The other day I found myself walking in a park, coming to terms with reality.
Am I in some stupid melodrama?
Welcome to an episode of House M.D.: my grandmother has stage 4 cancer. Thank you the deity up above, that she is in U.S. What if she was here, how could we help her, with no decent medical help, no insurance, no expertise?
She’s starting a curse of chemo, as soon as she recovers from her unsuccessful surgery (they couldn’t cut the tumor out).
Should I write about this? Some things are too private. Especially, when they concern others.
So, let’s come back to me then. I can write about me, right? Right?! I have cyst growing in my ovaries and we’re cutting it out next week. Hopefully, I will start ovulating after that. Or I won’t. I don’t care anymore. Some people don’t have legs, some people don’t have hair, and some don’t have well-developed eggs. Fuck it.
Remember Sex and City, Charlotte couldn’t have kids because she was “reproductionally challenged”? Doesn’t seem so funny anymore. Are you crying yet? Oh, this is such a pity-me post!
I am over crabby stage. I laugh and generally try to be in good mood, but I can’t fall asleep. I should look for some night reading material, instead of staring into the darkness. Oh, and these mood swings. In the beginning of the post I was sad, then I started laughing at all the pathos and now I am getting angry. Sometimes I walk around in the street and sing aloud. I am trying to bring my temper up with tacky music. ..“oh, my darling, I hunger for you touch…are you still miiiiiiiiiiiiine?”
How do I deal with my Anxiety? Non-stop watching of the latest Celebrity Apprentice. I come home from work, crawl into my bed and watch Donald Trump. What would I do without my reality TV? Please don’t take it away from me. Ever. Unfortunately, Celebrity Apprentice is over and now I am spending evenings reading about my favorite contestants and watching their appearances on different comedy shows. Oh, and I discovered some interesting new stars, for example, since I am anti-American Idol (me, the queen of reality TV! I just don’t like music contests), I don’t know any of the Idol people, and all the sudden some guy named Clay Aiken from season 2 of the Idol almost won the Apprentice (he should’ve, should’ve won! F u Trump!). Here’s to new era of endlessly reading his bios and listening to his songs (ick. cheesy pop songs. great voice though)!
When stressed, some people drink, some smoke, some eat. I have stopped eating, sleeping and never found consolation in alcohol. So I watch rich white old man ask bunch of have-been-celebrities lead projects and scratch each other’s eyes out, while listening to Unchained Melody sang by cute pasty southern gay guy, who was robbed of his reality TV winner regalia twice. What, is this obsession unhealthy?! Damn right! Who is healthy anyway?!
Oh, I know, I know, my life is not a melodrama. It is one big sappy reality TV show. Cause it is too stupid for anything more interesting.