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We interrupt a week old account to bring you this bulletin...

2003-09-03 - 8:31 p.m.

'Fucking hell on a pogo stick in June', I'd thought earlier today. That was more or less my exact thought when I spoke to the Corpumancer Safety Elder (CASE) around 1:30pm. I'd originally called her up on a niggling little detail in one of the applications to the council of elders on animal research. I got that info squared away, but Case wanted more.

Case mentioned that she was quite concerned about a drug that we were using. Apparently the Depress-U-Good drug, Reserpine, can cause birth defects and is suspected of being a carcinogen. Because of this, any animal waste in the bedding or on the cages would be considered biohazards.

Later on I spoke with the local Animal Wrangler down the hall on a separate errand. Case was on speaker phone with Wrangler. Wrangler mentioned that none of his personnel could come into contact with anything near the waste products--that meant anything in the room.

In light of all this, I have to write up a biohazard/maintenance schedule and supervise every aspect of the rats we have. We can no longer receive any help from the cleaning staff. While that does mean more time for the undergrads (since I'm the supervisor), it means less out-of-pocket costs for Dr. Zivago. He's been paying for shit ever since the springs of grant money ran dry.

The bigger problem is that the facility we've got in the dungeon can't handle biohazardous waste; they've never had to before. I was already making arrangements to get a lab work space in some building I haven't even seen yet. One day soon, though, we'll be able to have our sealed level 1 biohazard room complete with dangerous chemicals. Dr. Zivago said awhile ago that we're pioneering a movement to Schlicter and importing diseases. Too bad being a pioneer doesn't pay anything.

On top of all of this, Dr. Zivago is MIA. He's like Kurtz from 'Apocalypse Now', weaving in and out of reality like a shadow or some force of God. I keep sending him emails that update any of our current situations, or asking for help. He doesn't reply to either. In a way it's be an invaluable experience in running the lab by myself. Everything is getting done at a reasonable pace, the few undergrads that come by are satisfied and I only have to spend roughly 4 hours on mon-wed-fri. Still, I wish Zivago would get back or reply to my letters. We're running out of shit and I can't make up some of the stuff we need to finish the last application.

----

Lately I've felt drained of motivation. Getting to Mt. University ain't so tough, but damn near everything else is a whirlpool tempting me to drown beneath its arms. I feel mentally winded to the point where commenting on photographs, updating, writing short stories or even carrying an online conversation is a struggle. A major struggle.

I have at least three things a day that I should be doing: an hour hike, two hours of studying for the GRE and however many hours for re-looking at grad schools for the first time. That with volunteering every other day for 5 hours is hard. It's hard as hell doing all three. I suddenly feel too tired in the late evening/early morning when I get around to the studying or grad school researching.

As for free time, I mostly occupy that with working on the Ultima game, doing photoshoots, editing and posting photos, commenting on other people's photos to get exposure for my gallery, running errands with mom that seem to swallow the afternoon (like yesterday), and trying to keep up with friends online and the few that I know in the physical world. Some people (rightfully so I suppose) get upset that I don't spend enough time with them, or miss how close we used to be. I don't mean to evoke pity--I never wish to--that's just what I feel I have obligations to do. I juggle things around as need be to attend to everything.

I still need to put more effort into studying and research, but I'm working on raising my general level of energy. I keep mentally trying to see what the problem is. It'd seem the wolf spider that frequents my mind is opting in as a symbol of whatever is draining me. There was some traumatizing legal shit I went through a month ago that I'm still coping with..which is partly the deal, but otherwise I don't know why most things tire me so much.

On a happier note, I'm worrying less. Really, I am.

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