diagnosis.

yesterday i got my blood test back and i have hashimoto's disease (an autoimmune thyroid thing) and also too much sugar in my blood and therefore am likely to be a diabetic unless i really really watch my sugar intake. that sucks. but i guess it makes me realize that i need to step it up and take charge of my life. apparently my condition was partially caused by stress, so now my parents are really careful with me. which is nice. but i don't think it will last long.

i believe that our health is heavily influenced by what we think, so now i'm looking for happiness. except it's hard to find. my mom told me i should go fall in love or something and then maybe i'd get better. i read about a woman who was diagnosed with breast cancer and believed she could cure herself with happiness, so she watched comedies every day and laughed a lot and did other things that made her really happy and stayed away from those that didn't. when she went to her next appointment @ the oncologist's, her cancer was nearly gone. isn't that incredible?

i want to be happy, but at the same time i know that i'm more inspired and feel more intelligent when i'm slightly depressed. which sucks. but depression somehow makes me feel deep.


but here's a happy memory (since i said i'd try to post happy memories in each entry):

this was during my summer in new york. we went to a museum and there was this random list of instructions in a box. so my r/a (who i had a crush on at the time) and i followed the instructions. the point of the activity was to basically become one with a wall. and at the end the instructions said something like, "you basically just had sex with yourself." good times.

foreign beauty.

this is me in philly on the last day of sophomore year. probably one of my happiest moments in life. i think i'll share my happiest memories on here in each entry. that would be nice.

beauty is a strange thing. though everyone has a different “type,” i think separate beauty ideals exist in different regions of the world. i know for a fact that i am considered more beautiful in russia than i am in the united states- i don’t fit the cheerleader image.
what i’ve noticed is that i can pick out russian people in a crowd because of their eyes. their eyes seem deeper and somehow colder. i have these eyes. my face doesn’t hold the friendliness of freckles, a warm gaze, or soft olive skin. i’m not “america’s type.”
as soon as i land on european soil i feel fresh and uninhibited. the language barrier may frighten me to an extent, but i feel more at peace on foreign ground somehow. i love how different another country feels before i even get the chance to speak to anyone or go anywhere. each country seems to have a different spirit, so to speak.
granted, i love living in the states; i feel safe here, i’ve mastered the language to the point of being comfortable with the idea of becoming a writer. but something is off. i truly can’t explain it. you’d have to be a foreigner to know, i guess. even though i’ve lived in the states for more than half of my life, and i feel entirely at ease here, i am somehow not fulfilled. something about this country makes me irritated.
i want to live in europe someday. i plan on studying Italian so i can do a semester abroad in rome or milan. i hope i fall in love with italy and stay there forever, but i’m afraid that my fear of the unknown will get the best of me and i will settle for living here, as if america is a “safe choice” of sorts.
i wonder what would be different about me if i had never moved to the u.s. i wonder if i would be on my way to becoming a chemist (like one of my grandfathers) or an architect (my other grandfather is one of the best architecture professors in moscow. he also has his own talk show. needless to say, my family is a wee bit disappointed in my choices.), or perhaps i would take over my dad's software-translating company rather than being an aspiring romantic novel-writing sex therapist. maybe i'd have a boyfriend. maybe i'd have a pixie cut. who knows.
thinking about that scared me, though; if i had lived somewhere else i would be a totally different person. i'd definitely be less liberal. maybe i'd mock gays. i honestly don't know. i wonder if there is a set right place for everyone where they can flourish and be who they were "meant to be" but majority of us simply haven't found that place and never will. hmm.

i think i'm going to go paint my nails "cherry nice." fuck you sally hansen, get better names for your products.

forgiveness.

listening to: "wild horses"- the rolling stones
eating: chicken noodle soup (i've cought the flu, ick.)

i wonder if the choice i make in forgiving someone or not reflects on my belief in change and in the fact that people deserve a second chance... or my masochism. i like to think it's the first of the two options, but i can't help but wonder if i'm a masochist if i give a third or fourth chance? i can't even remember how many chances i've given this person. i can't decide if it's worth it. i'm eager to jump into any sort of potentially risky emotional situation simply because i've been so empty lately and i'd rather be experiencing any sort of feelings.

how can i know if i can forgive this person? i'm trying to recall an instance when i have asked for chances repeatedly and meant it. perhaps with my mother. but relationships with parents are different, the bonds stronger. i have the nerve to fight with my mother because i know she won't leave me no matter how harshly i lash out at her. i would like to say i feel the same way about her, but i believe that it's only the fact that i currently depend on my parents that keeps me from breaking ties definitively. it's sad, really. i don't wish i loved my parents, because it wouldn't be fair, considering how they've been to me so many times. buying me clothes or paying for college can't make me love them. my mom says i'm shallow and unthankful because i'm only nice to them when they give me something. i like to think this isn't true, but even if it is, how are they any better when they counter all of my arguments with the fact that they pay for everything and therefore i should give them more respect? why is it always about money? i hate money. i even hate touching it. i hate loose change. i won't complain about it any more than that, i know money makes the world turn and there's nothing i can do about it. it just pains me sometimes how dependent we are on it.

so back to forgiveness...how do you know when to give someone another chance? what have you done in the past?