Has someone close to you ever withheld some potentially scary information until it was resolved? For instance, when I was in Italy, my dad was being tested for prostate cancer… and I had NO idea. You know, not until he told me everything was okay when he visited me in Rome. On top of feeling so PHYSICALLY far from home that semester, I felt out of the loop, I felt far from my family. I mean, I didn’t even know my dad was having some wonky test results and could have had cancer!
Today my mom sent me an email: “Call me when you get home from work.” She and I hadn’t talked in over a week, which is REALLY unusual. I just figured she was busy, I was busy, blah blah blah. I called her on my drive home… she informed me that she had had a questionable mammogram last week, went in for a few more tests, was told she had nodules, spoke to a radiologist, and PHEW, JUST KIDDING, no breast cancer.

Am I wrong for feeling …off about these situations? Would I want to know right of the bat if something is wrong? Would I want to worry, lose sleep, lose concentration? Probably not… but I want to know when my parents are dealing with shit, you know? Cancer isn’t anything to sneeze at.

Now both my parents have to go in for regular check ups on their respective organs just to make sure. I think my dad takes some meds, but he doesn’t talk about it… he’s sort of awkward discussing his prostate health with his daughter. Understood.

And on top of that, I had a hair appointment tonight. I finally found a salon out here and made an appt. My stylist was super duper sweet and I highly recommend the place. Aveda always does a great job. But I realized something — I left the salon giddy as a school girl… not just because I got my hair cut but also because I had just spent an hour chatting it up with a girl MY AGE. Someone who relates to me! Someone who doesn’t judge when I begin sentences with “OMG!” Someone who gushes about wedding details! Someone who understands streaky self tanner! Granted, I’m sort of paying her to be my fake friend… but it’s incredible to realize how much I crave FEMALE COMPANIONSHIP my age. The fiance is all sorts of wonderful and I LOVE HIM TO PIECES but I miss my girls. I miss giggling, smack talking, gossiping, and being girly. So maybe I tipped the stylist more than I would have just because I enjoyed the conversation. And yeah, that makes me feel off, too.

Last but not least, I feel really really off when the fiance is playing Mario Kart next to me, yells about Peach being in first, asks me how to avoid red shells, and I snap back, “Honey, I don’t care, I’m writing.” Now I feel awful because I snapped at him and all I’m doing is updating my stupid blog.

I think it’s my bed time. What happened to staying up til 2am, stumbling to 10am class, napping in the afternoon, dragging myself to an evening class, and staying up til 2 again? College, I miss you hard right now.

I swear, if I write another pity party post, I’m going to start yet another new blog. This shit has GOT to stop. I promise my life isn’t all gloom and doom… but snapping at the fiance really brought me down. Sigh. When I’m super happy though, I just don’t have time to sit down and blog… I want to be in the moment. I owe it to myself because those bright, shiny moments always seem to happen on borrowed time.

Advertisements
  • Today I was called a cunt on the phone. The dreaded C word. I don’t like to use it but I do on occasion. But I DO NOT TOLERATE IT being used towards me (or towards my boss, as the case may have been). And I especially don’t tolerate it when you’re calling to bitch that we sent you a response to the previous time you called to bitch. We sent you a response, dude! You should be elated that your elected official sent you a response!  Or, if you’re not elated, at least don’t call us cunts.
  • Hopefully the whole Rihanna/Chris Brown debacle will actually shed light to the cycle of domestic violence. It can take women up to 7 or 8 times of being abused within an inch of their lives before they get the courage to leave. Don’t blame Rihanna. She CAN’T help it. She can’t see that she’s in a bad situation. Hopefully Chris Brown will be locked up and never comes out.
  • Hopefully the news will stop calling the aforementioned situation “The Rihanna Attack.” DON’T take Chris Brown out of the picture. HE is the issue.
  • My cat smells funny. And he’s staring at me weird. I think he read my blog because he just put his paw over his face to cover his eyes. CUTENESS. He’s gotten so human-like lately. And I’ve turned into a cat lady. Ugh.
  • This post sucks. I am too burnt out by work and life to blog anymore. I tried. I suck.

Hey, rut, is that you? Nice to see you again. Let’s have wine.

…I told myself I’d do Wii fit tonight… but after this episode of The Office is 30 Rock and ER and then it’s bedtime. Shit.

Edited to add:  I can’t believe I published this post as is. How obnoxious. I just feel like I gave so much of myself and made such a presence in the blogosphere and then dropped out of sight. I owe it to you all and I owe it to myself to maintain blogging integrity.  (But seriously, my cat SMELLS, what IS that?!)

I think if I lived alone and was single, I would be in this funk always. I would live a plain jane boring sad depressed life. See, the boy is out of town until Sunday and I’m just blah. I’ve always craved companionship but I guess I never realize how much I need someone around for interaction at the very least. I need someone to vent to, to veg with, to laugh at the TV with, to throw my thoughts at, to have dinner with… I mean, this yelling at the cat and eating cereal for dinner just doesn’t cut it.

This weekend I’ll aim for a cheerful, substantive post… one that doesn’t talk about cat smells or uses excessive offensive language. Capice?