Hello, and welcome to the second installment of Silver Dollar Values. Today I'd like to delve in to maybe a darker, less savory form of catharsis…COMPLAINT.
First (1st), I'll make a list of some complaints I have with life, the world, and other existences (both tangible and not). I will list them using bullet points as do want to impart any numerical value--they are all equally horrible.
- migraine all day
- still no word from interested employers, which means--
- moneyless
- wore shoes that didn't fit right today
- impending schedule revision
- fear I'm developing Parkinson's
- went to sleep too early, and now I can't go back to sleep
- afraid I'm going to forget to call mother on her birthday
Second (2nd), I will tell the story of how I got to this moment (1:54 am) with all these complaints. I will write this in Shakespearian English.
*We here at SDV would like to apologize to anyone who wished to read more of this story in Shakespearian English. I don't know what I was thinking trying to do that. Those two sentences literally took me 23 minutes to write.
(moving on) And ever since then, I have had this weird obsession with Parkinson's. Unlike a hypochondriac, I focus on only one ailment at a time, starting with cancer way back in 6th grade. (I moved on to aids after my brother told me I could get it from swimming in a hotel pool [right before we got to our hotel in Dallas, Texas, where only one of us swam that night]). My fears never consume me or keep me from being a happy person. Instead, they just help me realize that my disease, and not my perpetual neurosis, is what hinders me from living a normal, healthy life. Quite simply, since I was little, I would make believe my faux terminal conditions were the cause for all my loneliness, all my seclusion, and all my feelings of being an outcast. I would paint the world in my mind as one that didn't accept me because I had some sort of flesh eating virus. This immature self absorption has since been deduced down to a mere phobia that at most keeps me up at night now and again playing it out in my head the whole "what if" aspect of things like that actually happening. For instance, the present interest: Parkinson's (excuse the colon if it doesn't belong).
As an artist and drummer, what would I do if I developed it, you know? Like, what the hell then?! Well, I'd probably do this, which would lead to this, and so on and so fourth until BAM! I'm taken away in a dream scape where I'm a paraplegic who paints with his mouth and lives at home with his parents when he's 45 years old.
"ENOUGH WITH INCOHERENT RANTS ABOUT PARKINSON'S, SDV! YOU'RE LOSING US" -READER
Then fast forward to today. My first memory was waking up with cans of garbonzo beans and creamed corn in my hand, and all my sheets and blankets on the floor. I too was on the floor, and needless to say very uncomfortable due to my lack of ultra-plush Eruo pillow top mattress underneath me. I truly woke up on the wrong side of the bed (pun very much intended). Then, to add insult to injury, I couldn't go back to sleep thanks largely to the incessant nagging of the youngest puppy in the room across the hall, along with the daylight that was beginning to creep through my venetian blinds, around my wall of pillows, and into my eye lids. By that point, everything was still ok because I had to leave for school early anyway to finish an assignment. Class starts, I'm the only one who has done assignment. Great! Except for I didn't do it right, so now I have to start over. (btw, everyone in this class hates me. I know they do). blah blah blah blah blah It turns out I wasn't even supposed to be in this class because I didn't do a graphic design candidacy evaluation, and have no idea what half the stuff they're doing is. By this time, I'm begging to develop an awesome headache, complete with dizziness and nausea. I, along with another girl who is facing the same problem go to the office to find a solution. 35 minutes later, my headache has matured into a pounding migraine (or, most likely a tumor), and I have gotten zero answers from the morons working behind the desk. I exit, stage front door.
"SERIOUSLY?! THIS IS YOU'RE BLOG FOR TODAY? PLEASE PICK IT UP, SDV." -READER
Ok, then like clockwork, my amazingly punctual girlfriend arrives outside my building to pick me up. An instant feeling of relief overwhelms me as I am reassured that through out even the toughest of days, she will be there to pick me up, both figuratively and literally. But, even with the quintessential light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel by my side, I still had a crazy migraine that made me want to kill myself. The dogs, again, were annoying. The neighbors were loud. My jacket was uncomfortable. My shoes didn't fit. My blankets were uneven. And, I was hungry. OH!!!!!!! And someone hit my car on campus. They left a note and a contact number to reach, but I couldn't handle it today. But yea!! That happened!!!
And so, after going back to school for another class, finally getting to eat, and returning home to get a shower, I go to sleep. At a record 10:something.
And now I'm awake, not at all tired, spending way too much time typing what I'm sure will make no sense to anyone who reads it, including myself. But, do I think it was a waste of time (it's 3:14 now…)? No.
Third (3rd) self evaluation. I actually feel way better about things now that I tried talking about them. At the beginning of this post, I tried communicating my pain and misery by writing it down. What I found was that it was really hard to articulate what grief I had, and that even in the brief rhetoric where my problems actually made sense, they were nothing too big, and by no means a sign of the end of the world. Lesson: Maybe things that I can't say with elegance and poise aren't things I should focus on. For instance, I couldn't really describe how my phobia of being terminally stricken with a disease haunted my childhood, however, I could easily tell someone about my first crush (kindergarten, Nichole Bachi). The same thing applies in day to day life. There are tons of good things happening in my life that are clear and polished, so I can talk about them rather than rambling on and on with complaints. Which brings me full circle to--
Fourth (4th), I will make a list of things I like. I will list them using bullet points as do want to impart any numerical value--they are all equally rad.
- I really like all my other classes this semester
- Stephen Colbert and John Stewart
- I am moving out of current living situation, which means--
- I am moving in to new apartment with a new, different roommate
- I'm going to paint my walls brown!!
- I have really good friends, an above par family, and a trophy girlfriend
- I have new clothes that make me look like an adult
- Hopefully Pier 1, FedEx Kinkos, or spin street will contact me soon about working for them
- I'm a mac
- While I'm saddened by the cancellation of Countdown with Keith Olberman on MSNBC, I understand that Olbermann's departure signals no change of direction at MSNBC. As Keach Hagey notes, one of the odder things about his departure is that it comes just as MSNBC is "doubling-down on an attempt to build a loyal audience with a left-leaning programming strategy." It makes sense that he would leave, though I do hope to see him somewhere else. Those were the best eight years of my life.
- Big Cats are cool. Like, Lions and Tigers. I find those quite interesting.
- etc…
Anyway, thank you for stopping by and at least trying to read. I'll admit I'm not a writer, so I find it foolish that I'd even embarrass myself by attempting to keep a blog. If you want a good read from people who actually know how to write, please look at my many "followers". I'm sure you'll be able to find someone with similar interests to you.
Classic. He will be missed.
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