Still Sick: Starting on month TWO

Seriously.

I've been sick OVER A FREAKING MONTH now.

I'm dragging myself to work because I'm totally out of time even though the doc told me to stay home until July 01. And I'm training a new person at work. Because I kicked puppies in a previous life.

And I haven't lost one goddamn pound. NOT ONE.

dsljtoruergdfhfgoqjelgfjreogi

People are RETARDED

And the internet just encourages them. I'm googling NyQuil and I come across this: "can you take NyQuil on heroin?". Really?

REALLY?

You have a cold and heroin just ain't cutting it?

Or is heroin just not providing the high you'd hoped for so you're gonna freebase NyQuil?

Jebus fucktards. When is natural selection gonna kick in already? Or has it? What if evolution is actually working BACKWARD to wipe our retarded race out? Because really? If you're on HEROIN the least of your worries is weather it is SAFE to take NyQuil with it.

REALLY?

Still Sick: The Sickening Continues

Dragged myself to work yesterday despite exhaustion. By the time I got home my temperature had gone up again. Went straight to bed at 6 in the afternoon. Got up today to go to work, showered, dressed, put on makeup and did my hair, sat down to put on my shoes, took my temperature and it was 100.5. Had to call in. Again. I'm totally out of sick time. I'm totally screwed. And after 3 doc visits I don't know what is wrong. Antibiotics killed the ear infections and the sinus infection but it appears I'm stuck with a wicked viral infection that will not die.

This really, really, really sucks.

Still. Sick.

Help. Me.

Having reached the end of my rope and being too damned sick to make a cute reference about hanging myself with it or something I have this to say: When I am better I will find a new primary care doctor so help me Gob even if I only see them once before I hypothetically move. WebMD is surprisingly useful and instead of scaring me (like the internet did when I googled sinus infections that never die and sweet jebus the things that came up) it gave me great information and hope. Hope as in: I probably have acute sinusitis which will likely last another couple of weeks and there are treatments (ever hear of nasal irrigation? No? Don't watch the tutorial) that may help, you know, once I have the strength to attempt them.

After two weeks of this, using up all my sick time at work and now I'm using up my precious little vacation time, it was nice of WebMD to at least give me an idea that there is possibly and end in sight. In another 2-3 weeks. Which, FINE, F it, ruin my summer see if I care.

The antibiotics have cleared up the ear infections, mostly, so that is good. Nasal steroids are fucking evil and made me worse, so look for me to post pictures of their untimely death in fire when I get well.

In between med doses I've been surfing the net and there are damn pictures for the new Kutcher/Heigl movie "Killers" freaking everywhere. Now, I love me some Go Fug Yourself amongst other gossip sites but I am sorely disappointed that not one, ONE, place has mentioned the ghastliness of Katherine's hair in the movie:



The movie looks awful. But her hair? WTF? It's like a bad, never-married, older aunt hair cut from the 70s. Who the hell decided that was the look to give their leading lady? Clearly I am not a gossip columnist nor a qualified internet judge of such things with my own spiffy website but something is wrong people. Something is UP. I think the makers of this wretched movie paid the interwebs off so that no one would make fun of Heigl's hair. I can ignore the bad photo shop, the doofy dress, the awful movie premise, and even my concern that Hollywood apparently thinks movie goers are drooling idiots since they can hardly manage to throw us a decent bone every once in awhile but THE HAIR IS UNACCEPTABLE. Google around for more photos of it, I can't take anymore.

There. I've gotten it out there. Now maybe the universe will reward my good deed (hopefully saving hundreds of clueless women from trying to emulate said hairstyle) AND MAKE ME BETTER ALREADY. I'm not equipped for a life as a shut in. I don't even have cable TV and I don't hoard stuff.

I can't have booze on these meds, so, how safe is it to mix my old prescription pain meds and muscle relaxers with NyQuil? Anyone? I just want to sleep the rest of this away...

j/k of course. I know NyQuil has alcohol in it. When I'm better I wholly intend to mix a bottle with champagne and guzzle it, but until then, I'm up a creek.

At least my hair isn't retarded.

I've been sick for days upon days now ***now with less crazy update

And it really isn't doing anything for my mental well being.

I'm out of sick time at work.

I still had to call in today. AGAIN.

I fucking hate hate hate hate the stupid jackass motherfucker piece of crap asshole doctor creep I had to drag myself to see at urgent care yesterday SO MUCH that I'm writing a goddamn letter to urgent care, and emailing them, and calling their customer service. BULAJDFKLJALIEWUFJLEKDHFLKAJLTFIEJL Ahem. Still ANGRY.

It doesn't help that I've felt like hell for much over a week and see no end in sight and lost the memorial day three day weekend to being bed ridden. It really, really isn't helping my mood any. Sorry. I need to vent a bit and don't know how to get all the crap out without bumming the mood out, ya know?

I called my primary care doc who couldn't freaking see me for at least a week, necessitating the trip to urgent care which cost money I didn't have for NOTHING, begging her to please for the love of god just call in some goddamn antibiotics to my pharmacy already, I'm dying here. I really shouldn't take antibiotics since I'm allergic to most of them and there are a select few left I can take but I literally can't afford, both financially and mentally, to be sick any longer.

