zana16: The Beatles with text "All you need is love" (Default)
So, this journal isn't friends only, at least not quite. But anything remotely interesting personal is friends-locked, because I have students who are apparently not able to deal with the fact that I am a human being, so I need to be boring a role model by keeping my private life private. If you're interested in my life, friend me and I'll probably friend you back, unless you appear to be one of my students.

ETA: I no longer have students! I still have friends-locked entries, but not all that many. Feel free to friend, and I'll prolly friend you back even if I'm horrible about actually reading my flist consistently.

ETA 2: All (well, most) fannish content is f'locked for various reasons. But please do comment and I'll add you!

ETA 3: If you'd like to be on my various friends-filters, see this post and this post for details.

ETA 4: A cast of the characters you're likely to run into in the pages of this journal.
zana16: The Beatles with text "All you need is love" (Default)
Hee! GoogleDocs flashed up to let me know that my birthday is starting in 10 minutes!

I heart GoogleCalendar.
zana16: The Beatles with text "All you need is love" (Default)
I finally put up my collage-posters, and my room has magically become home.

I started them my senior year of highschool, mostly by accident; we'd moved so many times that we were just keeping all our "real" stuff in storage, including my posters, so I'd cut pictures out of magazines and stick them on the wall of wherever I was sleeping at the moment, then glue pictures to pictures, then put up stickers and postcards and ticketstubs. I now have 12 posterboards, a little worse for wear for having been dragged all over the country, and they cover most of my available wallspace. I'll take a picture if I can ever figure out how to get the pictures off my camera.

Anyways. My altar and my collage-posters and my books: elements of home. I can't really believe how much more settled-in it's making me feel.
zana16: The Beatles with text "All you need is love" (Default)
Part of starting to get my head sorted out is trying to get to know the person that I've become while I wasn't paying attention.

You wouldn't think it was hard to get to know yourself, but then you're not me. I'm no good at getting to know people, and to suddenly realize that I can't count on my mainstays--am I really a writer if I haven't put anything to paper in almost a year, am I really a mathy type when I go whole weeks without even thinking about integrals and differential equations, am I really a workaholic now I've found more fun things to hide myself in, am I really that responsible one now that my friends have grown up and I don't have to be the designated driver anymore?--anyways, it's disorienting. I'm not my history, not anymore, but it is a part of me, I guess.

So I'm trying to get to know myself, and it doesn't help that I'm running away constantly. It's like I'm afraid to get to know myself cause hey, maybe I won't like myself. So it comes down to little factoids:


SUBJECT: Zana

LIKES: avacados, dark chocolate, good fiction with complex characters, philosophy, slash, ecology, amusing conspiracy theories

DISLIKES: the Maryland DMV, buying clothes, projectile ketchup, cleaning my room, the medical establishment


Doesn't give me much of an idea of what makes me tick.

And it's not much use trying to get to know me through my friends. The other night H, in the middle of a discussion about smoking pot with one's parents (I haven't, she has), said to me, "Anyways, it's been a few years. You're the person I'd go to if I wanted to smoke out now." I looked back at her and said, "But you're my go-to person for illicit substances. Well, shit." And then we felt old. Apparently, old is when you've gone so long not smoking out that you don't have a source when you want to.

On a related note, a friend has learned how to make ice cream and looked up on the internet how to make pot ice cream. Only he can't find a source, either. We all suck.

Erm, lost the thread there. Oh right: getting to know myself. My point is: I spend so much time in my own head, you'd think I'd know myself pretty well by now. But I don't.

I keep reading fiction revolving around "How well can one person really know another?" Even if you're related, even if you're married, you only get a slice. But with myself, I don't know who the fuck I am. This may be an indication that I need to get the fuck back into therapy. But first I need to get to the point where I know that I actually want to get to know myself.

...I swear, I can't have a normal nervous breakdown like anyone else, can I? Noooo, I have to be the one with issues nobody else seems to share. Where am I supposed to find a support group for "coming out of years of depression, not sure whether I'm an interesting human being now that I'm not navel-gazing anymore"???

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zana16: The Beatles with text "All you need is love" (Default)
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March 2015

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