Surprisingly Quiet

I think it's a rather sad commentary on my creativity that I have been in the U.K. for over a week now, and I can't think of anything interesting to write in my blog. Or my journal. Journaling lasted exactly one day, and that day consisted of bullet points.

In part, I think this is what happens when you travel to work rather than play. I spent a day or two clearing up communications issues--bought a new cell phone w/world SIM card, got my computer set up on the wireless network at the house, got my British Library reader's pass, bought an Oyster/Travel Card so I could use the tube to go into the city every day. After those exciting problems were easily and swiftly resolved, I just slipped into a regular work schedule: up in the a.m., eat an apple on the way to the station, sit on the train for 30 minutes, get off the train, sort my stuff into a locker at the British library, work for several hours, eat lunch, work more hours, take a break for a cup of coffee and a quick phone call to Catherine, work another hour, pick my stuff up out of my locker, sit on the train for 20 minutes, walk home from the station. In the few evenings I've been here, I've spent them: talking to Catherine via webcam, watching television, walking to the supermarket, and eating dinner.

There is very little excitement in the daily schedule of the working life.

I think it's just possible that I've now spent enough time in London that what once might have seem notable or odd is neither any more. Well, what is notable and odd is that there are dustbins everywhere these days, even on the train platform at Cockfosters. Obviously the days of "bomb in trash" worries are over (supplanted by the days of "bomb in train" worries), and now it is easy to eat my breakfast on the way to the train, because I have somewhere to throw the core when I'm done. Also, the British Library is a much friendlier place these days. It is no longer like working in a prison, with the warden standing just there, behind your shoulder. It's a much better environment. I only wish the reading rooms had longer opening hours--trying to get everything done between 9:30 and 5:00 is difficult.

And, yes, I've turned into Randy. I know.

I spent the day on the bus from Cockfosters to London Bridge (don't do that again). I intended to spend a full afternoon at the Tate Modern, but once I got there, I realized I was bored. The building didn't grab me the way I thought it would, and the art on display wasn't...wasn't...I don't know. Nothing drew me in. I hate it when I can walk into a gallery and tick off the artist of every piece on the wall without trying. It's true enough that I could have spent more time in Surrealism gallery, but de Chirico and partners make me queasy even in small doses. The only piece that really held my attention was Cornelia Parker's Thirty Pieces of Silver, and even that viewing was somewhat marred by the poor design of the exhibition space. People, if you are going to put up a long text about a piece in a room that has only one entrance/exit, MOVE IT AWAY FROM THE DOOR. Huddled masses, trying to read, tripping over the barrier.

Anyway, I think I should have enjoyed the art, the building, and the experience more, and I'm not quite sure why I didn't.

Today was the last sunny day EVER for London. At least, that must have been written on the memo that was sent out to all of Europe this a.m. The south bank Thames Path was packed, shoulder to shoulder, everyone trying to absorb one last bit of Vitamin D before the winter grey sets in. It made for slow service in the cafe, but for cheerful people on the pavements, so that's a fair trade, I suppose.

Parting Gifts.

The best going-away gift I received last week was handed to me quite casually by my therapist. As we were wrapping up my final session, she looked down at her notes and agreed with me that I would be just fine this coming year. "You're meeting your potential, and you are going to do well." As you might remember, living up to my "potential" has always been a big burden for me. I never seem to be able to do it, I always seem to be chasing my potential and just falling short. But, finally, someone has decided that I'm doing enough, I'm maxing out my capabilities, and I should feel good about that.

The worst going-away present I received last week was a parking ticket. I was on my way back to my car with 20 minutes to spare on my meter when a faculty member stopped me to talk to me about her research plans. I kept trying to edge toward the door, but I couldn't bring myself to say, "Hey, my parking meter is about to run out of money, I gotta go!" My meter was 5 minutes expired when I got back to my car, and I had a $20 ticket because of it. It's just annoying, because I am so uptight about putting money in my meter, parking legally, and being responsible, and then, look what happens on my very last day on campus.

You're not from around here, are you?

This year, I promise I will learn the names of the trees in my neighborhood(s) in India. I swear.

Itinerary and Ire

So, my airline tickets to London and Delhi are finally in hand. T-11 days and counting. Every other sentence out of my mouth is "I don't want to go," but it seems that I have to, whether I want to or not. We have the webcams all set up so we can Skype, and Catherine has promised to visit, but I can't seem to stop feeling like this is all one big mistake. I spend all my free time reading cake decorating websites, contemplating a second (third? fourth?) career at the local bake shop. I'm pretty sure I'd be a good cake decorator.

