Eredien's Journal

I got home from some errands and business-promotion stuff about 4 pm today, having been out for most of the day. My mom was sitting on the sofa, watching Dr. Phil and playing with the cat.

She: "Can you go get some apples?"
Me: "But we have apples here, a whole bag full."
She: "But we need tart apples for the cabbage and apples we are having tonight, and the apples we have are not tart apples."
Me: "Why don't you go? Since I just got home from the grocery store and really don't want to go out again."
She: "Your dad took my car to get to work."
Me: "You can take my car."
She: "I don't want to go out."
Me: "Well, I really don't have time to do this today. If you haven't gone yourself by the time I put my stuff away, I will see if I can go or not."
[20 minutes later]
Me: "Mom, I really don't have time to do this today. Can you go?"
She: "Sure."
[20 minutes later]
Me: "Mom, it's getting kind of late. Is the cabbage thing going to be ready for this evening's meal or should I make my own food?"
She: "Oh, it will be ready; don't worry." She is chopping cabbage and onions, but there are still no tart apples in sight.
Me: "How long does it take to cook in the crockpot?"
She: "Three hours."
[I note at this juncture that she was home literally all day and could have started this at any time, and gone to get the apples anytime between 9 am and 3 pm, but she started it around 5:30 pm without her ingredients.]
Me: "Are you sure it will be ready?"
She: "Sure!"
[45 minutes later]
She: "Oh!"
Me: "What?"
She: "I thought this would be ready around 7 but instead I found out it was not going on 5 pm like I thought, it was going on 6:30."
Me: "...yeah, that's why I asked you if it would be ready on time."
She: "I just lost track of the time."
Me: "Yeah, I did that too, and then I bought a clock for the living room that you can see as you are watching tv."
[Note that there are 3 other clocks in the living room, all of which would work if she either wound them correctly or got them fixed, but this has not been done in about 5 years. So I had to go and get a clock if I wanted to see the time without constantly pulling my cell out of my pocket.]
She: "I just didn't pay attention."
Me: "What are we doing for dinner?"
She: "Dad and I are eating leftovers."
Me: "Ah."

This wouldn't be so infuriating if she didn't routinely miss dinnertime* by several hours on the days when I make dinner at a specific time for her and my dad, and then criticizes my cooking.

* Dinnertime: in eredien's household, this can be any time between 4:45 pm and 11:30 pm EST, inclusive yet uncertain.

If my mother cooked and you do not show up on time, you are complained at for half an hour as you eat at the table.
If you routinely miss it because you forgot it was 9 pm at night and you still hadn't eaten yet, you are my dad.

If you buy--or attempt to make something for yourself, then get chased out of the kitchen during your mother's frantic dinner preparations at 8:30 at night--when you get hungry enough and then you are told you don't eat enough with the family, you are me.

If you get fed on time, you are the cat.

Well, I am still feeling kind of sick as I was last night--like I ate something with lactose in it by accident--and the weather is bad, and my grandmother is back in the hospital again this morning. And my grandfather is now in a long-term Alzheimer's care unit, which is where he probably will be for the rest of his life. It's good that he is getting the care he needs, because we and my grandmother can't do it for him, but it's sad to see my favorite grandparent like that.

But I hope I can get more fox video today.

My grandmother has been in the hospital for a week and they have no idea what's wrong with her but she's not well enough to be discharged.

My grandfather forgot who I was today as I was eating dinner with him. That was hard.

I need people to help me put my stuff in boxes this Sunday night, and Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday (all during the day), in preparation for my move back to Central NY. If you can help, please contact me via email at cphillips.sears@gmail.com. I would really appreciate the help, as I am bad at moving and it goes much better and faster with friends' hands to help.

So I am trying to ask for moving help loudly and often, and be clear about what I need.

Tomorrow evening, and during the day on Monday, Tuesday, and possibly part of Wednesday, I will be packing. I would really appreciate help:
a.) Putting objects into boxes
b.) Taping filled boxes shut
c.) Labelling boxes exhaustively with a sharpie.
d.) Moving boxes into a staging area on the first floor of the apartment

If you do volunteer to assist, I will try and have some water, etc., but I will not be emotionally, financially, or physically able to provide meals for you, and I will be concentrating on packing rather than on talking or socializing. Indeed, I want to pack quickly so I have more time for socializing.

