Food photography

I need to start making an effort to take pictures of food during the day, with that beautiful daylight. Regular tungsten and florescent lighting makes food pictures look especially awful, and makes pictures of deep-fried items salvageable. ;__;

Also, I can't believe I have not complained about photography here at all, considering how much of it I do...Then again, I really wasn't serious about it enough to talk about it until recently...

The gap is wide and the bridge crumbles from inexperience. The one way mirror occupies the insider, mocking the outsider with both distance and inattention.

I feel like shit.

I think all my page views are from spambots.

Thank you, Blogger, for your free page view stats.

Fundamental flaw.

I wish I were prolific in some way, fearless of imperfections and consequences of putting a part of me out for others to see. I wish I had confidence and ambition for the things I do, instead of giving up half way in everything, telling myself it's guilt or that I'm only taking a break.

I used to say that I wish I were smarter, but I'm convinced that's not going to happen—not that it'll help anyway.

Foiled by a warped mind

Addicted and sleep

I might be getting reliant on the drowsy effects of Benadryl, something that has been more pronounced since my hands left the grotesque and diseased-looking stage. Unless I get less than seven hours of sleep or had been awake for more than seventeen hours, I find my mind filled with rushing thoughts and plans as I lay down in preparation for sleep. Failure to become drowsy within the half-hour mark just makes me more agitated and more prone to notice my father's loud snores. I've always had these problems with falling asleep, but nights without drug induced drowsiness seems especially vivid and restless.

Last night was especially bad since I slept very restlessly, dreamt much, and woke up a lot.

Lack of activity doesn't seem to be the issue, since I am yawning profusely by the time I physically settle down in bed--my mind just starts running in fast forward, thinking about ways to do things I didn't get to do.

Playing music seemed to help clear thoughts from my mind last night, though I am always in fear of waking up my father and be subjected to a round of questioning and criticism, since I only have my phone's speakers as a music player.

Marketable skills

I has none.

Rather, all my potential marketable skills are all very unremarkable and noncompetitive. If you consider the combination of skills, however, I may be slightly more unique—slightly. Who would want someone with a skill set like this anyway?

In other news, I walked past $10 on the ground and failed to pick it up. A second later a kid noticed it and it was gone. One can say that maybe it's not meant to be mine, but I actually really could use that money. I'm about $200 in my accounts and 20k in debt, with no job.

I'm poor, guys; don't bother robbing me.

Seriously. When someone, on multiple occasions, tell you that no matter what your intentions are, he/she is getting a certain attitude from you, it fucking means either you are unaware of how fucking negative you are or that you're doing something wrong.

It's not saying that you are wrong or he/she doesn't want to talk to you or tell you stuff or that he/she is not listening to you because he/she is a insolent child because he/she fucking can.

Who's the one being arrogant and unable to taking into others' comments now?

Medic: the experience

Turns out there's still paperwork to be done after getting there, and now I have signed my rights away twice and received a yellow plastic card for it. The doctor couldn't really tell me anything I didn't know and couldn't do anything besides waiting for it to get worse again, as expected. At least I know I'm way heavier than I used to be (ugh) and my blood pressure is 113/65.

Also was told twice to go get an exam at the gynecology dept.

I was told by the nurse (dark skin and pretty gray-blue eyes) that the doctor (not Dr.Sue but Dr.Su) was weeks new. He looked young, but what was funny caught my attention were his blood-shot eyes. Also had the attitude of an ABC. Just saying.

Spend the remainder of the afternoon in Hillsdale Mall, B&N, T.J. Maxx, and Michaels. Michaels had this type of soft-cover bound sketchbook that I wanted on clearance. But I missed it ;____; And they need more people working there, if I had to wait 10 minutes for help :\

Came home with fatigue and a headache.

That's actually not very accurate. I came home fine, but after dinner I felt very meh and tired and my head felt kinda funny and stuffy. Really wanted to do something, but just can't muster the focus. Currently being slightly passive aggressive by refusing to be socially convenient and entertain T's comments about DE:HR. Fuck his game.

Medic!

First time going to see a (general public) western doctor in years. I wonder how different they are from university health center doctors. I mostly want their opinion on what I'm reacting to, since I'm pretty sick of not allowed to eat anything and be told I have toxins in my body that I need to get rid of. I hope this doctor is open-minded enough about eastern medicine to accept that it has been working, but also that it doesn't tell me what is wrong with me, exactly. (Also that it's all thanks to the eastern medicine that I am able to sleep and social and go places in the 6 weeks that it took to assign me a damn primary care doctor.)

