chrispalmer0000's Xanga

Well I'll Be Goddamned.

Wed, 07 Oct 2009 01:17:07 GMT

So it's starting to get to me--the Fear, the realities and overwhelm of the school year. I'm taking a stress managment course, so hopefully that'll help. You know, as long as I manage to "work in" some time to practice any stress management techniques....

Meanwhile, I've flaked off these last two days' homework time. I'm probably just anxious and running as hard as I can from the Fear. At least it's been in the interest of cool friends...saw a lunchtime movie with one friend and then skipped a class to chill and partake of hookah and later got an early dinner with some other friends and then went on facebook chat for at least a third of my night class.

And all through it, a slight, thrumling headache to irk me off. Oh, no, much as I'd like, poet as I am, to ascribe them to some guilt reflex symbology, I know they're tension headaches. I've been getting them for years--as long as I've been chronically stressed. And they really suck the life & will outta me.

I think when I get home I'll practice some autogenics then call it an early night. I've found freakishly satisfying results with that technique, and apparently participants in studies have reported almost immediate relief from migraines and tension headaches, sooo....

I need to call this new psychiatrist of ours and get a prescription. I need to work out the details with this ADD coach I'm gonna work with--so fucking excited. I need to fill out and turn in those forms for the Honors Society and also that bunch for "life event benefits" activation as apparently I get money for having good grades; who knew. I need to start blogging again, since I miss the outlet. And I need to catch up on my reading assignments and develop my essay topic more and apply to UMD and look for jobs and practice driving and find a boyfriend and suck less ass and branch out my social network and set some goals and start at some point, I can only hope, living my life instead of scrambling desperately through each day.

You might be able to see how life can get overwhelming for me. Cuz it's not just cuz I can show off and catalog innumerable unattended responsibilities--but that even when I try to attend to them, I never know where to begin or how. This is largely to do with my ADD; prioritizing can be a big problem...

Which is why, often, I can only hope for some peace, or whatever. To actually start living, or something.

Anyway, I'll try to keep movin' and quit bitchin' (as much). But Lord knows a poker face only begets a cold demeanor and frigid, if not arrhythmic, heart.

PS: now that I'm home and it's 10:53, i strongly doubt I'll be practicing any autogenics tonight. it's kind of late, and i'm kind of exhausted. fuck my life. >.<

Noble Truths

Wed, 23 Sep 2009 04:46:59 GMT

I'm so sorry to anyone who got sucked into this. For the record, though, Brad had and has never had anything at all to do with lauren cransbee. And even tho it's not worth feeding the real troll behind this, it's actually my fault he got implicated at all. So I want to set the record straight and clear his name; I owe that much justice, at least.

So, all this shit started off all lulzy and cute. Some chick named lauren adds me on facebook with the message “hi cutie. i see you like to party. can I join? ;) ;)”; not even 5 minutes later, she comments on my blog yesterday about checking out guys at starbucks “you're gay? ew”, at which I lawled immensely and approved the friend request. Lawl!

A little later, Lindsay and I were lawling over it, and I joked “wouldn't it be funny if it were brad trolling us now that he's got internet again? Haha”. Again, things were still lulzy and cute. We asked some other people what they thought, and they thought it was reasonable. Brad does troll now and then, afterall.

But as people talked to eachother about it, the rumor and suspicion grew. The more people talked and speculated, the more certain they seemed and the more certain they got. A variant on the ad populum fallacy--sort of a “if everyone else thinks it's true, it must be true!”

But things on facebook had gotten nastier, and the implications worse: 'If it were been brad, this shit would be pretty childish and shitty of him'. And a lot of people had become convinced it probably was him, and were starting to get mad. See, “lauren” was seriously harassing our friend--to the point of being creepy, scary, even infuriating. Real fiendish bitchy stuff, too. Our friend, quite reasonably, got pissed. And when she heard the rumblings suggesting it was brad, she got pissed at him; those two are pretty close, so she was hurt and pissed.

It wasn't cute and it wasn't lulzy anymore.

Thankfully, it sounds like our friend and brad are fine now. She believes him, that it wasn't him and that he had nothing to do with it. Anyone who knows him should know he would never hurt a friend like this. Sure, he trolls now and then, but not like this. He's loyal, and goodhearted, nevermind above this kinda petty, hurtful shit. When lindsay and I first joked to eachother whether it might be him, things were still dumb but lulzy. But then--and I really hate this cliche--things got out of hand; people got hurt and defamed, and none of it fairly at all.