Loading the truck will happen on Saturday. I would also appreciate help for that, but for me the large and overwhelming-feeling task is packing.

Please email me at cphillips.sears@gmail.com if you are able to help.
Thanks.

( Some background--why I'm scared of moving: )

I've had a hard time getting over all of that--there's been a lot--and now I'm moving again, back in with my family, to try and get financially back on my feet.

I'm less scared of moving than I was--I've done it too much, and gotten rid of a lot of my possessions because the memories associated with them meant too much or too little and weren't helping me move forward--but I would still like help.

Thanks. Please email cphillips.sears@gmail.com if you can help.

Why I never returned your email:
If you have tried to contact me via email in the last month or so, I did not get your email, as I am locked out of all my gmail accounts due to a long and complicated story involving unrecoverable files on a laptop, a backup which failed, a phone which lost the program I needed to recover my files, and the fact that the gmail guardians of last resort will never be convinced that I am really the owner of any of my email addresses, since I cannot remember facts like the specific date on which I first activated my gmail account lo these many years ago. I am currently in the process of trying to figure out what to do next in terms of email communications, and in terms of my Google Plus identity.

TL;DR: I do not recommend implementing google 2-step authentication.

How to contact me now:
Texting me on my cellphone is best. Calling is ok too. When I get an email again I will post it here.

Where are you living now?:
I have settled into the new house. It is good. There are trees, and a small river nearby, and also the city is nearby. I have gotten used to Boston again. I am kind of starting to enjoy living here again.

What are your roommates like?:
Roommate E. went goth clubbing with me and some friends this Monday. It was exhausting but really fun. She is awesome. Roommate J. is almost never here, and he is sometimes very confusing in how he relates to people, although he is also nice. We are looking for a roommate to replace J.

What is your job like?:
My contract with Nokia was not renewed--I made a decision to pursue a career I liked better instead. As far as that goes I was very happy indeed though....recently though through nothing that could have been predicted my job description and responsibilities were changed at a very rapid pace, twice in two weeks, and that has recently thrown me off balance. I hope to work there for some time to come, as long as I continue to really enjoy the job and manage it well, and continue to learn my own strengths/weaknesses as an employee.

Are you staying in Boston for the forseeable future?:
Probably, unless I apply elsewhere for grad school and get a scholarship. I have found there is a food sciences program at Harvard Extension school and am considering figuring out if the program there seems as good a fit for me as the one at IU did. I am still really interested in getting my masters' degree, but need to make sure I pick the right program and right choice and have the resources at hand to back me up.

What is happening with your family?:
My sister is still awesome, as is my brother-in-law.

I attempted to reconcile with my family, with the help and assistance of my therapist, in late June. It did not go well. My father absented himself for half the session, and my mother told me that she was offended on behalf of the truly abused when I claimed I was abused. Some things that they told me make more sense now--I understand now why my mother hurts when I pull back from physical contact with her. But I also understand why I pull back from physical contact. I wish I had understood both of those things sooner. But I am glad I understand them now.

It took me a while to figure out what to do with my family relations after that. I visited my hometown in August, and had a good time with the rest of my extended family, and mourned a cousin who died, and finally came to realize and articulate to myself about a half-month ago that the best course for me would be to let my parents go, finally, because of the fact that they use friends, family, and loved ones to critique and hurt me. They also used me to hurt my friends, family and loved ones by constantly querying my timelines, decisions, choices, efforts and timetables until I started distrusting my own daily choices and hard-won self-knowledge and confidence in my own joy and the joy I found in my loved ones, family, and friends. I became so distrustful of most of my own desires that I questioned away my joyful, confident, knowledgeable, brave, self-assured, and kind self every time I was asked to make a decision. Because I was going through the insidious self-undermining cycle of mental self-flagellation caused by my abusive relationship with my parents--at a time when my partner and I already needed me to stronger, kinder, more effective, and clearly decisive on a daily basis--eventually every single daily decision I made on my own or was asked to make on behalf of the relationship became a process of desperately struggling to trust and express my own needs and wants, or rejecting my own needs and wants and expressing them as selfish, foolish, petty, or undeserving of being met.

