Will soon be on our way to KC to see the elf boy and attend our (my) very first con ever. Bought a digital camera, should have many pictures to post, somehow, as I am behind the curve again. no internet will do that, though.
So. There have been exciting things happening at work -- not in the good for business way, in the "hey look, something is on fire" kind of way. Fun. Must remember that when the guy who never hurries, (and I mean not for anything), Runs in a particular direction, I should be prepared to grab my shit and hurry in the opposite direction. Oh yes, great confusion ensued. Anyway. Must wake up boyfriend, get oil change, see piercing guy (oh, yeah, there are new piercings now; no, there will probably not be pictures, use your imaginations) pack, get lunch, pay for storage unit, see if new glasses have arrived, clean out car, wash car, leave town. Not necessarily in that order. So. Hope you all have good weekends, take care, be well, I am still working on the regular posting. Just hoping that life will settle just a little more.
Oh, and by the way -- Jess, Ninsi -- Mike and Whitney got married.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
The sleeper walks
And sometimes she will even get to post, now that the portal is regained.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have returned.
I see that many many things have changed in my absence, and I ask that you bear with me as I slog through the update process. Any information you can forward to me about who went where etc. would be greatly appreciated so's I can make this quicker.
However, it is now about 5:30, I still have not had my shower, and must be up earlier than usual for stupid meeting thing at work. So.
Nice to be back.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have returned.
I see that many many things have changed in my absence, and I ask that you bear with me as I slog through the update process. Any information you can forward to me about who went where etc. would be greatly appreciated so's I can make this quicker.
However, it is now about 5:30, I still have not had my shower, and must be up earlier than usual for stupid meeting thing at work. So.
Nice to be back.
Monday, May 23, 2005
HURDLES -- #1: The Back Injury (or Where it all begins)
A back injury will change a lot of things.
For me, it is things such as:
For me, it is things such as:
- sleeping habits
- eating habits
- feelings about prescription drugs
- the way I feel about my partner
- awareness of the physical self
- views on exercise and food
- view of the future -- employment, education, family, retirement
- financial stability (or lack thereof)
It has been recommended in a most pointed manner that I am overweight and this is unacceptable, that I must change or risk complications and further injury.
G-- D--- *&%(#!!@^&
Grr. Honestly, the reason that I am so irritated is not the fact that the surgeon told me I was fat and this was bad. It's the fact that before this injury occured, I was just coming to terms with the fact that I was fat, had been fat, and was (honestly) too friken' lazy to change it, and this might be ok because I was beautiful anyway.
And now, it's not ok. I'm still beautiful, but I am required to change under threat of future severe consequences. Dammit.
For those of you who aren't following the point of my aggravation, it is essentially that I am being forced into a position of hypocrisy, having just achieved equanimity with my situation. (I think those are the words I was looking for.) Any of you who disagree, feel free to.
I now do a small series of stretching exercises every day (twice, when I remember/have the energy/strength) .
I worked my full 40 hours last week; it kicked my ass. Not quite as bad as when I first began, not as good as the last time I did it.
I did not go back to the position I was in when I got hurt: it was a temporary positon, and apparently they have a precedent for things like this. End result: back to the trenches for me.
I am now desperately aware of how precarious my position is right now. I have no education, no long term employment experience to flaunt, no credit, no money, and the money that is coming in goes out before it actually gets in. The job, for what it is, pays reasonably well. But I'm pretty damn sure I don't want to do this same job for the next 20, 10, 5 years. If I'm still with this company in 5 years, I really hope I've got an office job. Or at least one that has a better pay scale. Or something, please God.
I was talking with the Pretzel and Goat this morning as we sat on their front porch in the beautiful morning, drinking first a bottle of red wine and then screwdrivers; we ended up talking about Purpose. And yes, I do mean the capitalized one. The one that drives you forward, gives you direction and a goal. Pretzel has one. Goat has one, maybe two.
I don't.
I am disturbed by this, for more than one reason. I have always wanted that need/want/desire to chase that dream; to have a dreamvision so strong that it pulls and propels me, shapes my path, alters my perception. I want the hooks of light that lodge in my flesh, burning as I go where they direct or as I fight against them. I want the Mettatron to announce my annointment to me as I go through my mundane life. I want my life story to be interesting, uplifting, compelling, heartwarming, all those standard blurbics -- only for real.
But I can't read the assignment. I am missing the signs, misreading the oracles. As usual, I don't know where to begin. The still small voice sounds a lot like my paranoia, and my insecurities, and therefore it is incredibly hard to tell which one I'm supposed to listen to.
