accept this, too

I'm looking forward to reading this book I got from the library, Exit: The Endings That Set Us Free. It ties in closely with the Sociology of Death class, exploring how people say goodbye to places, things, and other people. In class tonight, we talked about the grieving process and how it varies by culture, gender, locality, and so on. Primary loss, secondary loss, disenfranchisement of loss. Big ideas.

I can't look my advisor in the eye, these days

I'm taking an AWFUL lot of Sex and Death classes. Of course, Sociology and Psychology offer plenty of classes on the subjects, but mainly I take them because they're SUPER-INTERESTING. I'm trying to temper the lust and morbidity with a little do-goodery, so one of my classes next semester will be Environmental Sociology. That should balance out the Sociology of Sex Roles and Psychology of Human Sexuality classes. Lord knows what fodder they'll give me for the Non-Fiction Writing class I'm also taking.

wuv, twue wuv...

Overhearing gripes about a recent wedding. Too over-the-top. Overhearing (STILL!) gripes about gay marriage. Why is the next logical step ALWAYS marrying one's own pet?


I'm in no position to pass judgment. I showed up to my wedding in pigtails and a flower garland, and appropriated dialogue from The Princess Bride for the officiant's portion of the ceremony. I don't care if you're sitting in front of the minister on circus ponies with a squirrel monkey ring-bearer (although, please may I be invited?) and use a confetti cannon instead of throwing rice (please, seriously, invite me if this happens). All I ask is that you mean what you say, when you say it, and don't get divorced 72 days later.

all of it...it just keeps...going

Time wears away, dulls memories, dulls experiences. Sometimes that's a blessing, sometimes that's a curse. I spent the first part of my grown-up life with these lyrics in my head:  

Some things...will never change 
They just stand there looking backwards 
Half unconscious from the pain

Thinking to myself, "This guy knows what it's like to be me, what I've had to survive, how I stand every day looking backward half-unconscious from the pain of my MEMORIES."

Fine, I was 19 and may have misheard the lyrics a bit. Of COURSE it's a song about heroin. They all are.

Anyway, right now it's a blessing to forget and let some things fade. I'm changing habits left and right, trying to shake myself out of this funk. I start with lists. Sometimes the lists get me through the next hour, but mostly they get me through the next few days. I pay the bills, I go to appointments, I cross items off my lists. I feel productive and useful.

 I get to work before sunrise and get out of class after dark. I'll miss the sun but my skin will be amazing. That must be the secret to my amazing skin: my late teens and 20s spent sleeping during the day and working all night may give me cancer someday, but my corpse will look a good ten years younger. So, I've got that going for me.

I went in yesterday for a pre-crown appointment, the logical end and culmination of Medicaid dental services from 1995. Just in time, too, as small pieces of the cheap filling started to crumble away last week. I had to go right back in this afternoon for a new temporary, as the first one didn't seal correctly. The pain was so bad that I cried in the dentist chair. I was so embarrassed. I didn't even cry from the twisting grinding pain of childbirth or the dull ache of bone break when my face got smashed, but there I sat, leaking tears like a kid. Toothache can bring down monarchies, I'm sure of it.