The second thing I wanted to ask is if there's anything I can do about the mite/flea/mosquito bites on my legs. I've got about 23 of them, and they've been waking me up early morning (6-7am), itching like crazy until I use hydrocortisone.

Fifteen minutes before I have to leave.

Nervous? Yeah, a little.

More hand issues

Father was feeding me sole and mackeral for a few days and so for the last two days I've got some bubbles on my left pinky and right ring finger, plus some bumps and redness along my arms.

He disparages my will and habits, continually.

Going to Davis to move out tomorrow and over the weekend. Hope my hand doesn't get worse in the heat. Also haven't asked for money to pay the rent. Hope it won't go terrible. I'm always super guilty when asking for money.

Hands, ears, and about caring.

1. My hands got way better until a couple of days ago, when I tried to reduce my medicine intake and father cooked food that had peanuts in it. Don't know if that was the problem, since he tends to blame things like me going out making it worse anyway. But it's only as if the bubbles and redness and swelling is coming back a little and doesn't look like it's about to explode.

10. I started hearing a constant static in my left ear. It's not affected by head position, swallowing, or noise level. Voices do not sound distorted either. I hope it's just a eardrum puncture and not an infection. Father is saying this is because I sit all day. That's what he said for my hiccups yesterday too.

11. At this point, I am very tired of just hearing about what I did wrong, what I am doing wrong, and what I'm lacking. I've been trying to tell myself that's how he cares, but frankly, all these negative messages are only pushing me towards a depressive state. As much as I hate to think that way, maybe he really is just being abusive, like T believes. I get that F may be frustrated by my languor and my lack of progress, but it feels like I am in the wrong no matter what I do. I get told off for eating strange foods when I go out, and I told off for not doing anything, not wanting to do anything, when I stay in. Nothing I do is right.

I am tired of the cocksure attitude he possess on health issues. I'm especially tired of the way he think he knows better than eastern and western doctors alike (but especially of western doctors). I'm tired of hearing about what's wrong with his brothers and sisters and their family like we are superior. I am sick of him saying that I've switched my area of study too many times. More so because I am especially regretting not doing like he thinks I did.

I hate him for pointing out my apathy and idleness, not because it's true, but because it is said without caring about how I am faring about it, only caring that something is done on the issue. I hate that he doesn't seem to care about what obstacles I could been meeting, only that I must clear them out of my way. It's easy to say that he does not care about further schooling, but he does not hear the disappointment and failure and hope in his voice.

Sometimes, I think I can hear his inner hope and aspirations of me better than he can. But the problem is, I can't hear his caring side.

I really want to.
I really tried to.
But all I ended up with is self-hatred.

The static in my ear is gone.

Drugs

Forgot to take a Benadryl before sleeping last night. Sleep came with a slight difficulty, but that is fairly normal for me. Will consider taking one or less pill than usual tonight. Not taking anything didn't seem to affect my hands much, either.

HAAANDS!

They are healing up quite nicely. I have been going out and eating out quite often in the last several days (Saturday, Monday, Tuesday), and other than a little bit of rotting on the R middle finger, palm side, things have gotten much better. My hands and arms are much less unusually red, the affected skin are becoming less dry and obviously abnormal, the middle knuckle cracks are healing, and R backside webbing is slowly getting thinner.

Not being constantly uncomfortable in my own skin is oh so very nice.

Still taking nightly Benadryl (2) and one during dinner if I'm out, though. Might try reducing the nightly intake by 1 in a few days, since I don't really need it anymore. It seems that the side effect of drowsiness is fairly common in most people. Why can't I be one of those individuals?

Man oh man, Young Adulthood.

Found my wordpress blog I used to write unkind things on today. Man, was I angry. Actually, it's pretty understandable given the circumstances of a shared room, but now I think it's time to MOVE THESE ENTRIES SOMEWHERE MORE PRIVATE, yo.

Probably here. Under several locks and maybe a couple of ogres guarding the door. How good are ogres as guardians anyway?

EDIT: It turns out that WP allows both private settings and password protected options. I guess these particular not-for-children posts will remain where they are :D

I'm not sure if it's better or worse that i sting after scratching the itch.

