) Apparently Mville doesn’t give credits to those who get below a C (even if it’s not for major credit), so my D+ and $320 I spent in tuition for Art History was a waste. That’s nice.

So anyways, this bitch of a secretary tells me to come back tomorrow afternoon. Yeah, nice. I have a very important meeting with a rheumatologist tomorrow who’s an hour away from Mville. That doesn’t work for me. So, I very politely ask her if I can come in before 3:00 to register since there is no possible way for me to be there at said time. Her response was something along the line of “the world is not based on need”. Oh really? So welfare is doled out on a first-come, first-served basis? Well, actually at Mville it is. If you do not know, I could not get aid because I was “not poor enough” (although tuition would have been half of my family’s salary) yet males and International Students practically go here for free. And I thought we promoted social awarness? Turns out we promote discrimination.

Anyway, the majority of these classes are full already, especially since they cut the lecture system (history classes can only now have 20 students at most). I’m sorry, but I need to take a million history courses. I’m a major. It should be who NEEDS said courses. Oh wait, society isn’t based on need.

I mean, I tolerate the bad foodservice, the cold showers, the no heat, the poor faculty, and whatnot. But this is the last straw. Berman had two almost unanimous votes of no confidence by the faculty in two months, yet he told The Journal News that he is not he is not going to resign. Maybe it’s time the students overthrow the college again.

Okay, so WebMd has rattled my brain again in unspeakable ways. This woman wrote an article called “8 Things No One Tells You About Marriage”. And I agree with some of them: You Can Only Change Yourself, You May Go to Bed Angry, etc. But really, now I have some pet peeves with this.

#4 – You Will Go Without Sex, Sometimes for a Long Time…

Alright, now fine, I’ve heard that sex totally dies during marriage, but a lot of me believes that it’s not true. Sure, sex may die for a short period of time (i.e. the first six months after childbirth) but I doubt it dies completely. And in my heart of hearts, I don’t think it has to die. Usually here’s what happens: man and woman first start dating, marriage  happens, explosive honeymoon, woman finds herself pregnant (and yes, that means no vaginal sex for about five months, boys!), baby comes home and sucks up all of mumsie’s attention, man craves sex, woman says “no”, man says “what about doing this that I found out of unnamed men’s book/magazine/television show?”, woman replies with “no, that’s gross”, man rolls over unhappy (poor man). Eighteen years later, here’s how the scenario plays out: woman tackles man, man tries to get it up, man fails, woman looks on with dissapointment, man says “can I do Item X that I found under the ‘How to Please a Woman’ section of my unamed men’s book/magazine/television show?”, woman replies “whatever”, both roll over unhappy.

I don’t think there really needs to be a lack of sex in a relationship. In a recent WebMd poll, 36% of women have sex with their signifigant others less than twice a month, 22% of women have it weekly, and 42% of women have it more than twice a week. That’s a large amount of time for the 36% to be abstinent. And we wonder why infidelity is so high.

Americans (and most Westerners) tend to have very Victorian outlooks on sex. Most circumsiscions in the United States are unnessecary. There is no proof that circumscision prevents infection whatsoever (unless the area between the glans and the foreskin has been unwashed), and actually that was not the main reason for circumscision. The main reason was to prevent masturbation in boys. And we still follow that method? Guys, these were the same people that hosed women down to prevent them from becoming hysterical, yet banned the speculum due to its phallic nature. Really. Anywho, back to the point. Try new stuff. Talk about sex. So you won’t be a #4.

#1 – You will look at the person next to you and wonder: is this it? Forever?

Now, you might think that this section was about insecurities. Ha, I did too. No it’s about how you may find that you are not entirely happy with the one you’re with. His penis is too small. He never takes out the trash. He is a good for nothing, sonofabitch mindfuck who watches ESPN 20 hours a day. Now I doubt that any of that is true. But Ylonda Gault Caviness (whom I believe is a totally made-up author) believes so, although she later notes that “a lifetime of experience has taught me that I am right about most things”. I’ve dated a lawyer for the past eight months, and even he doesn’t have the nerve (or stupidity) to publish a statement like that.

And yeah, maybe your marriage isn’t perfect. Maybe he does work too much. Maybe he does spend too much time on eBay buying fire truck parts (sorry dad, I had to call you out for that). But I highly doubt that you’re perfect either. Everyone has their few flaws, but compromising about them is part of marriage. A large part of marriage.

That’s the problem with people these days: they expect perfect. I come from a family where marriage isn’t something perfect. Both my grandmothers eloped, but they are still in love with the men they married. Yeah, my parents have seen the roughest of roughest times, but they are still happy (although guys: really, we don’t have walls. Remember that). There have been few divorces in my family, and those that happened were for reasons far beyond “irreconcilable differences”. Maybe if we stopped expecting perfect, we would be richer for the experience.

By the way, Frank is the cause for everything bad in your life. It’s not what he’s done, it’s what he failed to do. But he’s still a cool guy.

 I am totally wearing my ovaries on the outside today. Nevermind the fact that I feel sick and it’s probably my mother the elementary school worker’s fault, but I can’t stop crying. Like raccoon-like crying (have you ever heard one of those things cry?) to the point I missed my favorite-ist class in the entire world.

And I have 20,000 things to do tomorrow.

AND my weekends are booked:

• This week: Tour of Franklin, Cooperstown, Sharon Springs, etc. with the family.
• Next week: 200 Nights, The Masquerade at New Windsor (ironic since I’m reading “The Masque of Red Death”)
• The week after: Going to Sag Harbor to get a verrrrry important parcel; My brother’s birthday luncheon
• The week after: Ft. Tryon Park
• The week after: Ft. Lee
• The week after: Thanksgiving
• The week after: Dave’s birthday

My life is insane.

As a side note, it seems that reenactors have a knack for putting knives through their hands. Bravo.

It seems that everyone has somehow forgotten about me since my several extended leaves of absence. This is because: a) I have no internet in my dormitory due to a broken port on the boyfriend’s Mac; b) I have been spending more time in the gym than blogging; c) I have not had a single free weekend to myself since, um, Labor Day weekend; d) I am overloaded with work; e)  I am going through a MAJOR life change; or f) All of the above. Which one? You guessed it: f!!! F as in “Fucking work”.

Yeah. So I am really busy. So cut me a break, and I do promise that I usually take five minutes out of the day to read your blogs.

So, get this, my doctor recently switched me to YAZ (you know, that new wonder drug that everyone says is amazing?). And I was skeptical at first because I had taken Yasmin two years ago and went psycho on it. I mean, like absolutely paranoid to the point I was considering committing myself as a schizophrenic, but she goes “oh, YAZ has no relation to Yasmin whatsoever.” Which it doesn’t, on a technical level. Yeah, okay.
So anyway, I took YAZ three weeks ago and it has thus been the worst possile three weeks of my life. All I do is cry hystericallly and yell at people. I’ve become depressed to the point where I don’t want to get up in the morning, eat, or go to class. It’s been Hell, and it keeps getting worse. This isn’t like my normal behavior at all.
So, at first, I went on the YAZ website and read the consumer packets that come with the pills. All the packets keep saying that symptoms I am experiencing (such as depression, fatigue, anxiety, mood swings, irregular vaginal bleeding, inability to heal after infection, etc.) happen in >1% of those tested. Bullshit.
Yesterday, I went on the FDA’s website and some other sites written by patients themselves and I found out that YAZ is THE EXACT SAME DRUG as Yasmin. They had to pull Yasmin off the market because it literally made people suicidal to the point they acted on it. So what the makers of Yasmin did was change the package, change the parent corporation, change the coloring, and keep the same exact level of the active ingredient (the entirely synthetic hormone dsrp). I hate to say it, but I highly doubt that changing the pill coloring from yellow to pink will stop people from being depressed.
I then went on to read patient reviews of the drug. The majority (I read well over 100 reviews on several forums and sites) said the same things:
- “makes me feel like I want to kill myself”
- “my boyfriend continually asks ‘what’s wrong? you were fine a minute ago’”
- “I’ve never felt depressed a day in my life; that is, until I took YAZ”
- “It is great birth control, that is, because it entirely wrecks your sex drive”

Yeah? I mean, I highly doubt that out of all the people in the control group for the drug company (which I believe is Glaxo-Smith-Kline) only >1% felt that way. I also read that it is worse for those with a low BMI.
And the sad part is, the FDA approved it because GSK is the one doing the lab tests. I blame the Regan administration for that. Apparently miliraty spending is more important than the welfare of others.