Normally, I keep clear of drama; I hate this kinda shit. But it was a joke—at first. But I involved a good friend, and he ended up getting seriously shit on and nearly lost a friend, too. So it's the least I can do to at least try to set the record straight. We still haven't figured out who this cunt “lauren” really is, but we'll find him/her, and she's gonna suffer deliciously.

fuck. all. faggots.

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 22:16:10 GMT

Wow, if you didn't know me you might assume I were some kinda homophobe from the titles of these most recent posts. Oh well, haha.

{SideNote: So this is the first blog I've composed and posted from my Crackberry, Ze Blackcherry :D}

So I've been sitting here in starbucks (the one overlooking Dupont circle; basically the hotspot for gay caffeine fiends), and there was this rather attractive guy reading a book between making glances at me. So of course I made eyes back at him. I mean, but of *course*. Soon enough, it seemed we'd both noticed eachother's taking notice of eachother, and seem positively disposed to the prospect.

At various intervals we make attempts at approaching. {Interjection: Jesus God, he totally just meandered back by the starbucks, too; didn't he, like, leave for the metro or something...?} Like when he and I ended up in line together; he'd decided to get an odwalla at the same time I was craving marble loaf, see. I'm almost took the plunge to ask what he'd been reading so intently, or do *something* at any of the various junctures of eyecontact, but, alas, too timid were we.

We also both moved around, seemingly attempting to vagar nearer eachother (my favorite spot opened up, and, lo!, empty seats on either side! Who knew that by the time he wandered back from wherever, both seats would have been taken by stubbornly retentive skanks....)

Anyway, fate shined upon us when the fag sitting in the comfy seat next to his leaves. After an hour and a half on a stool and with another hour and a half to kill, I'm thankful for the opportunity for comfort...and the opportunity with Hot Boy, too, I guess....haha

So after I settle in a bit and it's clear we're still trying to make (unsubtle) eyes at eachother, I pop my jaw-droppingly brilliant icebreaker/pick-up line: "So whatchya readin'?" He shows me the cover ("Rules for Radicals"), and then asks me the same. I tell him (with admittedly lame honesty) just some stuff for my PE class tomorrow. And that's the end of it. Like, not even five minutes later he packs, gets up, and gives a (preciously?) meek "take care" or some such, and goes.

Faggots of Fate!! Is that supposed to be, like, fair? I'd imagine one is owed at least some small gratification for the exorbitant energies one has excreted into the chasmic abyss betwixt the particles of this cosmos. Or something. Not even fully 'tit for tat', just SOMETHING. But apparently not.

At least that wasn't exactly the last I saw of him, nor was it the first. I've totally seen him at least once or twice before...like, forever ago.... Lord knows I haven't this kind of patience. Hmwell; faggots, lawl.

homos like black cherries.

Tue, 01 Sep 2009 14:24:41 GMT

....or Blackberries, it's one of those, I just know it... Or maybe it's both...?
well, just to prove it, allow me to quote a trusted expert on homokind:

Tophie Palmer can't wait to order himself one of them Blackberry Curve Pinks--cuz lord knows this homo likes his black cherries hot and pink.

That proves it. Totally.

And, I mean, just look at it!

Who can resist such fabulousness?? Not I. And if the only *real* complaint to be found regards batterlife, well, then I'll just hafta get one of them (remarkably cheap) 'blackberry charging pods' to remind me to charge it every night before bed. And then I'll be checkin email (and posting to my blog, even!) before you know it.

Fan-freaking-tastic :)

On a less faggotish note, one big reason I'm keen on it is due to is color I'll be less likely to lose the damn thing. I mean--it's shiny. And pink.

"Hey have any of you seen my shiny hot pink phone anywhere?"

pretty straightforward process from there, haha.

fuck it, i'll share

Fri, 24 Jul 2009 14:22:01 GMT

I was just gonna complain/muse about this with Lindsay, but the more I thought about the more necessary it seemed that more people know about it. I mean, how else can any Great Justice be had?!
Also: I've roughly decided I'm gonna post more/again. I kinda miss it. So...more soon. Hopefully.

meanwhile, here's the comment i posted on Lindsay's fbook; it's all to do with the "leaked" track from Muse's new album The Resistance:

so you'll see i posted "united states of eurasia"; i also thought i'd tell you about this comment about the song on that particular youtube--basically some clever idiot's invitation to get flamed/trolled to hell and back.

goodman1969 said:
well i don't know what to say...
what were they thinking when they made this. they sound like Queen in places apart from that it's a very good track.lets face it no one really likes queen anymore. this is not what i want to hear when i put on a muse album.VERY DISAPOINTED

awe inspiring, eh? disses not only the song but muse AND queen all in one go. amazing.
~Palmer

brent corrigan is pretty fail at orgasm, apparently :\

Mon, 20 Apr 2009 23:47:52 GMT

It says so in my Facebook status, so it must be true. Yeah, if you're out looking for porn, Brent Corrigan's vid "surgeon" is only good if you imagine some new dialogue and sex noises, basically.

