I just haven’t been able to get myself to do much of anything. Gotta love those crippling issues.

Anyway, I’m officially on the prowl for a therapist. Yea, I thought I was gonna be the only mentally healthy child of the Baker clan, but I’m suffering from a rather bad bout of depression, not to mention some crap I have to deal with to boot.

It’s not just the high school crap I went through that has been bothering me, I think. That’s a part of it for sure; ever since that Andy!drama back in high school, I can’t get myself to trust new people, even if they are very obviously trustworthy. Infant didn’t help much, Dale kind of didn’t either. It seems Dale only wants to hang out when he expects me to screw him. And so, I haven’t hung out with him in months. But there are some really cool people whom I talk to; like Alyce and Amanda, and Gabby and Kelly. But I can’t really open up like I’d want to. So they’re pseudo-friends as opposed to actual friends. I mean, how can two people be friends if one can’t trust the other? It’s the fundamental backbone of friendship — trust.

The second thing is issues with the family. At the moment, I’m currently not sure if I can divulge, so I won’t, but I guess the best way to put it is this family doesn’t feel like a family, and I suppose any hope of saving that is pretty much gone. We all live together, yes, but there’s no real connection. It just feels like we’re a bunch of people under the same roof, who just to happen to be related to each other. Well, minus Derek, but yea.

The holidays aren’t the same anymore. The only time we actually resemble a loving family would have to be Thanksgiving, and even then, the majority of the day is spent with the men room in their respective rooms on their computers, and Mom cooking Thanksgiving dinner, with the occasional assistance of Kimmie and I (though I plan to help her A LOT more come this year’s turkey day). Natalie is going to be spending her Thanksgiving with us — it’ll be her first ever REAL Thanksgiving meal, the poor child — so maybe it’ll make things a little more fun, but who’s to say?

Christmas might be a little better if they existed in our household. Ever since, oh, I don’t know… when I was 15 or 16, we stopped being able to afford Christmases. For Christ’s sake, we couldn’t even get a tree. Last year we were able to, and that’s only because I was paying for it out of my pocket. It was present to the fam. I might do it again this year because it’s just so depressing without one. The presents last year weren’t from the family; it was a special giveaway thing from Kimmie’s school. So I have the feeling that this year, there will be no tree (unless I get one), there will be no decorating (because I can never seem to get people to help me with decorating around the house — it’s like if there isn’t a tree, then they don’t even care), probably no presents from the parents, I don’t know if I’ll be able to afford presents for the parents, and, as usual, no real family together time.

It’s insanely heartbreaking to watch this happen that way it has. I think that’s the major part of this whole thing. When Millie died, it just triggered the depression, but I have a lot of stuff to get out.

Now if only I could just find an actual therapist.

I haven’t heard any good things about the counselors at the Health center, and well, I wasn’t expecting much, considering one doctor was convinced my once-fractured and still-dislocated coccyx was a cyst (I got x-rays, even though it’s dangerous for my baby making parts, just for the sake of PROVING I WAS RIGHT), and that another doctor thought my deformed clavicle was an overuse injury caused by playing volleyball once a week (turns out there WAS a hairline fracture, like I suspected way back when I first had it, as opposed to a plastic deformation. Hairline fracture makes more sense too). My Personal Essay professor, who frustrates the hell out of me at times, recommended one Susan Compton, who just so happens to not take my GHI insurance. Wonderful. But she told me she’d reach out to colleagues to find someone for me and get back to me. I’m supposed to be expecting a phone call from her today, so *crosses fingers* hope for the best.

… Well that was a lot of depressing stuff. Um, I suppose the only good I can think of is that I’m generally passing my classes, save for one, maybe 2. Though I think in biomechanics I have a C, and I can probably get that up.

Oh, If you haven’t yet, go read the Judgment Day post and review; comments are still open!

This is for my Myspace, because Photobucket is gay. You may continue with your regularly scheduled program.

And besides, I’m sure you’ve got plenty to say. So hurry up and learn how to use it!

I’m ridiculously pissed. Like, WOW pissed.

Excuse me while I go shoot myself.

I got to put my new credit card to use, going food shopping with Mom. I don’t plan on using it often, by the way. I’m not happy with actually having the thing in the first place, but if I’m going to get student loans, I’m gonna need a good credit score, and in order for me to have that, I’m gonna need a credit card. So, once the foods stuffs gets paid off, I only plan on using it a little here and there, like buying a pair of jeans, or maybe a notebook. Little things that are easy to pay off.

Let’s see, anything else… Trip back was really uneventful and SILENT, except for the music we were playing. It was kind of boring, but I guess when your dad doesn’t really have a life beyond his office, you don’t really have much to talk about.