O God, hear my cry: what is my purpose?
Sunday, April 17, 2005
my very own crazy ass neighbors
So, yesterday, I get up and put on shorts and a shirt and then think, "wait. This is Oklahoma, and just because yesterday was gorgeous doesn't mean that today will be the same. I should check the weather." And just so you know, checking the weather in my house means opening the door and looking outside, feeling the temperature, for, like, five seconds, you know? Just open the door, look out, close the door. Nothing complicated. Not even stepping out. Just looking.
So I go to the door, and I open it, and I notice the guy from the apartment next to us standing out there with his back to me, holding something. I also note that the weather is fine for shorts, being clear, sunny and warm. Having completed my five second weather check, I closed the door.
Did you follow that?
I opened the door, looked out, closed the door.
Having closed and relocked the door (habit, sometimes it just blows open if we don't) I hear the chick from next door YELL: AM I BEING TOO LOUD ON MY OWN FUCKIN' FRONT PORCH? OPEN AND CLOSE THAT DOOR AGAIN, I'LL KICK YOUR ASS!
Whuh...?
I'm standing inside my apartment, just behind my front door, trying to decide if I should open and close the door again, just because I can, or should I poke my head out and look at her, or just leave it alone. I finally decided to go and share my latest adventure from the outside world with Luigi, who always understands my bafflement at moments like this.
So I went and relayed the whole story to him, and he was just as amazed as I was. I mean, the only time we have ever knocked on their door to complain about anything was the time they woke us up because we could hear them fighting. I mean seriously. It sounded like a WWF match in their bathroom for a minute. (Their bathroom shares the wall with ours, so the bedrooms are on the outside walls of the building. So do you see, now, how much noise they had to be making to WAKE US UP?) Luigi had gotten up, and knocked on their door, in his boxers, and told them look. I don't care. It's none of my business. But it's like eight in the morning, my gf works nights, and you are really loud. Or something very close. I wasn't there. I was in the bed.
But that was when they first moved in, like a year ago or pretty close to it. So if she's still pissed off that we complained because they're having a domestic brawl that is loud enough to wake up your neighbors that are sleeping three rooms away from the fight instead of, you know, calling the police or something, I just don't know what to say.
I was kind of hoping that she would be outside when we left the house so she would say something, but I still was searching for just the right response, so I guess it's better this way. I'm still thinking about it. I think that the best response to anything she would say would be, "Why does it have to be about you?" and then just get into my car.
I am so glad I'm going to be moving...
So I go to the door, and I open it, and I notice the guy from the apartment next to us standing out there with his back to me, holding something. I also note that the weather is fine for shorts, being clear, sunny and warm. Having completed my five second weather check, I closed the door.
Did you follow that?
I opened the door, looked out, closed the door.
Having closed and relocked the door (habit, sometimes it just blows open if we don't) I hear the chick from next door YELL: AM I BEING TOO LOUD ON MY OWN FUCKIN' FRONT PORCH? OPEN AND CLOSE THAT DOOR AGAIN, I'LL KICK YOUR ASS!
Whuh...?
I'm standing inside my apartment, just behind my front door, trying to decide if I should open and close the door again, just because I can, or should I poke my head out and look at her, or just leave it alone. I finally decided to go and share my latest adventure from the outside world with Luigi, who always understands my bafflement at moments like this.
So I went and relayed the whole story to him, and he was just as amazed as I was. I mean, the only time we have ever knocked on their door to complain about anything was the time they woke us up because we could hear them fighting. I mean seriously. It sounded like a WWF match in their bathroom for a minute. (Their bathroom shares the wall with ours, so the bedrooms are on the outside walls of the building. So do you see, now, how much noise they had to be making to WAKE US UP?) Luigi had gotten up, and knocked on their door, in his boxers, and told them look. I don't care. It's none of my business. But it's like eight in the morning, my gf works nights, and you are really loud. Or something very close. I wasn't there. I was in the bed.
But that was when they first moved in, like a year ago or pretty close to it. So if she's still pissed off that we complained because they're having a domestic brawl that is loud enough to wake up your neighbors that are sleeping three rooms away from the fight instead of, you know, calling the police or something, I just don't know what to say.
I was kind of hoping that she would be outside when we left the house so she would say something, but I still was searching for just the right response, so I guess it's better this way. I'm still thinking about it. I think that the best response to anything she would say would be, "Why does it have to be about you?" and then just get into my car.
