Wednesday, January 17, 2007

mmmm, sushi belly.

Sushi for dinner. Delicious. And then I made cookies. Even more delicious. In my belly. I had a great day today. Putzed around in the morning, made some phone calls about taking a class, called someone else about a job, signed up to go to a cancer house/group thing in downtown Chicago (more info about that once I go to the first meeting), ran some errands. And then I went to the gym where I met with a trainer and he came up with some good fitness goals for me. And then I got sushi for dinner, and then I made cookies. So, I mean, that's sweet. Too bad just about everything turned around on me. Looks like I'm going to have to change the date for the cancer house to a week later. Neither of the BU people I talked to e-mailed me back with the information I need for transferring credits. The woman hasn't called me back regarding the job. And if she doesn't call me back, I'm being discouraged to get a normal job anyway because my mom seems to think I shouldn't be around too many people at one time. This whole not being around people because I have nowhere to go and nothing to do shit is starting to kick me in the face, repeatedly. I'm sitting here right now, fully aware of the fact that I'm giving in to bad thoughts, that I'm letting the yellow, wrinkly, unhappy side of me take over. But I'm struggling right now. I am trying so d*mn hard here, to stay positive, to stay busy. But I need people. I need to be doing something with myself other than the dishes or the laundry or being in a gym with adults who are twice my age and older (there was one cute guy at the gym. Pretty sure he didn't see me). I am trying. I am trying, and tonight I am struggling. Alright. Enough of this. Tomorrow I get another bone-marrow biopsy. Good times in the clinic. Props to whomever's suffered through my gripings. I'll try not to let it happen too often. Tonight's just been a pain in my rumpus. Whatever. I'm going to go read me some Sylvia Plath. Words.

1 comment:

Megan/Yuping said...

You need to read something more plifting than Sylvia Plath. Get yourself some where the sidewalk ends, yo.