Okay... so what has happened in this past three months...
- For those of you who don't know, my Octobet is going to be published in a typography book called "Type Object". It's a compendium of typography made of physical objects. The author's first book is Type Image which is was pleasantly surprised to see on sale at the Blick art store. Anyways, in January I got send a PDF of the final draft of the book so that's pretty rad. Until then I was reluctant to tell too many people because there was always a chance that it wouldn't happen. After getting the final draft though, it actually seems real.
- I'm in the process of working on a new font. Technically I should already be done with it, but I'm really behind. This one isn't anything crazy or experimental. It's a non-novelty, yes that's right, useable, serif type-face.
- I enrolled in an Introduction to Folklore class at USC and I am absolutely obsessed. I never knew that Folklore was a serious discipline and I am devastated that I am only just now finding out that there is a Folklore minor at USC. On a more positive note, I am going to be attending the Western States Folklore Society conference this April in Sacramento. I'm incredibly excited and plan on seeing how many of my text books I can get signed.
- My birthday just passed on the first. I'm 22 this year, which is an incredibly anti-climactic age to turn. So... there's that.
- I decided about a month ago that, for health reasons, I am going to start eating meat again. This has been an (unsurprisingly) painful process.
I don't want to go back to the dizziness, vertigo, nausea, lack of appetite, insomnia, stomach aches, brain zaps, and the nightmares. Not to mention the mood swings. One hour I'm crying, the next I'm perfectly fine, and the next I agitated as all hell. When you're going off of an anti-depressant and you find yourself constantly crying for no reason at all, it's hard to believe that you are mentally capable of living without it. All I can do is remind myself over and over again that it's purely chemical, but it's hard to listen to someone who bursts into tears for no reason. Each time I go down a dose I become a perfect candidate for mayor of crazy town.
But that's not the worst part. The worst thing is knowing that no one you know fully understands what you are going through. There is knowing and there is understanding, and this is something you can't understand unless you go through it yourself. I can tell you that even when lying down it felt like my head was spinning all over the place, that the thought of eating anything was the most revolting thing in the world, or how when I turned my head in one direction, it was another few seconds before my brain would follow. I can tell you that for about the first week after going down each dose I didn't want to sleep alone. That every night I would lay in bed crying and I didn't even know why. That I was scared to go to sleep because every time I closed my eyes I would see the same images from what had to be the most horrific nightmare I have ever had replay in my head. I could tell you that the only thing I wanted was for someone to hold me and tell me that everything was going to be okay. But telling you only results in you knowing, and knowing and understanding are two very different things.
I've done a lot of reading online and found blogs and forums of people talking about their same experiences with the withdrawal, which has helped me not feel so incredibly alone, but reading these things online doesn't compare to talking to someone you know. I'm planning on going down to 112.5mg either this Sunday or this Monday since that will be my spring break. With any luck it wont be as awful this time but I'm not going to keep my hopes up.
So I wasn't exactly expecting to talk about anything so serious in this post but... whatever.