Collecting data gives me fever.
Friday, 05.12.2017 - 6:12 pm.

It's been an exhausting week, but also very rewarding! I spent 16 hours of it collecting data, in one-hour individual sessions with participants from the University staff mailing list. They all showed up on time. True, they won't be particularly prejudiced, but their responses help a lot. They help my study and the help my self-worth (*refrains from sobbing*).

On Monday, the first day of data collection, I woke up sick. A slight discomfort evolved into fever, exhaustion, runny nose, coughing. It's Friday and I'm the same despite taking meds. Collecting data for this study isn't that stressful, really. People come in to the Psych Department and I leave them in a room in front of a computer; I give them directions and help them set up a task, then I pay them and thank them and it's over. But social interactions with strangers stress me nonetheless. I'm grateful for having so many participants in one week (and I have a few more the next one), but I'm also grateful I can take a break from that this weekend.

In other news:

- My dad's cancer *has* spread, as originally suspected, and this weekend he's getting surgery because it's still in early stages and there's hope it can be stopped. I really need to go home and see him and my mom this year, but time and money constrain me. I know those are not valid excuses, though, I can work my way around both. I'm not sure what's really keeping me from going, perhaps besides facing the inevitable, but I know that it'll be like a stupid excuse when one or both of my parents are not on this Earth anymore.

- I am getting restless with coming out. I am getting restless with the need to belong and connect with people "like me". That's a silly thing to say and I can't define what it exactly means. I signed up to be a volunteer at Pride and related events and haven't heard back. I don't know where else to go. I want to get involved, I want to put my money where my mouth is (Is that how that saying goes? It's a weird saying). I'm not sure what I want. No, that's not true.

Sorry, I'm moody because I'm tired. On the bright side: I'm also quite satisfied with this week's progress, and grateful my dad can have his surgery so soon. I will look into traveling to see my parents. I will come out (sort of) in my column next week for the London newspaper, i.e. for an undisclosed number of readers who most likely will skim over the text, and will never know me nor care for me. Sounds like a bargain.

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