Into the void...
“That night she sat for hours, too numb even to drink, teaching herself to breathe in a vacuum. For this, oh God, was the void. There was nobody who could help her. Nobody in the world. They were all on something, mad, possible enemies, dead.”
-Thomas Pynchon, The Crying of Lot 49
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2003-10-07
12:17 p.m.
I am very angry. I’m not even really sure exactly why I’m angry, but I’m definitely angry. I think it all started when I tried to call the doctor’s office earlier and I ended up being on the phone for half an hour trying to set up an appointment with a doctor who apparently doesn’t exist despite the fact that my old doctor gave me his name and told me to set up an appointment with him. I also tried to set up an appointment to see an eye doctor since I haven’t seen an eye doctor in about six years. And, being the fool that I am, I thought perhaps I could set up an appointment for both on the same day sometime next month.
But things never work out the way they should, as I well know.
So, I tried to get both appointments for sometime in November, and I ended up with one appointment in December and one appointment tomorrow. One of the appointments isn’t even in the right building, so I’ll have to go traipsing all the way across town to get there, not to mention that I hate to give only a day’s notice at work if I need to leave for something.
Doctors suck.
I think part of the reason I get so aggravated by the whole doctor system is that I go through all these hassles to deal with it, and it’s not like I feel like I’m healthy. Right now, for instance, the back of my neck is so tight that all I can think is that I need some heavy-duty muscle relaxants, but they don’t really give those out for complaints like mine. And why’s that? Because my complaints don’t make any sense.
I know my complaints don’t always make sense. I can’t help it. Nothing makes sense. Why should I be any different?
I’m fucking pissed at the world right now. I’m pissed and I’m tired and I want to go home. I’m reading this horrible book that makes my head hurt, and I seem to have killed off all the characters in the book I’m writing, so I have no idea where to go next. There are so many good sports games on these days, but I can’t really waste time watching them because I’m trying so damn hard to make myself a better person by working full-time and being a half-time student at the same time. That means three-fourths of my time is taken up.
Well, that’s sort of what it means.
More specifically, it means that I’m really stressed out, I’ve had too much coffee, so I feel like I want to throw things, and I can’t stop myself from whining about it. Whine, whine, whine.
If it turns out that I get the masters degree I’m hoping to get, I’ll probably be the first person in history to get a masters degree primarily out of spite. I’m taking all these classes largely because of the book I’m writing and the fact that I want to be sure that it’s good, but there’s the bigger fact that I need to take classes and get a degree because I’m still pissed to all hell that my last job wouldn’t take me back after they told me I’d be on a “Leave of Absence” and I need to prove to myself that I’m better off now. I want to take my masters degree and shove it in their faces and say, “See? You thought you fucked me over, but I’m so much better off now than I ever would’ve been if you’d kept your word.”
I realize spite is not a great reason to do much of anything, but it’s one of the greatest motivating factors in my life. I practically made it through my undergraduate work out of spite because everyone told me how hard it was to get through a good music program. Well, I did it. So there. I have a degree to show for it. Whoop-de-doo. I don’t feel like a better person now. I don’t feel like my degree does a goddamn thing for me except make me angry that I can no longer sing because my voice teacher fucked up my voice.
I fucking hate life.
My eyes are burning and my head is hurting. My neck feels like it’s going to cut off the blood flow to my brain at any moment. And this is what I go to the doctor for. This is the healthy me.
