I have a test tomorrow in Diverse Populations and I’ve only managed to get 11 pages into the chapter. That means I have another 19 to go. I swear that I need to get my psychiatrist to prescribe something that helps me concentrate. I’m a 3.9 who can’t even listen in class. My attention span feels like it’s getting worse every day. I know my depression seems to be getting worse every day as well. They may have something to do with one another. Bleh. I hate this. Why does school screw me up so much? I’m messed up enough in the summer. I don’t need to be more messed up during the rest of the year. I don’t need the stress. I don’t need any of it. All I want is to crawl into my bed and sleep, but that’s too much to ask for.

I dread tomorrow in Speech. I have to give my introductory speech, which is bad enough as it is, but when you factor in that my speech teacher wants us to point out “clutter words”, it’s going to be so much worse. When someone uses a “clutter word” (um, uh, you know, etc.), the class is supposed to raise their hands. If I get nervous, I may use “clutter words” and the more nervous I get the more I might use them. If I have hands raised against me enough times, I may run crying from the room. I understand that my teacher wants to educate us and make us talk properly, but what she’s having us do is embarrassing. This is supposed to be helpful? People tried it yesterday and it caused 2 people to completely forget what they were talking about. How are people supposed to give speeches if they can’t remember them because the class is putting their hands up? It doesn’t seem right.

I made Tamika and Ziffany laugh yesterday in Diverse Populations. Apparently, it’s really funny that I have a dorm room on campus and I live at home. I mean, I know it sounds funny, and in a way it is, but it isn’t. It’s very simple this semester. I have classes 3 days a week, I live right across town, and I need somewhere to stay between classes and while I wait for my mom to pick me up.

I also made my Speech class laugh yesterday when my group was doing our presentation on why Bill Clinton was our favorite speaker. My segment was supposed to be about how he’s well-informed. Well, I said he was well-informed, well-researched, etc. I didn’t have anything else to add, but I had said “and” so I needed to say something, and I didn’t want to use a “clutter word”. What did I say? I said, “He doesn’t talk like an idiot.” Everyone, including my teacher, was laughing.

Ugh. It’s almost time for football season. I hate football season. Football season leads to grumpy Daddy. Of course, last season he wasn’t grumpy until the end because Auburn won all their games. The grumpiness he had at the end was directed toward the BSC. I hate to think it, but I don’t think Auburn will do so well this year. I know that means grumpfests all Fall-long. Ugh.

I hope doing this doesn’t offend anyone. I have a list of CDs (in my LiveJournal) that I would like to get, but I don’t have the money and I don’t want to beg for the money. So, I thought instead of that, I would trade advertising time on my domain for a zipped file with the songs (or each individual song file) so that I can burn the CDs. I’ll do 1 month of 1 size (88×31, 100×35, or 468×60) for each import single and 3 months of 1 size for each album. If you do 5 or more, then I’ll do as many banners as you’d like for the rest of the time this domain is around or however long your site is around. If you don’t have a site you want to advertise, you can always advertise a friend’s site (with their permission). I won’t advertise porn, hate, or anything illegal.

Oh, I made a new theme, but I think it sucks. It’s called The Rose, and the image is okay…it’s the rest that I don’t like.

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Well, I survived yesterday somehow. Between the heat, humidity, and hunger, I’m surprised that I made it through the day. The heat index was over 100 and I think I lost 20 pounds from all the sweating (and from walking all over campus). I was surprised that my eye makeup didn’t come off, my lip gloss/lipstick/all the other crap I put on my lips came off on my journey from the dorm to my first class. I know, that’s seriously horrible stuff, isn’t it? Oh, the best part. I got a mild sunburn. For most people it would be considered a bit bad, but for me it was really mild.

When I got my books Thursday, I gave the bookstore my schedule as a part of their policy. They told me I could pick it up yesterday. Well, I had written out my schedule, just in case I wouldn’t get it back. Well, when I got up to school, I couldn’t find my schedule, which was supposed to be in my pocket. I went to the bookstore before my first class and asked for my schedule back. The woman behind the counter told me that they couldn’t give me my schedule until Monday. I was almost in tears because, though I knew which classes to go to and when, I had no idea which classroom each class was in. She let me see my schedule and gave me a sheet of paper and pen. I copied the information down, and I was tempted to grab my bookbag and run out the door, but I didn’t. I gave her back my schedule and headed to my first class.