As my departure draws nearer, I find myself growing more and more bitter about the Defense of Marriage Act. It's standing directly in between me and my partner, keeping us apart for twelve months simply because we're both female.

Here's the exact language from the DDRA booklet:

"Dependents
A dependent is any of the following individuals who accompany the fellow to his or her research site(s) for the entire fellowship period if the individual receives more than 50 percent of his or her support from the fellow during the fellowship period: 1) the fellow’s spouse; 2) the fellow’s or spouse’s children who are unmarried and under age 21.

Dependents for whom the fellow is requesting a dependent’s allowance must accompany the fellow to the research site for the entire fellowship period. Should a fellow’s dependent return to the U.S. during the tenure of the fellowship, the fellow will be required to return the full dependent's allowance.

The word "marriage" means only a legal union between one man and one woman as husband and wife, and the word "spouse" refers only to a person of the opposite sex who is a husband or a wife. These definitions are found in 1 USC Section 7, commonly known as the “Defense of Marriage Act” and apply to all federal programs."

So, the fact that Catherine and I have been together for sixteen years means nothing--she doesn't count as a dependent, and doesn't qualify for a dependent's allowance. She could easily get a leave of absence from her job, and the living + dependent's stipend from the DDRA would easily support us both in London and India. But, no. Not straight, not possible. When my friends try to tell me I should be happy for "domestic partnerships" or "civil unions," I offer this as a clear and specific example of why these supposed "separate but equal" institutions are in fact still discriminatory.

A friend of mine who is in the process of applying for the Fulbright-Hays told me just today that she and her boyfriend have decided to get married so he will be considered a dependent. Well, I'm sure they would probably stay together, and even get married in the future, anyway; but the truth is, they can decide to get married because it's practical to keep them together in the next twelve months, reaping benefits denied to me.

Well, life isn't fair, and that's a lesson learned a long time ago, so I can't waste too much more energy on this. But when I'm sitting in front of the television, listening to a presidential candidate who believes civil unions are good enough, and that the federal government doesn't need to do anything to secure my marriage rights, I get angry all over again. It's probably a good thing I'll be spending the two months immediately before the presidential election away from American television and radio.

#41

• Driving into the mysterious black box.
• Epoxy: no gloves!
• Best factory job ever: Corvette assembly plant.
• A cricket as big as your head.
• Bats and more bats.
• Illusions in the dark.
• Fat man's misery: conquered.
• Fire tower: conquered.
• Zen through sleeping.
• Rooster in the cave.
• Mock pit crew competition.
• The smell of lantern smoke.
• Deer, pigs, wild turkeys, mouse, crickets, bats, snake.
• Pig at Pig.
• Tuberculosis and saltpeter.

Multilingual

Flashcard Exchange must be the best site on earth. It must be.

By Popular Demand

Or, at least by request of my wife. Noting that this blog is only good for helping us answer questions like, "How long ago did we visit that lava tube in Oregon?" or "Have we ever taken an underground boat before?" Catherine asked me to type up a list of everything vaguely amusing we've done this year.

January: Trip to Nashville for Catherine's 50th birthday. Saw the Grand Ole Opry at the Ryman, went to the Bluebird Cafe, Belle Meade Plantation, saw a Nashville Predators' hockey game, visited the Country Music Hall of Fame, several honky-tonks, Studio B, Frist Center for the Visual Arts, and the Parthenon. Had a super good time, and a super good dinner at Ellendale's.

February: Went to a taping of Prairie Home Companion at the IU Auditorium, which was nice, but overloaded with classical music. Much better: the Reba and Kelly Clarkson "2 Worlds 2 Voices" concert at the Conseco Fieldhouse. More amazing than amazing can be.

April: Passed my exams, spent the next week in Cincinnati for the Annual Meeting of the Society of Architectural Historians. Had a death in the family that week, so I pretty much stayed in the hotel room when I wasn't in a session, but we did have a brilliant evening out at the Cincinnati Observatory.

May: Catherine visits her parents, Susan goes racing. I went up to the Speedway for Pole Day. We both went up for Carb Day, but it was mostly rained out, so not much racing was observed. Memorial Day was spent in front of the TV, watching the race.