Here, as I described it to Sloane:

8:37pm Sloane:
WOW
Your status. Just wow.

8:37pm Tophie:
yes'm?
haha

8:37pm Sloane:
why/
?

8:38pm Tophie:
cuz i just finished a rather disappointing porn with him
i had to IMAGINE better orgasm sounds, frankly.

8:38pm Sloane:
ewwwww

8:38pm Tophie:
during the sex he was like "nn...n...nn...." and when it came time to cum? you'd think he'd rev up a notch or two.
...
he added maybe a consonant's worth of oomph: "nn...ng...nn..."

For the record, the guy fuckin him is pretty hot, though. But much like Brent he could've been just a lil more, like, vocal. Or animate.

So help me God.

Tue, 17 Feb 2009 15:34:20 GMT

I'm trying very hard to convince myself that this quasi-dissociative state in which I seem to be floating through my day so far is due not to my all but total lack of proper ADHD meds but rather the dayquil I took this morning or some cruelly lingering remnants of the cold for whose sake I took said dayquill.

I'd have hoped that though arguably feeble generic dexedrine would have been enough to take the edge off my apparently severe ADHD-Inattentive type, however it quite apparently isn't--and we'll get to why that should have been obvious in a moment. For you see ADHD-Inattentive type is a fun(ny) variant on what you may normally expect from ADHD; I like describing it like having a ceaseless, incessant swarm of ideas assailing your brain, like some portion of the "H"--"hyperactivity"--usually associated with the disorder is in fact mental. Hyperactive brain. While that may sound all fine and dandy to some, think about this: With so much activity inside my head, how the hell am I supposed to pay attention to what's outside it? The answer: I largely can't, hence "inattentive type". I honestly can't remember most of my childhood, I was off in my own fuzzy lil world of fascination & intrinsic intrigue while things happened. My dad's worse than I, I'm sure; my mom has stories of her talking to him about something and his getting some funny look on his face as he stares off into space, humming more likely than not, and her saying "...and then the purple polka-dotted elephants finally agreed to come down from the ceiling. Now whaddya think of that?" and his grumbling amiably but distractedly (if he heard her at all...) "mhm, mhm, polka-dots! mmmhm!" and humming carried on in his own little bubble of goofiness.

Now where was I? Oh! So, class. Sorry, I got caught up in a Passacaglia (& Fugue) by Bach--by the grace of whom alone I'm keeping my eagerly wandering mind held together--for a moment there. Anyway, I followed along the discussion well enough, I guess, certainly well enough considering I hadn't actually read the short story, but whatever. But it wasn't like sitting there and listening. By the end--by the time my patience/focus was really being strained--it was more like...floating. Like there was a somewhat echoey layer of fuzz separating me, an observer, from the goings-on around me. I kept getting caught up in reading the story, re-reading even the bits I had read, and then remembering where I was and that I really did want to jot down interesting notions, phrases from the discussion, for it really was interesting stuff, but also a really interesting story...and off I'd go again, fuzzing out.

I mean for fuckssakes, I just skimmed over the entire Tocatta & Fugue in d minor without even hearing a note of it, I swear. And I really like this recording, like it's the one that I fell in love with. But here I am, writing away, fuzzed out all but entirely, and the music just plays. Oh well.

So why's this all so bothersome today? Well, as I indicated early on, I'm on a mere pill of dexedrine (actually, I think it's something more generic--just "amphetamine", take one twice daily and I've only had the one this morning). This is because my Vyvanse has run out; even on my meds I'm too forgetful to call in to my shrink to write up another prescription until the very day I run out.... And that's only half the problem. See, the guy I'm "seeing" has major ethical qualms, apparently, writing my Vyvanse prescription. "It's just about double the recommended maximum dose, Chris," he grumbles at me. No it isn't, I futiley try to assure myself, the recommended maximum is, like, only 70mg. 100mg isn't twice 70mg! Hah!

