In Coffee Spoons

Hello Kitty tattoo? Adorable. Hello Kitty raw wounds? A little bit WTF.

( Scarification pics behind this. )

I can only imagine the way this turned out, being done in that house by that guy with those supplies. When you are sopping up blood with paper towels in *any* situation, mistakes have been made.

Strike that.

I am still tired as all hell.

Cymbalta does not seem to be working.

But it's hard to tell. If I try and pay attention, I get worried that I'm overanalyzing every emotion and blowing things out of proportion. If I don't pay attention, I get worried that I'm coasting on a placebo. I guess if I ever find a really perfect combination of meds, it'll prove itself by getting me to stop worrying about whether or not it works.

I'm not depressed. I'm not as tired, either. But the OCD is bad like it hasn't been in some time. Which is strange, because the Lamictal is supposed to be for the OCD and the Prozac for the depression. Can Cymbalta just completely cancel out the effects of another med? I hope not.

I'm supposed to see Dr. V. in...three weeks, I think. So I'll stick with it and see how I'm doing by then.

Blurgh.

Got my "why am I so freaking tired" lab tests back.

Dr. V: We test for leukemia, anemia. None of these.

Me: I am glad I do not have any emias.

Dr. V: No, no emias.

The thyroid test came back fine, because the last doctor I saw was an idiot. (Dr. V was out of town.) I mean, she saw me *once*, did *one* thyroid test, and just handed me a bottle of Synthroid? Um, no.

Why am I tired? Nobody knows! I'm not surprised. This is the third or fourth time in the past couple of years that I've gone to the doctor complaining of fatigue, and the third or fourth time that they've done a big workup of tests and not found anything and gone "huh".

Dr. V. thinks it might be a physical symptom of my depression, so he's switching me from Prozac to Cymbalta. Since I was concerned that the Prozac had stopped working, I'm definitely willing to give it a try.

If I'm not perky in four weeks, he wants to test me for Chronic Epstein-Barr.

Hey Ashley, would you like a bottle of Synthroid?

I had a bunch of stuff to write about, because I've actually been out interacting with people for a change, but I just got back from getting my blood drawn and the nurse tried both arms and couldn't find a vein and then tried my hand twice and finally got a vein and the hand is fucking extra painful on top of the three stabs I'd already gotten and I totally passed out and I still feel really shaky and weird.

At least I didn't puke.

WHY why do I do this every single fucking morning

and go out the door and say hmmmm it's cold I should go back and put some leggings on under my jeans and then I say oh it's not that cold I'll be fine

and then I get back and my legs are freezing and then the goosebumps and the redness every single fucking time and the itching like mad and the scratching and the itching

every FUCKING morning you STUPID motherFUCKER

Journal's currently undergoing a makeover, as you can see.

Makeover somewhat fucked for completely unknown reasons.

ETA: I'm now thinking that I'd like to switch back to one of my old layouts and just keep this colour scheme and background, but I don't know if I could upload my header image as a journal title. Going to keep playing with it.

Also, posted the missing answers to the music meme.

"I think the most romantic song in MT would have to be 'As Long as He Needs Me' from Oliver. It is simply splendiferous!! Whenever someone gives me those little butterflies in my stomach, I usually sing this song ..."
--Matthew Morrison

WHAT

WHAT

WHAT

...had an unfortunate adventure. Consequently, so did Erin.

Monday:

"I'm sorry, we can't send someone to turn your power on today because it's Memorial Day."

"Of course, I should have thought of that. No problem, I can spend another night in my old apartment."

Tuesday:

"I'm sorry, we can't send someone to turn your power on today because you need to fax your personal information to our Detroit office for verification."

"Okay...I can spend another night in my old apartment...I guess."

Wednesday:

"I'm sorry, we can't send someone to turn your power on today because the verification process takes three to four days."

"But...but...no way to speed the process up? No? Nothing? Well, I can ask my landlord if he'll let me stay a few extra days in the old apartment."

Friday:

"I'm sorry, we can't send someone to turn your power on today because we can only turn on so many meters in a day and we're already booked full. We can send someone out on Monday."

"I WOULD LIKE TO SPEAK WITH A MANAGER. PLEASE."

I tried three different departments and was told by five different people that I'm not getting my power turned on until Monday, but that it is absolutely scheduled.

My incredibly understanding landlord says he doesn't care if I stay in the old apartment until then, as long as I have it clean so he can show it to prospective tenants.

BLARGH nonetheless.

Easter Sunday started out as a really nice day; not warm, but sunny and bright, with the ice finally melting.

Me: Hurrah for spring! I think I will go for a walk to celebrate the much-anticipated end of winter!

Michigan: HAHAHA FUCK YOU.

Halfway through my walk, it was cold and snowing.

Which is also about the time my foot the one, I swear to god the one single miniscule *one*, patch of ice on the entire dirt road, and I fell.

And landed with my full weight on my left wrist.

Awesome.

I'm waiting to hear back from the doctor about my x-rays. It's either a major sprain or a minor hairline fracture. Hey, maybe both!

In a brace now. It doesn't hurt at all if I hold it straight, but hurts like a motherfucker if I try to bend it either way. Actually, I'm on Darvocet right now, so I could probably bend it with a brick on top of it and not feel anything.

I pried my ring off when my fingers started to swell up, and not wearing it feels very weird. I've worn it since I was...19? Something like that.

My right hand does not like to help out. Stubborn bastard.

This is completely unrelated, but have you ever heard a song that's really bad, like embarassingly bad, but it gets stuck in your head and you can't stop listening to it? Yeah, see below.