overload

Everything is stressing me out right now.

My Yiddish theater research has literally taken on a life of its own. I had to forfeit my tango project and ask my ethno instructor to let me do Yiddish theater for both classes. She was kind enough to agree, but I have a relatively long page requirement now-I’m shooting for 25 pages, not counting bibliography and appendices. Also, transliterated Yiddish song text is nigh impossible to translate, so I’ve been struggling a great deal, what with the fact that I don’t know Yiddish (or German) in the first place.

The apartment-moving process has begun. Tonight Nick showed our place to a few of our friends, who are interested in paying less rent and living closer to campus/trains. Earlier in the day I had a silent freak-out because Nick and Matt are both quite messy, and do NOTHING on a regular basis to help keep the place at all clean. So in the twenty minutes before I had to leave for class (during which time I could have been studying) I wiped down the stove and the side of the fridge,did all the dishes, swept the hall, straightened the kitchen and dining room, and took out the trash. Yes, they were friends who came to look, but I didn’t want (Nick) to trade on that fact and incorrectly assume that our apartment being messy would be of no consequence. I realize I probably overreacted, but it worries me a teeny tiny bit that Nick doesn’t seem to care enough about the state of the apartment to help out (many of our fights have been about cleaning), and would rather drink at a bar to kill time waiting for our friends to show than … you know …. see if he could make the apartment look a bit nicer. after all, we *really really* want our friends to take the apartment.

I leave for Iowa on Saturday. My final project is due on Wednesday, which is the day I fly back to New York. I’m stressing out at the slightest provocation right now, and my stupidity at scheduling this awful trip is a good third of what’s eating at me. Among the things I am dreading most is hearing the extended family tell me in smug, dismissive tones that they wouldn’t or couldn’t live in New York, and at the same time imply they don’t know what’s wrong with me that I’ve lived here for so long and like it. Ack! 

It turns out I’ve had a yeast infection for over a month. I was treated a month ago; the visit to the BC health clinic was the single most traumatic doctor’s appointment I think I’ve EVER had. Anyway, I finally went back on Monday, saw my normal doctor, who told me not only did I still have an infection, but that it had gotten WORSE. He gave me three doses of the pill, plus suggested I use antifungal cream at night. Um … after my experience doing it Monday night, I think I’m going to pass. I was up most of the night writhing in pain, to the point that I actually called in sick to work on Tuesday because I was such an exhausted mess.

Anyway. I am in the process of studying for tomorrow’s final exam in Ethno. I’m stressing because I haven’t done any of the listening this semester, which was probably a mistake, but oh well–too late to worry about it now, except to try and cram as much as possible in.