The very random adventures of a psychology student, geeklet and all-round dork.


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A pocket full of Kryptonite

I haven't updated in a long while - mostly because too much crazy shit has been going on to even know where to start. Over the past two weeks I've coached people's relationships that included gay clerics in training, ex-boyfriends, and girls juggling three or more men - and probably collected more reasons why staying out of counseling is a good idea than I ever really needed.

On a less frightening but interesting front, Tuesday this week saw the strike that was meant to, eh, bring the government to its knees, I suppose. Public transport, schools, postal service and who knows what else were out of service protesting the severely messed up social politics of the current government. Well, I suppose 40 years of mostly stable and mostly reasonable administrations put the unions right out of practice in the strike department, and everyone was left rather unimpressed.

These strike days are interesting because I never normally acknowledge the extent to which public transport is present at all times in the city. Having borrowed a scooter (image lovingly borrowed from this site via Google image search) from friends because my bike was still out of commission, I spent the day shuttling around in mostly quiet streets that seemed postapocalyptic in their lack of traffic congestion. By the end of the day, I had covered some 10, 15 miles on that thing in monstrous heat, but damn, scooters are fun. I need one. Donations are welcome. >;)

Other things

A while back I wrote about my father’s health problems, and I’ve been worrying ever since. No more – after undergoing angiography earlier this week, Dad has officially been pronounced in good health. He has of course been encouraged to eat more healthily and exercise more, but I imagine his partner will suffer more helping him comply with these recommendations than he will.

My septum has apparently healed nicely after the initial unpleasantness, and is up for the aftercare appointment with Gerald sometime this coming week. It looks great so far and seems a lot straighter than I initially thought, though I won’t be able to tell before I actually get to put some visible metal in it for the first time. Expect squeals of delight later this week no matter how it turns out.

I’m also officially a threat to unsuspecting pedestrians and road users in this city once again - my bike is finally back on the road. It’s so silly how excited I am about that, but my old Marin is one of the best (and definitely the cheapest) stress relief agents around, and in 90+F weather, it certainly does more for my sanity than public transport.

Finally, I read through the entire archives of the Queen of Wands webcomic tonight. Stop by there sometime, it’s pretty spiffy.

posted by Godiva at 6:37 PM

 

No-one's left to stop you now

So I've managed to go all weekend without the promised update again, haven't I. The truth is that I spent most of the weekend simultaneously feeling as though I had taken a hard smack in the nose and acquired a tough cold. While I feel better now, my septum currently seems a bit more swollen than it should be, though the regular aftercare instructions once again seem to be the main culprit. It may just be time to leave the poor thing alone as much as possible, and let an overdeveloped immune system do the rest of the work.

A bunch of interesting and cool things happened this week beside the bodyart, though. Perhaps most notably, I got to see one of my dearest and oldest friends for the first time since his less-than-voluntary removal from the convent he joined directly after high school six years ago. He's undoubtedly one of the most brilliant people I know, and one of very few whose religion goes beyond habit or conforming to social expectations. While I spent years convincing him to diversify into the natural sciences, his "other" field of excellence, I was always deeply impressed and awed by his commitment to his cause, no matter how much I disagreed with him on it. Well, apparently his commitment and dedication, combined with a distinct reluctance to submit to authority for the tired excuse of having to walk the road most traveled, were exactly what got him out of the place. His exit from the order was a very recent and sudden development, and his future seemed very uncertain the last time we talked.

When I saw him this week, the picture was markedly different: He is preparing for several teaching positions, including one as a lecturer in theology, and planning additional university studies while working on his doctorate thesis in theology. Simply put, the friend I saw appeared a happier, more balanced, stronger man than I have seen him in the past six years; it is obvious that he landed on his feet in a tough situation, he's making things happen now that his order's need for mediocrity and conformity would never allow for, and he's finally seeing his work and himself being appreciated rather than suppressed by the people around him. I witness this with the same sense of relief that comes with watching a friend leave any ultimately abusive and unhappy relationship behind them. I know he has learned from the experience, and I know he's going to accomplish great things. I think he's getting close to realizing that people care about and admire him, too. Which might be the better part of it.
posted by Godiva at 5:39 PM

 

Redefinition

As I type this, there are tears in my eyes. And I'm a very happy woman, if one whose eyes are probably going to well up every time she tries to blow her nose for a while yet.