On my way to Human Behavior, Dedrick (also a Social Work major) stopped me in the hall and gave me a hug. He told me that it looked like I’d lost weight. I told him I’d tried to, which in my mind, I have. The hug and the comment surprisingly made me feel better. Okay, so the comment would’ve made me feel better anyway, but the hug? It should’ve made me feel like I should claw off my skin since I hate to be touched. Maybe I was just in the mood to be hugged.

I love my HB teacher, so her class went by smoothly. After her class, I had to go down “the Hill” to my speech class. I headed down the steps, which killed my knees, and headed down the sidewalk to the crosswalk and to the path around one of the science buildings. This path is the easiest way to get to TG Parker, where my speech class was at. Well, there was yellow tape up and part of a retaining wall had partially collapsed. There was dirt everywhere. Most reasonable people would search for an alternate route, but since when have I been reasoable? I went over the yellow tape (it was too low to go under it) and went around the dirt. It wasn’t too bad, and when I reached the next bit of yellow tape, another student decided to “brave” the pathway.

After my “dangerous journey” to speech, I found out that Dedrick is in that class with me. I also found out that we had to fill out a special form for the teacher. On the form, she asked what were our goals for the class. What was my goal? I would like to be able to not pass out or have a panic attack. We also had to say how we thought we’d achieve the goal. I don’t remember my answer to that.

Since I was going to be picked up after Diverse Populations, I decided not to bring a lunch with me. I thought that I could get something from the snack machines. Well, I checked in TG Parker and all they had were drink machines, so I got a bottle of water. Then, I headed up to Bibb Graves because that building had snack machines last year. Well, apparently this year there are no snack machines or drink machines in BG. So, I walked back to my dorm and began to drink my hot water. I was thirsty, so somehow I managed to get the water down my throat. It was not a pleasant experience.

I dreaded Diverse Populations because of the teacher. Everyone else in the program loves him, but I don’t particularly like him. I don’t think he likes me either. (He was one of the two teachers who decided I shouldn’t be in the program.) He gave us our syllabus and told us that we’d do well in his class if we showed up every day. (I knew that from last year in his Social Welfare class.) While he was going over the syllabus, he went over a part about plagiarism. He made eye contact with me through that whole part of the syllabus. Apparently, he must think that I am prone to plagiarism, which I’m not. I constantly worry that I’m plagiarizing, so I give credit even when I have an original idea. So, I guess I have to be careful when I do my book review so that he won’t think I’m plagiarizing because I can’t argue with him. If you argue with him, then he’ll definitely take you to the university board and will recommend expulsion from the school. Now I have something new to be paranoid about. Great.

By the time my father picked me up, my bottle of water and my breakfast (sugar-free yogurt) had worn off, and I was seriously hungry. I didn’t want to make any stops on the way home. I needed to eat, and as soon as I got home, I headed for the kitchen and got out my sandwich. My dad reminded me not to eat too much, which I still ended up doing because my mind was telling me to keep eating. The icky-painful feeling in my stomach overpowered my mind and I quit.

I decided to write five new “poems” today. I know that they’re horrible, but I thought I’d share them anyway. They are All I See Is the Dark, Down On My Knees, Give Me Something, Look At Me, and Your Piece of Trash. I have about fifty poems in my room that I’ve thought about posting on here, but I’ve decided not to. Most of them were written during my seriously suicidal days, so they’re even darker than some of the dark ones I’ve written in the past.

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I went yesterday to get my new school ID and found out that I could keep my old one. I just had to get it validated so that I can go to the cafeteria and eat without paying. I guess there are other uses for the ID, but I haven’t found any. You can probably use them in the library, but seeing as how I have library phobia, it isn’t really something I’d know anything about.

I also had to go this morning to get my voucher, which shock-gasp-wow was actually ready. It was in a small pile compared to the large pile that the girl in front of me had to get hers from. I got my books, which meant that I had to give up my schedule for the day. I get why they do that, but it’s annoying to have to give up my schedule. I highly doubt anyone could pretend to be me at that school.

Then again, I would’ve thought that it would be hard to pretend to be my mother, but apparently someone is doing it. My mom got a call yesterday from a doctor’s office in Cullman. Apparently, she had an appointment with a doctor she’d never heard of set up by another doctor that she’d never heard of. My mom wanted to make sure they had the right person, so the person went over the information. The person had my mom’s Medicare information, so now we have to be on the lookout for anything strange in my mom’s Medicare statements. If there’s anything wonky, then my mom’s going to report it to Medicare and let the government prosecute the person.

