Yes hello. I am writing in this pathetic journal for the first time since, appropriately enough, April Fool's Day, because I've reached the point of no return and there's no looking back.
For those of you out of the know (basically everyone, since I am a hermit with no life skills who detests phones), I broke my leg in spectacular fashion on Father's Day. The accident involved a cab ride to the Alibi, free shots, five dollar pitchers at Interstate Bowl, four inch gold lame cork wedge heels, and falling, breaking every bone in my leg below the knee at least once. And no, I was not bowling - one can be at the bowling alley and not yet have been bowling. If one more person reminds me in kind, well-meaning fashion that you're not supposed to bowl in your own shoes, they have special shoes there to rent, I am going to go ahead and rip the leg off. I have to say, though, thank christ for the booze, cause that shit would have hurt otherwise.
At any rate, because of the nature of the break, I have been forbidden to work or have any sort of real summer, and have been unable to ascend or descend stairs without falling spectacularly and screaming "FUCKING CUNT!" in front of my mother. Because of the stair issue, I now live with her, my sister, and my short, gruff stepfather in their mountain home an hour away from anything and everything.
These past months have been one long monotonous jesus fest. There is no tv of any kind, little to no cell phone reception, dial up internet - I feel like a bad yuppie extra in an early 90's movie who is observed at the quaint motel check in desk screaming, "What do you mean, no fax connection? Tiff, get my things, we're going to the Ramada." It feels like I am 10 again, during that inevitable part of the summer when all your friends go on vacation except you and you're left to sit and watch reruns of "Highway to Heaven" all day, except for now I can't even watch reruns. I get one visitor a week (no, this isn't some weird, little-known mormon by-law, it's just the uncanny way things have averaged out), always without fail Monica, who I have to say is just about the most selfless person on the face of the planet, since most people don't even return my phone calls. This is not to guilt trip anyone, since lord knows I am the worst offender of all; it's just the slow, agonizing realization that everyone has their own lives and we get caught up and busy and who the fuck has time to drive two hours round trip to visit a bored girl with a broken leg who will probably be stoned on percocet the entire time anyway.
My time has been occupied, almost exclusively, with books and netflix, although when the latter arrives, I inevitably watch any and all films immediately, waiting then three more days until more provisions are sent. I've knitted, too, and tried to write and failed, and read more books and sat and stared out the window and read more books.
The worst of it is the feeling of all that I know I'm missing - sitting on the porch, going to the Washougal river, going out, wasting time in general, just the lives of my friends, really. You realize how lonely you are when someone mentions something in passing, in reference to a mutual friend, and you have no idea which of the three hundred questions to lead with and so just smile and pretend like you know exactly what they're talking about when you haven't the faintest idea. The lack of independence, too, being unable to get up and drive to the store to get the fucking Jordan Almonds you've been craving incessantly (fuck, to get up and drive anywhere and not stare at the fucking dogs through the window all day because you've been advised by relatives and medical professionals, forbidden, really, to go outside when no one is home lest you fall (again) and are unable to right yourself).
One more month to go, and then back to work - it's pathetic that I would, in all honesty, much rather have spent my summer blending fake coffee with three hundred pumps of banana syrup than be spending it the way I have been - back to work and finding a new place to live (our lease is up in November, meaning that my home has, this summer, become the world's most expensive storage unit and I will get to speed home and pack and search for a place without the desire or the funds to do so), finding a way to cover the insane portion of the medical bills that my insurance didn't cover (I am so fucking lucky to have insurance and short term disability (STD!! HAA HAA) pay and every other fucking thing that has kept me from having to file bankruptcy, at least there's that), finding a way to feel like I actually still know people and can interact with them.
And finding some fucking Jordan Almonds.
|comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment|