Hey Nostradamus! by Douglas Coupland is my new favorite book.
it's hard to describe how I have been feeling since my mom went into surgery. The day of, which was the 19th, I was in the hospital for 15 hours. 5:30 am-8:30pm. And I could have stayed longer but they kicked me out. I wasn't nervous about her surgery even though it was a 7 and a half hour long back surgery (even though it ended up only taking 5 hours). But during those hours I couldn't really concentrate either. I spent my time reading trashy magazines and staring into space. When she finally was out she was too drugged to really function and I felt like I was on drugs from the lack of sleep, however I did take an hour nap in the car.
But like I said, it's hard to describe how I feel. Yesterday when I left the hospital I went to the video store (the awesome one that specializes in rare movies, especially horror, and has more vhs than dvd) by myself. I bought a movie and then went to a diner by myself and read my book. I spent 9 hours at the hospital yesterday. In the last hour I started to feel anxious and really wanted to be alone. In the car I cried and sang The Weakerthans at the top of my lungs. I have no idea what was wrong. It could have been the book or it could have been my insane head of mine but I felt like shit, I felt like screaming, I felt like hitting someone in the face. Good thing I was alone. Once I got back to the place I am staying and saw Rachel I felt ok again and we hung out for a little bit and I went to sleep.
I finished my book today and it has gained its title of my new favorite book, recommended to only those who understand my mind... which is no one, but check it out anyway. I cried again but this time I didn't feel the helplessness like I did yesterday, I felt better. Refreshed almost.
My hip and leg were killing me all fucking day, and I wished I had some icy hot. But I guess physical pain is a nice substitute for mental pain. I would trade mental pain for physical pain any day. Taking one look at my arms and anyone would know that. Sorry, am I being self pitying again?
-EDITED FOR MORE SELF PITYING CONTENT-
that edit was for everyones own good...
But like I said, it's hard to describe how I feel. Yesterday when I left the hospital I went to the video store (the awesome one that specializes in rare movies, especially horror, and has more vhs than dvd) by myself. I bought a movie and then went to a diner by myself and read my book. I spent 9 hours at the hospital yesterday. In the last hour I started to feel anxious and really wanted to be alone. In the car I cried and sang The Weakerthans at the top of my lungs. I have no idea what was wrong. It could have been the book or it could have been my insane head of mine but I felt like shit, I felt like screaming, I felt like hitting someone in the face. Good thing I was alone. Once I got back to the place I am staying and saw Rachel I felt ok again and we hung out for a little bit and I went to sleep.
I finished my book today and it has gained its title of my new favorite book, recommended to only those who understand my mind... which is no one, but check it out anyway. I cried again but this time I didn't feel the helplessness like I did yesterday, I felt better. Refreshed almost.
My hip and leg were killing me all fucking day, and I wished I had some icy hot. But I guess physical pain is a nice substitute for mental pain. I would trade mental pain for physical pain any day. Taking one look at my arms and anyone would know that. Sorry, am I being self pitying again?
-EDITED FOR MORE SELF PITYING CONTENT-
that edit was for everyones own good...