I saw the nurse yesterday at med clinic. I got some Geodon and Effexor samples. I also got my dose increased on Effexor. Now I get to take 37.5 mg of Effexor when I wake up and another 37.5 at about/after 2:00. That way I don’t get jittery or have racing thoughts. Of course this new dosage style will make taking medicines while at school very “fun”. I’ll have to take my Lithium at lunch and then wait until after my classes are over (3:20) to take my Effexor. I hate having to take meds during the middle of the day. I tend to forget them or almost forget them. It’s much easier to take them in the morning and again at night.

The reason my Effexor got increased was that I’ve been getting more depressed. The closer it gets to school starting, the more depressed I get and the more I want to hurt myself. I’ve already had thoughts of going tomorrow and banging my wrists until they’re black and blue. I told the nurse that and she decided I needed more Effexor. My doctor wasn’t there, so the nurse had to get another doctor to sign off on my new dose. The nurse wanted me to just have one dose of 75 mg in the morning, but the doctor said that might make me jittery or have racing thoughts. I guess they have to be careful with Bipolar patients.

I also received a critique of my “poems”. Apparently, I lack style and vocabulary. I don’t remember what all it said, but I deleted it. I know, I should have left it since it was “constructive criticism”, but I don’t particularly like it when someone tells me that I don’t know how to write. I know my poems are not award-winning and aren’t “normal”, but I think I have my own style. If that’s just me being deluded, then that’s fine with me. I don’t need some self-appointed critic telling me that I lack style. I write what I feel. If how I’m feeling is “disjointed”, then my poems are going to be disjointed. That doesn’t keep them from being poetry. If the person had ever read Emily Dickenson’s poetry, then he or she would know that her poems were disjointed. No one questions her style, though. Now, I know I’m not Emily Dickenson, but I’m not the first person to write things weirdly and call them poetry. Poetry isn’t always about flowers and sappy lovestruck people. It’s about whatever is in your heart or mind at the moment.

The day before yesterday, I received a critique of another kind. This time it was someone telling me that I have “demonic disorders” and that I have them because I watch “demonic programs”. (Thus the questions about being demonic and Buffy on the survey.) All this time the person was spelling things incorrectly and using “u r” instead of “you are”, which annoys the crap out of me. They asked what I was doing by watching these shows and what was I learning from them. So, I did the mature thing and told them that apparently the shows had taught me how to spell. Maybe they should watch them and learn how to spell, too.

I hate that school starts tomorrow. I hate that it starts at all. I guess I’ll be stuck wishing for a pipe to burst or snow and ice to blanket the ground so that I won’t have to go. I don’t think the snow and ice thing will happen until much later this semester, if it happens at all.

Oh, I still have no roommate. While we were up at A&M yesterday, I dropped some books off in my room. The bed was still just covered in plastic and no other stuff was in there. I may get my wish of having a room to myself after all.

Oh, and you know how excited I was to get Photoshop. Well, it turns out that I have no clue how to use it, so if anyone could point me in the direction of tutorials, I would really appreciate it.

If you want to see some pictures from my school/dorm or of my pets, then keep “reading”.

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When I was checking in at the dorm today, I met the girl who was supposed to be my roommate. She was moving in, what appeared to be, everything she owned. She had her whole bed piled with stuff and her family was moving more stuff in. I was doing my part of the room inspection and I noticed a circle in the window. Apparently, this was enough to make the girl’s grandmother go to the dorm manager and demand another room. The girl claimed it was some clerical error, but let’s face it…her grandmother didn’t want her in the room. (She specifically said that she didn’t want her in the room, so it isn’t an assumption.) My mom thought the woman didn’t like us, which is probably true, too. She (the grandmother) tried to tell my mom to let go and to let me spread my wings. She didn’t realize that it isn’t my mother keeping me at home every night…it’s me. When I’m just having classes every other day, I don’t see the point in staying in a dorm 24/7 when my house is just on the other side of town. Also, there’s the overwhelming anxiety that I feel when I’m not at home. Oh well, the grandmother didn’t know me or my family, and if she had, she wouldn’t have wanted her granddaughter in the room with me. After all, who wants their beloved little angel in the room with someone who is, at times, delusional and psychotic? It was enough to keep my old roommate’s friend from leaving her son in the room when I was there.

