What is the real amount of effect a person's mind can have over the person's body?
After finishing my progesteron I waited for my periods to show up. For eleven days I waited. The doctor gave up before I did and prescribed me birth control pills (the universe has one fucked up sense of humour if you ask me...). Last night I stopped expecting the bloody periods and took the first pill. Today, while standing in a queue to school lunch, what of all things happened? My periods began. On their own.
So, I'm wondering; was it my constant vigilance and expectation of periods that actually kept them away, or was it all just a mere coincidence?
Well, at least I have periods now. I almost feel ashamed for having to continue on the pills now that I started and thus continue the chemical control over Nature's own cycle.
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Guess where I'll be on Monday at 9.30 a.m.? I'll give you a couple of hints; it's a sight most people never get to see, or smell for that matter. It's something our teachers seem to share veeery different views about. It begins with an A, and ends with a Y.
Autopsy. On Monday morning. I can hardly wait. I think it's safe if I say the same thing for the rest of my class as well. Of all the extracurricular activities advertised to us, there has been a very limited number of participants from our class, the active and über-social party animals mainly. And then a small list goes around the class, titled "those wishing to come and see an autopsy". The result: every single name, all twenty-one of them, are on the list. I think we have a morbid class.
As for the teachers... our anatomy teacher said we could do well and arrange the visit ourselves if we wished to go see one. Sure it would have been less confusing anatomically had we studied the entire human anatomy first, but I think we all have quite a good idea of the organs and such based on our high school human biology course. One of the teachers just gave us a few tips to cope with the smell, and was even willing to re-schedule the class we should have had on that Monday and moving it on Thursday.
Then there was one teacher who, in my hymble opinion, isn't too comfortable with death; instead she (with a tone e x a c t l y like that of my mother's when she was trying to convince me out of something she very much disapproved if she wasn't able to command or threathen me to do otherwise) loudly wondered why we wanted to see the dead if we haven't even seen the living. Of course she remembered to say it would cost so much to the school; the one arranging the visit corrected her saying she had already checked it and that it doesn't cost anything, to us or to the school. I'm telling you, you should have seen that disappointment on her face. During the rest of the class she kept snapping at people. I think she fears death, irrationally enough to try to make us think like her. Not working for me, that's for sure. I'm even with my own mortality, hence the tattoo on my wrist, which my mother tries her best to ignore and make snide remarks about in a fading voice if only she finds a chance to do so.
