It’s almost amazing how one thing can change a situation from horrible to pleasant.

I had to get downtown to pick up our car (the battery kept dying because the trunk light wouldn’t go out) and on the way to the PRT, ran into a friend I hadn’t talked to in a couple of years. She also needed to go downtown, so we went together.

Long story short–the PRT was down due to lightening, so a trip that should have taken 20 minutes ended up taking and hour and a half.

Normally, this would be incredibly frustrating, but we spent the entire time talking and catching up, so the whole trip ended up being rather pleasant. Of course I would have preferred not standing around or walking in the heat and humidity, but it was very good to talk and catch up.

So here’s for having the right frame of mind.

So, after two invitations in less than a month, and (I must admit) against my better judgment, I finally joined Facebook.

It is nice that I can keep in contact with people after they’re gone, such as graduated students who I’ve worked with. It’s also interesting that I found several family members, including two of my cousins, one of whom is in high school. I almost feel like I shouldn’t be looking.

But the best thing was check out the site today and seeing this message:

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I knew there was a reason I never go to Think Geek.

That would be because I never knew until now that I NEEDED a Working Wooden Trebuchet. But I do.

However I’m going to sit on my hands.

Because I saw a bunch of other stuff I needed more.

That place is possible more dangerous than Despair.com.

Ack! Now I found something ELSE I need.

Must. Sit. On. Hands.

Oh! Look! They’ve got MISTAKES as a t-shirt….

I feel all embarrassed, reading the comments in response to my last depression post. I really wasn’t expecting any comments, I just wanted to get stuff out of my head. But thank you for the comments, I do appreciate them.

Which brings me to something else I’ve been thinking about recently–the difference between how one perceives oneself and how others perceive you.

I am pretty sure that those who knew me in high school and college would in no way recognize the person that I have become. Not only in looks (!) but in how I behave, what I believe, and who I have become.
When I was younger I was incredibly judgmental (hell, I still am, sometimes). I saw things in black and white, good and evil, and could not for the life of me understand how people could hold opinions that were so obviously wrong (i.e. different from mine.) But as I screwed up my own life, I came to understand that there wasn’t necessarily a thing such as evil, and that evil was sometimes the result of a cascade of bad decisions and poor judgment.

I also was doing my best to screw up my life. Much of it stemmed from attempting to self-medicate, but some also came from immaturity, and my inability to deal with my mental state (which circles back around to my attempts to self-medicate).

But slowly–slowly!–I started to grow up. It took me a lot longer than everyone else, but I eventually got there. I also learned better ways to deal with my depression and OCD. (First Rule: Never drink when depressed. Ever. Second Rule: Don’t drink when depressed.)

And I talked to people. And while talking people I learned to listen. And I learned that people usually have sound reasons for the opinions they hold, and that those opinions are not usually bad judgment as much as differing priorities. (Though I draw the line at GWB. Anyone who thinks he is a good president doesn’t just have different priorities–they have something seriously wrong with them.)

And I learned to think before I acted. This sounds like such a small thing, something you hear repeated all the time, but it’s something that took me years to learn. And I still have not mastered it, but I’m getting better.

And through all of this I changed from who I was to who I am now. Except that I’m still the person I was then. The person I am now still carries all the guilt of what I did then; My past colors my current perception of myself. How do you escape this? Can you ever escape this?

But here’s the funny thing. If I hadn’t screwed up so much, made so many mistakes, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. I might still be the judgmental little snot I was when I was a teenager, still seeing the world in black and white. I wouldn’t have the patience I’ve gained, or the understanding that people screw up. It happens. And that they need to be forgiven.

But sometimes, what helps the most is the realization that without my past–and the many things I regret about my past–I would not be the person I am today. I would not have the life I have today. Because despite the depression an OCD, I know I am damned lucky. I have a marvelous, wonderful husband. I have a family who supports me. And I have good friends.

And really, what more could anyone need?

Okay. You’re right. I also have disposable income to buy books. See how lucky I am!

For the incredibly cute archives, we have baby hedgehogs who have adopted a brush as their mother. And of course there are lots of adorable pictures of the baby hedgehogs and their “mother.”

For those who read fantasy, Bookslut looks at fantasy book covers with wizards. Snark included.

For something even more strange, foam attacks an Australian beach. I realize this was natural, but I associate foam like that on a body of water–especially that color–with pollution. So the pictures kinda squick me out.

And less cute and even more strange, Mike the Headless Chicken. I vaguely remember hearing about this years ago, but now there’s a website. And it has pictures. It also explains how Mike the Headless Chicken lived, including how they fed him.

And one last cute thing… if you haven’t been by in awhile, Stuff on My Cat is putting up new pictures every hour.

You know, that phrase never made any sense to me. As a pejorative, it works only under the assumption that “mental” is a negative. Which it isn’t. It’s positive or negative or neutral, depending upon the context, as in “mental agility” “mental illness” and “mental state”. So why would you make a word having to do with your brain function a pejorative? Is it specifically a slam against mental illness, or is it more vague and instead referring to those who use their brains?