I updated the side bar, removed links to blogs that straight up disappeared (Chollyson? You okay out there?) and bloggers who totally stopped updating even longer than I have (CEO, SexedHigherED, people I miss). So the new sidebar at least has active links to blogs I read and love. If you know of any good ones pass them my way.

Was getting spam comments had to turn on comment moderation.

That is the last of my productive energy. If I keep typing it will just be more FUCKFUCKGODDAMNFUCKHATEAUGHGHGHGHHGHGHGHGHG and we don't need that.

No news on moving yet. No idea. I don't know. Make the sick stop please.




***Things that help when you are on the verge of mental collapse: crying your eyes out in your hallway, thus exacerbating your sinus infection but also clearing you out just enough to call the fucktards at Urgent Care, ripping them new ones (seriously, didn't know I had that in me), demanding the right meds, leaving an angry message with your flake of a primary care doc, dragging your disgusting un-showered self to the pharmacy (I haven't been able to smell for 11ish days but I'm sure I didn't smell great), grabbing new semi dangerous antibiotics and super steroids, drag self home, pound meds, pass out. Far less crazy now. Fingers crossed that this works and I'm at least able to make it to work Thursday and Friday.

Also, note to self, figure out how to harbor the awesome angry yet rational skills that I demonstrated on phone today for future use.

Cheers.

Of LA, maybe moving and: How did you overcome the paralyzing force of fear in your life? And were you happy once you did it?

The boyfriend and I went on a quick fact finding mission of sorts down to the Southern California/LA area to visit friends and to get a feel for the place. The drive was long. We had a fun time. LA is much as I remember it: a pretend city that is mostly suburban sprawl hell, covered in smog, full of itself, and entirely too dependent on freeways.

The boyfriend loves it. He wants to move down tomorrow.

My people essentially originate from the area. Sorta. My Great, Great Grandparents were both indentured German servants, who eventually settled in Nebraska, and then onto California.

My boyfriend and I visited the house my Great Grandfather built in an orange grove while my Grandfather crawled around in one of those adorable white lacy dressing gowns they put both baby boys and girls in. The house, once a symbol of my father's idyllic 1950s childhood, is surrounded by apartment buildings and city muck. My Grandparents sold it a few years before they died, my Grandfather bitter about having to leave his families' legacy, but they were well into their 80s and the neighborhood has ceased being safe a long time ago and they couldn't get around anywhere anymore (hell, getting to the neighborhood itself was a feat). The folks who bought my family legacy were promptly foreclosed on and the house was busted for manufacturing meth.

I'm surprised to see the house is still standing and happy to see that the area seems to have turned around a bit; folks were walking their dog down the street and people were sitting on their porches, something that didn't happen five years ago. The house itself had new siding and flowers and a basketball hoop. I would have stayed to stare longer, trying to capture moments of my childhood visits to them and praying for some kind of sign for what to do with my life, but there was no parking and it is creepy to stare at someone's house, so I got a few covert pictures and we left.

I've been to the area many times. As a child to see family. As a teenager on very, very long school road trips to visit video editing and post production houses, to see television sets, to tour the industry, and later as a last high school hurrah for senior trip. As a young adult I've been in the area to see friends, to attend college conferences, gone to Disneyland. Last year I managed to survive a family trip down to Disneyland, my now adult siblings and I, my parents, and my niece, all in one car and two hotel rooms, to share in taking my niece on her first trip to the happiest place on earth. That was five months before my Grandpa died. My own father, then faced with his own mortality and the fact that his children have all grown, seemed to struggle with his place in the world on that trip. I am struggling with mine too, in a new context: move to LA or not?

I don't know.

I have a half created metaphor for the city floating around in my head that I haven't bothered to flesh out: That LA is essentially Lindsay Lohan; marginally talented, once had promise, sucks you in with the allure of that promise, and then you find yourself with a coked out walking cadaver, a shell of reality, all smoke and mirrors and clawing desperation to make it to the top. LA has lots of jobs, sure, but it is all smoke and mirrors. And did I mention ugly? I've been lucky enough to visit some very pretty places and Hollywood, Burbank, Pasadena, Glendale and even Santa Monica are none of them. Brentwood and Beverly hills are okay to look at, but not real, like play pretty houses in the center of city mire.

Part of me knows that the city I live in is a pit. But a new part of me is emerging; the part of me that is scared to give up a (crappy, miserable) job in this economy. Suddenly the part of me that has always yearned for more and wanted to get out and finally DO SOMETHING is silenced. It is silenced by something saying that I am too old, that I am not talented, that it is selfish of me to want to be a writer (and work in comedy), and that I'm damn lucky to even have a job right now and I should hold on to it with all my might.

Suddenly too, even though it is currently snowing outside, again, a new part of me has popped up and is saying that this city isn't so bad, hell, it is even pretty compared to LA and Las Vegas and, well, all of central California, and most of the central United States, and and and...

I don't know.

I keep returning to I. Don't. Know.