Progress Part VII: Finally up to date, getting way worse, and speculations

21 July 2011

Slightly worse in all aforementioned spots today. More redness/swelling, more skin loss. Slight spreading/swelling on back of left and right hands and knuckles. Cracking on the left pinky. More bubbles on right palm.

Slept until 12 again. Had a dream where I was heading to theoretical home in China/HK and first had to leave the cat by himself for three days, but then he came with us. For some reason Second Aunt was also there, and so was T. We had to take turns with one computer and then I found an off-limits computer after showering (running on XP). When I "woke up" I found Mother in the living room reading, and the cat (shrunk to the size of a large rat) was squirming in its food bowl, sans any skin. Mice was trying to nibble on him and was also sans skin. According to Mother the cat threw up and then was licking himself and licked off all the skin. Plus the skin of the mice. Not sure whether I tried throwing the mice out--they were all sticky and slimy-- or removing the cat from the bowl, but the other kind followed and I had to pick up my cat from the huddle of mice and cat from the piled that reformed on the floor. Needless to say, I woke up a little disturbed and immediately went to check if the cat is alright.

22 July 2011

Yet still worse today. More redness in fingers and on back of hands, thickened skin between the fingers, more bubbles on right palm, left palm is a little uneven. Greater affected areas on my wrist. Hands were very hot and itchy last night. Didn't sleep until 2, woke up around 3:30, and hands ceased to be itchy and hot around 5.

Dreamt that I was on a campus that connects to a aquarium and sports activity place. The campus was huge and required riding trains through the mountains to get home. They were switching train tunnels around and one segment of it didn't match, so a segment of train would get unlatched and left behind. My friend and I ran to the front of the train and left the train in the storm. I couldn't open an umbrella (orange) because the wind is strong enough to flip it. Ran inside the aquarium/sports/tutoring/learning place (dream geography is always wacky) and wandered around accidentally going through an in-use auditorium (we sneaked out), seeking an exit. Another time I was in the train again and the train got stuck because of that bit of tunnel, so I went to the aquarium place again and tried to walk the short way around, but ended up meeting little kids wanting to draw or something...

I've been reading two books on neurochemicals' effects on female and male brains. It's written by a psychiatrist and sometimes the book is a little to laymen for me, but looking at the surges of estrogen females experience every month makes me think that the worsening of my hands might be related to my monthly cycle--more precisely, the ebb and flow of estrogen. We shall see if my hands get better next week, when my estrogen should be plummeting.

Progress part VI: Downhill once again.

19 July 2011

Very visible bumps/liquid pockes under the skin on the palm side of right middle finger, pad below right ring finger, and middle of palms. Some swelling on the back side of right webbing, left little finger, and back side below left little and ring fingers. Rougher skin here. Also splochy redness/swelling on inside and medial side of left wrist and around the ball of the left thumb. This last area was acting up the night prior around 3am but went away the next day. Some new splotches in new areas on the inner arm near the elbow.

Started soaking in Dead Sea salt during the day as I should've been.

20 July 2011

Mostly unchanged. Affected areas on the right hand, palm side, might have gotten slightly more blistery, but don't seem to have spread. Skin on left little and ring finger have gotten rougher and have started getting cracks. More small, under-skin blisters on the palm side of the left ring finger. A small patch appeared on the medial side of last left thumb knuckle. Wrist patches remains unchanged. Feeling some bumps under the skin on right palm side ring finger, middle segment.

Slept incredibly well though. Had some trouble falling asleep last night—probably wasn't able to sleep until 2 or so—and achieved uninterrupted sleep until 9, at which point I woke briefly feeling fairly well-rested but wasn't able to get up until 11 (before alarms). This is about an hour or two earlier than usual, though I mostly out of bed because I was feeling aches from not moving for too long. I wonder how much of this is due to the drugs (though it's not supposed to be effective past 6 hours?).

Progress part V: Lauding T and running out of drugs

13 July 2011

Hands seemed to have gotten better, I seem to be able to sleep quite well, and I was running out of Benadryl, so I tried reducing the dosage to 25mg. Had a lot of trouble sleeping that night. Finished the last two pills the night after.