June: A week in Washington State, visiting my parents. Highlights previously noted. Really ramped up our goofing off this month. Spent a couple of days at the Write Inn in Oak Park so we could take in the Chicago stop of Cyndi Lauper's True Colors tour. Catherine finally got to tour the Frank's Oak Park studio. I think that makes our third FLW house tour together (she didn't get to go on the more in-depth tour I took my first semester back in grad school). Even though that jaunt to Chicago wore us out, we managed to road trip to Bloomington, Illinois, for another amazing Reba McEntire concert. Lady Antebellum opened for her, and it was great to hear Hillary Scott sing the Linda Davis role in "Does He Love You." If Reba needed a kidney, I'd totally be there for her.

July: Oh, yeah, an immensely long road trip to Shiloh. Another weekend in Columbus, Ohio. That's notable because while we were at the Columbus zoo, we discovered that not only am I afraid of kangaroos, I'm afraid of lorikeets. Five trips between Bloomington and Rantoul--I finally checked the odometer: 4000+ miles of driving in July. Good thing I like our car A LOT.

August: Finally, the State Fair arrives! I was happy enough just to get to see the chickens, but it was an extra great day because we got to see Carrie Underwood on the grandstand. She is much more awesome than I expected, and although she isn't Reba, I would definitely spend more money to see her. I think that might have been our best grandstand concert to date (and that's no small feat, since we also saw Reba on the grandstand once). That day at the fair was wedged in between three days spent volunteering for the Drum Corps International championships.

Today we FINALLY went to Bluespring Caverns and took the boat tour down the Mystery River (prompting this post: have we, or have we not, ever been on an underground boat ride?). Nice day; it included a side trip to Popcorn, Indiana, that demonstrated you should never believe marketing campaigns. This weekend was a warm-up for next, when we head to Mammoth Caves and the National Corvette Museum for a four-day weekend.

For such a miserable year, filled with anxiety, drama, death and preliminary exams, we sure had a lot of fun.

je ne parle pas français....

...but I still managed to find a hotel just two blocks from the archive I will be using in Vanves in November. I'm just saying.

Actually, I'm just saying because I've always wanted to go to Paris, but last time I had the opportunity, I was too tired to make the trip and I spent the long weekend in Brighton instead. Catherine has promised multiple times that she will visit me while I'm in France, and we've been planning to go to Versailles, since Vanves is only about 18km away, on the western side of Paris. One of the brilliant things about being an architectural historian: as long as you take time to look at a few buildings when you're out and about, it counts as research.

Anyway, I've reserved a studio with kitchenette in an apparthôtel, and couldn't be happier right now, really.

Why Cyberspace Isn't Empty (But Should Be)

According to the editing screen for this blog, I have a minimum of five posts in draft state, waiting quietly in the background for me to finish them off and release them in their final form into my blog. I can't seem to make myself bring any of them to completion, though. I get 3/4 of the way through, and then think, "Wtf is this? Who *cares*?" and abandon them.

A partial list of my partial thoughts this week:

1. Musings on American Idol, Carrie Underwood and Kelly Clarkson;
2. A plea for packing advice (I might finish this one--how do you pack for 12 mos. in two different countries?);
3. My opinion on various guidebooks for India (and a scathing review of Do Travel Writers Go to Hell?);
4. Confessions of panic attacks and depression (multiple variations on a theme);
5. A plea for cell phone advice (short form, can I live in London for three months without a phone? I don't think so);
6. Summaries of our vacations that bored even me (the summaries, not the vacations);
7. Reviews of the two dozen graphic novels I've read this summer;
8. Even more boring things

This is perhaps a sign that the blog needs to be put out of its misery. The archives are really useful for me in those moments I need to know what I did on my 34th birthday, or when I was last in New York, that sort of thing. And I'm sure I'll want to write something or another down this coming year, but in the meantime, wow, how did my life get so incredibly dull?

Stuff I want to do after work

Kielder Observatory
Serpentine Pavilion
Design Museum--Exhibitions
What's On--Building Design
Architecture Foundation
London Architecture Diary
Royal Observatory
Tate Modern
Museum in Docklands

Good Job, A.I.I.S. Chicago

I need to give the people from A.I.I.S. some props, that's for sure. They handled all the arrangements for my last two trips to India. I did have to do some last minute running around the first time--mostly because I applied to the program a month or two after the deadline has passed--and I was a little stressed out about GOING TO INDIA that first year. If I remember correctly, though, last year I was so relaxed about the whole thing that I almost forgot to send in my visa, and I didn't get around to packing until a couple of days before my departure. I could be that relaxed precisely because I wasn't responsible for obtaining the supporting paperwork for the visa, making housing arrangements, affiliating myself with a university, etc. About all I did last year was buy the plane ticket (the first year, CLS/AIIS took care of even that detail).

