This past week I had a long discussion with my major professor, in which she brought to my attention the level of anxiousness I have been displaying of late. Sadly, when I went to the doctor to discuss medication, he indicated that the only drugs he could prescribe me were the same ones which caused hypersomnia the last time I took them. I realize that lately I have been fairly depressed for no reason, and that depression has also brought me a great deal of anxiety. There is no real reason for me to be depressed/anxious, except for a chemical imbalance. So in order to be at my best for the job market, my dissertation, and my life in general, I believe it is time for me to once again take a trip down medication lane.

In order to deal with my anxiety, I have elected to go to the psychiatrist, who can actually prescribe medications which will deal with my depression/anxiety issues. I have an appointment on Thursday, and I hope that if I elect to go on a new medication, it will actually help me out.

I guess we'll be discussing this again in the near future...

I feel like I am in that Violent Femmes song right now; waiting and hoping that the bus driver will help me out of my current situation. I'm trying to get back to my pet sitting gig so I can check on my buddy and then return to the department in time for a luncheon with Brian Powell--a very famous family sociologist.

It is highly unlikely that I will be able to accomplish my goals in a quick manner, but I must try anyway.

I'm sitting at home, wearing my bathrobe backwards (over clothes) because I do not have the disposable income required for a Snuggie. I have read over my Prelim answers, my proposal, and my introduction. I looked into some of the final mysteries of my field, and I am about to go put on my dress clothes. A ride will be showing up here around 9:20 to pick me up and take me to campus. Then I set up the room and defend my Prelims.

Yes, I am nervous. Yes, I know that I will pass. Yes, I want this to be over soon. No, I do not want to make out with anyone right now...I ate breakfast but have not brushed my teeth yet.

Wish me luck if you will. Pray for me if you have a religious streak. Ignore me if you are tired of hearing about my Prelims. No matter what, in a little over 3 hours this will all be over. The year in exile, the fear at returning to a program, the intense amount of work I crammed into the past 6 months--it will all pay off.

I will, of course, update you all as soon as this is over.

The oral defense today took a little over 2 hours--and it went pretty well. The beginning was rough, but I made it through...and the group members thought I did a pretty good job. The biggest accomplishment was completely boffing my overview of my work--I did not write it out fully--and my major professor cut me off and told me it was all wrong.

But then she asked me if I would like to take a break and I said no. The questions hit me hard, and I defended myself against the onslaught. In the end, I was successful, and I think I know now that I will be ready for next Thursday.

Today at noon I am standing up in front of my entire research group to do a practice defense, in order to get "ready" for next week. My group can ask me anything about family relations in later life, my proposal, anything that comes to mind. This does make me a bit nervous, as we had no power for 3 hours last night, and I have yet to do any preparation.

Well, I'll let you all know how it goes...

I promise after next week, I'll talk about interesting shit again. Right now I have a one-track mind, and it hasn't let me down thus far. ;)

I am walking to school in the dark, facing moments of maniacal laughter, tears, panic, dread, and panic.

The only thing left to do is finish everything having to do with the citations, and put these three documents into one.

I am almost there, so why did I have a panic attack from 4-5:30 today? Right now bile rises in my thoat, threatening to choke me. The shaking in my arms makes me feel like a Jell-o salad.

Then there's the sweating, a representation of my full-body tears.

I hate this process, even though I think my major professor did an excellent job guiding and preparing me. Further, her questions were difficult, but incredible.

There is little I can do now, but read each question, make sure there are no holes where citations should be, and turn the Prelim into the department secretary...and allow these 22 pages to determine my future...

Everything but the references is finished. Well, I still would like to have another 4 days to work on one of my answers, but hey--two out of three of my answers I feel extremely confident about. The last one...well that one was tough. We'll just have to see how this whole thing shakes down. Right now I've got to hit the references so I can go to bed soon.

So two questions are finished and the last one is at the minimum required page length. Sadly, I have to edit the last question extensively...it was "supposed" to be the easiest one, but it turned out to be the toughest.

Tomorrow is Sunday, and on Monday at 9:30 AM the Prelims are due to the department secretary.

I KNOW that the first two questions are finished...and they are well-written. I have faith in my work. The final question just needs to get hammered out. Then I have a brief respite before my practice oral exam in front of my research group on Thursday. After that, I have exactly one week before my real oral exam.

And this too shall pass...

First day of writing is over. I tried to answer the most difficult question first...and failed. I decided to move on to the easiest of the three questions. I was able to write almost have of what is allowed by may page limit off the top of my head (meaning no citations). The question on methods is definitely easier than the other two. Of course, I also wrote what I knew off the top of my head on the other two questions as well. Probably not the best method for someone who is prone to ADD-like behaviors, but whatever.

