My Mumbling Thoughts

When you're ill, like seriously ill, kind of like how I am nine months out of the year, not only do you feel disgusting and repulsive round the clock, but you don't want to go outside and face the world. Why? Because you're disgusting and repulsive. That's why.

My rash is not just "a rash." It's shingles. Yeah. How fucking disgusting is that?

And it's not cool, or hot, or sexy for that matter. I've never once in my entire lifetime heard somebody say to another person, "hey, I dig that rash. It's really awesome. Where did you get it, cause I'm thinking about getting one myself."

I decided to break down and go to the hospital yesterday afternoon, because my shingles (goddamn, that's an ugly word) started hurting really bad. I was getting these stabbing pains throughout the rash area, and simply couldn't take it anymore. Besides, it's bad enough that I'm still partially deaf and occasionally shout at people because I don't know exactly how loud I'm speaking.

The lovely nurse told me that my shingles is generally found in older people, but when younger folks get it, it's because that they have a weak immune system, which triggers the virus to "wake up." It can also be woken up by extreme amounts of stress.

That's just me all wrapped up in a nutshell; a strung out, stressy, moody and continuously ill cow.

So now I've been prescribed my anti-biotics, which should hopefully kick this nasty virus out of my system. The only down side I guess is that I'm on a constant clock, since I have to take EIGHT PILLS every single day. EIGHT.

It's ridiculous, but I suppose anything that's going to help me get rid of this horrible virus that looks awful, and makes me hollar out randomly in the flat whenever I get those shooting, stabbing pains, I'll take it without any quesitons.

Unfortunately I haven't been taking anything that makes the stabbing pains go away. Instead I just cry out and shout profanity every five to ten minutes. I sound like a cat that's hungry and cries to his owners, "feed me, feed me." Instead I'm crying, "motherfucking cunting whore, you hurt like a bitch. I wish you'd leave me the fuck alone!"

Same difference, I guess.

I'm going to be keeping my infected self at home, since shingles can be contagious to anyone who has never had the chicken pox before. I'm planning on getting a lot of work done, hopefully. I'm also hoping that my date gets postponed to a different time, otherwise I may have to think of a way to have mine at another time when I'm not so ill and contagious to others. Besides, I'd hate for Swindon to think that I have some form of tourettes, what with all of my random cursing whenever I get a stabbing pain in my tit or on my back. Again, so sexy. Who wouldn't want this, really?

Posted by Sam at 05:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

The thing about flying straight through clouds, is that it's exactly how you'd imagine it...cloudy.

I left home in VA on Friday night to return back home in London Saturday morning. It was a bit of a mission, seeing as Mel misread what time I had to be at the airport, which left me roughly twenty-five minutes to rush through security and through the rest of Dulles airport before they closed the gate. I literally ran and almost knocked loads of people down in order to make it to the gate on time, and to my surprise, I had been upgraded to business class, which was pretty swanky. I had warm chocolate chip cookies, and a nice hot chocolate before I reclined my seat all the way back and passed out for the entire flight. Then I woke up to have fresh fruit for breakfast and a nice, hot cup of tea. It was lovely. I should have never been upgraded because now I'll never want to go back to economy.

It was strange arriving back to good 'ole London town. Even though I had only been gone for two weeks, it felt like I was gone for so much longer and that everything had been kept still in a time warp while I was away. Nothing had changed, not that I was expecting anything major or dramatic to happen while I had been gone. I was still in the same flat, going to the same uni, with the same old problems waiting to be dealt with by me.

I've changed a little bit though. I'm more refreshed, not as bogged down as before, and even though I still don't want to deal with my mess that I created before I left, I'm not as scared to look it straight in the face now. If I have to, I'm sure I can work up enough courage to punch it square in the jaw, and then be utterly surprised with myself for doing it.

Being back home was so nice though. I didn't go out that much and mostly hung around the house with Mel, and chilled out like how we used to do in the good 'ole days. I got everything that I wanted for Christmas, plus so much more that I wasn't expecting. The best part was that there wasn't any stress. There was no drama. I didn't have to worry and do all of the grown-up things that I have to do when I'm in London. Living out on your own without the security of parentals is hard. How come people ever leave home?

But I suppose it's good that I was only back for a short amount of time. I got rest that I needed and thought about stuff that I needed to think about. Now I can do things proper this time round.

Sadly I didn't have much down time to hang out around the flat before it was time for me to jump head first back into the routine of uni life. My first lecture was today at 9 O'FUCK IN THE MORNING. Now, that may not seem early to you, but to me, who is no longer working for Corporate America where getting up at 5am is normal, nine in the morning is far too early to be leaving the flat to go anywhere for any reason. I did go to my lecture though with Alex, and suffered for four hours listening to our lecturer talk at us, rather than properly teach us.

I already have so much to do and I want to just have one full day at the flat when I can be like, whoa, wait a minute. I'm going to have a time out and sort myself out here first before I even begin to tackle outside issues. Unfortunately that is simply no longer an option for me. I have an essay due at the end of the week, and my next news article is also due at the end of this week. I have a gig tomorrow that I promised my friend I would go to (he is headlining the thing after all), and an appointment in east London so I can go and have some blood drawn to see if I'm eligible for this scientific study to make a little extra moolah. Like £1200 - £3000 extra. That would be handy. On top of all of that, I've got to meet with my convenor to talk about my future, collect some more of my loan so I actually have money to live on, read lots and lots of books AND attend all of my lectures. It's going to be brutal.

Aside from all of the necessary boring day-to-day things I have to deal with, I also have to deal with things that happened before I left for the Christmas break. More stupid drama that I fell face first down into that will continue to haunt me until I die. Gross. I can't even think of it now. Perhaps when I haven't got so much other shit going on, I'll tell you the story (hopefully the end of the story) of the Sam and Sam saga. Booze and too many drugs finally lead to us sleeping together. I know. Yuck. Finally, after almost a year and a half, we hooked up....and that is just a night I'd like to have permanently removed from my brain.

Posted by Sam at 11:18 PM | Permalink