  Sarade and Minako are roommates no longer; it is interesting to note that there has been no direct communication between these two ladies, despite four attempts made by Minako, and that they are in most classes together.
One could almost conjecture that there would be no evidence supporting Sarade's Exodus; however, the lack of bed would imply otherwise. Interesting scenario, that. The issue went rather rapidly from Minako not wishing to share a space with Sarade's boyfriend, to Sarade's questioning of Minako's sanity.
Evidently, it is not a far jump from space issues to slander. Saw "Kill Bill" on Saturday night; if you're a Quentin Tarantino fan, and/or you love kung fu, over the top action, and cheese, this movie is it. I loved it. It did nothing new with content, characters, or dialogue, and the blood was very spurty; but I loved it. I got the sense that the film was not just made, but crafted. It was funny, it had adrenaline, and the dialogue ran in places like poorly translated Japanese. Aaah, yes. And it had the essential motif of Pretty Girls Kicking Ass. Great movie. Sunday sucked. Woke up, and was treated to a stomach ache extraordinaire. Missed thanksgiving dinner Chez Minako's, and went back to sleep. When I woke up the second time, I listened to messages sent from Kurt from Minako's, and then curled up into a little sad ball and cried my little sad face off.
I could hear people in the background on the message, and I thought about walking into the apartment, already crowded with people, and I couldn't do it. They had saved me food from dinner, and I thought, upon awakening, that I could at least assist with the cleanup. Dragged my sad little body into the shower, and cleaned it off, sat back on the bed upon drying, and cried some more.
There were only three people I didn't know there, but somehow it became too much, and my brain reeled off all sorts of excuses; for example, I had asked Kurt to come back and get me - he didn't because of a miscommunication, and I took it as evidence that I wasn't really wanted there, anyways. Stupid, stupid. Minako sent Kurt back with a plate of food, and well wishes, and I felt depressed, hideously depressed, and I went back to sleep. Woke up again, and watched "28 Days" with Kurt, and our neighbours; Giraffe, and The Angry Man. Tomorrow, we're to go to the Giraffe's ancestral home, and eat; which is positively super in theory.
In practice; I'm scared I'll wake up on the wrong side of my brain a little later, and decide I have to spend the entire day in seclusion. So why the trauma? Beats the shit out of me. Going to have to attribute it to "Another One of Those Days. " And I have to say, from my heart, that it sucks, and that reasoning is not satisfying. I also forgot to get a referral from the doctor to see a lady psychiatrist.
I hope I can call to get one. We've got word that Christmas in the City is a concrete possibilty. The estimated time of said stay would be a month. Looks like the appropriate thing would be to spend half or more of the holidays with Kurt's parents; the furnishers of said trip. I don't feel entirely comfortable with that. Kurt believes that I don't like his parents, and, when i first met them, all my defenses were up, and I didn't.
A lot has changed since then, though, they don't seem quite so alien to me, and well, hey, I love them. But, I'm still terribly uncomfortable around them, I feel like we have very little common ground to stand on, and the thing I'm worried about most is that they're going to come face and eyes up against my illness, and well, I don't want that. It's embarassing. My own parents treated me like glass for years, how am I to expect any degree of normal behaviour from folks who really don't know me all that well?
Yes, yes, I really ought to have more faith in people. Bottom line is, though, that I'm worried there will be another intercession for Kurt's well-being, and they'll politely suggest that he should run; not walk, away from me as fast as his skinny legs will carry him. Hmm. For an awfully long time, I was of the mind that almost nothing embarassed me. I can see rather clearly right now that this is not the case.
Being depressed embarasses me. I try to be open about it; I try not to hide it, or make issue of it; just like it's another fact of life, like I have brown hair, and my name is spelled with a 'y'. But, no one asks me why my hair is brown. They do ask why I'm sad. It seems like I never have a good reason; I'm just this person who spends a large portion of her life hysterical. I refer to being depressed as having bad chemicals, so that way there is a demarcation between being grieved or having my brain mess with me. When it's bad chemicals; there isn't any reason. That lack of reason is possibly the most frustrating aspect of my illness; it feels like I forever have to justify feeling sad, or that I can't legitimately feel sad, it's all a swamp of confused brain chemicals.
I've lost friends, because being depressed was too much for them to handle, or it wasn't real to them, or it was just too messy to get involved in. So, I'm embarassed, because every time I break, it seems people lose respect for me. Or they become uncomfortable, and then I become uncomfortable, and it just gets stupid. I don't suppose it's anyone's fault. It does make me want to run and hide, though. 
