Adventures in Student Teaching: Suck. On. That.

I hate going to the doctor's office. Actually, I loathe going to the dentist, so I guess it could be worse. I used to hate going because I went to a pediatrician until I was 19 or so. I haven't been to the doctor at home in a couple of years; last winter I went to a few docs up at school and the otolaryngologist (ear/nose/throat doctor) for my tonsils. Between me turning 21, not being sure if what I had is allergies or a cold, and my mom wanting to get me checked out since I'm more genetically prone to be bi-polar or depressed, we decided it was time to get me to a "real" doctor.

I also hated going to the doctor because of the whole part where they weigh you. That was the main reason why I was terrified of going to the doctor this time, largely because I'd checked myself on our home scale and it was some impossible number that I knew couldn't be right because I can fit into last year's clothes but oh no what if it's right the doctor is going to freak out at me and tell me I need to change my lifestyle which I do and I should get on that right now and ASLDKGJADFGKLJSDFGLKJ was how that thought process went.

So I go in, and the nurse says "Alright, now I'm going to weigh you," to which I reply, "Wonderful." I get on the scale, ready to cry, when all of a sudden she goes all the way to the end of the one section and I'm sure she'll have to continue on up the scale

...but she pulls the little mini weight back about halfway to what I can safely say is my lowest weight of 2009 (sometime in the fall), the year I eventually lost about 15 pounds.

I think to myself, if I lost 15 pounds and I basically kept off that weight, then that means I can lose another 15 this summer. Losing about 20 would put me back at my ending high school weight, which would make me feel FANTASTIC. I went through the rest of my day with a bit more spring in my step, knowing that our home scale is a good 25 pounds off.

[above: my general attitude for the rest of Friday]

Saturday, on the other hand, was a weird day. I started off feeling exhausted but optimistic, thinking I would be just content to stay at home and do a lot of reading in Infinite Jest. My mother said, "Go to the drugstore first and get your prescription." So off I went on my merry way, only to find out that the doctor didn't call in my prescription to any CVS on Friday, and I would have to wait until Monday to get it. Already feeling a bit overwhelmed by not being able to sleep the night before and overthinking myself into kind of an existential crisis, I started crying on the way home from the drugstore, and didn't stop until about two-and-a-half hours later.
That was when Kelsey came over and we watched the first four episodes ever of Star Trek on dvd, and we talked a little and I started feeling better in general. Campy sci-fi makes everything better. Jon showed up for the last episode and stayed after Kelsey left, and later helped me through an existential crisis, but that's not important right now.

What is important is that the fourth episode of season 1 of Star Trek is called "The Naked Time," and is absolutely ridiculous. An alien virus starts infecting the crew, spreading via perspiration, and removes the crew's inhibitions. One would think that this implies lots and lots of trysts, given the title (there was some discrepancy over whether it was "The Naked Time" or "The Naked Time!"). What it means, however, is that everyone's facade is stripped away, revealing their desires and secret feelings. As far as we know, the virus only made one man suicidal, and he killed himself with a butter knife. It makes most of them act very silly, like Sulu ("who longs to be a swashbuckler out of your 18th Century)