(no subject)
I slept in the guest bedroom last night. My lungs hurt too much to not toss and turn and Sb's snoring and propensity for sleeping in the middle of the bed was just not working. Clay joined me. And layed down flat under the covers in the nook of my arm and made the Shrek cat eyes face.
I got home from work at 4:30, because I'm to the point of being sick that I simply don't care if I leave 15 minutes early. And I don't care if someone notices. I was sound asleep by 4:45. SB called five times in an hour to let me know that he was going to a bar for Wisemen's birthday. I nodded. And set an alarm for thirty minutes before I was set to go on air for the episode of Cheesehead Radio that I had been dreading. I woke up fifteen minutes to a message from a co-host, "hey, you on the show tonight?" Oops. I didn't want to be awake. I wanted to sink back into the warm hole that was my bed. My sickly worn in sheets that have been my home for weeks. I wanted nothing to do with talking to people who would be more awake than I was, more alive than I was, more everything than I was. But double lung infections had already cost me too much. I'm a shell of who I am, or at least of who I want to be. Someday I'll be someone important with thoughts and passion and the desire to leave my hole. Someday I'll have color in my cheeks and the ability to talk for a minute without being out of breathe. Someday perhaps I'll have knowledge and be appreciated. Someday everything that I feel like I've worked so hard for in the past year and a half won't feel like its slipping away.
So I reached for a Packers hoodie, and recorded my line for the opening script, "and look forward to the future." I doubt I've said anything more forced in my entire life. Look forward to the future. I wanted sleep. I wanted to continue to live in my bubble where the Packers didn't lose, football simply just stopped, and 4 months from non I will burst the bubble and all teams will be equal again. Like most shows recently, I faked the first hour perfectly. Not in an awful, I hate this way, just in a "my voice really doesn't sound this happy" way. And then of course somewhere in the second hour I begin to slink, legs uncurl and I'm once again happy with my head on one of my 8 pillows, and I just sit and listen.
I'm on an island. I don't go out and see people; I'm the walking infection that will destroy you with my coughing and sneezing and breathing. I'm the one that is fed up with over reactions. Are people really this upset or just bored? Sometimes its hard to tell.
I am excited though. Which might be hard to see. I always had trouble sleeping. Would sit up late doing stupid things until my eyes couldn't take it anymore and carried me off to sleep. For months on end back in MKE, I would rarely sleep in my bed, as I generally just passed out on the couch. When I got sick, all I could do was sleep. And for all the doctors that stared at me like I was crazy, for all the "maybe you're just depressed" questions, I knew there had to be some reason. I've been staying awake again. Sometimes its the coughing. Sometimes its just because I feel like watching another video on youtube. I take this as a good sign. Along with my ability to get through the work day without a nap, I'm assuming that things can only go up from here.
I had a dream last night that I was moving to Dallas. And there were spiders on the wall behind my dresser. And I had to take a shower, but all my clothes were packed and someone told me that my name was stupid. So there's that....
I got home from work at 4:30, because I'm to the point of being sick that I simply don't care if I leave 15 minutes early. And I don't care if someone notices. I was sound asleep by 4:45. SB called five times in an hour to let me know that he was going to a bar for Wisemen's birthday. I nodded. And set an alarm for thirty minutes before I was set to go on air for the episode of Cheesehead Radio that I had been dreading. I woke up fifteen minutes to a message from a co-host, "hey, you on the show tonight?" Oops. I didn't want to be awake. I wanted to sink back into the warm hole that was my bed. My sickly worn in sheets that have been my home for weeks. I wanted nothing to do with talking to people who would be more awake than I was, more alive than I was, more everything than I was. But double lung infections had already cost me too much. I'm a shell of who I am, or at least of who I want to be. Someday I'll be someone important with thoughts and passion and the desire to leave my hole. Someday I'll have color in my cheeks and the ability to talk for a minute without being out of breathe. Someday perhaps I'll have knowledge and be appreciated. Someday everything that I feel like I've worked so hard for in the past year and a half won't feel like its slipping away.
So I reached for a Packers hoodie, and recorded my line for the opening script, "and look forward to the future." I doubt I've said anything more forced in my entire life. Look forward to the future. I wanted sleep. I wanted to continue to live in my bubble where the Packers didn't lose, football simply just stopped, and 4 months from non I will burst the bubble and all teams will be equal again. Like most shows recently, I faked the first hour perfectly. Not in an awful, I hate this way, just in a "my voice really doesn't sound this happy" way. And then of course somewhere in the second hour I begin to slink, legs uncurl and I'm once again happy with my head on one of my 8 pillows, and I just sit and listen.
I'm on an island. I don't go out and see people; I'm the walking infection that will destroy you with my coughing and sneezing and breathing. I'm the one that is fed up with over reactions. Are people really this upset or just bored? Sometimes its hard to tell.
I am excited though. Which might be hard to see. I always had trouble sleeping. Would sit up late doing stupid things until my eyes couldn't take it anymore and carried me off to sleep. For months on end back in MKE, I would rarely sleep in my bed, as I generally just passed out on the couch. When I got sick, all I could do was sleep. And for all the doctors that stared at me like I was crazy, for all the "maybe you're just depressed" questions, I knew there had to be some reason. I've been staying awake again. Sometimes its the coughing. Sometimes its just because I feel like watching another video on youtube. I take this as a good sign. Along with my ability to get through the work day without a nap, I'm assuming that things can only go up from here.
I had a dream last night that I was moving to Dallas. And there were spiders on the wall behind my dresser. And I had to take a shower, but all my clothes were packed and someone told me that my name was stupid. So there's that....