Tumblr

Yeaahhhh… switching to tumblr.

http://booradlus.tumblr.com

Tumblr

I think I’m going to switch to tumblr because I still can’t figure out how to put pictures in here properly.

Old Photos

Been looking through some old photos. Good times:

I used to love browsing through old photos, but often I’d just stop after I hit the saturday night dinner section because it’s still such a potent memory –  the whole Shuda debacle and the subsequent marginalization and isolation that resulted. Forced myself through it tonight, for better or for worse. I still just can’t believe how thoroughly duped and misled I was.

Ironically, there, the relationship imploded (or should I say, “was obliterated”) despite a complete lack of malice on my part. On the other hand, my now healthy relationship came out of a period where I was a complete and total ass. How that works, I don’t know.

France

I never seem to post anything happy here, so, check out my france blog! It has the happy happenings of the past month

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Dead Before My Time

I keep getting this feeling like I’m going to die before I’m 30. Is it just paranoia?

Or is it the multiple incidents in the past couple months where I have nearly been hospitalized (read: should have been but was too poor) by such awful, terrible poisons such as:

• Febreeze (the anti-allergy type has a scent I’m… allergic to)
• Perfume
• Makeup
• Spicy foods
• Mouthwash
• Plants
• Animals
• Medicines which are supposed to be anti-allergen and anti-inflammatory but I am allergic to
• Cut grass
• Mold
• Slightly burnt pizza
• Fabric softener
• Humid days
• Crab legs

Do we go with “overreacting” or “the world wants me dead”?

I can’t stop loving you

So I’ll just live my life in dreams of yesterday

From a reference image (by… someone?), I claim no copyright/creativity. Just warming up the old drawing hands

Bingo

I figured it all out.

Why do I have so many ailments? Well:

1: Mystery eye illness, never solved, leads to
2: Not taking allergy meds because they aggravate eyes.
3: No allergy meds leads to asthma symptoms.
4: Not knowing I had asthma leads to lung constriction, which causes me to panic, I suffer a “panic attack” as a result.
5: My misdiagnosis as a panic sufferer gets me on the horrific drug known as Xanax
6: Withdrawal from xanax (clinically speaking, “worse than heroin”) over a year of tapering not only fails (extreme relapse) but also weakens my lungs, murders my immune system and aggravates my bronchitis
7: Working in a lab with chemicals also kills the lungs, noting that
8: I am only in that lab because my eye problem made it nearly impossible for me to properly study for the GRE and get into the grad school of my choice the first time around
9: Oven self-clean cycle leaves ultrafine dust in my house, and
10: with the fact that I’m allergic to the cats I didn’t agree to have in the house I go into full anaphylactic shock
11: I try for months to get a solution, only to find that I am allergic to
12: Every inhaler except for the one that is pure synthetic adrenaline (not fun) and
13: Prednisone, a steroid which is supposed to reduce the allergy, but instead makes my feet and throat swell, as well as
14: weakens all the tendons in my body, which is why after months of walking long distances with a heavy backpack (thanks for the great parking, DOTS, I’ve only been here 5 goddamn years)
15: Simply leaning over a desk and pinching my right rotator cuff tendon causes me months of pain, and why
16: The other arm cannot take up the slack because its tendon was also weakened, and simply self-combusted.

Pfuuhhfhg. Thank goodness I’m moving to California.

Also, if I look at you angrily and say “get that fucking chemical away from me,” I don’t mean “here’s an invitation for you to wave it around in my face as a joke.” The reason I have to run outside and cool down is not so much that my lungs hurt; I’ve dealt with that. The reason is that extreme lung pain and feeling close to death triggers fight-or-flight, and I choose flight – explicitly – to keep you from having to deal with me. Living on the edge of suffocating to death every day puts you uncomfortably close to madness.

New photo sets, clicky clicky:

The fire performers at Fête de la Musique

Switzerland/France

Oh snap

From work, an assessment of particular parts of an instrument:

“That one’s not bad. That one’s fucked. And that one… that one’s been gang-banged.”