(no subject)

I woke up in the middle of the night last night really cranky about a dream— I was, for some reason, taking science classes that covered all of a given field in under one week (I really have no idea), and I got an F on the biology unit because the story I’d written had, according to the teacher, too many factual errors. It took me about ten minutes to wake up enough that I could stop trying to argue with the completely fictional teacher about the completely fictional story for the completely fictional class. I mean, before that, I did start asking myself why a short story would be an appropriate final for a unit on biology, and I couldn’t come up with an answer to that one. Fortunately, it was right at the time when I needed to get up anyway to take my thyroid medication so being awake for long enough to shake off the dream wasn’t such a big deal.

It’s been snowing off and on today (right this second, it’s not, but it was pretty heavy earlier). Cordelia’s not pleased because we don’t want her to go out while the sidewalks are slippery. I just hope that it doesn’t snow during the school week. That could be dangerous.

I wrote a bit last night. I haven’t checked the word count yet, but it wasn’t likely to be more than 150-200 words. Still, it’s the first writing I’ve done in several days. And I did it in Google docs on my cell phone. I’m not convinced that it’s a way I’d want to write often, but it let me write a bit after Scott and I were in bed. I just have to remember, if I do it again, that I have to jump through some hoops in order to upload the changes I’ve made to the document. If I don’t, they’ll vanish.

I’m trying some lunchmeat on a flour tortilla to see if my body can handle something beyond crackers and oatmeal. I’ve got my fingers crossed. I pretty much have to put the intestinal symptoms down to anxiety or to a bug of some sort. Normally, when I have this sort of issue, it lasts a few hours (often less than three and sometimes less than one) and only happens once or twice a year. I’m not actually convinced that it can be called IBS, so I’ve been trying to get that diagnosis removed from my file because it can lead to doctors I don’t know well assuming that something I know is a bug is just business as usual. Eating extra bran is not actually a useful treatment for an intestinal bug (and it was one because Scott and Cordelia caught it from me). Of course, that doctor was terrible for treating anything except injuries. It’s just that he covered a lot of the after hours clinics and walk in patients for the place we go, so I ran into him a lot for a while.

Those in Michigan may be interested in this link. The state board of education is taking comments on its draft policy for how schools should treat "lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and questioning students." I don’t know if they’ll pay any attention to comments from people outside of the state, but, as I’m in state, I’m going to comment. Queer kids in school are so horribly vulnerable to mistreatment and prejudice, and the kids who aren’t queer need to see those who are treated well so that they know that that’s how it’s supposed to be.

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Hm. If I don’t like the first four or five pages of a poet’s collected works, is that enough to say I don’t like the poet’s work? This collection is a little odd because it has a play first, so I’m kind of thinking I need to skip to the end of that and see if I like anything beyond that, but I also don’t really want to bother because I very much am not enjoying the play. My main problem is that, as I read it, I keep going, "WTH? Who talks like that?" The words are pretty but not actually coherent in terms of conveying meaning or even image/emotion.

There’s something that I keep thinking I want to post about, but when I open my document to write, I can’t for the life of me remember what it is.

I’m still draggingly tired. The hard part is that I know that sleeping right now won’t help and that my instinct to eat all the food will lead to bad places without giving me any actual energy. But part of my mind remains convinced that, if I eat the right thing, I will magically feel better. It’s days like this when I really, really wish that Provigil had actually worked for me.