I hope this is a short post. It's about some recent updates. There aren't many, but I hope they're significant. I was planning to write about other things, but today I realized something more unsettling: my last two posts before this one received over 100 views.
(>_･ ) ! ! !
...and from whom? Hello, dear stranger! I hope I haven't disturbed or saddened you too much. I mean it. Life is a real downer sometimes, and well, this is just a kind of diary.
⋆͛*͛ ͙͛ ⁑͛⋆͛*͛ ͙͛(๑•﹏•)⋆͛*͛ ͙͛ ⁑͛⋆͛*͛ ͙͛
Speaking of diaries, I just remembered that this post was supposed to be about the latest updates. Well, these past few days have been relatively stable. I finally managed to meet with my final project reviewer, and they've already asked me to make the final formatting corrections to send it to the defense professors for review. From there, in theory, they'll start coordinating the final project defense. Do I feel bad about it? Yes. Honestly, it's not the best research topic. I also haven't approached it with the rigor I should have. I'm afraid it will be met with strong resistance, and rightly so. And no, I don't think I'm downplaying myself here. I'm aware that I haven't done it as I should have. I haven't researched the topic at all, only superficially, just to get by.
I'd like to say that at least I've put some effort into my own personal projects. That's not the case, but at least I haven't gotten completely stuck, which would be truly regrettable. However, it could be said that I've abandoned (I don't know if completely) the goal of the Protista Project. What I feared most has happened: the desire or fervor to continue has vanished, as with so many other things. Complexity scared me again! At least I managed to break free from the spiral of finishing the drawings for Illustration 31, so all that remains is to organize the names of the organelles, and then I'll be publishing it. I don't know if I'll do it soon. I would hope that this week (I think I already promised that before, just to empty words), if not next month, or maybe never. If I do publish it, will I continue with number 32? I don't know yet. I'd need to find genuine motivation again.
As for my written texts, they're all abandoned. Except for the one on amphibians. I haven't made much progress, but I'd say I've already reached the seventh species. I don't even know why I say that since I'll most likely abandon writing that amphibian guide as soon as something equally complicated to research comes along. Although for now, I still find joy in discovering seemingly unavailable information. And reading those very old research papers. I truly admire those researchers. They really had the determination to get things done.
(•˕ •マ.ᐟ
My health is stable. I've managed to improve my digestion. But lately I've been feeling pressure under my right rib, like under my liver. I know it could be a sign of gallstone attacks. Last week I had a particularly nasty feeling of pressure. I was nauseous all afternoon. And I felt the same way for the rest of the week. Now I have less intense episodes. But they're still there. I'm a little scared that something might happen to me. I still have some secret savings. I've been researching nice places to eat and get away from the pressure for a bit. This Friday, despite everything, I'm supposed to go for cheesecake and then pizza with fries. It makes me so angry and devastated that my gallbladder seems to have started failing just when I'm trying to regain some control over my life. But I've already promised myself I'll go to those restaurants as soon as possible. I'd really be devastated if something happened to me and, after the surgery, I wasn't able to enjoy food anymore.
Mother has gotten sick. Quite sick. To get straight to the point: she seems to have a history of diabetic foot. That pisses me off, because I started remembering the mysterious tingling I have in my big toe, and now it feels more ominous. Damn doctor, he didn't take it seriously when I told him about it. "Well, it's been like that since childhood, right?" Damn. I'm sorry if you're a doctor, dear reader. But lately I've been distrustful of the medical culture. The one that emphasizes prestige and financial gain, seeing patients as numbers, individuals who contribute to the statistics. "As soon as you have the money, come get the surgery." Dreams and goals are minimized when it comes to living longer.
It's hard to write while trying to ignore this tingling. But... ugh. Anyway. Getting back to the loose idea from the previous paragraph. Mother was ordered to have tests done for diabetic foot. Suspected diabetic foot. This is a sign—actually, there have been more, but I interpret them as signs that my free time to try to focus on my projects, and deal with the final project, is running out. I don't see myself having any hope of a peaceful future with a stable, not-too-demanding job. I think I'll soon have to prioritize survival over my "dreams" or "ambitions." Although, in retrospect, I've always said that about things I ended up leaving unfinished or abandoning.
I hope those tests come back clear tomorrow. Either way, it's a sign of my ancestors aging. I don't know how much longer my father will be around, either. But oh well. I have to get up early, so I should go to sleep now.
I hope.
At least.
Post that illustration.
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