c’est le moment de devenir un peu plus personnel…
You don’t know me.
Who or what am I does not seem to matter. What I do matters more.
I don’t really do much, but a lot seems to happen in my life. Perhaps because I reflect intensely on anything. Many people have told me I should write books about my life. I used to have a Livejournal – started mine in autumn 2000, I think. Heard a rumour that the site has been taken over and the pages are being purged. Well, there s along record of my life down the drain. Mostly the ventings of an angsty eating disordered depressed art school kid. Such a stereotype, right? Well, instead of writing a book or books, I thought I would re-ignite the fire on the blog. Skip the shit attempts at poetry. Start chronicling. Thanks mum.
Besides, my therapist said I should write again so here we go. My life in public. C’est l’amour toujours, bitches. No holding back as usual. I live my life out loud. Everyone wants to know how someone gets to be just so interesting… well… here’s how.
Today? I’ve done some work on my thesis – a pathetic attempt at the reboot for an MPhil. It’s a consolation prize after leaving my PhD program. I’ll still get a PhD but the timing and circumstances were not right. Earning the MA made me feel high AF. Losing out on the PhD haunts me daily even though the paperwork was filed almost a year ago. There’s so much emotional damage and betrayal wrapped up in that situation… it will take completing a new one to get over it. I am exactly that stubborn, determined, and/or obsessed.* There’s a lot of background here that will end up being shared over time. But suffice to say, when people ask what I study, they really never have a reaction that leads to more conversation. No one knows how to talk to someone who studies neuroscience and ethics – who can actually be social, in public, to non-academics.
Work on the thesis only happened by bribing myself with washing my hair, doing my nails, giving myself a facial, listening to M83 and Taylor Swift, making some awesome food, lighting every candle I own, poorly making coffee (again). Tonight is a social night. A planned social night. This also took bribery given a music festival is on in town. I am mentally prepared for a shitshow. These things are shitshows here. Why the fuck would I go out when I can stay home with a bottle of nice champagne and cry over the lack of cats in my apartment? Tonight will probably end up with me leaving early, or getting pissed off at someone, or boredly sitting around while they have fun. Or I’ll get roped into conversations I’ve had 1500 times. Maybe I’ll do my online grocery shopping from the venue. Or, well, both of my failed attempts at rebounds have made their presence known lately – maybe they will stop by while I’m looking glamourous and feeling frugal.
My attitude now is a far cry from my twenties. My twenties were a blast. I was a bit of a nightmare at times, sure, but wow – that was a good time. And a horrible time. I later discovered that many people considered me an “It-girl” where I used to live. Yikes. On reflection, I can see why. But thank goodness I graduated and went to grad school. My liver could not handle that shit for much longer.
*Descriptive term to be determined by age, gender, and skin colour of person describing me.