The Shit Never Stops
I wish I could figure out what was making me upset, so I could be happy again. I liked it much better when I was happy. I know it wasn't that long ago, but I don't know what has put me in this mood I've been in. It seems like the tiniest things piss me off, and I just want to come home and be by myself. It never used to be like this. When I was in college, I had days when I didn't want to do anything or see anyone, but they never lasted more than a day or two; certainly, they never lasted for weeks like this one.
Maybe there's just been too much going on for me to get over whatever is making me this way. I mean, that is certainly a possibility. When I was in college, I only worked a part time job, and I only took 12 credit hours at a time. Now, I am working 40+ hours a week, and taking 12 credit hours. I have very little time to decompress, and maybe that is what is keeping this mood aging in the charcoal barrel of myself, like backwoods moonshine whiskey. And like the moonshine in the backyard still, this mood is seriously going to fuck me up if I can't figure out how to get rid of it.
In other news, my health is great as usual. I had my blood pressure taken at work on Tuesday, and it was really high. Then, Tuesday night, my arm went numb, and I went to the Emergency Room on Wednesday morning. They admitted me, and did not let me out until Thursday afternoon, after a series of embarassing and intrusive tests. It now turns out that I might have had a minor hemorrhagic stroke, because there is a "shadow" on my brain that may turn out to be blood. Fuck yeah. That's what I'm talking about. Nothing like a potentially debilitating neurological episode to make you feel like a real man. I'm going to go out an conquer the world now. If I can just bring myself to leave the house.
Oh yeah, I forgot the best part of that story. It is now the middle of February, and I met with my primary physician, who would like me to follow up with a neurologist. Fine. But, you'll love this part: the neurologist wants to see me on March 22nd. March FUCKING 22nd! Hope to God I'm not dead by then. Oh well. If I am, someone will get a life insurance policy from the university.
I thought I'd be taking the world by storm at this point in my life. I never expected to be working an entry-level job and taking classes, trying to figure out how to live on my meager salary while paying for college and paying back student loans. I guess I never thought I'd be a millionaire at ths pint, but I did think I would be making enough money so that I wouldn't have to worry about how to pay the bills and still have money to set aside for my retirement, if I live that long. Oh well. As Doris Day said: "Que sera sera. Whatever will be, will be."
This entry is depressing, and I am as sick of writing it as you will be reading it, so I'm done for now. Back to lying on the couch.
Maybe there's just been too much going on for me to get over whatever is making me this way. I mean, that is certainly a possibility. When I was in college, I only worked a part time job, and I only took 12 credit hours at a time. Now, I am working 40+ hours a week, and taking 12 credit hours. I have very little time to decompress, and maybe that is what is keeping this mood aging in the charcoal barrel of myself, like backwoods moonshine whiskey. And like the moonshine in the backyard still, this mood is seriously going to fuck me up if I can't figure out how to get rid of it.
In other news, my health is great as usual. I had my blood pressure taken at work on Tuesday, and it was really high. Then, Tuesday night, my arm went numb, and I went to the Emergency Room on Wednesday morning. They admitted me, and did not let me out until Thursday afternoon, after a series of embarassing and intrusive tests. It now turns out that I might have had a minor hemorrhagic stroke, because there is a "shadow" on my brain that may turn out to be blood. Fuck yeah. That's what I'm talking about. Nothing like a potentially debilitating neurological episode to make you feel like a real man. I'm going to go out an conquer the world now. If I can just bring myself to leave the house.
Oh yeah, I forgot the best part of that story. It is now the middle of February, and I met with my primary physician, who would like me to follow up with a neurologist. Fine. But, you'll love this part: the neurologist wants to see me on March 22nd. March FUCKING 22nd! Hope to God I'm not dead by then. Oh well. If I am, someone will get a life insurance policy from the university.
I thought I'd be taking the world by storm at this point in my life. I never expected to be working an entry-level job and taking classes, trying to figure out how to live on my meager salary while paying for college and paying back student loans. I guess I never thought I'd be a millionaire at ths pint, but I did think I would be making enough money so that I wouldn't have to worry about how to pay the bills and still have money to set aside for my retirement, if I live that long. Oh well. As Doris Day said: "Que sera sera. Whatever will be, will be."
This entry is depressing, and I am as sick of writing it as you will be reading it, so I'm done for now. Back to lying on the couch.
posted by Matty at 2:21 PM
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