quelquefois

18 August 2008

Standardized Tests

Not sleeping well, stress eating, studying cramming…I feel like I’m back at school again!

under grad school, hot mess

14 August 2008

The East Coast

When I first arrived on the east coast for college, I wrote, “I live on the east coast, but I left my heart in San Francisco.” Now, after spending over four years in the northeast, I feel oddly attached to the deadly hot and humid summers, the deadly cold and frigid winters, the congregation of several states in close geographical proximity, and the prominence of artistic culture and influence.

I came back to California yesterday and I felt like I was in a strange, foreign land. If anything, it seemed like the countryside compared to walking-friendly Providence and New York City. Granted, not much has changed, but the minute changes made it seem like this wasn’t exactly home. In addition to that, it was on the east coast that I discovered the most about myself, thus creating some sort of attachment to the region that has defined my interests, shaped my views, and roughened me up for “real life.”

Still coming to terms with the fact that  I’ll be gone from the east coast for a long time. In fact, in a few weeks, I’ll be gone from America for a long time.

under California, life, reflections

11 August 2008

Important People Telling Me Things

I apparently always have hair in my face. Important people always tell me so:

“Your hair is in the middle of your face which is really…throwing me off.” - Ambassador Richard Holbrooke

“Didn’t your parents tell you to keep your hair out of your face?!” - Professor Mark Morosse

This is very true, here are just a few documented circumstances of hair-in-the-face. Let’s take a look:

(last photo taken by Nic)

Maybe it’s an insecurity thing?

under advice

10 August 2008

Search Me

Hey, my site is the third result if you search for “quelquefois” in Google (but who the fuck does that, anyway?).

Conclusion: I rule.

under surprise!, technology

Dear Upper Respiratory Tract,

I have lived through 22 years of hayfever that God has so graciously granted me. Why do you also have to turn against me when it isn’t hayfever season? I was recently diagnosed by an allergist to have developed an allergy to dust (you know, those ubiquitous, inescapable particles that float around and settle on every living and inanimate thing) in addition to pollen. 

After allergy/virus/bacterial infection was diagnosed, I have been asked to take:
a. antibiotics
b. nasal spray
c. antacids
d. antihistamines
e. asthma inhalers

So, if you could please expel whatever you need to expel from your system and let me carry on with my life, I would greatly appreciate it. This can be done very easily without having to react with violent coughing fits, restricted airways, and general shittiness. And please tell Phlegm to stop squatting in my esophagus. 

Sincerely,
Girl who probably has a life expectancy of 30-years-old
a.k.a.
Girl who should probably live in an airtight bubble 

under Dear..., hot mess

6 August 2008

On Leaving New York

I can’t believe that this time next week, I’ll be home in California. I have so much left to do here, so many things to see and do–too many. Although the city and I started off rough, we’ve since then been able patch things up a bit. The city has grown on me, and it has also made me grow. (More on that later.)

Look at all I’ve done in just one week! This past week I have: survived sickness in multiple beds/vehicles/toilets; seen Louis’ tour at the Met for the third time (though it’ll never get old); spent time with my favorite Rukesh. I went to trashy bars with Julien and Rukesh, ate delicious Korean food at Kun Jip, saw Priscilla Ahn in concert with Paroan and Julien, took beautiful photographs of beautiful classmates, explored the New Museum, dined in Central Park, among many other things.

This week I have these to look forward to: Kanye/Lupe/N*E*R*D concert, seeing the photographer’s studio at the Met, finishing my last day at the Council, go to P.S.1 and picnic with my favorite flatmate in the world, Sophia, seeing wonderful friends before I leave, and brunchbrunchbrunch!

There isn’t a shred of doubt in me that will keep me from coming back (unless a hoard of cockroaches erect a wall of themselves, weaved in some sort of porous material with their legs waving through one side). I really hope that does not happen.

under reflections

4 August 2008

Dear Food Thief,

Okay. I hid all of my chocolate bars and my fancy tea, but last week, I left my Lemon-Lime Orbit out on the desk. I know I gave it a scathing review last week, but if I paid $1.50 for these 14 pieces, I am going to chew every nauseating 10.7¢ piece. So, when I come back from a weekend (much like two weeks ago), I didn’t expect 6 pieces to be gone. What the fuck? When did you need to eat 500 pieces of gum? Usually you take one, and you leave.

Thanks, fuckhead. But guess what? There won’t be any more freeloading off me–I’m peacing out of this office on Thursday.

