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This is Joseph's last week at the studio and yesterday was our last private lesson. We still have two more days together, Thursday's latin classes and Friday's practice party, but I honestly don't know if I can cope.

In addition to that and the massive fuck-up that is my car insurance company, my therapist says I might have cyclothymia, a mild form of bipolar disorder. She says this could explain why I occasionally get fits of inspiration and energy that don't last long enough for me to follow anything through and why I'm so bloody fixated on dance right now. Of course, I have to go talk to my bull-headed psychologist about all that tomorrow. Ten bucks says he's not going to listen to me about either that or the fact that my current medications aren't doing jack shit. Fun in the sun for me. *headdesk*

*sighs* I had to talk myself down from the metaphorical ledge again last evening, so today I'm trying to focus on the happy things. For example, words cannot describe the loveliness of that last private lesson. Suffice it to say that there was a very "louche" quickstep to Jeeves and Wooster, liberal quoting of Posh Nosh, an undone bra strap, and some rather repressed acknowledgment of how much we're going to miss each other. Joseph and I make a wonderful team and, while I'm more than a little sorry to see that come to an end, I'm glad that it did so on such a high note.

Alright, I'm off to go get Chinese food. Some egg drop soup, garden tofu, and chicken fried rice will go a long way towards making me feel more human, no matter how much it would make Simon and Minty cry. *grins*
marvinstwin: (Default)
Huzzah for productivity! I just turned that dress I got for free over the summer into a dance skirt. It looks pretty and swishy and I like it muchly. AND I only sewed the thing to my jeans once! This, as those of you who have watched me sew while listening to Fall Out Boy will attest, is a major accomplishment.

I still haven't found out any more details about the upcoming suck. I'm betting that something will slip tomorrow during showcase, but that none of it will make any sense until Monday/Tuesday, when I can finally mine the concerned parties for information

I'm not sure what to think about the Wellbutrin. It's odd. I have to take it three times a day and it wakes me up at 4:30 every morning. Not that the latter is a bad thing. I love being up before the sun. I do all of my best thinking at ass o'clock in the morning. How do you think I passed Humanities? ETA: Okay, so the twitchiness and fuzzy-headed-ness in the late afternoon are certainly things I can do without. Methinks the good doctor and I are going to be having words about this during my next appointment.

In literary news, I have a copy of Rafael Sabatini's Captain Blood, courtesy Joseph, and I am ridiculously excited about starting it. That will probably happen tonight. I'm still feeling a little under the weather, so I'm not going to dance practice. It's sad, I know, but the book will hopefully make up for it.

Okay, time to go run errands. I need to buy powder and Brianna's ticket for tomorrow.

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I just got another shot in the ass today. I am less than amused, but my tonsils might be smaller, so I'm not actually going to complain... Much. Often. Hard. Ow?

Anyway, the point of this post is to let you all know that I am not dead yet and may actually, soon, be getting better. Since the weekend I've had a really nasty drug-resistant case of strep throat that makes my tonsils look like molding cherries. Yes, I thought that was an attractive image, too. Hopefully the new super-antibiotics the doctors gave will work and I will be back to semi-normal. Fingers crossed, everyone! If I miss dance for the rest of the week, I'm hoping I'll be alive enough to make it to showcase.

In other news, my car is dead. It's not as dead as Brianna's, which has decided to commit seppuku rather than endure another day's service in disgrace, but it's pretty fucking dead. The bastard thing has been in the shop for about a week now and they still have no idea what's wrong with it. If my car was a human and fictional, I'd turn it over to House for inspection. The pettiness and vitriol would be well worth it. Regardless, Papa's going to go heckle the mechanic later today. I have a feeling it will be neither productive nor be fun.

Blergh. I want to be healthy again. I hate sitting around doing nothing. Even if that book I read on Monday was freaking amazing, OMG I LOVE GEORGETTE HEYER AND HER VERY VERY GAY SECONDARY CHARACTERS WITH THEIR SUPERFINE COATS AND ENGENDERED AFFECTIONS! *ahem* I highly recommend herbook Friday's Child, as Gil and Ferdy are perfect and clueless (though not as much as some) and married. Thank you. Good night.
marvinstwin: (Default)
I have food poisoning. Dear God, what next? The plague? I haven't eaten anything of substance in over 24 hours and the thought of trying sort of makes me queasy again.

I've spent the last two nights on the couch, just so that I can be closer to the porcelain goddess of my idolatry. I have to do laundry and pack. I feel like curling up and dying instead.

Why me?
marvinstwin: (Default)
Thank fuck that's over. Now it's home for five unsatisfying days of "rest" in the Sunny Land of Disenchantment. Oh, God. I really don't want to go home. I mean, I want to see mum and papa and Gabi and Brianna and anyone else who happens to be lurking around Turkey Town. It's just that going home requires getting out of bed and doing my laundry and cleaning the apartment and packing and calling a cab and GETTING ON A PLANE, when I can barely take a breath without hacking up a lung. Oh, Jesus. I have to FLY like this.

Can I just not? Can everyone fly out to see me instead? I would really like that.


On the bright side, I've discovered a new TV show called "Slings and Arrows". This time the object of my viewing desire is CANADIAN and set in the midst of a fictional Shakespeare Festival. For those of you who are Due South fans, Paul Gross (OMG ♥) plays the lead: the festival's possibly insane director who appears to be haunted by the ghost of his predecessor. The stage manager owns my soul. The two old queens sing hilarious songs (Cheer Up, Hamlet!) about the show they're putting on. There's heterosexual sex that doesn't weird me out and gay characters that don't make me cringe. This show is utterly brilliant! I suggest YouTubing the first two seasons (only six episodes each) if you have time. "And by the way, you sulky brat, the answer is 'TO BE!'" ♥ ♥ ♥ This is what I want to do with my liiiiiife!
marvinstwin: (Default)
Good News: It's not likely that I have the flu.

Bad News: It is very likely that I have the mono. We don't know for sure yet (I can't get tested until Monday) but the signs, from muscle aches to fatigue to sore throat to nodes the size of casaba melons, point to YES. As I told Gaby, if I really do have the mono, I didn't even get a steady boyfriend to take care of me and bring me soup as my consolation prize. I think this means I am allowed to hate my life.

I spent most of today asleep, and I don't feel any better for it. I can't wait until Thanksgiving Break. I want to go home.
marvinstwin: (Default)
I think it is quite possible that I might have the flu.


Let's just hope that it does not, instead, turn into The Death. We all know how I hate The Death.

Guess who's not going clubbing on Thursday? *points* MEEE.

Guess who's only going to Vertigo if she spends the next two days asleep? *points* MEEE.

Guess who's not going to sleep because she actually has work to do?

Yeah, you get where I'm going with this.

On the bright side, Friday is looking fun. COSTUMES ALL DAY OMG and then Lunch and then Boston Marriage. All of these are good things.





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