To do list from hell in Snowspangled

I keep looking at what it would take to finish school with both majors. I still want both…even though I know the writing one could be sacrificed. It does me no good, I know it. I love it anyway, though? I mean, writing was the first thing I could do that I liked about me. And it’s the first place I go in terms of self-care. If I can write, I’m okay. Doesn’t matter what’s going on, if I can make words come (preferably good ones and preferably in a story, this shit doesn’t count, it’s like eating a Flintstone vitamin and calling that a balanced meal) then I’m okay. I can claw things together and make shit happen. As long as the story works. That’s the baseline. Other people ask how you are and how work is, but if people knew me well, the question they’d ask is “how is the writing going.”

And of course the answer is “not well.”

Anyway. I love the writing, but I have to let it go. So I have to ask if I have to get the whole enchilada of Spanish (a foreign language second year is a College of Arts and Science requirement, but is it a Social Work requirement?) Do I even have time to finish either one?

Social work needs macropractice, family practice, and two terms of field experience (internship) plus the capstone is two terms (proposal and presentation.) That is six more classes. Maybe eight, I’ve probably forgotten something.

English needs another writing class, another lit class, another Spanish class, and capstone. That’s how close I am. They want me done by May next year, but I fear I might have to hang over and go to December, and I don’t know how to afford that. How do you get started on loans? Who do you talk to?

Because if I have to go loans to finish, I might as well get it all, right? Both pieces.

What if I get to next May and can’t graduate from either program, and I don’t sort out loans? Shit. Now I’m going to be stuck up the worry tree. Thanks, me.

IUD is out. They “called me” to tell me the doctor was out, but they called me while I was ALREADY COMING and so I had kittens in the waiting room until they worked me in. THEY’RE the ones who said it was somewhat emergent. They can definitely treat it. I feel better now (I was crampy) but a little wobble-legged and a lot wet. Maybe my period will come. Maybe it won’t. The buildup of tissue in my uterus is so thick. There’s just a tiny dark circle in the middle (it’s like the size of a Progresso soup can, which is enlarged, and that enlargement is packed just full of tissue in bands and layers, and in the center, way high up, is a tiny dark ring. ) So my soup-can uterus is packed full of…stuff…and it’s not coming out. It’s a few centimeters bigger than this time last year (you know, when they stuck the IUD in to shrink it down.)

(Was that just last year? Yes…yes it was.)

Anyway. So they want a new biopsy and I said no thank you, because I have crap to get done today, and also, because I’ve been so sore down there so long I just didn’t WANT to go again. Last time they complained they hardly got anything. What if this time they get nothing? It’ll still hurt like a son of a bitch, and I Just. Don’t. Want. To.

Also, secretly terrified this is all cancer.

But I kind of have an internal drama queen.

Speaking of drama queen, Kitten has to be screened by the psych because she’s hearing voices. She complained of this last year, yes, but since she named the voice Chara, a video game character, I didn’t…think…anything…of....it. Except maybe that she was roleplaying a bit hard. But now it seems Chara is real, and Chara is unhappy, and Chara thinks about knives a lot. Great. Guess who else spent her adolescence trying to carve a hole in her arm? Her mom…But I never heard other voices. All the voices I hear are MINE. I just happen to hate me.

There’s a lot to hate.

But now it seems like she might have some kind of juvenile schizophrenia.

And Lu is trying out competitive bleeding a la her period. The bathroom trash bin looks like a chum bucket and she’s white as a sheet. She was on the pill to curb this mess, but it isn’t working. Don’t know what comes next, but it has to come soon.

Adia, thank goodness, is peachy. Just addicted to Cocaine Dinosaur vines. She knows it’s flour and says she doesn’t want to do cocaine, but the dinosaur is funny, so I guess it can stay.

Dick Face, of course, is taking all of this lying down. His back aches, you know.

What the hell am I supposed to do? It will, of course, come down to what I do, because nobody else does anything. And all I want to do lately is cry.