Of course I can see both as possibly valid, considering how American society seems to value intelligence.

But that wasn’t my point when I sat down to write.
I’ve been thinking for several days about mental health and mental illness, and why it’s so difficult to admit to mental illness.

I recently talked to two professors, to let them know why I was not going to be taking classes again this fall, and I wasn’t sure when I’d be taking classes again, because I’m incapable of continuing until my mental health is more stable.

It was very difficult to have those two conversations, despite the fact that I was talking to my public health professors. Even though I was sure these professors would understand the implications of what I was saying, it was still very hard to say it.

One of the things that depression does is leave you with a huge sense of vulnerability. You assume that everything is your fault–if someone is in a bad mood, I have to figure out what I did wrong. If someone says something to me that I take the wrong way, I can sit and obsess over what I did to deserve that comment, even if the remark meant nothing to the person who said it.

So admitting to depression and mental illness is opening yourself up at a time when you’re already vulnerable. You already feel inadequate, and then you’re expected to admit that inadequacy to other people. Even if this society were accepting of mental illness, this would be a hard thing to do. It’s even harder knowing that some people will see your confession as a confession of weakness.

In essence, you are creating a self-fulfilling prophecy. You feel incapable to properly dealing with a situation, and in confessing your weakness, others then assume your lack of capability. I know that eventually I’ll be over my depression and move on with my life, but I wonder whether in confessing this weakness, I have reduced myself in the eyes of those with whom I have shared this. I will no longer be “Michelle the geek” or “Michelle the software support person” or “Michelle with the quirky sense of humor” or “Michelle who bakes awesome chocolate desserts” but will instead be classified forever in the minds of others as “Michelle, who suffers from depression, so maybe you should be careful around her.”

Perhaps they would have good reason to feel that way. Maybe depression is like breaking a vase. You can patch it back together, but it’s never quite as strong or as good as it was before it broke.

But if I’m lucky, it’s like a patchwork quilt. When the quilt wears thin in one place, you just patch it up with a new square of material, making it stronger and giving it even more character.

I have $150 worth of books on pre-order from Amazon, from September 1st to the end of next March.
And they’re all paperback.

It’s a sickness I say, but one from which I don’t want to get better.

I am NOT death, in case that is what you were expecting.

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There has been an increasing amount of news about Sunnyside recently, although everyone knows the problem has been an area for years–decades even. (For those not familiar with Morgantown, Sunnyside is a student district where old houses have been divided and subdivided into ramshackle apartments that are rarely kept up or maintained. It’s full of dilapidated houses, overgrown yards, and trash.) But the recent collapse of a porch roof that sent two students to the hospital has brought the area back under the spotlight.

Frankly, I agree with the assessment that Sunnyside is a blight on the city, but I don’t see the slumlords as having the slightest interest in maintaining their properties, and until the city forces them, nothing will happen.

However, despite my dislike for the slumlords, I was highly amused by a quote about the situation in today’s DA.

(Landlord) Craig said the problems of Sunnyside were not just bad landlords and that the shifting earth is not a surprise because the city hasn’t installed a storm drain in the area. “Where does that ground water come from?” he said. “The earth’s core?”

Michael:(lifting something heavy) Ook!
Me: You’re not a librarian!

It’s amazing how one jerk can ruin your entire afternoon.

Despite being busy, most everyone has been polite and patient, and it’s been a pleasant experience.

However.

One phone call from the Rudest Woman in Morgantown was enough to make me rant for thirty minutes. I simply don’t understand how one human being can be so horrific. Was she raised by rabid raccoons and never properly socialized? Does she want to make everyone around her as cranky and miserable as she is?

Bah. I think I’ll go get some chocolate. Chocolate makes everything better.

ADDENDUM the First:
Twice in ONE DAY! What have I done to deserve this?!

Nope. Not for another week or two.

I could not believe how busy things were today. In six months it seems like we’ve already outgrown our new facility. But maybe things will be better towards the end of the week.

For the rest of the night, I’m going to collapse and do as little as possible.

Michael: (meekly) Can you do something for me?
Me: What?
Michael: Pull up the poison ivy along the driveway?

Since I have never gotten poison ivy–even when everyone else I was with became covered in it, I’m pretty sure I’m not sensitive to it. So I get the job of removing it when Michael finds it.

Mind you, I’m not stupid. I wear gloves and use a plastic bag to pull it up and immediately wrap it up and throw it away.

But still, sometimes it’s good to be able to do something Michael can’t.

phishing \FISH-ing\ noun
: a scam by which an e-mail user is duped into revealing personal or confidential information which the scammer can use illicitly

“Phishing” is one of the many new computer-related terms that have found their way into the general lexicon over the past decade or so. Its “ph” spelling is influenced by an earlier word for an illicit act: “phreaking.” Phreaking involves fraudulently using an electronic device to avoid paying for telephone calls, and its name is suspected of being a shortening of “phone freak.” A common phishing scam involves sending e-mails that appear to come from banks requesting recipients to verify their accounts by typing personal details, such as credit card information, into a Web site that has been disguised to look like the real thing. Such scams can be thought of as “fishing” for naive recipients.