16 July 2011

Since the end of May, I refused to see anyone except the people in my immediate household, my aunt and uncle next door (involuntarily), the doctors, and T because he's wonderful and drove down to entertain me every weekend. I'd even missed KJ's birthday/rockband party because that was the weekend right after the Millbrae doctor ruined my hands, too. ;___;

But.

I was well enough for an outing for C's birthday!

It was my first outing since the end of may. I had a little bit of trouble picking a sort of savory crepe that didn't have cheese or beef, and ended up ordering a custom crepe with turkey, mushrooms, and sun-dried tomatoes. There were sweet crepes that I could eat, actually, but I only had half of a granola bar that morning. The crepe I ordered had black peppers, which I am not supposed to eat since it's spicy. This is why eating out is a problem--there are just too many little things I could not control. I supposed it shouldn't affect me too much though, since I know my father adds a little white pepper in the things he cooks. I was a little disappointed about the turkey being slices of sandwich turkey, but it blended in with the skin of the crepe and made it meaty-tasting, which is nice.

Then everyone went to a bubble tea. I only drank some of T's taro bubble tea. It wasn't strong enough in taro flavour. Then we went to karaoke from 2 to 5. I stayed at T's until 7--right before dinner (because my diet requirements are a pain).

I had already felt my hands getting slightly worse the night before, but it wasn't so bad...it got a little more agitated that night, but still no visible redness or marks. Forgot to get more Benadryl, though, and had a hellish time sleeping. Almost reverted back to the not-sleeping sort of condition from before.

The next night we went to get more Benadryl. We got a 200 pill bottle. All the sleepy drug for me. It's now officially my happy pill. Though it doesn't really make me happy.

Progress Part IV: Getting answers and getting less socially avoidant

6 July 2011 - San Bruno

If nothing else, this doctor was reassuring. She touched my affected hand with no qualms other than being mindful of my wounds, didn't try to force my fingers to move as did the other doctor, and didn't tell me "it's probably better" if I didn't eat the things I asked about. She seemed fairly certain that it's an acute onset dermatitis (debatable, since I've had coming and going problems since I was young), and it was likely triggered by an allergy (possible, but not anything I know of).

After asking about the history of my condition, she even said I should be okay with dairy, as long as I avoid cheese. Baked and pan-fried stuff is okay, and even fried stuff is fine once in a while. Soy and gluten is definitely fine since I don't have prior history of these kinds of allergies. She did say to avoid all seafood until I'm healed though, in contrast to other doctor's okay on freshwater fish.

A few days prior my hands got slightly worse and I was getting jumpy about what I'm allowed to eat. The doctor, like the one in Millbrae, said it just gets better and worse sometimes. But it might be getting worse because the skin is too dry, so told me to soak in dead sea bath salt in the day and soak the herbal stuff only once at night a little before going to sleep.

The doctor said I'll get better again by the end of the week, but would like to see me at the end of the month to see if I need to change the dosage. I did become better slowly and that one stubborn crack on my right middle knuckle even healed up.

Regarding sleep, she said Benadryl is supposed to be the best (antihistamine and drowsy properties), but if that doesn't work we can try motion sickness medicine, because it helped her.

After seeing her, I went up to the general hospital to ask about insurance options for this poor, jobless, sickly self, because I wanted answers about the western view of things. Chinese medicine works and all, but their theories are only explained by more theories and has no physiological basis that my background wanted to know. until August of 2012, I'm fully covered (no co-pay) under the county health program because I have no assets to speak of. Too bad Father didn't want to take me when it was really bad--then I'd definitely qualify for disabilities, too (can't get a job and can't drive because of my hands).

I took the drowsy motion sickness meds that night, and after two nights, determined that I'd need 50mg Benadryl and 50mg Dramamine (dimenhydrate) to get drowsy enough. Even then I didn't pass out like I wanted.

Soon I ran out of Dramamine, and the less drowsy formula, Meclizine-HCl, didn't work at all. By then, I was able to sleep decently though usually still itched and have trouble falling asleep. Usually would wake up around noon.

Progress, part III: Dead people don't get eczema

24 June 2011 - San Bruno

After a night in near-tears, I finally decided I've had enough with being thrown around by my father's decision-making thus far, so I asked him to take me to a hospital where I can find myself a dermatologist. He instead went online to find a Chinese doctor who specializes in dermatology.