Yes, you guessed it - it's time for another entry about body modification! Please wait for the regular-life update tomorrow or Saturday if you'd like to skip the gory bits.

Getting a septum pierced is nothing if not an intense experience. The sheer absurdity of gloved fingers and rolls of gauze with disinfectant being shoved up my nostrils actually made me laugh pretty hard. (I want a t-shirt that says, "Septum piercings *tickle*.") Laid out with a forceps up my nose and a tray with a very large needle set up comfortably on my stomach, I admit that I cursed my big mouth - what I call the "Why the hell am I here?" moment - a lot more than usual. The piercing itself, while painful, wasn't as bad as I expected from others' accounts - insertion and care was. I was prepared for the brief white flash of pain of piercing, but removing the forceps, inserting the curved barbell and cleaning everything up very nearly made me cry. It doesn't help that strong pressure or pain in your nose makes your eyes well up instantly - there were tears running down my face to my ears, and I was very close to wanting to hit the next person who would touch my face. I've been pierced fourteen times (including my first, retired lobe piercings) and up until now there was no piercing I wouldn't do a second time if I lost it. Well, I think I've met my match. And yes, I know this opinion will last, oh, probably all the way till tomorrow morning.

The bad (yet good) part here, of course, is that this piercing is almost invisible. I've fidgeted with handheld mirrors and pointed cameras up my nose, and the curved barbell is still hard to make out. The placement, I think, is excellent even if it's not perfectly straight - anything better would have involved surgically resetting my creatively shaped nose. Cleaning is going to require more inventive originality.

Despite the amount of pain that is so far unparalleled by my previous experiences, and despite the fact that I'm not going to see this piercing much for at least another month, I'm very happy I did this. It required jumping over my shadow and firmly shaking some people's idea of who I'm supposed to be or how far I'm supposed to go. Having it feels very oddly right. I'll be happy to shed some more tears for that.

posted by Godiva at 5:48 PM

 

Don't try this at home

You know those times when you look out the window, think, "Looks nice enough", and go out wearing a T-shirt and sandals? Well, it figures that by the time you are far enough from home to contemplate going back, you will be caught in a torrent. Now, I love summer rain more than most (and even hail is kinda cool), but spending three hours in a basement psychometrics lab takes a surreal turn when you're absolutely drenched. I'm not talking a bit damp but "so damn wet you could drive people from the room by shaking your head".

It was fun.

Of course, by the time class ended not only was it still raining, but the temperature had dropped from 28°C or so to around 15°C. Extra points here for damp clothes and sandals. I'm counting on a snuggly oversized UCSB sweater, vanilla flavored tea and my amazing immune system. Serious colds are a bit like pon'farr to me both in frequency of incidence, and in pleasance to all involved.

Yet another body mod update below, not for the queasy

It's been four weeks since my last piercing, so I went to see Gerald for the aftercare checkup yesterday. After changing and replacing my increasingly complex configurations of jewelry and chatting about his cats and his plans to open his own studio later this month, I finally plucked up the courage to ask him about septum piercings - a mod I've found myself simultaneously fascinated and frightened by for the past ten years. His answer was so encouraging that I only walked out without one because doing otherwise would have felt greedy. I'm going to settle for doing some more research for a few weeks and paying Gerald a visit once his new studio is open.

I never forgot the first time I saw a real-life septum piercing on a seriously modded London kid in the early 90's. He was wearing 2-inch tusks in it for full effect, and teenage small-town me was just baffled in a "How does that work?" kind of way. I guess I always felt more strongly about the septum than any other piercing - the connotations of tribalism and slavery (in the case of rings) felt odd to me for a long time. At the same time, I always considered it a serious, proud, no-nonsense mod.

As I started considering facial mods, oft-doomed eyebrow piercings, ubiquitous nostrils and labrets never seemed worth the hassle in a number of ways. All three are largely non-concealable (and I hate to say this, but this can be a factor even in the more progressive world of human resources management), have a worrying tendency to look overly cutesy and girly unless used in ways that my job would never allow, and generally just seem like mission impossible on a face that gets accidentally smacked, scratched and slept on as often as mine does. It still took me a long while and a tongue piercing to overcome my queasiness about facial mods even after the realization that septum piercings just made my jaw drop and triggered the "me want" reflex like nothing else. It's still a serious and extremely meaningful mod to me, and I realize its potential for being painful and slow-healing if placed in the hard cartilage further up the septum. Then again, Gerald kicks seventy shades of ass - I might be hard pressed to let someone else stick bloody big needles through my nose. As it is, my modifications are a very happy work in progress, and I'm very excited about this next step.

posted by Godiva at 3:17 PM

 

Don't close your eyes

For the past two weeks or so, my job has been walking the fine line between stressful and downright insane. Over the past week in particular, I've been so productive I've been getting all giddy over it. I'm also going to be spending what looks like a major portion of the weekend doing contracting work for my company. Hopefully this current productivity rush will last beyond the deadline this coming Wednesday: My thesis could use it.

Odd topic of the week: Fathers. My dad - an aggressively healthy man in his early sixties - was recently discovered to have heart problems of as yet undeclared severity. He's been seeing doctors who all agree that, while his condition is not threatening at this time, there will be more examinations and possibly some minor surgery "just to make sure". Well, he's worried. I'm terrified. Very probably much more than the situation justifies. Having thought of myself as pretty immune to "daddy daddy" neuroses and the worship of fathers as some sort of ultimate men all my life, I hereby insert my foot firmly into my mouth. It seems like this sort of stuff just isn't supposed to happen to our fathers, even and especially if we're aware of their shortcomings and weaknesses. Even more so if we're as aware of our parents' mortality as I am.

I realize that throughout my childhood and even before that, my mother had a way of falling extremely ill in one way or another, seemingly just scraping by narrowly. My dad, on the other hand, had a way of recovering much more easily from just about anything than anyone reasonably should. (I've always attributed my hyperactive immune system to his genes.) I hope he's as good at that as I think he is.

posted by Godiva at 4:46 PM

 

Everything you know is wrong

Ever have one of those days that left you wondering whoever dreamed up the idea that humans as a species were capable of maintaining an honest relationship any longer than it takes them to complete the initial bonk or three? Yeah, exactly. I now get to cover for another friend whose man thinks she just spent two days studying with me, and no, I didn't get a choice in the matter. Did I mention how I wish people managed to be honest with themselves if not each other?

For my own future I just want one thing: Good enough friends that they will smack me in the face and call me on it when everyone but me can clearly see that I'm full of shit.

posted by Godiva at 6:15 PM

 

Deep shadows and brilliant highlights

(This will be the last update I name for a HIM album. I dread to think what the next one would have to be about.)

This past week I've seen some of the best and worst of several, ehh, groups of people, and that's what I'm going to babble, rant and gush about today, mostly because the headache I've been accessorizing for the past two weeks or so is really unenjoyable right now. So, if anything here doesn't make as much sense as it should, please feel free to blame it squarely on that fact.

People's exes tend to be a wondrous breed. The people we once loved often seem to drift off into any or all of a few categories: "whacked-out psycho", "manipulative destroyer of things to come", "potent bringer of misery, hangups and anger", or in rare cases, "really cool friend". This week I've seen entirely too much of each; and that includes (but is not limited to) my own former boyfriend, who now almost has me convinced that we were a complete and utter mismatch and never happy together in almost every respect. I'm pretty sure that's a lie, but I'm not sure it matters. After witnessing the detrimental effect his comments can still have on my body image, a number of things seem... clearer today. I wish more women (including myself) were better at remembering the one golden rule of relationships that never quite were - there's a reason he's an ex - and subsequently better at calling people on their shit when it's so obvious you should be searching for a pitchfork.

I wrote earlier on that there would be a positive version to this as well, and there is. I will never cease to be amazed at the way some people can be confronted with that creature inside you that so resembles a Klingon targ and not only respect and acknowledge its existence but end up with the damn beast purring and snoozing in their lap within an hour. This in turn helps me live with and even appreciate what can feel like a mental zoo that would do Rick Berman proud - I'm a happy and extremely privileged woman. Yes, I'm going to drop the Trek metaphors now, and no, I'm not talking about an ex here. Methinks I would be quite insane to let him become such a thing.

Second on the list of rants du jour: Therapists. I admit that for a psychologist, I have a fair bit of skepticism for the field of psychotherapy in a wider sense. I considered myself both proven wrong and proven right in the space of a few hours today.