I have currently thrown out the last week of my perscription and I have no desire to take any more forms of the Pill for a long long long time. I can live with using condoms if need be. At least it will save your relationships with others.

Mainly for me:

- Find out about writing assignment for AMS
- AMS writing assignment
- HIS writing assignment
- ENC writing assignment
- HIS bibliography
- Read The Crucible
- Finish Salem Possessed
- MATH Derive Assignmnet
- Catch up on ENC readings
- Plan talk for tomorrow (damnit where’s my purse???????)
- Mail in rebate
- Take exam

Honesty box is causing too much drama in my life.

So, I get to the doctor’s office at 10:30 a.m., and the receptionist is awful. She was older and she did not have a friendly demeanor at all (which is really great when you get a first-time client). So I fill out the paperwork and wait until 11:00 to be seen. I go in, and the nurse is short with me. I find out I lost five pounds, and you can see my blood pressure spike. So I then sit in the little white room and wait, feeling as disappointed in myself.

The doctor comes in and presses on my stomach and back. She decides that I need another endoscopy (which is just great. I love anesthesia) to make sure that my stomach isn’t bleeding. Oh wait, yeah, there’s bleeding. Don’t worry, I’m not going to die. You know, Napoleon Bonaparte had internal bleeding. So maybe I’ll, um, cross the Alps? You never know.

The doctor took some blood (actually the nurse did…and she was much nicer this time) to check for Chron’s, Celiac, and General Liver Function (my dad has a bum liver, so they want to make sure that they are not misdiagnosing me, although my liver is far away from the pain). It was a very tiring draw. After that, she gave me a pretty restricted diet. No caffine, no “rich foods” (like ice cream), no lettuce (I know, weird), no gluten, no booze. This really sucks now and I’ve had a hard time sticking to it, but I think it will be a little easier once I get to Mrs. Green’s to get some organic-y stuff. *Sigh* I’m just waiting for gluten-free beer.

marriedtothesea.com

So, I am of course uber-stressed for tomorrow’s doctor’s appointment. Apparently the big thing is writing people off as having Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS). Now, you see, this is not possible for me because the main symptom of IBS is chronic diarrhea/constipation. Not happening here. My bowels are pretty normal, and I already know that was way way too much information for all of you. And I can eat spicy food and not be in pain. And I can be perfectly calm and doubled over in pain. So explain that one to me.

Apparently, IBS is one of the most commonly diagnosed syndromes in the United States. Which kind of tells me that doctors are writing this off easily. And what if they have to give me a colonoscopy? No, really. That’s scary.

I can’t think about this anymore.

On the bright side, this includes a trip to Sag Harbor after getting stuck with needles. Hooray!

So I’ve been in mindnumbingly painful pain (sorry to be redundant) for about three weeks on average. We figured, hey it’s my ovaries since I had all those pesky cysts. Turns out the cysts are gone (yeah, thanks, I loved having my bladder engorged to the point it put me in painful tears) and an ultrasound and pap smear later, I have NO gynecological problems whatsoever. So…what is it? They have two guesses, both similar:

1. It’s my kidneys
2. It’s my colon

So, I decide to call my mom’s friend, who has collitis, to ask him about his doctor. Apparently this guy is really good and always gives accurate diagnoses. So, I call, and lo and behold I find out that: a) this guy does not accept insurance, and b) it’s $500 for a consultation. So at this point I am pissed out of my mind. What doctor doesn’t accept insurance. But, the friend reccomends me to her doctor, who is also apparently very good and not as expensive. I call up, once again citing severe pelvic pain to the point that I can not function. Yeah. She can see me August 2nd. August fucking second. So, I have three weeks to sit and wallow in miserable pain because, as the doctor explained it, “she’s a very prestigious office”. Really. My current sick fantasy is to take degrees away from all these doctors who are “that good” that they can’t even consider seeing me for almost a month. Maybe they should have to suffer in pain for two weeks and then wait another three weeks for any action by someone who, in the end, has no fucking clue what the problem is.

I seriously think I’d be better off going to the hospital for care.