Sincerely,
Going to cut your balls off Jesse-Jackson-style

under Dear..., food, stupid

1 August 2008

Um, Hello?

Prolactin, aside from bringing milk to the jugs, also (according to Wikipedia*):

Provide[s] the body with sexual gratification after sexual acts: The hormone counteracts the effect of dopamine, which is responsible for sexual arousal. This is thought to cause the sexual refractory period. The amount of prolactin can be an indicator for the amount of sexual satisfaction and relaxation.

But…

Unusually high amounts are suspected to be responsible for impotence and loss of libido (see hyperprolactinemia Symptoms).

Fail? “Unusually high” is pretty vague.

*I hate that Wikipedia has become some beacon of “truth” for netizens.

under love, surprise!

My Own Modern Love

I had been working on this entry for close to a year. Things just kept changing and other things kept coming up, but I feel like now is the right time to write about this.

In 2006, I gave all of my tampons and pads away to girlfriends. I didn’t need them. It certainly wasn’t menopause, and pregnancy was out of the question. I had hyperprolactinemia. In English, that means I have high prolactin levels in my blood. Prolactin is a hormone produced in the pituitary gland and is primarily responsible for milk production during lactation. 

Milk production during lactation? What the fuck does that mean? Was I lactating (the answer has consistently been: no)?  I spoke to doctor after doctor, from family practitioners to endocrinologists, to no avail. There have been endless MRIs, blood tests, acupuncture sessions, and explanations, over and over again. And, here’s the catch: of all the blood tests that I have done in the past two years, my prolactin levels are in normal range. 

I think know the root cause, but I do not know how to cure it. Junior year of high school, I swayed under the pressure of my then boyfriend who told me that I should just get on birth control so he didn’t have to slip on a condom every time we did it. My horny ex-boyfriend couldn’t cope any longer with the fact that he had to actually obtain condoms before he sticks it in.

My naïveté drove me to make an appointment with my doctor. I told her I wanted birth control for its beneficial side effects on skin. She prescribed Ortho Tri-cyclen Lo, which resulted in a month long period disaster. Ironic that the opposite effect happened, and I did not end up having sex once that month. Nevertheless, months went by, and everything was fine. (On a side note: if the quality of sex could have been a determinant of whether or not you’d get pregnant (with good meaning preggers, and bad meaning infertile), I would have been calling up adoption agencies and ask for every unadopted child available. It was the worst sex EVER.) Well…that commentary was not needed.

Even though I broke up with him by the end of my freshman year in college, I continued to take birth control pills for the convenience of predictable and lighter periods. By the middle of my sophomore year at Brown in 2005, the periods continued to get lighter, and I decided to give up the pills in hopes that things would go back to normal.

It didn’t.

In 2008, I still face the consequences of actions I made in 2003. Every time I came home from college or abroad I would be bombarded with blood tests, MRI scans, acupuncture, therapy, and consulting sessions with doctors. After three lousy years of that, I became dependent on 2.5 mg of bromocriptine every night. Did I mention that if I missed one dose by a few hours, I’m doomed to have a week-long period?

I took hormone pills, worried about how I’d never be able to bear children, and just generally felt like a menopausal woman. What was weird was that it would make brief re-appearances whenever I hooked up with someone. Soon, after my affairs ended, my period also disappeared. At least I knew then that I wasn’t completely broken.

A few months ago, I was still taking hormones. Now I have my period every other week. You heard right. EVERY. OTHER. WEEK. As if my uterus was trying to make up for lost time. And lord is it letting me know. I’m even considering going back ON the pill just to regulate this shit.

Fortunately, this summer I saw a wonderful doctor who helped me figure out what was going on. Yes, I did more lab tests and even got an ultrasound, but he deemed me perfectly healthy. Seeing no use for it, he told me to stop taking the hormone. I’ve been feeling more optimistic, even though my body is still figuring out that a period once every 28 days is fine. I still worry about the long term (i.e., children?), but I can’t dwell on that now. I have too much going for me.

I hope that I can be hormonally normal again soon. I’ve learned never to fuck around with nature using artificial hormones. And I suggest you think twice before listening to what those bitches say about “Yaz” on TV and getting only .560283 periods a year. 

under lessons, life, love

Dear Higher Being,

Please grace my life with a Golden Retriever.

Sincerely,
The girl who only knows “want”

under Dear..., want