It had been straight from my cognitive seminar to there, with some time in-between for preparation. No lunch and just a smoothie for breakfast. I tore into a donut like a vampire to some vein. I don't know how the presentation went. I honestly did not and still do not care.

Afterward my advisor and I spoke for near two hours. The synopsis: The project we had been doing, that I created, had to come to a close. It was too costly, it was too complicated, and organizationally speaking I had made too many errors. I was too tired and fear-stricken to object, and in essence he was right: I had been overwhelmed. He rightly pointed out, though, that it was not my fault or his or anyone's. The project as it is just couldn't be carried further. I got the sense that if the money was there, he'd continue trying, but that coupled with other things put it to a halt.

I had expected this for a long time. I can sense it when I pass in the halls, those talks that he or others have, where small problems suddenly become conversation pieces. He once told me he doesn't talk behind my back. Having eavesdropped once, I might disagree. But that is neither here, there, or anywhere. It is only one thing: moot.

And so there are possibilities. If I wanted to firmly stay with psychopharm stuff, he recommended I go to another lab. I think the dead horror in my eyes led him to say that he wasn't advocating that, nor wanting it. His language is precise to that extent: you only know his professional opinion, yet it sounds so personal.

One option I'd thought of, which he mentioned again to me, was to try my work within the context of a grant he has. This is perfectly fine, I think. At the time, I was numb enough to not know what I wanted. I merely articulated my agreement; I did not think much about it. I did this because, most importantly, this new project will let me pursue the same thing: inflammation, withdrawal behaviors, socializing, and the interaction between those three. The same seen in so many mood and anxiety disorders, the same in medical patients, perhaps the same thing to explain why the most violent surges of hatred and rage grip me when inconsequential negative things happen...or the stark, bone-cold emotional numbness that can come without warning.

I have no idea what it is about inflammation. I don't know why the phenomenon fascinates me so much. True, a higher degree of inflammation in people with mental disorders seems to correspond to more severe symptoms..and more negative mood. And somehow it occurs without sickness, without a medical disease.

Somehow this one thing is worthwhile, to the extent that I will sacrifice for it. All of my old friends are gone. In truth I neglected them. I could try argue that I was too busy. Most busy people would argue that point. But I'll admit it: I mostly forgot, and when I remembered it just flicked across my mind for a second or two. I burn through love interests like an offshore oil rig fire, everything nice and far away so that I'm in control of the time aspect. I make sure everything is like that, so that I can attend to this or that event when I have time. Everything right now is about time management.

Honestly, coming home to an empty apartment and having most of my social contact online isn't bothersome. The older I get the more I hate interruptions, or unexpected calls. Or unexpected anything. So, perhaps oddly enough, I'm glad things have become so simple. I'd even been happy for awhile before this exhaustive part. Might just get back there after.

It's not about fulfilling personal goals, stroking other people's egos, finding some source of sex, or anything that's particularly substantive. The reason why life is fulfilling and I bother to put up with it is simple: I've got some thing I gotta do, don't know what, but I gotta do it. And somehow it involves inflammation and being a scientist.

Personally I would've thought being a priest would have made more sense, but while I'm extremely devout about the concept of something you could call God, no organized religion appeals to me. So I guess I help out in more practical ways.

This whole entry was entirely pointless.

Oh, went out to the movies with Bryan, Sha, and a few others. Ah sweet movies about demonic possession. Reminds me of when I was a teenager. That was an interesting time. Not that I got possessed, mind you.

Right. Bed.

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