Oh well…I may or may not meet my new roommate on Friday. Maybe if I scare that one away, I can have my own room. I won’t use it, but it’ll keep me from thinking that the person in the other bed is an axe murderer.

My dad saw the wife of Jackass/Satan’s Spawn last night while we were out walking the dogs. He told her that she could go tell her husband that we clean up after our dogs, which she’d seen across the street after my mom and I caught up with Xander when he ran out the front door. I was proud of my dad, but at the same time, I was even more paranoid. I thought that Jackass/Satan’s Spawn would come after us or, worse, the dogs. Luckily, I was able to distract myself with SNL last night which was a repeat of Kate Winslet’s appearance. YAY!

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Well, he couldn’t leave well enough alone. This morning as we were taking the dogs out, there was a lovely gift left between our front door and storm door. That’s right, Jackass or Satan’s Spawn (the first is what I call him to my dad, the second is what I call him to my mom) decided it would be fun to leave dog “crap” in our storm door for us (me) to step in on our (my) way out. My mom came and cleaned it up. In the meantime, I was in the wet grass trying to get my shoe clean without touching it. I was also thinking of ways to seek revenge. There are very few times when I wish that Dadada was still alive. Today was one of those days. What better way to fight someone with no conscience than to use someone who has no conscience to go up against him? I know, I’m a good person and I shouldn’t let him get to me. I shouldn’t wish I could do something back. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to learn curses or get a voodoo doll or something.

He’s really going too far. It isn’t the first time he’s done something like this. A few years ago he planted dog “crap” in the handle part of the recycling bin. Luckily no one got their hands into that mess. Both times, though, the “crap” didn’t belong to one of our dogs. It would be nice to think that if he got a camera, then he would know it wasn’t us, but let’s face the reality of the situation. He isn’t going to admit he’s wrong. He likes harassing us. He thinks we’re horrible. (We don’t think highly of him either.) He’s still going to take out his anger on us. We’re easy targets.

I’m sorry for two posts with such crappy things in them. It’s just his childish behavior is really bugging the crap out of me. He needs to learn to be a grown up. I’m only 21, and I try to avoid being one, but I feel like I’m more of a grown up than him. It doesn’t take being married or having kids to make you a grown up. Sometimes, it just takes acting your age and, for lack of better terms, not your shoe size.

On Thursday, I got 4 lovely pieces of mail from the government. The first was a letter from Medicaid telling me that I didn’t qualify for the program that I applied for a few weeks ago. The next was also from Medicaid, but instead of telling me that I didn’t qualify, it contained my Medicaid card and a letter explaining a little bit about the program. Then, I got my official letters from Social Security about SSI and about Adult Child Disability telling me how much I’ll receive each month. The AC may change because I receive SSI, I’m not sure yet. In the letter it said it could change if you’re already receiving certain benefits. I don’t know how much it will change. Other than rent and utilities, I don’t know what to do with the money. I have to spend it so that I don’t end up with too much, but I don’t know how I’ll spend it. I don’t know how I’ll be allowed to spend it.

School starts back next Friday. I have to go Wednesday for a new ID and Thursday for my book voucher, but before all of that, I have to go tomorrow to set up my dorm room. I think I may take my camera so that I can show what the room (that I will hopefully be spending very little time in) looks like. I got a new comforter set because my comforter from last semester had holes in it. My old one was blue and all my stuff to go with it was blue and white. My new one is light pink. I got a new throw, throw pillow, and body pillow to go with the new look. I think it will all look very nice. Hopefully, I won’t have to see it much, though.

My back hurts, but, as part of my plan to stay clean of Tylenol, I can’t take anything for it. That really sucks. I hate being in pain, but I know if I start to use it, I might never stop. Why is it that when I make a committment to no longer take Tylenol, I end up in pain? Is it some cruel joke?

Oh, my dad no longer has a job. He quit on Thursday. He was a security officer for a company that had him working at Huntsville Hospital. He was being overworked and it was really getting to him. He tried to explain it to his boss and his boss didn’t understand, so he quit. It was his first real full-time job since he was laid off three years ago. Technically, he worked full-time for this awful woman (who still owes me for web design work I did for her) that he thought was his friend. She told him that he could be VP of her procurement company, then she had an advisor who basically made her make my dad into one of the little people in the company. She never paid him for the last contracts he brought in. On the bright side of things, I think she got in trouble with the city for bouncing checks to her employees and with the government and businesses for not paying/delivering what she was supposed to. So, now he’s got to look for a new job.

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