I am so glad I'm going to be moving...
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
I've got to admit, it's getting better,
a little better, all the time.
We took the kitty to the emergency vet on sunday, and they gave her subcutaneous fluids (since kitties don't do I.V.s) and gave her a shot to help settle her tummy and let her sleep. On the way home, her nictitating membrane (the white inner lid that comes over the eye from the inner corner) was already a quarter of the way out. She was fighting so hard to stay awake, poor darling. By the time we reached home, she INSISTED that she be put down so she could walk into the house. (Don't worry, she wears a harness and a leash when she's outside.) She stumbled into the house, leaning against every available wall. Luigi said she staggered into the bedroom and fell down under the bed and passed out. Poor kitty. We left and had dinner with some friends, and when we came home, she was awake and scratching at the bedroom door to be let out. As soon as we opened the door, she went straight to where her food and water should have been, and came back and gave us a look that said "god dammit, what did you do with it?" She was still walking kind of spraddle-legged, not her usual one-foot-straight-in-front-of-the-other grace. I forgot to pick up her cup in the bathroom (yes, she has her own cup of water in the bathroom. Did I never mention that she's spoiled?) and she was drinking before I remembered to pick it up. But she kept it down, and then when Luigi fed her, by hand, she was bititng his fingers. She's much better now, I expect her to be chasing Tony all over the place again very soon.
I've had surgery, been home, and slept a whole lot. The kitty has been keeping me company, which really isn't usual for her. But this morning she crawled under the covers between us.
Surgery was ok, I guess. I slept through it all, as they intended. When I woke up in the recovery room, I was distressed. All the stress finally had an unobstructed outlet, I guess. But I woke up some more, and my head cleared. I noticed the sound of another woman moaning, and without thinking, I responded to her. I was saying, "Don't worry, honey; it's ok; it will be allright" things like that. The nurses kind of giggled at me. One asked the other what was going on and they said I was nursing the lady next to me, and they just laughed that smiling laugh. I don't know why I did it, there was no thought to it, just a response to someone else's discomfort and distress.
When I can drive again, I will try to visit her in the hospital. 'Cause I said I would.
So there you go.
We took the kitty to the emergency vet on sunday, and they gave her subcutaneous fluids (since kitties don't do I.V.s) and gave her a shot to help settle her tummy and let her sleep. On the way home, her nictitating membrane (the white inner lid that comes over the eye from the inner corner) was already a quarter of the way out. She was fighting so hard to stay awake, poor darling. By the time we reached home, she INSISTED that she be put down so she could walk into the house. (Don't worry, she wears a harness and a leash when she's outside.) She stumbled into the house, leaning against every available wall. Luigi said she staggered into the bedroom and fell down under the bed and passed out. Poor kitty. We left and had dinner with some friends, and when we came home, she was awake and scratching at the bedroom door to be let out. As soon as we opened the door, she went straight to where her food and water should have been, and came back and gave us a look that said "god dammit, what did you do with it?" She was still walking kind of spraddle-legged, not her usual one-foot-straight-in-front-of-the-other grace. I forgot to pick up her cup in the bathroom (yes, she has her own cup of water in the bathroom. Did I never mention that she's spoiled?) and she was drinking before I remembered to pick it up. But she kept it down, and then when Luigi fed her, by hand, she was bititng his fingers. She's much better now, I expect her to be chasing Tony all over the place again very soon.
I've had surgery, been home, and slept a whole lot. The kitty has been keeping me company, which really isn't usual for her. But this morning she crawled under the covers between us.
Surgery was ok, I guess. I slept through it all, as they intended. When I woke up in the recovery room, I was distressed. All the stress finally had an unobstructed outlet, I guess. But I woke up some more, and my head cleared. I noticed the sound of another woman moaning, and without thinking, I responded to her. I was saying, "Don't worry, honey; it's ok; it will be allright" things like that. The nurses kind of giggled at me. One asked the other what was going on and they said I was nursing the lady next to me, and they just laughed that smiling laugh. I don't know why I did it, there was no thought to it, just a response to someone else's discomfort and distress.
When I can drive again, I will try to visit her in the hospital. 'Cause I said I would.
So there you go.
Saturday, April 09, 2005
sometimes, I hate my life
People with small children who can't communicate their needs, I know you feel me on this one.
The kitty is sick.