Called ahead, no one answered, but decided the office was close enough that we wouldn't lose much by heading over anyway. Turns out the doctor wasn't in, but the receptionist there introduced us to the standard medicine they sell for eczema. Bought the pills, the soak, the cream, and the spray. The receptionist also recommended Benadryl for sleeping, which we went to get on the way back.

The next 12 days would have to be classified as a general success as my hands got better for the first time since I went to play badminton some time in May. The large blisters began to lose dry up from the inside after two days, the redness and swollen parts slowly receded to managable levels, showering and hair-washing is no longer a four-finger operation. The progress was tremendous.

Because I soaked in the herbal soak three times a day, put on cream and spray carefully all over the affected areas in addition to petroleum jelly and antibacterial cream in cracked areas, I spend at least 4 hours a day taking care of my hands and feet, out of maybe the 12 hours I'm awake and not in bed.

I still was having trouble sleeping and staying asleep even with 50mg diphenhydramine hydrochloride (Benadryl), but it gave me a little bit of help. I fluctuated between getting around 3 to 12 hours of sleep. With my skin getting better and shedding, though, the days were a lot less difficult.

But this is also the period when I was not preoccupied enough to look stuff up about eczema. Father also did the same, and soon I got frustrated at what I could not eat, and was having huge cravings for all the snacks at Trader Joe's. I usually never crave snacks like cookies or biscuits, but all that stuff looked inviting in my vitamin/fats deficient diet. I had been only eating steamed or boiled foods, with a very limited selection of food in general. I started to read about how some eczema patients avoided touching print material, wore light cotton gloves to sleep, avoided contact with water, and on, and on. I started to freak out when they mentioned avoiding soy and gluten products( and chicken and meats, according one slideshow), at which point I went, "fuck that." T commented, "I'm sure dead people don't get eczema."

With the soak running out, it was time to go see doctor. The doctor seems to have two offices and is not at the office during half of the week, so an appointment was made and I compiled a list of things to ask, mostly regarding what the hell I can eat and survive.

Progress, part II: Brimming with experience, just not in my area

I have meant to say in the last post but kept forgetting. One of the worse parts of the leaking is the smell. I could always smell the liquid that oozed from my skin. I could smell it all the time and smelled it everywhere. It made me all the more convinced that my hands are rotting.

17 June 2011 - Millbrae

Went to a doctor here who's supposed to be very good but expensive according to my uncle. The doctor is a PhD of age eighty-odd who can read medical texts of Russian, English, and Chinese and has a lot of confidence. He also had a lot of advice to give. Said what I had was "hot-poison" and gave 5 days' worth of medicine that smelled like some medicine-y soup with pork, but tasted bland but a little salty. Also a soak that smelled the same, but contained far more sticks and leaves that it made the soak very thick. I felt like I was marinating my hands. He just said it was possible that it's both fungal and dermatitis.

My hands by this point has worsened. One giant blister covered R3 bottom knuckel, palm side, giant blisters that covers a third to half of each palm--there was very little skin on my hands that weren't somehow affected. My arms are also getting redder and more itchy. Sleeping, despite the supposedly calming effects of the medicine, is still very difficult. I would have problems getting to sleep and would wake up from itching and/or scratching. I would give up on trying to sleep and sometimes would just sit there until it's warm enough to get out of bed. I had started to dread sleeping some time ago, so at least I would be able to consciously lessen the itching sensation. I think I'm sleeping only a few hours every night by this time.

By this time I'm not eating most seafood except fish that is not tuna/salmon, no eggs, no fried stuff, no tropical fruits.

6 days later there was very little, if not no improvement. The eczema has spread to the other fingers on each hand, further onto the arms.

23 June 2011 - Millbrae

With the medicine gone, we went back to the doctor to see what he has to say. He didn't have much to say, but changed the medicine so it's stronger in nature. When we went back to get teh medicine, the doctor smeared some aloe gel on the back of my left hand, saying to see if it helps and if it does, I can go back to get some. He smeared a lot on my hand and I had to spread it all over the back and around my wrist.

When we got back home I didn't think much of it. The gel was a little thick and dried fairly fast--it made a shiny, tough surface on top of my irritated, but unbroken skin (unlike every other part of my hands). My hands have been constantly itching for the past month, so I didn't think much of the back of my hands itching or took heed when my aunt said my hands looked more swollen since it has been looking swollen for weeks and I can't really tell whether it's more swollen since I stare at it all the time.