For several months, my company was half-heartedly looking for a different supervisor/team coach to moderate our monthly sessions. Yes, in my field of business I think we're supposed to be doing New Age stuff like that, which routinely leaves new team members coming in from more conservative companies flabbergasted and shocked. It was a brilliant thing with the previous coach, and after much deliberation, a new one was brought in, and if she struck me as a refurbished high school teacher rather than a psychologist initially, that's because that's what she is. Even leaving the youthful arrogance aside for a moment, I cannot fail to see that the coach seemingly spent half the first session sucking up to the person who brought her into the company as well as the CEO, waxing philosophical on what it means to manage a multinational company (though where she learned about that while predominantly working with children, I'll never know). I felt thoroughly underwhelmed; you can only achieve so much as an impartial observer when you show little sign of impartiality or initiative. I'm prepared to put it down to initial issues, but I will not be happy with this arrangement if I turn out to be wrong about that.

Just hours later I was sitting in a basement lab taking notes as a colleague was generating utter misery in a roleplayed exploration. A quiet, complicated type, he was having a hard time interviewing a dominant "client" and her two feisty "daughters" about their domestic problems. Feedback and suggestions supplied by the rest of the group proved unsuccessful again and again as the client proceeded to tell the "psychologist" in no uncertain terms exactly how he was to cure one daughter's supposed problems in therapy. The professor - head of the psychometrics department and the psych institute, and a controversial figure for most - moderated and offered ideas and encouragement on what he admitted was a tough case. When the hopelessness of the situation became obvious and had been discussed exhaustively, he ended up giving the first and probably last demonstration of his own skill and methods of this class; a perfectly calm, secure and powerful persona that left no doubt that the insane situation could be resolved productively and to everyone's benefit. All too many therapists of some sort that I have met seemed too touchy-feely and cutesy by comparison; this was neither. I am obviously aware of the experience and skill that took this man where he is, and critical enough of the persona students usually see. This time, for once I could see exactly what it is that draws people to this painful, tiring, headachey profession, and no description here is going to be close. I am deeply, deeply impressed.

posted by Godiva at 4:34 PM

 

Love M---- what?

I actually did something yesterday that is getting rare for me - I went and acquired a bunch of CDs that just came out, HIM's Love Metal and The Gathering's Souvenirs. Rare because most new albums have seemed like too much of a hassle to really get into recently, and the rest can neatly be summed up under three headers: "I already have it", "my sister has it", or "acquiring it requires hours of hunting around eBay and weird shady second hand stores". I was prepared to hit my gothy pop metal groove good and pick up some Evanescence as well, if the store had been kind enough to actually have it. WTF?

Rather unsurprisingly, HIM have managed to put forth yet another uninspired and uninspiring album. They sound like an aging pop group trying to emulate the appeal of their first two records without really figuring out what the girls were screaming about. Beyond Redemption is still sexy, though I'm rather hoping they'll release the code for the random goth lyrics generator that must have spawned the words on Love Metal. Hell, I admit it: The only reasons I still buy their albums are misguided optimism, and the hope that I'll get to see them live if the record sells well enough.

The Gathering, on the other hand, are a band I always wish I really liked. I listen to them thinking, "this is neat" - yet at the end of each song I simply couldn't say what it sounded like. I intend to listen to this goddamn album until it sticks. It's just got to be doable.

Anyway, enough whining about kiddy goth bands and their often mediocre offerings. I finally caved in and got myself a new portable CD player. I'm still taking bets on how long it will take me to destroy this one; my last few portable audio systems have averaged between 12 and 18 months, tops. I suppose I do, um, use them a bit more than your average consumer might.

To get away from my rare moment of electronics shopping - my sister buys that much in two weeks - for a moment, I've been working on getting back into the joy and fun that is SPSS. While it's nice to figure things out again and be reminded that I know more than I generally realize, I'm pretty sure a whole host of software developers are forever burning in UID hell for this abomination.

(Edit: The Gathering's album is, of course, called Souvenirs, not Survivor. Sheesh!)
posted by Godiva at 6:25 PM

 

Talking metaphorically

For days now I've been trying to put together an update that wouldn't be several thousand words' worth of topics that absolutely don't belong here. This past week was more complicated than most.