She threw up a lot yesterday, so we finally took her to the vet, even though we so don't have the money, only because Luigi's mom lent it to us. The trip cost us $122 and change, we got 4 different kinds of medicine, she got a shot, and she threw up again right after we got home. She's thrown up at least twice more since then, and she just ate a little, just now. I pray, seriously, that she can keep it down. I am so terrified that there is something really amazingly wrong with her. All the vet said was that it could be anything, since vomiting is pretty much the first sign for any illness in a cat. Thanks.
So I've been checking on her every so often, making sure she's still breathing; all I want to do is cuddle her and cry, but she's really not up for that right now. So I lie on the floor with her for a while, and then I go away and try to do something else.
This, on top of I'm having surgery on Monday.
And we have to move at the end of this month.
And we don't know where yet.
And there's not a lot of money to work with.
And there's a lot of people that want money from me.
And I'm supposed to start my period here soon.
And I need to get rid of like half of everything I own.
And Luigi's best friend had surgery on his neck yesterday.
There's more, but if I don't stop now I'm gonna cry all over the keyboard.
The kitty is sick.
She threw up a lot yesterday, so we finally took her to the vet, even though we so don't have the money, only because Luigi's mom lent it to us. The trip cost us $122 and change, we got 4 different kinds of medicine, she got a shot, and she threw up again right after we got home. She's thrown up at least twice more since then, and she just ate a little, just now. I pray, seriously, that she can keep it down. I am so terrified that there is something really amazingly wrong with her. All the vet said was that it could be anything, since vomiting is pretty much the first sign for any illness in a cat. Thanks.
So I've been checking on her every so often, making sure she's still breathing; all I want to do is cuddle her and cry, but she's really not up for that right now. So I lie on the floor with her for a while, and then I go away and try to do something else.
This, on top of I'm having surgery on Monday.
And we have to move at the end of this month.
And we don't know where yet.
And there's not a lot of money to work with.
And there's a lot of people that want money from me.
And I'm supposed to start my period here soon.
And I need to get rid of like half of everything I own.
And Luigi's best friend had surgery on his neck yesterday.
There's more, but if I don't stop now I'm gonna cry all over the keyboard.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Yo
Update:
the weekend following the last post, my left leg hurt so badly that I had to get up in the middle of the "night" (sleeping period, whatever) and walk around to try and alleviate the pain. It was like a cramp that just wouldn't let go. So monday I told the medical folks at work about it, and to cut to the chase, I have a herniated disk and am now scheduled for surgery on the 18th. I am on worker's compensation, I am not working, I have to move or stay here and pay more, I don't have enough money, I can't sleep for very long, bitch bitch bitch.
There you go. I am now tired of sitting.
the weekend following the last post, my left leg hurt so badly that I had to get up in the middle of the "night" (sleeping period, whatever) and walk around to try and alleviate the pain. It was like a cramp that just wouldn't let go. So monday I told the medical folks at work about it, and to cut to the chase, I have a herniated disk and am now scheduled for surgery on the 18th. I am on worker's compensation, I am not working, I have to move or stay here and pay more, I don't have enough money, I can't sleep for very long, bitch bitch bitch.
There you go. I am now tired of sitting.
Sunday, March 06, 2005
hello, world
I am still here, somewhere...
I just stopped having the desire to blog. I could blame it all on the post holiday stress, the readjusting to a normal work week and the fact that I threw my back out on Jan. 31 and could not sit long enough to type and then I just didn't feel like communicating with the rest of the world for a bit. I have been enjoying the staying quietly at home, with my Luigi, not having to go/be/do anywhere/anything.
My back is much better, thank you. I think the only lingering effect is that I have trained myself to fear/flinch at bending over. I'm working on it.
Luigi and I will soon be house hunting (apt. hunting) as we will soon reach the end of the lease here, and I would like to pay less in rent.
My sister is going to have to sell the house that she remodeled and turned into a beautiful, cozy little cottage. It was the saddest little house in the neighborhood when she bought it, and she and I are both sad she has to sell and I can't buy. So if anyone wonderful is looking for a small, gorgeous, cozy cottage in the downtown Tulsa area, let me know. But the new owners really should A) be great people and B)not plan on having kids.
My mom currently has a "touch of pneumonia". She sounds just a well as ever over the phone, but I do worry. As insane as I feel when I talk to /think about that woman, I do love her. I have to, she's my mother.
I can feel spring on it's way -- I just wish it would hurry.
I don't know if I will blog again to ask for readmittance to the blogring. We'll see.