All of this is to say is that it is kind of stressful putting together your own research application for India. In the end, USEFI came through for me and got me an affiliation with JNU in Delhi--good for them, I say, because although I managed to get a department to agree to support my affiliation, and although said department send the letter of approval to the foreign students registrar, I was never able to figure out how to get that letter sent on to me for inclusion with my visa. I spent a lot of time trying to work through the JNU switchboard (in Hindi!), but never had any luck. So, without USEFI, I'd be out of luck right now.

So, that was one huge step taken care of for me. The rest has just been non-stop drama, though. I had to include seven copies of the proforma (essentially a data sheet) with my visa application. That's seven photos, plus two for my visa, plus two for my passport. That's a total of eleven photos. You know how much that's going to cost you at the local CVS, the US Post Office, or the photo store downtown? 59.94 plus tax. And if you're me, after you pay for all those photos, and use only two on your passport application, you're going to lose the rest when you're moving. After a lot more drama, I managed to use the scanner and the local "U-print" facility to produce replacement 2" x 2" photos, but it was a huge hassle and required two trips across town. And then you have to fill everything out, glue on the photos, and send it all off via overnight mail because you needed the visa, like, yesterday.

Anyway, that sounds like a bunch of whining, but the point really is this: it's easy to take the Chicago office of A.I.I.S. for granted, and wonder, "Hey, where is my paperwork?!?" But when you have to sit down and do it all yourself, you suddenly realize how incredibly together they have it--they know what they're doing, and if there is some small delay, just be glad you're not standing in Kinko's pasting on photos with a glue stick while listening to the creepy kid next to you make a drug deal on his cell phone. Because that is a really sucky way to spend the afternoon.

Just Add Ice

I'm rapidly approaching hockey camp levels of physical exhaustion. I've been wondering: am I sick? Am I old? Am I just a wuss? But last night I was looking at the calendar, and I realized that in month of July, I have driven from Bloomington (IN) to Rantoul (IL) and back five times, plus driven to Columbus (OH) and back, as well as to Corinth (MS) and back. For those of you keeping track, that's a minimum of 3190 miles in 31 days.

Those drives were interrupted by some heavy-duty moving chores. Thank god for strong men, as at least we had help loading and unloading the moving truck. I packed every box in our two-bedroom townhouse, though, and unpacked them at the other end (must get rid of some books before relocating again). Catherine was able to take a Saturday to help with the move-out cleaning. She did most of the kitchen, so that was nice.

Also in my month was a full day at the zoo, and a day of wandering Civil War battlefields. Plus, our house in Bloomington was full of strange men much of this month--the contractors finally got around to finishing the screen porch and painting the dining room. Oh, and putting up a desperately-needed 140' fence between us and the neighbors. Thank god I didn't have to dig the post holes for that! But it's super stressful to me to have strangers in my house, particularly when they are men. Men are loud and take up a lot of room.

I was supposed to wash down the furniture so we could put it back on the newly finished porch this afternoon, but I couldn't summon the energy. I'm going to finish this post, make some popcorn, and then hit the couch to watch the Brickyard for the rest of the afternoon. That's all I can do, and believe me, I'm really doing the best that I can do right now.

Jackaroo

Jack Arute, telling it like it is.

btw, water is bad for your cell phone.

For a smart person, I can sure be dumb.

Without telling anyone EXACTLY how dumb I am, I'll just say that I am responsible for killing my own cell phone. Permanently. I have a replacement for the phone, but unfortunately, not for the three-year's worth of contact information stored on it. So, if you think it might be important that I'm able to call you some day, you might want to e-mail me your phone number.