...

See, I went off Strattera with my previous shrink. I'd been on a pretty high dosage of Adderal, I think, as well as prescribed Strattera. It's an ironic ode to my generalized oblivion that I cannot recount for you any of the explanations for going on that medication, though I'm sure they were made, my mother vaguely recalls them; my hindsight guess is that I was already at such a high dosage of adderal but needed something else, something more, so instead of adding more adderal we added a different medication, hoping to maybe attack the ADHD from more than one front. (Pity it actually ended up sedating me horribly, because that doesn't sound like an entirely unreasonable attempt....) After I was off the Strattera, Steg put me on vyvanse, partly because his feeling was the reason a lot of people are put on Strattera is it's longer acting, thereby extending the range of coverage. Also, Vyvanse works at a pretty consistent, stable level for around 12 or even 13 hours, which is rocking; it's basically Adderall strapped onto a protein chain that's sheared off by your digestive system, thereby releasing the medicine at a remarkably constant rate. Anyway, there's a rough conversion of dosage--that protein adds a lot of molecular weight, of course, a little more than double the dose, in the end. So I went from 30mg of Adderall to 60mg of Vyvanse. But it wasn't enough. So we egdged it up to 75 or something. Still wasn't enough. We continued to edge it up. 80. 90. 100. Finally, it felt about right. So you can see why one lil dexedrine pill or whatever it is was a pale shelter by comparison.

Lawsey, save me now.

But now this guy, this new guy, gets all flustery and ethical on my ADHD ass. Pussy. Dude, we tried it normal & proper & ethical. I get your difficulty, but you gotta understand mine. I'm a mess. I can't even write a proper, coherent blog post with only a feeble lil pill to back me up. And lord knows I should check my emails, but I won't remember to. And Lord knows I should really plot out my assignments' deadlines & such, but I won't remember to. I'll be lucky to skim that chapter for Abnormal Psychology for today. Seriously. I've been on this dosage for over a year and have yet to die; how about we just prescribe me my meds and then worry about dosages and ethics. For fuckssakes, I'm trying to pass school, here, and hold my life together. It's hard enough even with my meds in order. \

And right now it's been about four solid days since I last had any Vyvanse in me. It's goooone, boy. It's loooong gone.

You know something? I think part of the "fuzz" earlier was due to the dayquil, even though I only took the one geltab. Still, I'm having a hell of a time keeping my mind in place or aware of such foolish things as time, location, purpose, direction, or plans. However, I am hungry, and that gloooorious Prelude & Fugue in a minor that I love so much just came on the ipod...I think it's time I go get shit done and have a threesome with Bach & E. Power Biggs.

One last note: I find it funny that it's when I'm not taking my meds that uncapitalizing the pronoun 'I' really bugs me. Everytime I see I've forgotten to capitalize has stood out, whether or not I've done anything to correct it is less the point but it's bugged me worse than usual. Heh.

Oh! Btw! I stole the title for this post from a really great story I had to read for class last week by Joyce Carol Oates. Fucking Epic. And gooood. It's funny cuz here I'm using the phrase as one might expect, and how I thought she meant it up until the very end of the story. Glorious.

TITTY VENN DIAGRAM.

Tue, 03 Feb 2009 04:13:11 GMT

"i'm like doug's friend skeeter whenever i meet her
cuz I skeet her so hard people call her patty mayonaise."

And with that (at approx 2:00) i basically died XD

MY LIFE IS FULFILLED.

Thank you Alex Metcalf for making my night awesome

also see this one:
for "and santa clause mutliplied by "i" well i guess that makes him real," and that other line about the tour de france....

Truth.

Sat, 24 Jan 2009 02:33:52 GMT

Where sex is made a spectacle, humanity is lost.

"Enthousiasmos."

Mon, 29 Dec 2008 19:44:37 GMT

Easily my new favoritest word of all time. I have to give due thanks to mythology course this semester for introducing me to the concept; basically: "enthusiasm", or here "enthusiasmos" to really invoke its archaic definition, "originally meant inspiration or possession by a divine afflatus or by the presence of a god". Mm, "afflatus" is also pretty high up there. However, "enthousiasmos" is by far much more fun to say

(I'd be rather amused that Wikipedia actually has an entry on "enthusiasm" if it weren't for the sheer awesomeness of this word and the righteous need to tell-all.)