Is the eye problem worse now, UT? What's up?

No it went away on its own shortly after that thread. Still, what caused it?

I thought we had settled on Lizardmen?

Did this coincide with the appearance of hair on the palms of your hands?

We're doing better than monster though, that really sucks.

Well, yeah - I don't mean to --

I think in honor of Monster we should amke a new new cellar haggis expression to connote displeasure and it should be "uck iucked up"

Or not.

But that does sound seriously iucked up.

hey it's no competition, it's just sucky right now and I thought I'd burden all y'all instead of IRL people ;) It's good and bad that people can't see my "issue". And floaters really do suck too. I just realized I haven't been bothered by mine recently, so I guess there's a plus side -it's given me something else to worry about ;)

That is horrid to have on a permanent basis, monster - I'm sorry.

I've been up for 48 straight hours. The last bit of work on the thesis turned into a nightmare - a bunch of files went missing - think I may have saved some earlier stuff over the completed stuff. Had to send an incomplete thesis to the printers - as submission is 3pm today at latest. It's shabby - a mess, no contents page, no tables (they all went loco on te template when I put them in and I had to delete them all. A bunch of footnote references I spent fucking hours finding and sorting out vanished - and it doesn't even have a conclusion. I just coudn;t bring it all together on no sleep after working flat out for days.

I was about ready to sob. Four years work - and it looks like I've written it with my teeth. Doesn't even meet the presentation criteria.

So - I emailed my supervisor. Thank god for him. He's emailedme back to say he's spoken to the exam peeps and I can get an extension for a couple of weeks.

I am profoundly grateful. I can get it looking like something worth having,.

But - I have a couple more weeks of this nightmare to go when I thought I was done. So that's kind of a bummer.

One bright spot though - Bruce - you wonderful, wonderful man. I shold have pmed you day before yesterday when the letter arrived - but I just couldn;t afford to come on here. It made me cry - in a good way:)

Em

You'll make it, Dana. First thing is to sleeeeeeep.

Dana, I am hoping you typed that in your sleep.
... it's a grad student's very worst nightmare.

Get your rest and hammer home the final nails. We're all proud of you.

WHS^

I went looking for a spool of black thread tonight, to repair a hem on a skirt I'd like to wear tomorrow. There was no black thread to be found, because my husband stashed all of my 'fiber arts' boxes and furniture in various remote spots around the basement and house, wherever ... everything impossible to reach or gain access to. Because it was all obviously not worth a thought, and unimportant, so just could be thrown anywhere and everywhere obscure.

Except that I spent several years - well, many years actually - sewing beautiful clothes for the boys and my daughter, embroidering classic Ukrainian shirts for the boys AND my husband, making the cutest outfits for S, my daughter, plus beautiful dresses, plus heirloom things for all the kids. And later, I spun yarn that I knitted into hats and scarves, and I bought a loom and wove beautiful fabrics on it ... but to this day my husband doesn't even connect the things he's seen on the kids with what I made, far less the things I wove and designed. So all of my fiber arts equipment is strewn from hither to yon without any care or respect for any of it, and he has no idea how expensive some of it is/was ... and tonight he's looking at me as though I'm crazy for being, in a very tightly-controlled way, just a little put out that everything has been treated as though it were garbage.

Clearly my task next weekend is to pull ALL of it out from its various trashy stashing places and make myself a fiber arts studio from one of the bedrooms in the house. One of the beds will go into storage, and I will take over one of the bedrooms completely for my fiber equipment and materials.

I just spent an hour oohing and aahing over some clothes my husband bought himself for golf. He takes his golf very seriously. I understand that it's important to validate a man's endeavors, and although I have no interest in golf I respect that my husband enjoys it very much. I may be an Aspie (although I know the latest lit says Aspies don't exist, I think we do), but I can understand someone finding a lot of enjoyment and validation in a pursuit like this, and I wish him the best in it.

I have wished that he would take my hobbies with similar respect, but no. He hasn't a clue. I have an entire closet downstairs full of costumes that I sewed for the kids over the years - medieval prince costumes with breeches, doublet, capuchon, medals, shirts ... Roman togas with all details ... medieval princess gowns with brocaded overdress and hooded capes and all possible accessories ... I sewed Japanese dolls for S's hobbies and art class (showed her how to design the costumes and sew them) ... I can sew anything, anything at all. I have a professional quality sewing machine and serger, table for both, cutting table, and everything I have needed to create embroidery designs for clothing, pillows, hangings, and church vestments ... I have sewn priests' cassocks and vestments ... I have woven fabric with traditional and innovative weave designs. I have cross-stitched traditional Ukrainian designs on shirts and tablecloths, table runners, etc.

I can't write any more, I'm too upset. I did so much work for so many years, but it's just nothing. It's so hard to live with a narcissist.

I know I have to just appreciate what I did for itself, and I do. It only makes me upset when it's treated like trash. But I"ll get things set right next weekend. That'll give me something to look forward to, and to work toward. I'll set up my own fiber arts studio in one of the bedrooms.

And it really upsets me that my husband looks at my glass and sniffs it, and wrinkles his nose if it's vodka. Then goes to work out. As if I'm pathetic and weak. Maybe I am. But I could have taken the easy way out so many times, and I haven't.