Of course, I assume that the majority of people who find their way here already know what phishing is and how to avoid phising scams. However, you can look at this as a reminder to educate those around you who don’t know about or understand phishing, so that one day we won’t have to receive 487 phishing e-mails a day.

This is me, not looking at my retirement fund for awhile.

La la la la la la!

There’s nothing I can add to this headline:
Man Wraps Head in Duct Tape and Attempts to Rob Liquor Store

Okay, I lied:

Store manager Bill Steele had some duct tape of his own, but his was wrapped around a wooden club that sent the robber fleeing

(via Hillbilly Sophisticate)

Note: My Grandmother had ten siblings, eight of who lived to adulthood (and many of whom lived to 90 years old). Her older sister was Sophie.

Grandmom: …because you could barely see it at the end of her life, I almost forgot about the big burn on Sophie’s leg. She never let it bother her and went to the beach and everything and wasn’t at all self-conscious about it.
Dad: Nor should she have been!
Michelle: How did she burn her leg?
Dad: Was that the fire that they thought was why Grandma lost the baby?
Grandmom: Yes, that’s what they said, because she was trying to put the fire out, but I don’t think….
Michelle: But HOW did Aunt Sophie burn her leg? (Trust me–interrupting was the ONLY way I was going to find out the answer to my question.)
Grandmom: (matter-of factly) Oh, the boys (their brothers) tied her to a stake and set her on fire.
Michelle & Dad: WHAT?!
Grandmom: (still matter-of-factly) They were playing cowboys and Indians. (To my Dad) You didn’t know that?
Dad: No! I didn’t know that! You never told me that!
Grandmom: I thought you knew that.
Michelle: Your brothers set Aunt Sophie on FIRE?
Dad: And you were mad at ME for ACCIDENTALLY setting the garage on fire?!

My entire house smells of chocolate.

I’m visiting family tomorrow, so this evening I made homemade oreos (every time I’ve made these someone has requested the recipe) and chocolate chocolate chip cookies, from the The Ultimate Chocolate Cookie Book.

I used four different kids of chocolate between the two recipes; cocoa, dutch process cocoa, semi-sweet chocolate chips, bittersweet chocolate.

Because if you’re going to have dessert, then HAVE dessert and make it worth the calories.

And at some point I still need to make scones to put in the freezer to bake and have hot one weekend morning.

Yum.

Saw it yesterday!

It was great!

But…

Curse my propensity for motion sickness!

We normally go see movies several weeks after they’ve come out, so this was my first time seeing a movie on one of the larger screens at our new theaters, and I unthinkingly sat in the same place we always do–about halfway back, perhaps a bit closer.

I should have sat in the back row, because partway though I got motion sick. There were lots of actions scenes where they raced on horseback through the forest. Or ran through the forest. Or raced through the air during a storm.

None of which went over well with my stomach.

So although we both really enjoyed it, there were large swaths I couldn’t watch, because I knew that if I didn’t close my eyes I was going to throw up.

So here’s my review: AWESOME! but sit in the back, just in case.

Also? Septimus was fantastic and amazing and just plain great!

Very unlikely…

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Okay, I am seriously thinking about ordering this.

Smashing a computer with a hammer is almost a good as throwing one off the roof of the building.

As I’ve mentioned before, I work in the Health Science Center for WVU. I would say that a majority–if not a vast majority–of the employees have job where we have to work with people.

So why does the cafeteria serve so many dishes with garlic and onions and other stinky foods? Are they trying to up their income from mint sales at the vending machines? Or do they have it in for the patients who have to deal with these doctors and nurses and administrators for the rest of the day?

Stardust opens this weekend.

It’s an adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s graphic novel/novel of the same name, that you REALLY SHOULD GO SEE!

Because Neil Gaiman is the BEST.

Plus, I’ve heard comparisons to The Princess Bride so it HAS to be good!

I am fascinated by this list of 1930s American Slang.

As I love crime novels and historical novels, much of the slang was either familiar to me or made sense. Although there were some words that even I–who use the word Trollop on a regular basis–found strange. “togged to the bricks” and “skin tickler” just sound weird, even when compared to “shake a leg” and “big house”.

But I am sure that this list will come in handy at some point.

(via Stereo Describes by Scenario)

No. Of course not.

I added a current reading list to the sidebar. As it appears both here and in my book blog, I’ll try to keep it updated.

And yes, I really do read that many books at one time–and that doesn’t count the books I started, put down, and left of the headboard thinking I’ll pick them up later.

I’ll also try to keep them in order, i.e. the books I’ve been reading the longest will be at the bottom. The books that sit on the back of the toilet tank will most likely have that honor, as will the books I stick in my pocket for waiting rooms and riding the PRT.