I just stopped having the desire to blog. I could blame it all on the post holiday stress, the readjusting to a normal work week and the fact that I threw my back out on Jan. 31 and could not sit long enough to type and then I just didn't feel like communicating with the rest of the world for a bit. I have been enjoying the staying quietly at home, with my Luigi, not having to go/be/do anywhere/anything.
My back is much better, thank you. I think the only lingering effect is that I have trained myself to fear/flinch at bending over. I'm working on it.
Luigi and I will soon be house hunting (apt. hunting) as we will soon reach the end of the lease here, and I would like to pay less in rent.
My sister is going to have to sell the house that she remodeled and turned into a beautiful, cozy little cottage. It was the saddest little house in the neighborhood when she bought it, and she and I are both sad she has to sell and I can't buy. So if anyone wonderful is looking for a small, gorgeous, cozy cottage in the downtown Tulsa area, let me know. But the new owners really should A) be great people and B)not plan on having kids.
My mom currently has a "touch of pneumonia". She sounds just a well as ever over the phone, but I do worry. As insane as I feel when I talk to /think about that woman, I do love her. I have to, she's my mother.
I can feel spring on it's way -- I just wish it would hurry.
I don't know if I will blog again to ask for readmittance to the blogring. We'll see.
Sunday, January 30, 2005
 | You scored as Musical/Rhythmic. You are sensitive to sounds in your environment, enjoy music and prefer listening to music when you study or read. You learn best through melody and music. People like you include singers, conductors, composers, and others who appreciate the various elements of music.
The Rogers Indicator of Multiple Intelligences created with QuizFarm.com |
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
birthdays/age
go and read Ninsi's blog post about her recent B-day. Then come back.
Ready?
I keep forgetting that she's just 1.5 years younger than me. I am so accustomed to leading my pack in the birthday category that I just tend to assume I've got at least 3 years on everybody.
Can I tell you how weird it is for me to realize that there are people I've known and been friends with for twenty years? Even fifteen gets me. It just doesn't seem that I should have known anyone for that long, much less to still know them and like them.
I agree that the odd numbered years are the ones that catch in the mind; I think it has something to do with the mental shape of them. They seem to have lots of corners and edges and pokey bits; whereas the even numbers feel rounded and slip away like nothing is happening. But that is not true. There is always something happening, whether the year is sharp or smooth. I struggle to remember this all the time and tend to fail more often than not. I, too, am experiencing the sharp clack, clack of the bioclock and the frustration of missed opportunities and squandered time. There is simply nothing to be done for it but to square our shoulders and keep going. 30 will arrive in its own time, as will 40, and then 50, and unless we all go up into a glowing cloud of radioactive politically driven bullshit at that time (or before then, for that matter) the rest will also follow in the designated fashion regardless of our desire, influence, hopes or ability, so we might as well just try to keep up.
anyway: so 25 was quite a year for me. When I was about 17, I think, maybe 16, I was having an immensely hard time of living. I was very depressed, and being a teenager lent a bit of melodrama to the scenario. I had a long talk with a good friend one night, and I told him that I didn't think I was going to live much longer. This, of course, frightened him and he made me promise that I would wait until I was at least 25. This not only gave me a few years to try and get my shit together, it would also allow me to see the turn of the millenium, which was fast approaching.
The year I turned 25, I was living with the Evil M/ Evil Ex, whatever you want to call him. And I remembered the promise I had made to my friend, those few years ago. And I was glad that I had made that promise, and I became determined to get the fuck out of that situation and keep on living. My mom told me in the fall of that year that my friend had been calling, and that he had stopped by to visit a couple of times. I knew that he remembered too. This only made me more firmly intentioned to achieve liberation from the hell I was in. And I did it. In the very end of that year, 2001, I managed to wrangle a situation that cut off the relationship and headed the Evil M back toward his end of the country and the fuck out of my life. He was gone by April of 2002, I moved back into my mom's house, and got in touch with my friend. He would come by and see me, and we would talk. I don't remember ever discussing the promise with him during that time, and I don't think it would have been necessary. If he thought I forgot, it was the same as if I remembered. I was still alive, and had learned a little bit about living and fighting for it.