Because I Said So

So, in keeping with my Facebook declaration a few days ago, ("Susan decides to be happier"), I decided to make a list of reasons why I might look forward to a year abroad. Without going into details, I'm always astonished at my therapist's flexibility. Yesterday, that character/professional trait manifested itself in her willingness to serve as a rather amiable and encouraging sounding board for the beginnings of my list. What I've got so far:

Why I Want to Spend a Year in London and India:

• I've never spent time in the U.K. during the fall to winter transition, only spring to summer, high summer, summer to fall; something new to experience;
• The house I'll be living in is in Cockfosters, outside London, an area I've never visited, so a new place to see;
• Cockfosters is on the London Loop, and I've been wanting to do some more walking;
• This year's Serpentine Pavilion will still be in place when I arrive in London;
  
• This will be a chance to introduce more structure into my day, going to the archives at a regular time every day (at least in London)--I can use this as a chance to regulate my sleep/eat/work schedule and stabilize my life a little;
• Three months in one place! Followed by another three months of one place, and then another, and then another. Three months in one place sounds impossibly grand to me right now;
• An opportunity to see more of India: live in the Thar Desert for three months, finally visit Jodhpur, Jaisalmer, take a long weekend to Chennai, Mumbai or Goa;
• Reconnect with favorite Indian places and people: go back to Jaipur for a weekend or two, back to Ujjain, Varanasi, spend more time in Delhi;
• An opportunity to change my diet; although I've been living far away from vending machines for the past few months, it will be nice to be living some where with few processed foods to seduce me;
• Doing this puts me closer to the completion of the dissertation, and closer to my goal of leaving academia;
• This will give me a chance to regain the confidence and independence I discovered last summer in India;
• Networking. This seems like a good opportunity to meet other Americans working in my field; the more people I talk to now, the more likely it is that I will find a job--in or out of academia--in the future;
• A year without a car! Writing as someone who has put 14,232 on her vehicle since January 15, I can say I am very much looking forward to 368 days of Shank's mare and public transportation. I can't promise that I won't ever purchase bottled water when I'm in India, but even so, my carbon/resource footprint should drastically shrink over the next several months;
• I'm much more likely to bump into Preity Zinta on the street if I'm in India than if I'm in Bloomington, Indiana or Rantoul, Illinois [that one's for you, Beth].
• Both of my major fellowship awards come with a book-buying budget. I can finally buy all those books I need for my dissertation instead of relying on the library's copies.
  

Why I Do Not Want to Spend a Year in London and India:

• A year away from home, are you fucking kidding me?
• I miss the cats already, will they even remember who I am when I return home? What if something happens to Jackie while I'm gone?
• What is something happens to Catherine, and I've wasted what could have been good times together on archival research about which I don't really care?
  
• Living apart for 368 days is definitely going to put stress on my relationship;
• Reuniting after living apart for 368 days is definitely going to put stress on my relationship;
• My father's health--what if I don't see him again before it's too late?
• I don't even want a Ph.D. It feels like I'm doing this for some reason other than "I want to," and I'm pretty sure that's the wrong reason;
• I hate all people, and I'm pretty sure I'll have to talk to some of them in the next year;
• I'm really not a big fan of Indian food, unless it's dal makhani or veg jalfreezi. It's going to be a long year of no tomato soup or popcorn;
  
• What if I get sick, and there I am, out in the great Thar Desert, all by myself, unable to communicate? What if something really, really bad happens?
• A year of lack. While this is good in terms of my gas consumption, it will be difficult in terms of a lack of: privacy, access to clean water, friends, my native language, familiar objects, etc.
  

No fucking kidding.

You know what's disgusting about this story? It's been this way in South Central L. A. since the Watts Riots in 1965. *1965*. That's how long corporations have been refusing to invest in the area, refusing to rebuild/add grocery stores after the property destruction of the Watts Riots. It was still an obvious problem when I lived there in 1991-1992 (try buying groceries in South Central without getting in a car and driving for an hour first), and it apparently hasn't gotten any better. Styling this as a "fast food" problem hardly addresses the 43 years of deliberate neglect by grocery chains, etc. I've had people tell me that the 1992 uprising demonstrated that these corporations had a smart policy, refusing to put property in an area that might see further damage and violence. I don't buy that. I just don't believe that a rebellion *32 years* later proves anything, unless it's that white people can be incredibly, incredibly stupid.

This Should Make You Feel Better

My Life is in Storage

Well, it's almost moving day. I've been sorting and stacking for awhile now, but the boxes have finally been broken out of storage--it's time for the real deal. Emotionally, this is a lot harder than I expected it be. Every time I wrap something up and put it in a box, I think, "Oh, I remember hanging this up in my first apartment here. It was really fun setting up that apartment." I'm not sure exactly what went wrong between then and now, but nowhere in me can I find that person who actually wanted to try out this whole Ph.D. thing.

[I'm back. You can't tell by reading, but I had to go take a crying break.]

