This semester’s been awesome. I’ve felt way better than I’ve been for the past year, and I can impulsively hang out with friends without feeling like I’m dying inside. However…!
My wimpy brain isn’t yet what it should be. Not all surprising, since Law readings have been tricky since the beginning of the semester. Words morph into garbled symbols. I can’t focus. It’s not mattered because I only have two days a week with lectures… and I’ve lacked the motivation to care hurrr. Enter ridiculously easy test which had my brain turning inside out trying to study properly. That plus an inability to study more than two hours a day total = DEATH.
So since things are still iffy I withdrew from uni again. Another battle plan will be sorted with my doctor soon… to be honest, I had the feeling she preferred I put uni off until next year anyway. Ultimately, the protesting grey sludge that is my brain needs more time to get better and despite how frustrating that is, it’s not like you can “man up” and push through this crap without making it worse instead.
Until university starts up again next year I don’t want to mooch around as an unproductive member of society. ;D It doesn’t kill me to leave my room this time, so I’m staying in Dunedin to volunteer (mmm, fuzzy feelings). I’ll study a little Japanese to gauge how I’m doing without any real pressure, too. Also because if I don’t study I’ll die.
That’s the worst part: I keep thinking, “If I’m not at university, what will I do? OOOOOH LET’S STUDY SOMETHING, IT’LL HELP FOR NEXT YEAR I SWEAR. GOD I NEED TO STUDY I NEED IT SO BAD“, and have to tell myself off. It’s distressing wanting to leaaarrrn and not being able to! In the meantime I’m gonna have to keep searching for my brain’s “ON” button instead. Anyone want to join the search team?
I want to eat this keychain.
I want to eat this soap.
I want to eat this hat.
These apparently aren’t real cupcakes, but I am not convinced and I want to eat them anyway just to be sure.
(QUALITY BLOGGING.)
The best part of Christmas was fighting through all the twisty ties to unleash a new Barbie doll. Don’t even try to deny it. My first Barbie came from a relative in Australia for Christmas, and in the midst of my excitement I remember my mum was scowling because she didn’t want us to have Barbie dolls. I also had a pink mermaid, which I cherished until its head fell off. But my favourite was Esmeralda. This one:
LOOK AT HER.
LOOK AT THAT PINK RIBBON.
AND HER THICK CURLY HAIR.
AND THAT EXTRA DRESS. IT’S THE ULTIMATE IN BARBIE DOLLS HERE.
In a scene that resembled the crucifixion of Jesus she lost a forearm when she fell from a bookshelf. Tottering out to Mum, she gave me blu-tak to stick it back on – never mind that unreliable blu-tak was the reason she fell in the first place AHH.
I was very gentle with Esmeralda from then on, being careful with her wee broken arm. I took her with me to primary school – not playing with her, just keeping her around. I loved her. I’d check on her in my pink backpack that wasn’t fully zipped up so she could breathe. This was at lunch time. I wonder where my friends were at this point, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I often puttered around doing things by myself. Even as a 7 year old I was a weird loner freak, aww.
And it’s at that point that a girl once turned up, digging around in her own backpack for an egg sandwich. To which I said, “EWWW EGGS”. It was cool for the girls in my class to hate on eggs when we were 7. They … smelt bad? All I knew was, scoffing at eggs was the Done Thing and that I must partake in this shunning. She burst into tears (“IT’S NOT MY FAULT MY MUM PACKED MY LUNCH”) and I felt helpless because it’s not like I even cared about eggs, I JUST WANTED TO BE COOL. WHY WHY WHYYY.
Later I friggin lost that plastic arm through the pocket I’d left open. I’ll admit I deserved that. Armless Esmeralda was never the same. To quote Quasimodo in the book, “Oh- all that I’ve ever loved!”
(END NOSTALIGA.)
