We talked about rape in Crime and Aggression this morning. I registered for a few classes and e-mailed Psych professors. I did my federal taxes. I organized my topic for my Women's Studies paper. I lifted weights before going to work. I roasted some vegetables for lunch.
I need to pay a bill in the next few days. I need to pay another bill in the next two weeks. I need to organize my group so we can write our paper. I need to write my Women's Studies paper. I need to work a ten-hour shift tomorrow. I need to do my state taxes. I need to tweak my sweet potato bread recipe so it's more sweet potato-y.
Sitting here at work, I feel completely drained. Drained from all these things I did today, all these things I need to do in the near future, and other things I can't control.
Sitting here on the floor of my step-brother's room, a two-foot tall Spongebob doll staring at me from across the room with huge, inescapable eyes, my back feeling like it's going to split in two, I feel happy.
At about 2:15 in the afternoon, Lauren, Kristen, and I ran down the steps from my apartment to meet Eric in the parking lot. We threw our bags in the car (Kristen struggling to shove her large black duffle bag in the back without getting crushed by the trunk door) and climbed in the old Jeep, driving off and out of Athens. The poor Jeep was a busted-up thing, pretty much on its last legs; the air conditioner was currently dead behind the back seat, and the car itself tended to swerve to and fro if one didn't gently guide it back to the middle of the road in time. The three-hour trip consisted pretty much of loud gushes of wind from the open windows, abrasive music trying its damnedest to pump out of the only working speaker (on my side of the car, of course), the occasional Journey song, and a questionable stop at McDonald's in between the mind-numbing midday traffic. Finally, a little past 5:00 pm Central Time, we managed to make it to Trussville.
We pulled into Lisa's parent's driveway and were ushered into the house to lay in wait. Eric, Kristen, Lauren, and I sat in the porch together while Lisa and her family waited in the house, making adjustments to all the surprise party decor. Not long after, we heard everyone shout "Surprise!" as well as the unmistakable sound of Dad's voice. We gathered around the door just as Lisa opened it up--I've never seen Dad so surprised in my life. He stood there, shocked as we bum-rushed him with hugs. We couldn't just go about our own business when the old man was turning fifty, now could we?
My back is killing me from sitting in the car for over three hours, and I've got another three-hour trip to look forward to tomorrow. I'm going to be here with Dad and his family for less than twenty-four hours, and gas in Athens currently costs $3.25 a gallon. But you know what? Seeing my Dad's face, so surprised and happy to see us, made everything worth it.
Been reading up on some brain stuff and came across a very enlightening article: SSRIs aren't as effective as manufacturers want us to believe. SSRIs, or Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors, are antidepressants such as Zoloft and Paxil that basically increase the amount of serotonin in the brain. The idea is that severe depression is the result of low serotonin levels, or a "chemical imbalance," and these meds you buy "correct" said imbalance. Problem is, serotonin levels aren't necessarily linked to depression.
According to this article, studies have shown that placebos, exercise, and even St. John's Wort have out-performed SSRIs on relieving depression. In fact, Selective Serotonin Reuptake Enhancers (those that decrease the amount of serotonin) have actually done better to reduce depression; experiments attempting to induce depression by reducing serotonin levels have yielded inconclusive results. There is an alarmingly huge amount of contradicting evidence concerning SSRIs' amazing healing abilities. And it worries me.
I know a lot of people who are on SSRIs to relieve their depression, and these meds can cost a substantial amount of money. They can also be dangerous if they're not used responsibly. So please, if you or someone you know is currently using SSRIs for depression, social anxiety disorder, OCD, or even premenstrual dysphoric disorder, read this article and dig up as much research as you can. Medications such as SSRIs should not be recommended as much as they are if their connection with the disorder in question is minimal at best.
A few days ago I had a graphic dream of someone cutting layers off a dead man's head, starting at the face and then back, as if he were a loaf of bread. Yikes.
But that didn't terrify me nearly as much as the story of a sadistic gynecologist who mutilates dozens of women and never gets arrested. It scares the utter shit out of me, and I have trouble getting it out of my head. I can't help but think that, if he were mutilating men's genitals, he would've been jailed from the start. This guy hasn't even been charged in spite of all the women who've spoken out against him. Potential trigger warning:
A woman goes into her local hospital for routine minor surgery to remove a tiny lesion on her labia. But just before the anesthetic is administered, her doctor leans over her - out of earshot of the operating theatre staff.
“I’m going to take your clitoris too,” he whispers.
When she wakes…
Pain… agonising pain. To her horror, all her external genitalia - labia and clitoris - have been cut out of her body.
I've been writing for the past hour, and my hand's starting to cramp up. Thought it would be a good idea to take a break. It's been a wonderfully uneventful weekend, and tomorrow won't be too different; my Women's Studies class has been canceled, and I don't see any reason to go to Math, so I'll be sleeping in. I'll still have plenty of time to get some exercise in, eat lunch, and be at work by 2:00 pm.
Eric, Lauren, and I saw Persepolis at Athens Ciné on Friday. If you haven't seen it (or aren't planning to), you really should. The animation is absolutely beautiful--no one does hand-drawn animation anymore now that 3-D movies are so cheap to make. It really stays true to the art style of the graphic novels. Plus, the story is funny, endearing, and very engaging. Marjane Satrapi does a wonderful job of presenting Iranian people frankly and as they are (it is her autobiography after all); it's a side of Iran that most people in the West aren't aware of. Seriously, it's a wonderful movies, and everyone should go see it.
I'm afraid that I might be getting sick in the near future; I haven't been feeling very well today. I hope I didn't catch the flu, which seems to be going around here at UGA. Blech, this better be temporary--I have a lot of stuff due at the end of the week.
Today is the first day in a while that I haven't gone to work. It's a strange feeling to have the whole day ahead of you without having to go anywhere. I spent it wisely by not doing a damn thing. And it was nice.
Je t'ai croisée
Un samedi soir
Et j'ai jeté sur ta silhouette
Une poignée d'épices colorées
Mon but était clair
T'envoûter
Tout en restant
Libre-moi et libre-toi
Car le roi de l'amour
N'a plus besoin d'esclaves
Adieu, adieu la nuit
Adieu tristesse, adieu les larmes
Je ne suis plus celui
Que tu as connu, plus le même
Ô bel enfant
Qui a tant pleuré
Adieu tout est fini
Adieu les larmes, adieu la nuit
Et le soleil de minuit a brillé pour nous
Jusqu'à l'arrivée du jour
Alors nous nous sommes séparés
Comme déjà saturés des délices du futur
Et j'ai marché seul
Guidé par ton ombre
J'ai traversé la ville déserte
Encore étincelante
Du voyage des rêveurs
Je t'ai croisé un samedi soir
Et déjà j'aimais l'odeur de ton rire
Et le soleil de minuit a brillé pour nous
Jusqu'à l'arrivée du jour