He put the gel on me around 15:00. But 17:30 I decided to wash the gel off because I felt that it was making my wrist hard to move and it was uncomfortable. I had thought that the glossy surface that the gel had made caused the illusion of a more swollen arm. After washing the gel off, though, I felt the back of my left hand and wrist swelled and hurt much more--and realised the suddenly worse areas were all places the gel had been placed. The back of my had was red, felt tight, stung like a bed of needles, and swelled to convex dome from my knuckes to my wrist. I couldn't move my wrist anymore.

Thinking back, while I'm most likely reacting to the gel, washing with just water probably agitated the skin further. I'd been taking very minimal showers because showers hurt like hell.

My hand worsened two-fold. I remember that I haven't been sleeping or would not even try to sleep until early morning already, but my hand oozed so much more that night that I decided I'm not going to sleep at all. It was painful and itchy. Going under the covers would only make me mind my hand even more. I stayed out in the living room and huddled under blankets on the black chair, planning to doze once I got very, very sleepy, but determined to occupy myself with only fics until then.

I got about half an hour of sleep last night.

My hands crusted over from the liquids, breaking through skin that would not heal all over the back of both hands. The three giant blisters palm-side are tough, covered my palms in one giant pouch in each hand and a couple on two fingers, very puffy and filled to the brim with liquids on the inside.

Progress, part I: The middle of the story, since I don't even remember when it started getting bad.

Until I tried to remember how long this eczema has been a problem to keep friends and family up to date, I didn't realise how my sporadic complaining here serves fairly important documentation purposes. While I know I still can't be bothered to write about everything from day to day, I will make more of an effort to log my condition more regularly so I don't have to recall everything then get intimidated by the volume of words/abridge until it's essentially useless.

I don't quite remember what sort of condition I was in since last entry. But it has been a few days and the post has become huge, so I'm going to post in parts, as I get them done. The notes for the last three days (including today) is already done, but I'm going to post my logs in order and dated with the correct day.

13 June 2011 - Chinatown

Went to see a what an Eastern medicine doctor makes of my hands, since I've been itching and it has been getting worse with both antifungal medication and glucosteriods before that. The blisters has grown huge--about 0.5cm on average-- and covering about 2/3 of my fingers and about 1/4 of my palm, hands swollen to the point that I have trouble doing much, including holding a fork to eat. I have been leaky every night and have trouble sleeping. Have trouble curling my palms because of the blister that's growing on the right webbing.

I also have had some small bubbles (blisters) on my toes since the beginning, which was what got me thinking it might be an infection of a fungal nature

This degree of swelling made everything difficult, something I don't emphasize enough but is incredibly debilitating, mentally and physically. I had to fight the scratching reflex day and night, which made doing anything requiring thinking almost impossible. I was complain-y irritable at best and quite depressed and hopeless at times, and always disgusted at my hands. I still don't think my feelings at the time is unjustified--if looking at pictures of bad eczema makes you feel disgusted, try imagining seeing your own hands in that state, always in view, and looking like they are about to rot off. I became completely obsessed and preoccupied with them.I could spend hours at a time looking at my hands and peeling the flaking skin off. I was miserable because I really couldn't do jack shit. I couldn't draw or woodwork. Going out the door was problematic because my hands looked so gross. I loved using my hands to do stuff. Taking their ability to even type was devastating.

Physically, I had problems taking care of myself on a basic level. Teeth brushing, showering, changing, pulling on pants, pulling off pants, eating, getting onto bed...all of them risk breaking the blisters and cause my hand to swell and leak and itch badly afterwards. All I could do was to sit and read online--it took the least amount of movement and contact, but provided the entertainment needed to keep me distracted enough to forget about my hands. I drowned myself in fandom.

The doctor didn't really know what's up exactly, prescribed two days' worth of soak that smells like flowers and "cool"-type medicine for "wet-poison". The cat liked one ingredient of the soak--turns out it's in the same family as catmint. The medicine tasted like flower tea. Couldn't tell me whether it's fungal or eczema.

Wasn't sure what's supposed to happen after soaking and taking the medicine and the soaking stung a little, so after two days with no improvement but increased redness in the affected areas (Left: little, ring, inner wrist; Right: little, ring, webbing on back), we decided going out to Chinatown again would be super helpful.