Time has passed, and I have lost touch with my friend again. But that's ok. I know that he is out there, and I know that he knows how to find me through my mom. And even if the bizarre happens and I never see him again, it will be alright. I kept my promise, and he kept his. And even though I have had some really bad days since I passed the deadline (heh) I have gotten past those too. I now have someone in my life that I can cling to when it gets that bad. And I know that he will prop me up, defend me, put my socks on for me, whatever it takes. And I'll get through the next bad days that come, and the ones after that. It sounds so damn stupid and syrupy and trite, but all you can do it grit your teeth and keep going. Claire (from The Breakfast Club) said "Suicide is not an option." but the theme song to M*A*S*H says "but suicide is painless, it brings on many changes, and I can take or leave it as I choose." I believe this is more the right of it. Suicide is an option. Just not a really good one. And I've learned to leave it. My choice. My option. My life.
Ready?
I keep forgetting that she's just 1.5 years younger than me. I am so accustomed to leading my pack in the birthday category that I just tend to assume I've got at least 3 years on everybody.
Can I tell you how weird it is for me to realize that there are people I've known and been friends with for twenty years? Even fifteen gets me. It just doesn't seem that I should have known anyone for that long, much less to still know them and like them.
I agree that the odd numbered years are the ones that catch in the mind; I think it has something to do with the mental shape of them. They seem to have lots of corners and edges and pokey bits; whereas the even numbers feel rounded and slip away like nothing is happening. But that is not true. There is always something happening, whether the year is sharp or smooth. I struggle to remember this all the time and tend to fail more often than not. I, too, am experiencing the sharp clack, clack of the bioclock and the frustration of missed opportunities and squandered time. There is simply nothing to be done for it but to square our shoulders and keep going. 30 will arrive in its own time, as will 40, and then 50, and unless we all go up into a glowing cloud of radioactive politically driven bullshit at that time (or before then, for that matter) the rest will also follow in the designated fashion regardless of our desire, influence, hopes or ability, so we might as well just try to keep up.
anyway: so 25 was quite a year for me. When I was about 17, I think, maybe 16, I was having an immensely hard time of living. I was very depressed, and being a teenager lent a bit of melodrama to the scenario. I had a long talk with a good friend one night, and I told him that I didn't think I was going to live much longer. This, of course, frightened him and he made me promise that I would wait until I was at least 25. This not only gave me a few years to try and get my shit together, it would also allow me to see the turn of the millenium, which was fast approaching.
The year I turned 25, I was living with the Evil M/ Evil Ex, whatever you want to call him. And I remembered the promise I had made to my friend, those few years ago. And I was glad that I had made that promise, and I became determined to get the fuck out of that situation and keep on living. My mom told me in the fall of that year that my friend had been calling, and that he had stopped by to visit a couple of times. I knew that he remembered too. This only made me more firmly intentioned to achieve liberation from the hell I was in. And I did it. In the very end of that year, 2001, I managed to wrangle a situation that cut off the relationship and headed the Evil M back toward his end of the country and the fuck out of my life. He was gone by April of 2002, I moved back into my mom's house, and got in touch with my friend. He would come by and see me, and we would talk. I don't remember ever discussing the promise with him during that time, and I don't think it would have been necessary. If he thought I forgot, it was the same as if I remembered. I was still alive, and had learned a little bit about living and fighting for it.
Time has passed, and I have lost touch with my friend again. But that's ok. I know that he is out there, and I know that he knows how to find me through my mom. And even if the bizarre happens and I never see him again, it will be alright. I kept my promise, and he kept his. And even though I have had some really bad days since I passed the deadline (heh) I have gotten past those too. I now have someone in my life that I can cling to when it gets that bad. And I know that he will prop me up, defend me, put my socks on for me, whatever it takes. And I'll get through the next bad days that come, and the ones after that. It sounds so damn stupid and syrupy and trite, but all you can do it grit your teeth and keep going. Claire (from The Breakfast Club) said "Suicide is not an option." but the theme song to M*A*S*H says "but suicide is painless, it brings on many changes, and I can take or leave it as I choose." I believe this is more the right of it. Suicide is an option. Just not a really good one. And I've learned to leave it. My choice. My option. My life.
Saturday, January 08, 2005
It's all about the Q
I hate being sick. I caught some crap from Dr. Nick, and it sucks. Head drainage, sinus pressure, body ache... F'n flu. But there is a light in the fog, and Denis Leary said it best: "NyQuil NyQuil I love you, you giant fucking Q!" If you haven't seen his "No cure for cancer" stand up routine, go see it now. not suitable for children. anyway. I'm going back to the couch for another date with the GameCube, and then later I'm sure there will be more unconciousness.
Here's hoping that I'm well by the next post.
Here's hoping that I'm well by the next post.
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