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Over-emphasizing and obsessing is something I do well.  It is quite possible I do it all too well.  I don't have enough phalanges to count all the ways I could improve - I suppose more accurately, all the ways I perceive my faults that I so desperately want to improve.  But, what I find more telling is how suddenly other people can snap at you for noting your own faults.

Okay, I totally know you're not supposed to go around pointing out other people's faults - especially those people you live with, no matter the reason they moved in with you.  It isn't nice.  But, I was studying at MY dinner table under MY dining room lighting using MY computer and writing with MY mechanical pencil.  Okay, the pencil may have been hers.  And I don't actually own the place.  But, I'm the primary inhabitant.  She came to be my boarder.  I suppose it is more polite to say roommate.  Hmph.  I'm unsure.

And what is more.  It is a very hard few weeks.  These are some terribly pivotal weeks.  If they don't work out, I may be remediating for a year.  Or, I may have to travel to another foreign land - or, at least another city, to catch up on Organs during the summer.  Either way, not passing my exams in the coming weeks - with some pretty high marks - will influence a huge chunk of my upcoming life.  It doesn't impact her.  I've been very careful to modulate what I say.  But, there are times when I cry.  There are times when I talk out loud to myself.  There are probably more times than there should be where I lament and say outcries - at the paper, at the air, just to get them out from burning below my sternum.

But, I shouldn't have to tip-toe around my roommate...my sister.  It makes her feel bad that I'm "bad-mouthing myself" and looking down upon myself when I'm in graduate school.  Apparently, she can totally twist what I say and inwardly infer that I'm actually talking about her - because she failed last semester in undergrad.  And, I'm not.  Apparently, already having degrees means that I'm no longer allowed to be worried about my future.  But, the reality of the matter is that I don't actually care that she passes or fails - not emotionally at least.  It has no bearing on me.  So, why should I have to modulate what I think/say to soothe her insecurities?

And, what I really want to say is why in the freaking HELL does Organs of all classes have to be the class that plays musical teachers with not one, not two, not three, not even four - but FIVE people.  Five teachers, thirty-two lectures, and no time to ever adjust.  And I wonder why I'm having a hard time getting the material.  Oh, did I ever say I don't adjust all too well?  Pah.

Cancer

It is odd.  Cancer is a clinical word used probably six to eight times a week in my classes.  It isn't something real.  It isn't tangible.  It is this overgrowth, overproduction, unhindered process.  It is something that is cellularly going out of control.  Tumor suppressor genes are no longer effective.  Apoptosis is inhibited where it should be precisely regulated.  I mean - this doesn't happen to PEOPLE - it happens to cells.  Lots and lots of cells are affected.  No human beings are harmed in the making of any of this.

Until - someone goes to an actual doctor with actual knowledge and is diagnosed with an actual disease state.  And then, it is real.  I've spent the better part of two weeks lamenting about how hard my life is progressing.  Just last night I cried most of my night away because I can't seem to grasp the endocrine system.  I was feeling so down on myself.  My world was inwardly focused.  I was insulated.  And this afternoon, I got a phone call from my mentor - a friend - someone who has been a guide since my move here.  She has cancer.

Ironically, she has tonsil cancer.  She doesn't have her tonsils, but she has tonsil cancer.  I feel so lost.  It doesn't seem fair.

I guess life isn't fair anywhere.