Oh god, i'm so itchy. Can't sleep can't put limbs down comfortably can't do anything but not scratch or touch.

There are other ways to not-scratch but scratch. My unconscious mind is resourceful, creative, and willing to exploit any loophole.

A few times, in attempt to relieve my fingers of that constant, stinging pressure, I bend my fingers forcefully where the swell had immobilized my joints, popping the blisters and the capillaries alike in satisfaction, squeezing my hand shut (oh god, when was the last time I was able to to that?) and watch little pin drops of blood blossom underneath the skin where it's too thick to pop, thinking that the little bits of red are nicer to look at than watching blisters blossom above the skin. I squeeze and damage myself as the a little bit of itch leaves with each little bit of liquid.

Do you know what dead skin smells like? I do, and that's because the sour, damp tinged smell lingers on my hand.

I very much believe that my morbid fascination and lack of squeamishness in ruining my own skin is due to early and long-term exposure to my own bloated and liquid-soaked dead skin, white and undeniably dead and uncared for yet stubbornly kept by the body because that's all it has got against the outside world.

You know, about four days after a bout of very bad episode, the skin above hardens as new skin is made underneath the layer of liquid; you can peel the old skin off in big, satisfying flakes. sometimes it's like peeling a croissant, sometimes like peeling dried white glue off your hands, and sometimes it's like peeling a sheet of leather, tough and thick.

The new skin underneath is smooth and shiny and prone to tearing—there are no guarantees on it staying healthy for long before bubbles rise up to, and press against, the thin barricade again.

I suppose the one upside to these explosive onsets have against the slowly manifesting kind is that the skin becomes tough but not brittle, a little more forgiving about movement than the dried and brittle skin that cracks and tears deep since motility is restrained from the inside and not the outside.

Whether the pain or the itch threw me deeper into hopelessness, I do not know.

Scratch until it bleeds.

I have begun to worry and daydream a lot more.

I worry about skin atrophy and scratching and infections and stressing my hand by holding bowls and plates and chopsticks and by getting into bed and also quite possibly from typing this out right now (I have stopped trying to hold pens some time ago). I worry every time I feel minute bumps underneath my skin, knowing by now what blisters feel like long before they are visible.

Don't laugh it off when i say i think my hand is going to rot off or that I will get skin cancer one of these days because they are fears not completely illogical to me.

You wouldn't be able to go though this stoically, either, if you have watched your fingers swell and fill with liquids before your eyes, hundreds of blisters growing beneath the skin, stretching and merging into one giant bloat. It crushes.

Sometimes the tips of your fingers prickle from not getting enough blood, sometimes they turn blue. A few times the pressure of liquids exceed the force the skin is able to push and liquids ooze out in great droplets on their own. You would squeeze or force your fingers to bend so the outer skin pops to relieve the stinging pressure from the inside, not caring about the damage of the perforated skin that is left behind.

Don't scoff and tell me it can't be that bad when I scream that I itch because I always itch (when have YOU experienced constant itching?), and if I tell you it means I will soon be more than happily compelled to scratch all my skin off, literally, for the possibility of alleviating the itching for that instant. Stop me or I will head off that cliff, as I have done many times.

Don't tell me there's nothing such as unbearable itching until you have stayed awake, fearing sleep, to grasp at the controls that keep you from just scratch, scratch, and SCRATCH.

End of the quarter and everything, except I'm not in school anymore

Woke clawing at my hands again at approximately 08:00, but at least I got five hours of sleep this time.

The heaviness in my head that accumulates with each waking hour is doing a number on me. Almost dozed off at my computer a few times so far, and have been a little prone to leaning back, stare, then have my head droop and eyes closed in a parody of a nap. The chair is comfortable.

Never thought I would dread sleeping as I did, fearing the lack of control slumber brings.

Awake since 5:30, with only two hours of sleep.

The coughing, after the last four days of silent hell, is finally doing what it's supposed to do. Doesn't make it any less obnoxious, just much less hurty.

That said, I couldn't fall asleep until at least 03:15 last night due to coughing spasms that wouldn't go away.

Then at 05:00 I woke up finding myself clawing fiercely at my fingers and wrist, unable to stop myself, feeling the hundreds of blisters on my fingers pop and the liquid inside coating my fingers.

