Things, I Suppose

1. It's bloody hot here. Hot in an "I don't want to do anything" kind of way. Hot in a "We just had crockpot pork sandwiches and popsicles for dinner, because I have been unofficially on strike with cooking for the past two-ish weeks" kind of way. Balls-hot, if you will.

2. So, this one time, I became a graduate school student. School started for the rest of the colleges this week, and it has been weird to see people tromping off with purpose. I carried a take-out bag of lunch to my lab yesterday, and I had to wade through first year medical students. I had weird mixed feelings: that odd sense of superiority you get in knowing that those people are about to embark on something you've already done, a desire to warn them: "You have no idea how much this will break you. But you'll survive. People do. I promise." And a bit of surreal sadness--these kids will have their MDs before I do. Weird. Really weird.

In any case, graduate school is lovely. It really is. I've been so busy this week, running reactions and reading papers and finishing up a grant writing course. But it's a good healthy kind of busy. I have these delicious evenings, often filled with nothing but time to myself. On Tuesday night, Joey and I went to see a movie. On Wednesday, we did trivia with a bunch of friends. When I started graduate school, I stumbled unexpectedly into a social life. I make plans with people; we have dinner, drinks, watch movies. Sometimes, I'll get a call--a simple "dinner?" And most of the time, I can say, "Why yes--that sounds lovely. Wherever shall we go?" After two years of careful social planning, the wild abandon of graduate school feels sinful, refreshing. Amazing.

3. Starting now-ish, I am a regular contributer on Real Mental. Please come check us out sometime! And if you have a mental illness and would like to contribute to one of our "Who You Are" feature, please let me know! [My email address is at the top of the column to your right].

4. Directly related to #3, I did a dumb, dumb thing. And that thing was to miss two consecutive doses of my Lamictal. And when that happens [this was the first time it ever has], something really shitty happens: I have to titrate up again. So, I'm sitting at 25 mgs [1/4 my normal dose] for two weeks, then 50 mgs for two weeks before I can go back to 100. I honestly try to not think about it too much, because if I do, everything gets weird and obtuse in my head. I just keep reminding myself of all the lucidity between ups and downs, that no medicine doesn't automatically equal CRAZY. Which is kind of the opposite of what I have to tell myself most of the time, what I have to convince myself to maintain compliance. It's a weird dichotomy. I'm doing fine.

5. Although I did cry once this week. Because my car [dumb, dumb, dumb '96 Caprice Whale, a hand-me-down from my father] broke down again. This time, 30 minutes from my house. Joey was with me, and thus couldn't come pick me up. I had to call Charlie to come rescue us [he was supposed to pick us up from my house that night anyway...].

So, the good news with that is: I am getting a new car. Sooner rather than later. My father called the other day, and offered to "buy back" the Whale in exchange for $2000 to put down on a new (gently used) car. Right now, we're looking at some reasonably priced Kias and Hyundais; many of them have very few miles and still have factory warranty, which sounds like the best of all possible options. And we're excited! For once, I might have a reliable car.

6. So--social life with dinner and drinks, car payment, bitching about the weather and managing my mental illness? Sometimes it starts to feel very grown-up in these parts. But the feeling doesn't tend to last too long...