I couldn't see the self-abuse, and didn't really know what was happening at the time, other than to know that I knew profound joy and love and respect when I allowed myself to follow my own heart's deepest promptings, and profoundly hurt when I did not allow myself to follow them. I decided to follow my own heart's deepest and most joyful promptings even though I was scared to let myself trust myself. Then, I was so proud to find that trusting and expressing my own joys again made myself and others happy. Then, I was profoundly terrified to learn that my decision to trust myself had not made my partner feel as happy as she said she was, but had made her feel scared and manipulated instead. In learning that, I felt had finally done what I had been taught that trusting my own decisions would inevitably do--cause a lot of hurt. I was taught that expressing my own needs was selfish. I was taught that trusting myself to love people and be loved was foolish because the people who loved me would always eventually admit that though they loved and cared for me, they ultimately felt trapped and constrained by my love and joy and presence in their lives but had felt obligated to lie to me about it because they couldn't bear to see me hurt when they told me the truth--that I was being selfish when I dared to express my love for them.

I stopped making decisions for a long while after that, and just accepted the decisions of others--whatever would make them happiest or most convenient, I did. I was hurt. That's what I do when I'm hurt.

Later, I realized that the above was the opposite of what actually happened. I realized that I could trust myself and my own decisions, I realized the interpretation of what would happen if I trusted myself was colored and twisted by my abuse and my hurt. I feel really proud and happy I realized that.

In the time between trusting my first decision, and knowing with the sick logic of the abused that I had hurt people by trusting myself and daring to have the audacity to love someone and be loved back, and realizing that that incorrect interpretation of events was formed by the patterns of self-doubt and questioning-abuse that bringing my joyful relationship to my parents had re-started in my own head, there were a few months where I felt a great self-loathing for my own capacity for love and joy.
There were a few months where I really believed that by allowing myself to trust myself, by being proud of my ability to do so, and by being proud of my ability to love others and be loved, I had been utterly selfish, and bore direct responsibility for the breakup. I felt that if I hadn't ever given in to allowing myself to selfishly love and trust her and trust myself to be with her, she would never have felt constrained by my love, never felt she had to lie to me about her perspective on my choices, never had to feel as if she had to tell me she was happy with me when she wasn't, and never needed me to leave. I hurt a lot.

I said a lot of things about myself that weren't kind that I regret. I said a lot of things about others that weren't kind that I regret. I don't think I could have gotten here today without having gone through that period of hating myself for being able to trust in my choices, hating that I could trust that my partners were telling me the truth, and hating myself for loving myself enough to allow myself to express my needs, which finally showed itself up as the foolishness it was all along.

It is good to trust myself. It is good to express my choices. It is good to love and be loved. What wasn't good was letting my self-confidence get undermined by my parents' insidious questioning of all my choices, such that I myself began questioning those things and hurt myself and the people I loved.

I can't think of a way to have a relationship with my parents that won't ultimately end in their raising objections and tiny undermining critiquing questions about everything I do, am, want to be, or who or what I love. I can't talk with them without talking about those things. They don't have the willpower to resist getting me to question every decision I make, and I believe they don't fully understand what they are doing. I don't have the ability, even after a decade of being on my own and learning--and being taught--to love myself and others better and better, to fully evade the abuse pattern. I don't know if any amount of self-love and self-confidence would ever be enough, because the more I have of it the more they use it as a weapon to convince me I am selfish and ungrateful, and turn me against my own best self. So, I am not talking to them any more.

I should have cut off relations with them fully last summer for my own health, but I had to be sure that I was making a decision that was good for me and not just good for my relationships--if it had been good for my relationships but bad for me it would ultimately have been a bad decision for my relationships as well.

TL;DR: I am cutting off relationships with my parents: the better I get, the more they use it against me and the people I love. They use the love I have for others to critique and hurt me and get me to doubt myself, and they use the love others have for me to critique and hurt others and get them to doubt themselves through my doubt. They have even done it to themselves, with their own love. This is unacceptable. They cannot stop. The better I get, the more ammo I give them. This is unfortunate, but I am not even really sad about it anymore; it's been more than a year coming slowly to this decision, since even mid 2009 I think, at the engagement party my parents threw for us: they didn't care if I or my partner wanted it. They were throwing it for themselves in a very real sense. I started to try and convince myself that they were doing it for me and my partner because I wanted to convince myself of that so badly, and I succeeded. When they did not call her when I was sick the summer of 2010, I tried to convince myself that it was because I had never done a good job of showing my family what I loved about her, because I so badly didn't want to admit that they would never respect me and the choices I made in my life, and I succeeded. From there, a whole host of doubts flowed and paralyzed my every move. No more.