Half an hour later I quelled the urge to scratch and laid my hands above my bed covers, idly considering the possibility of getting Elizabethan collars for my hands. My coughing spasms resumed soon after due to my uncovered throat and sternum, at which point I thought since I don't seem to be too tired, screw this. Not going to chance waking up scratching up myself again today.

Tiredness is pressing on my forehead now; maybe I will go take a nap sometime this afternoon.

I'm tired of my disabled hands. I can't do much when they're this swollen from inflammation. I also can't do much studying with this lack of sleep, either.

But I'm almost scared of sleeping and what it not brings.

Father wonders why I never tell him shit.

When I tell him about what I have been/will be doing, he's unresponsive.

When anything bad happens and he is told, he tells me off. Doesn't look very much like he cares about how I am doing and care more about what I have done wrong.

Father wonders why I never tell him shit.

Seriously not cool.

Father resorted to insulting my lack of psychology spirit when I refused to discuss certain family situations with him.

Oh Father, how little you know I do this because I am disgusted with how my thoughts have become tainted from you and just don't want to encourage this.

And for once you're not about to rile me up just by calling me names.

Emmense hate for my uterus right now.

So. Much. Hate.

The hurt...IT DOESN"T STOOOOP

First it was healthy hurt
Then it was sickly hurt
Now it's the "womenly woes" kind of hurt.
.
.
.
.
.
.
ow.

Cannot sleep cannot sleep cannot sleep cannot sleep
worried
sick
worried
unsettled
worried
cannot sleep

Seems like nothing good ever comes out of waiting these days.

I keep doing it anyway.

Itchy

All the fucking time.

Stings when I move, stings when I wash.

Have been waking up in the middle of the night finding myself relieving my itchy hands, scratching them and the blisters up. Also haven't been able to sleep unless both hands are curled around my bed's metal frame to make the itching less noticiable. This is probably why I dislike warm hands on myself--either something's wrong or i'm too warm--it's never good.

About what I said before about getting thinner--that's a complete lie. I'm fatter and more disgusting than ever. With a worsening temper and dulling outlook on life. Don't understand how some puts up with it. I certainly wouldn't want to have much to do with myself.

Thought appetite came back, but instead learned a valuable lesson on the difference between "appetite" and "not trying to throw up". Stomach still not liking the amount of starch consumed--still struggling to deal with the load of mostly rice and choy sum six hours later.

Oh well, involuntary but not entirely unwelcomed diet time! Plus it might have misdirected/wrongly explained an otherwise slightly sticky situationa little while ago, so other than not able to enjoy the past few days' good food, is not so bad at all.

Was told to have looked thinner already. Suppose that's what three days of quartered food intake would do.

The wacky eating schedule plus misc mental issues probably has done me in this time. Feels like throwing up regardless of availability of food in stomach.

The other day Father was listening on a radio show where a host was commenting off-hand that the "after eighties" youth these days are very "gray"--little hope, little happiness, little motivation--and I can only think of how can we not be gray, when everything as we grow up starts to go shit.

Every time I sit down to draw, I am asked about what I plan to do with my life.

I'm a failure.

Manliness x ∞

I feel infinitely more manly with this in my possession.


Cross-posted like crazy. That's how excited I am.

Posted from phone.

Got a new phone today. AT&T wants to get rid of their 2G phones and switch to a 3G network. Casualty of this exchange is the loss of my unlocked, media-playing phone. Now what will I do with all the accessories that came with it? :( Also my old text messages were all gone...but i suppose that's me not smart enough to take the SIM card out as well. This phone is newer & more fanshy, but has inferior photo and mp3 capabilities. Also, no space for my TARDIS.

Looking for work when your self-esteem is shit doesn't work because nothing feels like something you're able to do.

I couldn't talk the whole time because all I could think of were how my teeth hurt and how I almost said something hurtful in attempt to vent.

The gap is wide and sometimes it doesn't connect.

There's really no suitable perpetual audience for this sort of stuff.

It's been a while since I felt crappy like this.
Feeling so doubtful and unsure.
Also needy.
And fat.

Maybe I desperately need some kind of acknowledgement, too.

Stuck stuck stuck stuck stuck stuck stuck
In poor living situation.
I hate it so much.


One can only dump this on another so many times before one feels guilty for ruining precious social experiences and fear for being seen as too egocentric.