I did have a few moments of almost sheer panic today. I won't lie--that is what happens to a lot of people during their Prelims, and I'm no Superman. Thankfully I had a couple of friends who were able to calm me down. There is no real need to panic here. I have 6 says...even at 2 pages a day I would be finished on time. So what I need to work for from here on out is quality; not quantity. Even so, I'd like to finish in 3 more days, so that I can have a few days to edit.

The person who was supposed to send my Prelims questions to me at 9:00 AM has not shown up on campus yet today.

Ok scratch that--she just sent them. 24 minutes late. I will open them and be back for an update.

I read the three questions I have been sent. One of them is much longer than the others (page limit-wise) 9-10, as opposed to the 4-5 and the 5-7 page limits. One is fairly difficult, and requires me to synthesize about 50 years of research into a well-rounded essay; another asks me to explain how my project is linked to other disciplines and how it stands alone, Sociologically; and finally, I must discuss concerns and benefits of the specific method I am using.

I can do this. I can do this well. I just have to begin doing this. Well, most difficult question first!

I'm feeling a bit anxious about my upcoming exams right now. I know that I am more than fully capable of nailing these exams, but this weekend I feel that I have much reading to do, and some heavy thinking about issues my major professor brought up to me in our "practice sessions." I know that she was preparing me for the real deal, but we barely discussed issues (which may be because they too closely resembled questions I will receive on Monday), and I still have a lot of baking to do before I have a row of pies.

The last time I took my Prelims I was not prepared, in the least, to tackle the questions with which I was presented. This time, I know my proposal extremely well, I have a mountain of books and articles with which to reference, and I will have a MUCH better idea of my area of expertise. I have prepared for this moment since before I left Virginia--but there is still a bit of nervousness. I am prone to be anxious...I simply cannot let a healthy level of anxiety become mind-numbing.

Man do I wish I could have an editor for this next week. Instead, I shall hand-pick each and every word of my responses, to limit the potential for error. Brevity is key!

in the middle of Four Christmases I felt the first twinges of a panic attack. All of the love crap and the family togetherness, I almost lost my shit in the middle of a jam-packed movie theater. As time went on, the anxiety gave way to feelings of depression, lonliness and failure. I took a roller coaster ride through my DSM-IV favorites.

I'm not sure how to explaim myself here, except to say that all of my fears of dying alone, never having a family, and ending up a huge failure who spends his days talking about women from his past have commandeered my thoughts. I am shaken; both mentally and physically after a romantic comedy. The tears are on their way and I fear the long drive home and the lies I will have to tell my parents. My anger is out of check, and I fear a second enraged outburst in this confined space.

I feel disconnected from my emotions and actions, like an apparition floating next to a stranger. I react to his over-reactions, showing just how little I understand myself right now.

I just want to curl up in a little ball and weep for days. Jesus Christ I need to be medicated!

The posting of this dream is not something I had meant to put off, but life got in the way. Now it seems I will be unable to fall asleep until I tell the tale of one of the most frightening zombie dreams I have ever had.

This dream began with me walking into my old college dorm at Eastern Illinois University. Apparently it was move-in day, and my room was massive! There were at least four actual rooms in my room; all connected by doors. Oddly enough, the previous occupants had not moved anything out of the room. As I searched through the desks, dressers, and cabinets, I found a collection of zombie-related pornography. I was more than slightly disgusted, but what really bothered me was that these movies were on VHS. As I looked around the room, everything appeared to be from the 1980's or the early 1990's.

Right away I knew what had happened to me: I was trapped in an alternate universe. Whenever knowledge of this sort come to me in a dream, I know that nothing will prepare me for what is inevitably just around the corner. As I was pondering where I was and how I'd ended up there, a woman came into my room and sat down as though she owned the place. This woman had a pallid complexion, and the flesh on her face appeared to be too small to cover the area fully, as it was taught and leathery. I shrugged it off, and continued to search for clues as to why the previous occupants had left everything in the room when they left. She began laughing and speaking in riddles I did not understand...which creeped me out. She asked me how I liked being dead and what I thought of sharing the room with others like me. I had no answers for her, so I smiled nd nodded.

I left the woman, and headed for the cafeteria (which was honestly the cafeteria from my middle school...the exact one!). When I arrived, the stench of the room caused me to retch (even in a dream)...the stench of death was everywhere. The room was filled with people I recognized, but they did not look the same. Their faces were torn, bitten, chewed...their clothes were bloody and ragged...they were zombies. Every single person in the cafeteria was a zombie. A few of them appeared to have died quite recently, as they showed no signs of advanced decomposition. All intact eyes were on me as I entered the cafeteria.