I feel a vast sense of relief and the beginnings of a new life.

How is your health?:
Generally pretty ok, though often I have to go off antidepressants as I do not have enough money to pay for my psych services out of pocket and they do not take the state healthcare plan (no health insurance at job). However, I am still getting antidepressants and going to counseling when I can afford it, and enjoy it. It has been really helpful. I got a new doctor early this spring. I have not yet visited her; when I do for my yearly October visit I plan on introducing myself and asking for new hormone level tests, as well as discussing the fact that my psych medication noticeably interacts with my PMS in somewhat confusing ways. I also plan on asking for an allergy referral and a sleep study, as I have been having problems with my sleep cycle for years now and might finally have the resources to get help for myself.

I am tentatively trying out going vegetarian for health reasons, as I suspect I might have the beginnings of a latex-fruit reactivity problem. I am also putting it off for health reasons, as I know I have a lactose intolerance that makes me ill and uncomfortable for days at a time. I am also putting it off for ethical reasons, as I am really uncomfortable eating the commercially-produced milk, cheese and eggs that appear in so many processed food products now.

What have you been doing?:
Reading, writing, and healing. The fey novel is going to be about abuse, recovery, and its complexities: I cried when I realized that. I have also been hiking and swimming a lot. There is a lake about a mile from my house in one direction. There is a bookstore about a mile in the other direction. Life is, generally, good.

How are your pets?:
Tokai is finally eating on her own again. I am thrilled. She is a mighty huntress! Oolong is herself. She is adorable and fluffy and somewhat dopey. She's also 3 next month.

Yesterday I was coming home late and tired from my job, and at the top of the escalator at Porter there was a guy in his mid-20's, I guess, with a huge military-style olive green backpack, holding his cellphone and crying absolutely silently, so hard his body shook, with his head in his hands. Obviously he had just recieved some kind of bad news. I kept thinking about just, you know, doing the city thing and leaving, and then thought about being a small woman in a city approaching a strange, tall, and obviously upset man, and then found myself going over anyway and asking him if he was ok. He looked up at me and shook his head, and I said, "ok, well, I'm sorry. I hope you feel better soon," and then confused at myself, I walked away. I didn't know what else to do. Maybe I should have just left the poor guy alone. But he was crying in the train station! I've done that, and it sucks.

I don't even know why I felt the need to write up this thing. I just had to, though.

So, I normally like ThinkGeek's products (honestly, who can't like a company that sells things like lightsabers?) But I can't imagine what possessed them (or how legal it is) for them to sell live animals.

They say that these animals are a responsibly-bred offshoot of the Munchkin Cat, but the creation of the Munchkin Cat itself as a new breed has itself been surrounded by so much controversy that I really think it would be irresponsible for ThinkGeek to offer even regular Munchkins, much less a genetically engineered version of the same. If you want a cheap, easy-to-care for item that fits neatly inside your Ikea bookshelf and matches your pillows, you should get a plant, not a cat. Its enclosure isn't even recyclable!
I debated with myself about linking to this product page [warning: disturbing image], because I didn't want to legitimize this by linking to it, but I think it's important to see what we're up against.

How to call ThinkGeek out on their inhumane treatment of cats: I've written ThinkGeek's customer-service email letting them know that I plan on reporting them to the Humane Society, and am posting this so you can, too. Please feel free to copy and paste to your own site.

I had an extra bit of energy today. I called my parents. The call was going pretty well until I told them I was going to drive back to Indiana to pick up my stuff and they weren't going to be involved in any way, because I didn't want them to be.

It is really very, very useful to be able to understand the exact tropes and language that your parents are using to dismiss your legitimate concerns and problems about your relationship with them.

Today I got:
- I know what your life was like better than you because I happen to have some privilege you don't which of course allows me to see everything that ever happened to you more clearly than you yourself see it ("we're older than you and we have experienced more of life so you should listen to us")

- Don't Ask Questions You Don't Want the Answers To/I Had Problems Too/Tone Argument ("When weren't were there for you?" "Well, how about when you didn't pick us up from school? When you didn't drop us off on time? When you didn't build the treehouse? When you didn't build the dollhouse? When you didn't go skiing or play backgammon?" "When dad didn't come into our apartment and I had to explain to Rachel that he wouldn't tell me why he wouldn't come in, and how that hurt both of our feelings?" "Well...my parents also didn't do things with me that I wish my parents had done. I'm not upset or angry. And your father totally came in and toured the house [lie].")

