Tag Archives: anxiety

Dance Parties and Queer Peer Pressure

I have a confession to make: I don’t dance. I don’t know how — that whole “just move your body, feel the music” thing always infuriated me because I just don’t get it — and I don’t like it. I feel so self-conscious. Dance parties literally terrify me. The worst part is that the dance parties are often such a central part of the queer party scene — in a more organized sense (Chicago has Chances Dances weekly, Queerer Park and FKA monthly, and Berlin all the time, just to name a few) and in the “and then it devolves into a dance party” sense. And that’s not who I am. Continue reading

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Top Surgery Rescheduled — Two Months From Today

I posted a bit ago about scheduling top surgery; if that scheduled date were still true, I’d be having surgery in less than a month. Unfortunately, due to complications with work, I’ve had to delay surgery a bit longer. For a time, I didn’t know when I would be able to have surgery, but surgery is now scheduled once again as December 9th. It feels a long way off, and there’s no longer any significance to the day, but at least it’s still happening this year. Continue reading

Life Is Like A Roller Coaster. And I Don’t Like Roller Coasters.

The past two weeks have been so stressful. Ups and downs, and so much stress, and anxiously awaiting a decision that was supposed to be made last Wednesday and about which I still haven’t heard. Two weeks ago, I was an emotional mess at a friend, and then things got better with his response because he’s magical like that. Then I made plans, and then those plans got discarded, and then I made more plans, and then those, too, fell through. And each time my plans don’t work out, it’s a little harder. Continue reading

Thesis Trouble

The thesis is such an integral part of the Bryn Mawr experience that it has its own Step Sing song (“I’ve Been Working On My Thesis”), and it’s the beginning of another (“Colossal Pain”). Everyone knows about theses: we’re told horror stories about them for three years.

Perhaps needless to say, I was nervous about the thesis process (“terrified” might be a more accurate word — if some of the seniors I’d talked to were to be believed, my thesis was going to eat my soul). The start of junior year rolled around, and I still had no idea what the topic of my thesis would be. Oh, I had mumbled a little to the philosophy major advisor the spring before about queer theory (not that I had read any Foucault or ever studied queer theory at Bryn Mawr), but after not managing to get through either of the Judith Butler books I had checked out over the summer, that was looking less and less promising. To make matters worse, my thesis advisor was on some kind of emergency medical leave for the first half of the semester. Better and better, right? Continue reading