Monday's lesson: I do not want to know about your digestion

Going out with your friends can be a mixed blessing at the best of times. While I still dislike going to movies or restaurants by myself, I've come to appreciate the stress-free chillout factor of a solitary pint down the pub: While there will most likely still be people to talk to, you can always send them on their merry way when they get annoying.

Monday night my friend Alexandra was sleeping over, so the customary pub visit was on the cards. She has recently been developing a habit of flirting with just about anyone who can deliver a somewhat coherent pickup line, and this time she literally barely made it in the door. The guy of the day was the sort of would-be slick, full-of-himself salesman that neither of us tends to be particularly fond of, and accessorized with forced, noisy conversation and "please let me in your pants GOD PLEASE" body language. Oh, and a friend who redefined "tedious". This second guy was the experience incarnate that I always hoped people were making up - the drunk guy whose first topic of conversation contains an account of various digestive problems he has experienced in the past. I think I just stared at him in disbelief and completely stopped responding or looking at him, just taking adjusting steps back at regular intervals to keep him out of my face. After letting myself be bored to tears for a while by these splendid characters, I finally just retreated to the bar and proceeded to have an excellent time. My friend joined me an hour or two later; guy A had finally managed to stop talking long enough for her to tell him that she had a boyfriend, after which he predictably excused himself very quickly. I... I'm just going to change the topic now.

Tuesday's lesson: Appreciate normalcy

... in whatever shape or form it presents itself. Note: Sometimes there is a thin, thin line between a cool, well-adjusted friend and a psycho ex. And more often than not, you're left wondering what the hell just came over you.

Wednesday's lesson: The end is extremely f***ing nigh

To beat yet another dead horse, they say sex, even when bad, is still good. Apocalyptic movies on the other hand - even when good - are still bad for you. 28 Days Later is a lovely British low-budget movie with a good concept and great atmosphere that just went downhill from there. You can only fit so many plot holes in a single movie.

At the same time, my office is going insane. I spend most of my time on administrative work for a project I know next to nothing about, which is very probably not even going to happen anyway. On top of my regular work, of course. I never thought I'd come to appreciate the unassuming simplicity of a completely unscientific ranking spreadsheet.

Thursday's lesson: What normalcy?

Late-evening walks take a turn for the surreal when they occur under the light of huge, full, yellow moons. Even more so when they cross the paths of more prostitutes than you were aware still operated in your quarter.

Many people seem to have things they're better off not spending too much thought on because they just end up picking at wounds that haven't healed over, some in a more literal sense than others. These things make excellent topics to ignore completely during the aforementioned late-evening walks or in times of stress. No, really.

Saturday's lesson: Ama et fac quod vis

After I just deleted the Friday entry on the infinitely depressing topic of people losing their babies, I do want to note some positive things for this week as well so as not to make it look worse than it actually was.

The recent acquisition has been by far the easiest to heal, least painful piercing I've ever had, and definitely the most interesting. ^_^ And on an only semi-related note, I'm still ridiculously in love with a wonderful man. My life gets crazier than I really want to have to handle at times, but I wouldn't exchange it for anything, ever.

The weekend's lesson: Get some sleep, crazy woman.

Yes, that's it. The rest of the rant will happen another time or not at all, preferably. ;) Good night.


posted by Godiva at 7:07 PM

 

A girl thing

The day after getting a new piercing tends to suck for me. It starts with crawling out of bed to apply aftercare to an often swollen, slightly bloody and quite painful part of my anatomy that was none of these things the night before; and a day can only get better after that. Funnily enough, walking still presented absolutely no problem today, but sitting up straight requires some work and a good amount of gritting my teeth. Yeah, so all this is probably TMI here. I am, however, quite in love with the new addition, and the hassle has been comparatively minimal thus far.

Today was the first reasonably warm spring day of the year (Note the date please, I hate this climate) so I went downtown, picked up coffee/Nutella/strawberry-yogurt icecream at Molin-Pradel, then wandered around the old town dodging Easter tourists. Later, I spent the evening finally sorting the data from my experiment and getting everything into a uniform shape. I know now why I put this off for a few weeks; I heartily disagree with some facets of the database implementation, whose main aim seems to be the creation of additional work for the experimenter. I do seem to be getting there now though.

Tomorrow my best friend is coming down to the city for two days to hang out, work on our theses and generally being reminded of the things that make this place so cool. I'm excited about seeing her.

posted by Godiva at 4:15 PM