The realization that I was the last living man on Earth set in quite slowly. Everywhere I looked, the dead walked, talked, and apparently ate what was left of the living (or so it seemed from the looks of the "meat" on the cafeteria trays). I never wondered why I was alive, rather I was focused on how I could stay that way.

Somehow I made it out of the cafeteria without incident, but then a zombie (who looked like a fiend I have in real life), told me we were going for a ride as he motioned to his truck. I got in, and we started driving through town. The dead were everywhere; going about their daily business just like the living normally would...except that these creatures were decidedly NOT living.

My "friend" and I talked about how great death was, about dead chicks he wanted to bang, and I was pulling off this whole, "being dead thing" until I sighed. His head snapped towards me, and he said, "You do know dead people don't breathe, right?"

I was paralyzed with fear, but I just nodded and said, "Yep," playing off my sigh as if it was no big deal. My friend wasn't buying it, so he offered me a human foot. "Eat up," he said. Apparently if I was going to survive, I would have to eat a human foot. I took a huge bite of the heel, and chewed; choking the flesh down and fighting the rise of the bile from my gut. He watched as I took a few more bites, chewed the flesh, and swallowed. How I kept from throwing up is a mystery to me.

At the end of the ride, we ended up in a burned out school. Zombies were milling around, and I met some more of my "friends," who all asked me how I kept my decomposition so well hidden. I told them I died of a heart attack, which bought me a little time...but the questions about moisturizing and such just kept pouring in on me. I felt my temperature rise, and I knew that soon I'd be sweating. I took three of the zombies who were dead versions of my best friends in real life aside and I explained to them that I was not actually dead. Their eyes widened, and they asked me how it was that their dead friend was actually the last living person on Earth. It soon became apparent that somehow I was trapped in an alternate universe, while the dead alternate-universe version of me wrecked havoc in my original universe.

Although my zombified friends tried to hide me, one of the other zombies realized I was alive (he noticed sweat on my brow), and within moments every zombie within earshot was after me. As the mob threw my friends aside, I felt their cold, shredded hands grasping me; saw their cold, cloudy eyes staring me down; and felt their dull, stained teeth tearing at my flesh...

I awoke covered in sweat, choking on a scream, and flailing as though I were drowning, completely wrapped up in my bedsheets.



Through this dream, I witnessed the true power of my unconscious fears and desires via their nocturnal manifestations. I fully admit there is truly a dark side to humanity; a place where all taboo actions are possible, even encouraged. Sometimes at night I tap into this darkness. Here, in my dreams, repressed feelings becomes a gaping maw; threatening to devour me. The unholy trifecta of guilt, anxiety and morality form a beast, which haunts my slumber, stalking from dream to dream, hoping to catch me unaware. On nights when this beast catches me off guard, I pay for every nervous thought that has ever crossed my mind...

Right now I wish I had something...anything that I could break, rend, smash, tear, defenestrate, burn, chop...you get the point.

Last night I decided, against my own better judgment, to go out with my roommates to a campus bar. I don't go to these places for fear of running into students of mine both past and present. After less than a minute in the bar, one of my ex-students recognized me (I was amazed that I remembered her name), and we struck up a conversation. She was out with her roommate and her best friend, and I actually found her best friend attractive (this is rare as her best friend is quite a bit younger than me). I spent an hour or so talking to them and then my roommates joined us (extremely drunk and unable to make coherent statements).

( Where the shit gets real... )( In Which Things Inevitably go Straight to Hell... )

I am a bit nervous today, as I have two important meetings.  The first is a meeting with my major professor's research group.  We are meeting over lunch, so at least I can focus on my salad and/or yogurt if I need a break.  The second meeting is my first Dissertation meeting (one on one) with my advisor in a year and a half.  I think I'm just nervous because of the amount of time that has passed, but I'm also hoping that I'm still on track...I worry about this a lot (hopefully just because of the break I took).

Wish me luck, if you have the time or the inclination.

Today I meant to work on campus, but instead I have been playing around on the Internet (after waking up at 10:30), and accomplishing very little.  You see, I have many friends who are leaving this week for parts unknown (6, to be exact) and the going away parties, late nights spend saying goodbye and good luck, and the stress is all taking a toll on me.  I end up sleeping late and then failing to do what I am "supposed" to do during the day.

I hope that I can turn this ship around...and quickly.  I still do not have my room unpacked; and that makes my bedroom feel more like a U-Haul than a living space.  

Wish me luck organizing my life today, and then hopefully I will be on track after today or tomorrow.   

You know those moments in television shows and movies where the exact "right" thing happens at the critical moment, showing the bumbling protagonist exactly what action/path to take? Yeah I could use one of those moments right about now. I turn 30 in 30 minutes...