- Outright denial of my lived experience ("I feel like you weren't always there for me." "We were there for you 110% percent!")

- My personal failings couldn't have impacted you at all, and certainly not in the way that you say they did ("we recognize that we have a problem with procrastination, but that's our problem, not yours")

- I Will Privilege My Interpretation of Events Over Yours, which allows me to Discount Your Point of View as Irrational so that I Won't Have to Solve the Problem that Hurt You ("We had problems with procrastination, but that stuff about being late happened way less than you think it did!")

It's sometimes necessary and good, even if it doesn't feel very nice, to say "Fuck you," and hang up the phone.

Thank you, anti-racism and anti-sexism and anti-homophobia and anti-cisgenderism, and all my friends and family who have encouraged me in my learning even when it's hard. By learning how to get rid of my own prejudices and bigotry, I am also gaining the tools to help myself heal.

So, I need to apply to some jobs. But I'm stuck.

I can either:
1.) Apply to part-time jobs, or temp jobs for commission, that will leave me with time and energy to work a second part-time job for no pay (art and writing), which has massive happiness benefits for me. These jobs will not have health benefits.

2.) Apply to full-time jobs which will leave me with health benefits, but not have any energy or time left over for art and writing once I, say, have eaten dinner and cleaned the laundry. (I thought I could do this, and worked from 2005-2010 in jobs that I thought would let me do this, and it didn't happen. If I go this route, I will give up art as a career--I don't want to squander another half-decade of my life pretending like I'm going to write a novel, but knowing full well it's not going to happen because I've got no time or energy).

Oh, and I also need to:
- Get an apartment
- Move again, paying all moving expenses
- Figure out a way to afford grad school
- Pay for expenses, including special cat food that runs $45/bag

I'm secretly terrified of going to grad school. Remember that summer course I tried to take a while ago, the Urban Studies one at Tufts, which I was really excited about and was going to use to catapault myself back into academia and figuring out what I wanted to do for grad school for real?

I quit not because the workload was too much, but because when I tried to do the readings to do the work, the part of my brain that understands how to do hard academic reading shut down--and doing the work was impossible under those conditions. I was reading the words, but couldn't remember the ideas in the individual sentences long enough to follow a train of thought through a paragraph, much less from one paragraph to the next. I would finish an article, and have no ability to recall or summarize the main points of what I just read. And this is urban studies, not literary theory--the points are generally pretty straightforward, like "we can use these techniques to increase pedestrian safety; here's why America isn't using them."

That's also why the paper I gave a week later at Readercon was something that I was ashamed of--it felt like it kind of ran from point to point, and when Thrud asked a question that made sense given the paper's topic, I panicked because her question (about the trope of the flawed hero in early myth) literally made no sense to me. I heard the words coming out, in academic English, but I did not understand her question because I could not parse the sentence because I didn't catch the individual words. This was humiliating. I'd never written a paper that I wasn't proud of before, much less given one that I wasn't happy with at a professional conference.

I told everyone that it was the workload because I felt freaked out, confused, and ashamed, and had no idea what had happened to my brain or my ability to remember or think. I saw indications of the problem before--I thought that I was just rusty--by subjecting myself to things like independent essay-writing projects or summer classes, I would soon get back into the thick of things, and not have to worry about it, but the problem got worse as soon as I tried to fix it.

The same thing happens with novels. Unless I write down what I am thinking about the novel immediately after I read it (which is why I have been writing book reviews), I forget that I read it. I don't remember what it was about. I don't remember the characters very well. If it pick it up again I will remember that I read it, but it's like a transient experience.

That's why the only thing I've really been reading lately is political commentary and webcomics. The former is a few paragraphs that I can understand in a short burst of thought; the latter is not reading in the way that I usually understand it in that it is not entirely audio-based (when I read, I hear the phrases more or less spoken aloud in my head, and with comics, it's more like a movie, since a setting/scene is also provided).

For someone who desperately needs intellectual stimulation to keep her happy, I am pretty miserable, and I have no idea what to do about it. I've been miserable like this since I graduated college, when I felt intellectually at the top of my game and then took a minimum wage job working a call-center because that was all that was available, and then a job where I was routinely writing at top-speed, and editing, but not reading that much.