I get to go home in a couple of weeks to help the DCDC with the Obama rally we’re sponsoring in Delhi… you should TOTALLY GO. And I’ll be kept there for a few extra days, because my mom and I figured it’d be much cheaper to keep me till election day and then drove me back instead of driving me back and then coming to get me two days later.

In other news… I think I did something to my back. It hurts in a specific spot when I extend my lower back, and its tender to touch. I think it’s about time i go see Dr. Bonnie. She’ll probably be able to help. Good thing I’m going back in like, what, two weeks?

It didn’t end up well. I puked three times, and have felt nauseous since.

In actuality, on the rare occasions that I drink, I drink in moderation, meaning I pace myself. I try not to down as many as quickly as I can. It gets ugly real fast that way. I had that happen to me once a couple of years back. I puked on and off for hours and passed out and came back to. I woke up still drunk. It was very miserable, and I promised I’d never do that again.

Yea, so much for that.

Anyway, the group of folks I was hanging out with are self-proclaimed “rugged” folks. Rugged, in their lingo, defines, apparently, being able to down a hell of a lot of alcohol, especially the strong stuff. I’ve known this since I first met them, so maybe for me it would have been better if I had declined the offer to drink with them. Or should have been more stubborn about the way I drink, I don’t know.

As the story goes, I did start out pacing myself, like usual. But everyone kept telling me “oh come on, chug it! be rugged!’ and things of that nature. They didn’t seem to listen to me when I told them, or tried to, that I like to pace myself. See, I don’t drink to get drunk and shitfaced. That’s no fun at all. I like to drink to get just a small buzz. Just enough to be cheerful. Is that a bad thing? In some people’s eyes, I guess so.

After a while of their nagging me, I finally gave it and sped up my intake of alcohol. Eventually, I was to the point where I was half-passed out. And I didn’t black out, luckily, but I can only barely remember what happen. I definitely remember stumbling to the bathroom, twice, to heave up the contents of my stomach, before finally passing out at around 3am, if I recall.

I woke up later this morning, feeing nauseous, and I actually puked again. I was dropped off of my dorm, and I went back to bed, sleeping for the rest of the afternoon. After I woke up this evening, I finally had the courage to try eating (ginger ale and crackers – the ultimate in stomach bugs). I still feel nauseous, actually, but it’s not to the point where I feel like I’m actually gonna puke.

Now, on to the point of my post. Usually, I’m very good at resisting peer pressure to do stupid things. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of not doing so when being stubborn was probably most needed. I think, if I ever decide to party here at Ithaca again, that I’m not gonna listen to people implying that I’m wimpy just because I don’t get myself shitfaced. I think it’d probably be even better if I just saved any kind of drinking for at home, where I can drink at my own pace without have everyone get on my case about it, and where I’m around my family and best friends, whom I trust the most.

In all honesty, I really have yet to see what exactly is so great about drinking till you puke in the toilet (or all over yourself, or all over the floor, etc). I’ve only done it twice, counting this episode in my life, and there wasn’t anything “fun” about leaning on the toilet, puking while half-conscious and unable to actually say a coherent sentence. I actually hate it. So to those of you who actually like to do that kind of thing; you go ahead and keep doing that, but let me stick to my drinking till I’m cheerful policy.

I don’t particularly feel like relaying the whole story right now because it’s late, but I’ll make a new post tomorrow telling you what happened.

So, backstory: I definitely want my name (not my full name, Regina, but my more commonly used nickname, Gina) as a tattoo. I’m getting it in Japanese katakana writing. So, here’s my question;

Vertical? Or…

Horizontal?

I want anyone who reads this to leave a comment, giving me their opinion on which way I should get it. So far, the score is Vertical – 2; Horizontal – 0. Maybe I’ll go with majority rules in the end or maybe I won’t, but I wanted to see what you all think. I’m leaning towards vertical, because it is the traditional writing style in Japan, after all.

Oh, before I forget; this tattoo (my name in katakana) will be on my lower back, the right side. So keep that in mind when making your choice.

If you all want, I can post up the image of the other tattoo I want to get. It’s the kanji for strength (methinks it’s known as ‘ryoku’ in Japan, but I’m not sure, because there are several different ways to write strength, not mention several different meanings, in Japan). [EDIT] the length of it will be approximately the length of my point finger, and it’s width will be approximately the length of my thumb’s proximal phalanx.

Thanks!

I couldn’t find the ones I really wanted to find, like Gloria Estefan’s and En Vouge’s appearances, but this one is still a classic.