posted on May 05, 2004 @ 5:57 pm
90s launch station
yes, i quoted real mccoy in the subject. throw stones at will.
so. my sleeping schedule has re-adjusted itself. the other morning at 4:41 when steph called for whatever reason, i actually had the thought, what the fuck is she doing calling me at this time? that used to be a sure time i'd be awake everyday. after work sunday, i crashed so hard. i fell asleep at 5:00 that afternoon, was half-way awake for owen-interaction from 8:00-9:00, then didn't get out of bed until 1:30 monday afternoon. ahh sloth, the best sin there is.
last night i fell asleep around 11:00, and this morning when i got a text message from owen at 5:30 i was up for good. i read some, stared at the ceiling, watched the news.
at 8:00 i talked to one detective espinoza about the guy who hit me. he was so nice, and for the few moments we spoke i didn't hate cops. he explained the whole process to me, from when they arrested him to the someday in the future when i'll go to court, calmly and thoroughly, like he totally didn't care that he does it all the time and it was around 8:30 a.m. (i had to hold and talk to dispatch that long just to get his number). he says the case has been turned over to a county attourney, and that when it gets to court i'll get a summons in the mail, or they'll call me. i'm not holding my breath, though. it's been a year since layla got hit by a drunk driver, and she still hasn't gone to court.
he did, however, inform me of the texas victim compensation fund. apparently i can get money from the state through them to cover my damages and such. i told him my head was still hurting pretty badly, and he began to sound a little concerned. he urged me to see a doctor and asked that i inform him of any further injury i may have so he can add it to the guy's other charges. i said, "no prob, bob." [not really.]
when i hung up with him, i made an appointment with the old dude who saw me when i had the flu and my strange facial numbness (i'm sure glad that quit). i explained to the receptionist over the phone, "a guy hit me in the head, and it still hurts."
"he hit you?"
":chuckles: yeah, he punched me!"
"oh! wow!"
her voice immediately took on a caring tone.
when i arrived and told the assistant before she took my blood pressure and pulse (72, which is oddly low for me) she didn't say anything. at this point i realized it sounds like i'm covering for an abusive boyfriend or something. i wanted to point out, "if my significant other ever even thought of hurting me, i'd give new meaning to having one's dick in a mason jar," but i went along with her silence.
my doctor, benent i think his name is, he's a nice guy. he seems to find amusement in my youthful antics. as i excitedly relayed the night's events, he stared with wide eyes. "and he punched you?"
"yep. bam! :puts her fist to her head: just like that."
"and you went to the emergency room?"
"nah."
"were you knocked down?"
":laughs: yeah, they had to pick me up."
"were you unconscious?"
"yeah, for a few seconds."
he asked if i'd felt nauseated, but i was drunk so i really couldn't honestly answer. i just said no. i told him i've been dizzy a lot lately, though, along with the pain. he tested my reflexes, and i couldn't help but smile the entire time as i held back the laughter. i had to touch his finger, touch my nose, then go back and forth quickly. he dragged my head in circles with his light. he asked i open my mouth and stick out my tongue, and when i stopped to take my gum in my fingers he laughed. i squished my face up and stretched it out. when he hit my left knee with the hammer i shrieked, and again he laughed. it kinda hurt, though.
neurologically i'm fine, which i was pretty sure of myself. he said the guy maybe fractured the bone some ["the next time i come in here, i'm crackin' skulls!"], but whatever the problem it's internal. he gave me a listing of facilities that provided CT scans (one of which is situated conveniently right next door to his office) and told me to expect a call.
dude, i've lost seven pounds. how? no fuckin' clue. i've eaten hardly anything lately, though, so i'll just become anorexic. i've gotten past the feeling sick with no food phase. now my body just tacks on, "oh, and if you want to get some food, that'd be okay. whatever, up to you."
this afternoon as i'm walking out the door, a girl of my generation called from the austin radiological society. after some boring questions like my birthday, social, blah insurance blah where did you have your MRI blah, she said, "what happened? his handwriting is...interesting. did you fall?"
"no, some crazy drunk guy just punched me."
"oh my god! are you serious?"
now that i'm not really angry, i like experiencing everyone's reactions. nonetheless, tomorrow morning at 10:00 i'll have my first CT scan. when i was, i dunno, around 16 i had an MRI and thought i'd die in that damned tube. "we're going to cram you in this tiny space, and don't move a muscle for 20 minutes." fuck that noise. i had some sort of music as i recall, and ever so often the woman working it would speak to me through the headphones trying to keep me calm. by the end i was imagining the ceiling crawling with cockroaches, and just as my breathing became a little pained they pulled me out.
i only mention this because of the awesome-uh 90s station: the other day, "wicked game" came on the radio, and it was so perfect. i was stuck at a red light on the frontage road with the windows down, the sun beating down heating up my black car, slipping in through the half-opened windows. it was so hot, and i was trapped, tired, and smoking.
in the neighborhood of this experience lies target, wherein i bought sarah a portable cd player, headphones, a tank top, and tons o' candy for her birthday (sunday, mom's day). i'm going home friday night because we get to go to the zoo, two of her friends included, saturday!! many a cute picture shall be taken. mom says she's become completely addicted to the series books. yay! she read one of them that was 200 pages long in one day. my little bookworm :D
i bought this little satin neglige thing for mom, but it appears to be too big; it is for me at least. it's long, too. mom's belly is a little bigger than mine, though, and her ass is totally bootylicious, so maybe that'll help fill it up. she's got no boobs, however, and it fit me there. oh well. it has adjustable straps like a bra, so i'll draw them tight. the planned line is, "it seems a bit large, but it should be coming off anyway." i got nana these picture frames that i'll put magazine pictures in. she needs new bathroom decoration, so i'll spiff up the frames and give her pretty pictures.
this afternoon before work i had a coughing fit and almost threw up. not sure why. i spit up some gross globs of gelatinous material. not all that was in there, but as much as i could choke up. i'm glad i could find a reason to use "gelatinous;" that word makes me giggle. like "masticate." :giggle:
i'll tack this onto the bottom so maybe you've become bored with all this and closed it long ago, and i can be lame and enamored by myself. do you know how terrifying it is that someone would move 1684.01 miles just to be around you? that's insane. that's something i would do, and we all know how mentally unstable i am. which isn't much of an argument because i know how mentally unstable owen is. sometimes i feel bad because it seems as if i'm being horribly selfish wanting someone to do that, but i'm looking at quality of life here. if he lived in some cool place like austin and i lived in shitty rural pennsylvania, i'd move. that's a matter of opinion, cool/shitty, but ever since i've known him he's complained about where he lives, the people and lack of things to do. i really think he'd be happy here with the random theatre/music/movie thing we have going, and, as i told him last year or thereabouts, he'd never have to shovel snow again.
i'd be remiss to not mention he does have this strange need for me. i'm not stroking my ego; it actually makes me uncomfortable to talk about this knowing there's a possibility i have an audience. i'm not sure why it's so impossible a concept to grasp because i feel the same way about him, but it's so overwhelming it's hard to digest. i can't fathom that someone would know me for so long and still want to be around me. i would have totally despised the person i was when we met. he commented on that the other day, how i've grown and changed despite (or, i'd imagine, because) of all the stupid shit i've gone through.
he's sick a lot, you know. defective, just the way i like 'em. ;) i hate he doesn't have someone to take care of him. he needs someone with a cushy job who can call in sick when they're not really, lie in bed with him and kiss his curvy nose and pet his head through his thick hair.
well, this is enough blathering for one day. gods, this is long.