I've scrambled and suffered for a decade. I've had multiple setbacks. And always, in the back of my mind, the mantra has been "When I get out of here I am finally going to try it, to do it, no matter what" because at least trying is actually 99% of the real accomplishment, you know? Yet now I'm surrounded by fear and confusion and...failure. Why do I feel so old all of a sudden? What am I supposed to do? I'm quiet, I try to hear my inner voice, my authentic self, and it...has nothing to say. Nothing to say but I don't know.

I know 28 isn't old, per se, but I should have done this at 18. I'm paralyzed by failure, and doing the wrong thing. Will I be a fool to give up a hated job in a dead end city to move to a city that I mostly hate, even though that city has friends and opportunities and will likely have my boyfriend along with me too?

And how much of this silence is my wonder about the boyfriend, and the relationship? He is totally serious about moving down, getting a good job, and SUPPORTING me while I pursue my dreams full time. He is committed in many ways but there is no ring; do I even want a ring? Do I secretly believe that a ring would somehow protect from relationship woes and trials and issues? I want an insurance, a guarantee, that the relationship won't fail and that he won't hate me if I don't "make it" and that we'll be okay, always, but such a thing doesn't exist, does it? Vows don't make a difference. But I also, as much as I love him for the offer, can't imagine not working a * real * job, being dependent on someone else. That is...wrong. Too many things, my answer: I don't know.

What is the right thing? How do I let go of my notion that there is always a right thing, aand a wrong thing? I want a divine oracle to tell me definitively the answer but in life there is no such answer.

How did you do it? What did you do? Were you ever faced with a major decision, that meant forsaking a "safe" thing, did you feel like a fool? I finally have to choose a path, you know, instead of just hanging out at the fork, and that path means the other path is closed to me, but doesn't it also mean that new paths open up?

How did you overcome the paralyzing force of fear in your life? And were you happy once you did it?

How did May happen all of a sudden?

Grief guys, I don't even know where to begin it has been so long!

Conan's show was AMAZING and AWESOME and SUPER FUN and almost totally worth the almost $200.00 total ticket cost, I only say almost because though we were close up front we were off to the side. I loved it. I'm so happy I got to go. If it weren't pretty much entirely sold out I'd tell you to get tickets if he is coming anywhere near you.

I only have to wear the retainer at night now. Hallelujah. Those several weeks were an unwelcome flash back to my adolescence. On the one hand: not a time anyone wants to revisit. On the other hand: a good reminder to be patient and loving with the person I used to be instead of constantly negative and critical.

Things with my apartment have been a headache for months now, the least of which is the actual foreclosure itself. Sure, I come home to weekly notices posted on my door and it officially went to auction finally this month but the back and forth and the not knowing or having a time line has been awful. Look, I'll move, I'll pack it all up and go in 24 hours if I have to, I would just like to know WHEN. You may wonder why I didn't just do that but it gets complicated as hell and during proceedings like this in my state it is illegal to break my lease, so if I had said "this is bullshit" and tried to pack up and leave I would have been FINED. So I had to stay, stuck, waiting, for days into weeks into months, prisoner to wondering what was going on and where I was going to go. I thought I was handling it fine but the uncertainty really wore on me, it still does, but at least my lease expires soon and in conjunction with the auction I should finally have an idea of what I can do and start looking for a place. Which brings me into:

Relationship. We've officially been dating for two years. I love him. He loves me. We are pretty happy. He is an awesome guy. I. Don't. Want. To. Live. With. Him. I don't I don't I don't. It is hard to explain but living alone is like my one and only great accomplishment as an adult; I've lived alone for 7ish years and supported myself for at least 10, medical debt and student loans and shitty jobs be damned, and my gut says NO to giving that up. Six months ago if the boy had proposed I would have seriously considered living together but now, after time, and this apartment stuff, I've got to say that I don't feel at all the same. I feel sortof oddly rejected by him, and disappointed that things didn't naturally progress forward, and while I am in no way even thinking of leaving him (it is horrible to even type the possibility) I'm also not going to move in with him. So it gets even more complicated, naturally, with the slim potential of a move to a different city on the horizon which would essentially require us moving in together. All this means that, much like the stupid foreclosure stuff, I thought that I was normal and fine for the last couple of months when in reality I've been a total basket case (albeit a well hidden one, thankfully?) and not dealing with my real feelings or even, honestly, beginning to understand what is right for me and what I need to do. I think I'm okay and then BAM April is totally gone and I've managed to gain 20 POUNDS (jebus mother of freaking gob) in a short time period because I'm so busy being "okay" that I'm denying my true self and smothering my feelings under food. And not exercising, though, to be fair, it is just within the last two weeks or so that my neck and shoulder have been cleared for light cardio again.

Much ado about all that above. My therapist is awesome but I haven't been able to see her, for one reason or another, for a long time now and I've been so damn busy just making it through my days and ignoring reality, my true self, my feelings, my gut, that time has passed right on by and I've totally neglected to blog. Perhaps because blogging requires the truth and I've been so busy running from it, and haven't even figured it out AT ALL myself yet.

How have you been?