No good very bad day.
Another Chekov play day. I just realized that next week my mother goes to the city for three days to see a expert about getting a possibly cancerous growth removed from her thyroid gland. Of course, the possibility is very slim, blah blah blah. But that's a shitty possibility to have to wait around for. My friend's mother just died of something totally unrelated but the fact is, death is death. To tell you the truth I am somewhat terrified of those three days. I'll be here just waiting around for the news. The day before yesterday I went to the ten year anniversary memorial of my friend who was killed when we were 12. I didn't realize how much it still affected me, or how much I still think of her, until a reporter came up to me and started asking me all these questions: how did I know her, did I still think about her often, how did it effect my family, etc. On top of all this, I've been so depressed about my own life, lately. No job, no school, no future plans. Stagnating and wallowing have been my roommates these past three years. Why aren't I rich and famous yet? Why don't I have my own personal escort service? Why has Johnny Depp completely ignored me despite my most demure and enchanting advances? Jesus. Everything is so unfair. (Stamping of foot.) Here I go, to read Bridget Jones's Diary and wonder why Colin Firth hasn't paid ME a visit lately.