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moof's prattling

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March 15th, 2018

(no subject) @ 08:59 pm

Man, am I glad that I've had recreational pharmaceuticals; I don't know whether it's my brain chemistry, my stomach chemistry, the coating on the extended-release bits, or some other combo, but getting a massive rush, lessened focus, slight hypomania, and mucal membrane weirdness/dry tongue six to seven hours after taking my daily dose of duloxetine would probably have freaked me out a fair bit otherwise. Mostly, I find it annoying that I have to schedule "lay around and be inattentive and hyper yet derpy" time that much in advance.

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March 11th, 2018

(no subject) @ 01:23 pm

Looks like I'm sensitive to SNRIs in general; after starting duloxetine, I got teeth clenching, weird visual effects when trying to sleep, mild hypomania, and now I have stuck in my head Neil Sedaka singing "I love my little tentacle girl! Squiiiirming tentacle girl! I love my sweet tentacle girl! And each and every leg on her rear!"

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February 20th, 2018

another dream @ 09:11 pm

I was standing in the coordination center, and the captain told me that it was time to unlock my advanced powers. Because I had sequence-broken and skipped a lot of events I was supposed to have seen, I knew I didn't have the materials I needed to do it - so, I opened up the game console and gave myself the items I thought I needed directly, and used them. There were remarks about whether I'd grow a mouth on my belly to be able to eat people's heads, like most people do - but instead a gash formed across my neck (which also seemed a lot longer than it should be) and a shark jaw formed there, all pointy and white. "This feels really weird," I said, opening up my throat-jaw, before I woke up.

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February 5th, 2018

a dream fragment @ 08:07 pm

I was standing cheek to jowl with two others - Autumn on my left, don't know who on my right. "It's merging time, woo!" was exclaimed, and three triangles were formed with our fingers - each person creating a half with the two others. When we finally got all three triangles to overlap, the physical merging started; as I could feel my cheeks starting to adhere to the others, we intoned "We have our mouth!" As the cheeks melted away and we grew closer, I marveled at wiggling my tongue in the now-cavernous area, not being able to touch the sides. Again we intoned, "We have our mouth!" There was a flash of light, and the combined entity was revealed - lying on the green riverbank, looking up at the stars.

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December 20th, 2017

A nightmare @ 01:42 am

I was at a party or some other social event, when I spied an engineer pal's purse and was reminded of something I should immediately look up right then and there. I unzipped her bag, pulled out her iPad, and opened up Safari to look up whatever that all-important thing was. She saw what I was doing with her tablet and purse and came over; she said, "I see you've been doing something naughty!" in a kiddingly chiding tone with only a vague undertone of unease at her stuff being violated. I was consumed by overwhelming guilt, shame, and embarrassment - not only for the act of violation, but that I had done so completely unthinkingly and without considering people's boundaries. I started to go fetal and make that weird bi-tonal screeching thing I do at times of extreme distress, but didn't actually do so because I was also waking up. I think I'm still vibrating from the adrenaline, half an hour later; the rush is as unpleasant as always.

I don't know whether it's the lamotrigine I've started taking, overexposure to Dad (although I don't think even he would just randomly go through people's stuff without asking), or something just out of the blue.

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September 29th, 2017

(no subject) @ 02:57 pm

It's now just shy of two months since moving back in with my parents in Chicago, and just over a year of funemployment.

Mom really has been getting more forgetful and confused by things, although she's always been vaguely ditzy in some ways; there's no question that she's the source of ADD in the family. While it's definitely gotten notably worse in the past year or five, it's hard to tell if it's "natural" (i.e. she's in her mid-seventies) or if she'll follow in her mom's Alzheimer footsteps. No cognitive defects AFAICT - just a really terrible memory.

Dad has been on a mess of drugs - statins and blood thinners and who knows what else - that screw around with his sleep and give him leg cramps and probably a bunch of other things that he doesn't talk about; while he's gotten squirrelier over the years and his driving has gotten even more frightening (pro-tip: you shouldn't keep tailgating people like you have the reflexes of a twenty year-old when you're in your seventies) overall he hasn't really changed much. He shows a bit more stiffness than he used to, but otherwise he's the same old sperg-engineer Dad.

Me... well.

I'm still pretty depressed (as expected) but there's less ideation and I'm engaging more; in that sense moving here has been at least somewhat successful. I still have little motivation to go out and do much of anything, though, and I find myself stewing over what the future could or should bring. The tech industry seems to be continuing in the directions I haven't liked - that is, rapid deployment and change without regard to stability combined with the deprecation of sysadmin in favor of deveops - so that seems like an unlikely direction to continue in, unless I were to move quite far laterally or down.

While I've started rearranging my room more to my liking, boxing up the stuff my parents and sister have left here, it still doesn't really feel like mine and there's the chronic thought running through my head of "How long will I actually remain here? And if so, does it actually matter if I change things?" and sometimes continues along to the heat death of the universe and other bits in the Nihilist Arby's vein.

I tried to book an appointment at a counseling center about two weeks ago; while they said that the first slots would open up in about three weeks, I also got the impression that the person taking my info was kind of dubious at my responses. In some sense, this is true; I put on my cheerful "talking to bog-standard humans" voice and refrained from going into my laundry list of woes, keeping it short instead.

I suppose I should go and poke around Chicago more, but that involves getting out of the house (and getting out of bed.)

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August 15th, 2017

(no subject) @ 01:14 am

Went in to my old community college to re-register so I could take a statistics class there. Found out that I was an exciting maze of exceptions in their old system, that I was nowhere near close to having some kind of AA degree finished, and that I was still on probation from when I left in Fall 1991. So that was a nice combination of anxiety, fear, and despair. The people there were nice enough, but all my academic fear chickens came back to roost in a big bad way, and I've felt vaguely nauseous since then.

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August 6th, 2017

boxes 2: electric bugaloo. @ 03:25 pm

As it turns out, Amtrak Express didn't call Mom *at all* about my packages; she called them on her own to check up on the status of my shipment. And in my later email to her, when I said "second shipment" she thought I was referring to the stuff I sent via UPS. So she called them again, and found that my boxes are still there. I went upstairs to get dressed, and came back down to find... they had left without me.

Have I moved back into a sitcom?

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August 5th, 2017

auuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh @ 01:05 am

Current Mood: stressed stressed

It's starting to look like my parents may have flaked on picking up the second shipment of boxes I sent off. At least four are missing, along with the Big Box Of Random Shit Tossed Together In A Panic. I'm really hoping they just hid stuff quite well, but not counting on it. Guess I'll call them tomorrow, and then see if I can contact somebody at Amtrak.

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August 2nd, 2017

(no subject) @ 10:30 am

First night's dreams in Chicago included crying, my bicycle rusting and falling apart as I was riding it home, and collapsing and vomiting on the front lawn; I'd say I have some issues with moving back to my parents' place in Chicago. My stomach (physically) hurts from the in-dream retching, too.

I wasn't my usual self, either, but a blonde-grey haired woman (whose eyes turned pink after I barfed) so that's extra-unusual.

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