Anyway, packing things up here means I really am going to leave the country for a year, I really am going to do research in India, and I really am going to go forward with this thing. I'm trying not to treat it like a death sentence, but it definitely feels like I'm being sent into exile against my will.

The Western Theater

Continuing, or returning to, our tradition of visiting Civil War battlefields in the hottest days of summer, we spent the holiday weekend at Shiloh. Actually, we saw four battlefields all together--Parker's Crossroads, Shiloh, Corinth and Spring Hill. Parker's Crossroads was just a lucky find for us, as we'd changed our minds about the route we would take to Shiloh at the last possible moment. Luckily for us, Ron Jr. and Sue Jordan of the Parker's Crossroads Battlefield Association were on duty at the visitors center. They walked us through the battle and the PCBA's preservation plan, and were just generally nice to us. In fact, everyone we met last weekend was nice, and almost made me not hate all of humanity. That engagement started off our weekend of battlefields in the right way, I think.

I can see why Shiloh is Rick's favorite battlefield--although Cold Harbor is still my favorite (after Gettysburg, of course). It was a nice mix of driving and walking, good interpretive markings, and not too crowded once we were away from the visitor's center. The main interpretive center is really in Corinth, MS, at the Corinth Civil War Interpretive Center, although there is a small center at the battlefield itself. This is a new building, sweetly designed with good lighting and layout. I'm not sure who the exhibit designer was, but the signage was clearly done by a professional group. Staffed by friendly people who feel lucky to have the jobs that they have. Two good movies, one about the battle of Corinth, one about Shiloh. If you want a movie experience, best to do it here, the movie out at the battlefield must have been made in the 1970s. It wasn't bad content-wise, but the sound quality wasn't good, and all those fake beards glued to soldier faces were distracting.

We stayed in Corinth on Friday night (July 4), then did the battlefield on Saturday. It was an all-day endeavor, and we could have stayed out longer, but I think we got a pretty good feel for the battle as it was. Stopped at Shiloh church to talk to some men who were fixing a water leak, listened to the warning about copperheads in the pine trees, stood dutifully at the edges of the bloody pond and thought about it all. The battlefield has a nice picnic spot set up away from the auto tour route, so we had a nice lunch in the trees (before we were cautioned about snakes). Unfortunately, we weren't able to visit the Indian mounds because the trail was under construction and heavily guarded by caution tape.

Sunday was a long drive home. It's supposed to be an eight-hour drive, but we lost some time going to see the railroad crossing at Corinth, and also when we turned around to go to a rest area on the opposite side of the freeway so I could look at the Saturn IB rocket on display. Then we took up a lot more time with the Spring Hill battlefield. It's smaller than Parker's Crossing, but uphill from the parking lot. Ate lunch next to the creek near the battlefield pull-off, then headed north. The drive up I-65 was endless. I don't know what it was--everyone was tired and trying to get home asap after a holiday weekend? A lot of aggressive driving by people in over-sized vehicles. We have a couple of more road trips planned before I leave for London in September, but I'm starting to think I'm too old for this kind of weekend.

Doesn't Play Well With Others

I seem to be having trouble dealing with real, live people as of late. I mean, it's surely no surprise to anyone that I'm not the most personable (warm, comforting, nurturing, friendly, outgoing, [insert more desired personality characteristics here]), but in the past few weeks, I seem to be doing a particularly poor job of managing interpersonal relationships. And, yes, I know it is has something to do with therapy, I'm exhausting myself with this process. But I really can't start out every personal--or any professional--conversation with "You know, I spent yesterday evening telling my therapist how it felt be sexually abused when I was young, so do you think you could make an extra effort to be kind to me today?" I mean...really. It's expecting a bit much for people to magically ascertain my mental and emotional fragility before speaking to me (although...the fact that I flinch every time someone speaks to me makes me think that deduction shouldn't require great magical powers).

On the other hand, I sometimes think that I should demand people to be more gentle with me on an every day basis--is there a reason I have to be able to stand there and listen to whatever someone else wants to say to me, no matter how insensitive it is? Is there a clause in the code of collegiality and friendship that I neglected to read? I guess in the end, I find it surprising that I have to provide a *reason* for someone to be gentle with me ("I'm fragile because of therapy, so be nice!"). Shouldn't I be able to expect that, anyway? I'm not sure, and I guess that uncertainty is a sign that I really just don't get people and the way people relate to other people. And I suspect I'm not going to learn this in therapy, which is is just too bad.