A new title for the new year

I have to admit it kind of suits me . . .

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: Lady Medusa the Clement of Mellow under Trollness Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

Found at Addy's.

May the road rise up to meet you

Best wishes to everyone interviewing at MLA. I wish you a steady and calm head beforehand, ready and brilliant answers during, and stiff and copious drinks afterward. Break a leg!

Citizen Medusa

'What will your obituary say?' at QuizGalaxy.com

Found at Canada's.

'Twas the day after Christmas

And every last one of these packages is opened. . .



And all creatures are happy indeed with their gifts . . .


The wild consuming did not stop with the gifts. Every cookie was eaten and every stomach is full . . .



Except perhaps for the honorable and bottomless belly of the Insatiable Shih Tzu. . .




I am tired and for the most part happy. There has been some (inevitable) family drama. Mama Bear is not at all happy here in the Deep Red, and it shows in a myriad of ways. What can I do? I do not know, and I desperately need some relaxation and recuperation time. I will be here for another ten days. I am hoping we can both chill and enjoy one another's company.

This morning I have to get to my sister's house and pick up the nieces, who want to . . .?!?!?!?!?! . . .go shopping. Eh hem. Look at the first photo. Look under the tree. Just to the right of Bedhead Boy gazing upon his loot. Look at it! The bounty!

"But Auntie Medusa, we have gift cards! Gift cards to spend!! GIFT CARDS WITH REAL MONEY ON THEM! GIFT CARDS BURNING HOLES IN OUR POCKETS! Do you not understand?!?!" Actually I do. Because there might maybe possibly be just a few things I need to pick up for myself. . .

[Updated to add, 10:30 p.m.: I was very good. I picked up this and these on sale. I also avoided (for now) the wild call of the Wallabee, a hideous shoe that I loved in high school and that now compels me greatly for unknown reasons. I covet them. Why? Why? Where is The Manolo when I need him?]

Good morning from the foggy hills

I arrived here day before yesterday, after a successful bending of time-space to close up shop at school and get most of my holiday erranding and shopping done.



This is the view from my bedroom in Mama Bear's house.




This morning the fog was beautifully settled on the cemetery, one of my favorite places for runs and walks.



This afternoon will be busy with last-minute shopping, baking, and wrapping presents. I am hoping to get the nieces to a movie later.

Just like that, the pace and feel of life has changed completely.

It's good to be here.

Happier and equipped with credit cards

Grades are done and I am off for a marathon holiday-shopping afternoon. The time-space continuum must give a little in order for me to get everything done I need to get done.

Rejoice, Visa. Medusa is on the loose.

Limping to the finish line

[Warning: Sad and fretful rant ahead.]

Rushing to finish up the semester, writing and administering all exams pretty much back-to-back, schlepping from personal appointment to personal appointment in between classes and exams all last week, grading one set of exams, grading one set of upper-level major semester projects, grading one set of research papers and then driving to Shore Town for My Two Dads' annual holiday bash does not a rested and happy Medusa make.

I still have to grade one set of finals and tabulate final grades, as well as doing Christmas shopping and sending cards and the million little things necessary to be ready to board a plane early Wednesday morning for a two-week trip to the Deep Red. It is perhaps indicative of the level of mental, emotional, and physical exhaustion I am feeling that the Deep Red sounds like heaven right now and that I wish I could stay for more the two weeks.

The funny thing is that I was feeling fine before this weekend's social event--well, not fine, exhausted and frantic but also productive and more than able to get it all done and also somehow in the holiday spirit. At the party, I ate and drank too much, leaving me wasting all day yesterday feeling sick and depressed. I also felt that faking-it thing at the party--pretending to be feeling happy and social, which also leaves me discombobulated and depressed the next day.

Ugh. No time now to wallow in it. Will throw myself into work and preparations. Must remember to discuss this all with New Shrink when I return and, in the meantime, try to catch my second holiday-spirit wind.

Student Writing and Class 1, Schedule 1 Controlled Substances

Here we have it, the semester's best typo-derived claim in a student essay:

"The last person you want your heroin to end up with is Dimmesdale."

Please discuss.

End-of-the-year meme

As seen at Nimue's and others:

1. Harken back to your archives.
2. Collect the first sentence you wrote every month for the whole year.
3. Entertain us.

January: [Self-imposed blogging silence]
February: [Silence]
March: [Silence]
April: "Why do birds like to roll in the dirt?"
May: "It's been a long semester and while it's not quite over for some, it's damn near close enough." --Famous last words before the virtual happy hour hosted by Dr. Crazy and myself and attended by many rummies in the comment thread.
June: "Why have all of these people gathered here?" --Introducing the photo essay documenting the weekend that I broke up with my boyfriend of 11 months one night in a nasty public scene and boarded a tour bus the next for a little getaway.
July: "I often do this to myself." --Not as salacious as it sounds. I was referring to ending up having to work during the holiday weekend.
August: "I am giddy and exhausted from my week of adventure." --Upon returning from my beach vacation with More Fun (of the rock-and-roll circus).
September: "I had an amazing dream this morning about bluebirds."
October: "I am sniffly, achey, and I have chills."
November: "I have often complained here about having moved so much as a kid that I have no sense of any one place to call home." --Wow. It does get bleak once the Fall sets in, doesn't it?
December: "I am like that guy who says he'll call but then he doesn't call but he had really wanted to call but then it was kind of too late to call but with the blog and the posting." --Indeed.

Video Prozac

I was considering going back on anti-depressants, but I think I might just watch this everyday instead.

Google Hits, Holiday Edition

my ph.d. advisor is not nice
my ph.d. advisor is not nice
my ph.d. advisor is a crazy
my ph.d. advisor is a crazy
my ph.d. advisor is a crazy
shall not want maggie gyllenhaal
am i gay if i like to look at myself in the mirror
cixous and wearing a veil
spit in my mouth
notes to santa
fucking narcissists
tussionex cough syrup
there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out
medusa's shield
quacker factory holiday sweater
travis bickle pointing gun

To one of the men I've loved before

So today is either the birthday of my first ex-fiancé . . .



or the birthday of the fighter pilot (for reals) I dated in the 90s. . .



and, no, I seriously cannot remember which. I mean I remember which I lived with and was engaged to be married to and which flew an F-16 and was kind of a Republican, but I just can't remember which was born on December 9 and which was born on December 11. Or maybe they were both born on December 11 and someone else was born on December 9.

Anyway. . Happy (maybe) Birthday, Guys!

Kisses,
Your (not at all batshit crazy) Ex

I am like that guy who says he'll call but then he doesn't call but he had really wanted to call but then it was kind of too late to call

But with the blog and the posting. The short of it is, I am depressed again. The long of it is, I am depressed again and I isolate myself when I am depressed (which is why I disappeared during last year's six-month bout) and tend to spend every possible spare minute under several quilts in my bed, drinking tea and watching bad television. (Have you seen E!'s "Love Ride: Brad & Angelina"? I have. Four times.)

The good news is that I am not having it this time. I have found a new shrink. I have seen her twice and am feeling very hopeful about being back in therapy. I am taking care of business both personal and professional, allowing myself to take to my bed only when all (ok, most) of my work is done. The one thing I cannot seem to handle is very much social interaction. I feel like I need to perform happiness or okay-ness or at least some acceptable level of "not batshit crazy." I think the same is true of blogging. But lately during the quilt/E!/tea sessions, I have been feeling a pull toward the laptop and the blog. A good sign, I think.

So, see, aren't you glad that guy never called? Because he would have just told you that he suffers from depression, has agoraphobic tendencies, and indulges in frequent binges of tabloid television. Sexy.