This is why, if you ask me to do something, sometimes I will stand there slack-jawed. I am not trying to be stupid. I am trying to remember what the word "washcloth" means.

This is why I haven't pursued grad school, while having dreams about screaming in horrible jealousy at a roomful of the people I know who are attending grad school (which just made me feel like an ass). This is why I constantly complain about going back to school and don't, well, apply for anything. This is why I've only written a handful of poems since 2005, and one short story finished. This is why I've switched to doing things with my hands, and why I've started complaining about it--I love doing things with my hands, but not as a main occupation; the fact that I feel as if I have no other choice but to do the things I still feel I can do has embittered me about those things, and I can't love them as much as I want to, or need to.

I am kind of terrified, as the only thing that really gives my life a deep meaning is writing and thinking and reading, and I appear to be losing my access to...whatever it is that gives language meaning in my brain. Sometimes I can think, and write, and churn out an idea, and manage to fix it on the page as a poem or something, or maybe part of a story.
But even then there's a clarity lacking that I know I am hieing after, and not finding. And I don't know what to do about any of it.

I'm really, really scared.

And I'm broke, so I need a job, desperately.

And I'm not sure which kind of job to pick. I desperately want to be able to do art and writing, but I don't know what to do about this problem where I read a page of, say, critical literary theory, or a long-form article, or a novel, and then want to go hide in a corner for the next hour because I can't understand it and don't remember it and can't...think...about it.

That's never happened before, and it's terrifying; I feel really broken in a fundamental way. I have no idea why. Did my brain just get through Bryn Mawr and give up? That feels really--not correct, as a theory, to me. I mean, I've been reading, and understanding and caring about reading, since before I cared about almost anything else in my life. But I could do it once, right, and do it brilliantly to boot--so why not now, when I need and want to?

Given all of this, what kinds of jobs should I apply to? Does anyone have thoughts?

It's taken me a really long time to talk about this--to think about this--because most of the people I know, and all of the people I care about, are really smart people. They value smartness, and quickness of wit and of mind, and that particular type of friendship that comes from recommending mutually agreeable books to each other, and the ability to have an intellectual discussion and follow a thread of argument, and valuing it when they learn a new word or idea. And I used to be one of those people. And I still care passionately about those things. And because I was surrounded--I surrounded myself--with people like that, like myself, it was harder to notice when I felt things going away; and once I realized what was happening, last summer, I was too scared to speak up because, well, things like that just don't go away, do they? And if they do, what will you be left with if you've spent your whole life being smart and thinking of yourself as smart and gradually feel like you don't know how to conduct a conversation anymore, and can't read your way through a text you'd read in highschool without losing a plot point?

It's why I've sat glumly through a lot of interesting intellectual discussions in the past year, while my friends kept looking over at me, wondering why I wasn't joining it, and why I declined to say anything if invited. I couldn't follow the threads of most arguments in book group, for instance; I couldn't understand the way that the sentences that people were speaking built up into a comment or theory or joke; it's been really hard for me to interact with people new and old.

I spent a lot of time thinking about this while putting together a puzzle in the gaming room at Anthrocon--a puzzle, simple, because I couldn't follow the rules for the new expansion of Race for the Galaxy, and kept losing my place when I tried to write the essay I was to present the following week--and feeling terrified that I was going to lose myself and the relationships that I cared about because I couldn't force myself to be intellectual enough for me to be happy, anymore. And now I feel like I kind of have lost those things, because my lack of pursuit of intellectual things and bitterness about working with my hands, which I loved to do before, ate into my life and my relationships. And I spent a lot of time thinking about it when I was outside, or constructing things with my hands, over the last year. That, too, was creative work, and worthwhile--so why was I so bitter about doing it? Why was I saying I hated it, and presenting myself to others as if I hated it, and complaining incessantly that it took up time from art, when what I hated was the feeling that I had to be working with my hands, because that was the only thing I was good at, anymore? I could easily have made time for art in my life, but was terrified that I would try and fail, again.

That's what I've been thinking about a lot, since that summer school session, and things have definitely come to a point where I can't ignore the question anymore.

Thoughts...would be really appreciated, here.

[Addendum: I first noticed this problem when I realized I was having a hard time remembering song lyrics, something I had always been able to do with no effort. This is largely why I don't sing anymore.]