Hallelujah

Today I found that I have a complete absence of a septum pellucidum, a "rare" genetic condition:

"The absence of the septum pellucidum almost always signifies substantial neurological disease, since it is hardly ever an isolated finding.... MRI and CT scans reveal a higher proportion of midline cerebral malformations in schizophrenia, such as cavum septum pellucidum and isolated absence of the septum pellucidum"

This is the best thing that has happened to me all year! Now I can blame all my problems on this septum pellucidum.

Eyesight: "Oh, let's blame the septum pellucidum."

Schizophrenia: "Oh, blame the septum pellucidum."

Stupidity: "Oh, it's the septum pellucidum."

Hehehehehe...

 

PS. I don't think I have schizophrenia.

Does it mean I have schizophrenia when I think aliens and inanimate objects are constantly reading my mind and watching me?

(Because it's like with God; people think He watches them... that's sort of on par with aliens. We don't think Catholic nuns are schizophrenic, and they base their whole life on God.)

 

 

Blogs are like memoirs, and memoirs are my favourite type of book because the stories are about the writer and they're all true.

I hope this doesn't mean that I am a creepy stalker for poking my nose into other people's lives.

 

I think I have stalker genes inside me.

 

For example... I began work at Safeway as a cashier a while ago. Yesterday I was standing beside a co-worker who was writing someting down on a piece of paper, and I happened to glance at this paper.

I saw my name.

I saw my phone number.

I saw my employee number.

Then I saw a familiar name, near mine.... it was the son of my former math teacher...

Oh dear God, what else could I do.... Hastily I glanced at the paper again and I was able to memorize his phone number.

 

This teacher was my absolute favourite person in the whole school, during the last painful year of high school when I would write poetry on the walls of bathroom stalls and get replies such as "You're so emo." (which I'm not)

I used to stay after school just so that I could have conversations with this math teacher; I was initially getting 100% in his class, but I purposely did poorly on exams so that I could stay after school and get the help that I didn't need.

If he didn't exist I would have never met any counsellor or psychiatrist; I owe him my life, though he probably doesn't remember me anymore.

I used to wish that I could meet this teacher's son so that I could marry the son and therefore I would become my teacher's daughter. If I was his daugher-in-law, we would celebrate Christmas and Thanksgiving Day together and discuss calculus problems in his living room, and I would finally get a chance to tell him that I actually got 100% on the math provincial exam re-test and he wouldn't think I'm stupid anymore.

But I got his phone number (I would never dream of looking in the Yellow Pages) and, well, ......I just have it.

I would never call him but it feels comforting to have his number... Maybe one day I could find the courage to talk to this son of my teacher, over lunch break maybe, and that'd be my wish.

 

I hope that doesn't make me a stalker.

 

2007

 

My head is empty.

It's as if I've had a lobotomy

or electroshock therapy

anything that kills off my brain cells

My most treasured possessions, my brain cells

And to think, I would have gone to school, brushed my teeth, and ridden the bus while wearing a helmet my whole life to protect my head.... if only I wouldn't have attracted unwanted attention.

But now there's no point in wearing a helmet because there's nothing left to protect.

Well, that will be all for today.