I demand to see the manager about the declining entry standards.

Well, it is 3:40 am, time to blog myself to sleep. Tomorrow, I will have therapy at one and class at 2:30.

Although that second part is not certain. I am not entirely well. I have been experiencing sulfurous belches all evening, and that tends to be an ill omen indeed for my digestive future. So I may be unwell tomorrow.

I will still go to therapy, of course. I don’t miss that for anything short of hospitalization. But I might miss Ideology and Politics.

Honestly, it is my least favorite class right now, anyhow. The prof does not seem to be good at putting together a coherent lesson plan and instead sort of bounces around a subject. Plus, like I said before, I find her voice uncompelling to the point of tedium.

I continue to hope she will find her feet and teach from a more grounded and linear point of view. I don’t need a Prussian style teacher, but she tries to fit too much material into too little time, and the result is that there is no time to think about things.

And thinking is what I do best!

(—)

And now I am sitting at Kwantlen, miffed, because TODAY’s class got canceled. And the email informing us of this didn’t even go out until 1:06 pm, and the class was supposed to be at 2:30 pm.

Funny, I seem to recall that we students are supposed to give our profs 12 hours notice before an abscence, and even then, we have to bring a doctor’s note. Maybe I will ask her for hers when I see her again Monday.

At 1:06 pm, I was in therapy. Joe dropped me off here after. If I had known the class was canceled, I could have gone straight home.

Creative Writing (tomorrow night at 6 pm) better not get canceled. It’s my second favorite!

Or tied for first. I could go either way.

If it got canceled, I would achieve Maximum Miff and might even experience a full blown Tizzy.

I mean, whatever happened to substitute teachers? I guess this is what you get with for-profit educational institutions. Why pay someone to substitute when they can just pilfer a tenth (well, a twentieth, in this case) instead? The professor gets paid either way, and it’s not like they will lose my business ar this point, so why spend the extra money?

If this was a public educational institute, they would be be legally obligated to educate me or die trying. But businesses are always looking to cut corners.

Fucking private-public partnerships.

Well, guess I will schlep on down to the bus stop. I may pick up some condolation donuts on the way.

(—)

At the bus stop now. No donuts. The line was too long. I thought about sitting down in the cafeteria and monitoring the line in order to swoop in when the line is at its shortest, as I have done once before. But I decided that was too much work just to poison myself with something I might not enjoy very much anyhow, what with my recent digestive issues.

Those seem to have quited down now, thank goodness. I probably just need some good hydration and maybe a hot bath now.

When you have Irritible Bowel Syndrome, you learn these things over time, mostly by trial and error. Like I have said before, my IBS doesn’t bother me much most of the time. I know the warning signs and can usually head off any major symptoms before they happen. Every once in a while, one gets through, and I suffer through an hour or so of nausea and pain, sitting on the bowl, until things sort themselves out.

Even then, I know I can just wait it out.

I might miss my youth and vigor and enthusiasm sometimes, but I sure as hell don’t miss how emotionally unstable I was back then, or how freaked out by everything I could get. I used to be such a mess!

(—)

On the bus now. I am liveblogging my life!

Oh well. An addiction to blogging as a stress release seems fairly harmless, as long as it doesn’t metastasize into full on hypergraphia, or whatever the modern equivalent would be.

(—)

And now I’m home. And, I just took my first ever ativan. This should be an interesting mental experience.

See, I talking to my therapist about how I felt like jumping out of my own skin yesterday, and we decided that was basically a panic attack expressing itself as a painful energy surge. So he prescribed me some ativan to use as needed.

I was tempted to decline the offer. But then I realized I had no sane reason to do so. And I think it will do me some good to know that if things get really bad, I have a “in emergency break glass” type solution.

Can’t say I care much for dissolving it under my tongue. That felt and tasted odd. It gets into the bloodstream faster that way, though, and that might make a big difference if I am freaking out big time, so… I dunno.

So far, I am feeling a mild calming effect. A nice, cool, relaxed kind of feeling. No side effects, at least not yet. If this is as weird as it gets, I can dig it.

My therapist told me to try one so I could “test drive” the drug and see how I react to it before I actually need to use it in some kind of emergency. I figured that made sense to me, so here I am.

Now I feel like it’s getting hard to concentrate. My consciousness is getting all melty around the edges, like a cheese pizza in mid-bake. Things are getting kinda groovy. Guess I better finish up quick before I forget what words are.

Yeah. I could see how people might get addicted to this. And how it might disinhibit people and make them “silly”.

Gonna go lay down and catch the ativan wave.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.