That is to Say…

I have a tendency to love those who care for me the least;

that is to say, love for me is out of reach.

Those I love would rather I were dead, decaying somewhere in a ditch;

that is to say, my friendship is the stench of garbage set on the curb.

Pick up the Pace: A Hospital Interlude

When Novant took over our local hospital, they quickly rebranded everything, from making the ambulances purple to adding garishly smiling pictures of cancer patients on the elevator doors. With equal relish, Novant proceeded to take the  already middling hospital and scalpel through the budget.  Goodbye travel nurses, hello EMTs working on the overflowing ER patients. To make way for more emergent patients, Novant turned part of the waiting room into a behavioral health intake area for those not requiring physical intervention, a bit of cloth separating  the waiting room from people in acute psychological distress (because fuck HIPPA).

Everyone in the emergency department seemed in varying degrees of misery. Because K. had been advised to go to the hospital right away, her heart rate dipping into the low 30s, we were allowed in the back , only to be sat in hard chairs across from the rest room, which smelled strongly of sick. They promised K a bed as soon as possible, but a couple of trauma 2 patients came in rapid succession, so fat chance.

In one of the beds was a 90 year-old man who couldn’t urinate after a kidney stone surgery. He seemed to be waiting an extremely long time to be catheterized and his relative was justly livid. In the only recliner in the hall another old man sat with pancreatitis. Further away, a man was screaming about sitting there all night, claiming to have a brain bleed and the nurse warning him not to talk to her that way.

Just as a bed became empty, a woman in her fifties, who swallowed a bunch of oxycodone and Xanex got brought in from the ambulance. The faint memory of being on a gurney ten years ago after swallowing a bunch of Ativan surfaced. As a rule, women don’t do suicide well. I wondered what thrust her over the edge and pushed down the thought of how tidy my story would’ve been had I died that day, February 10th 2012.

When the doctor finally got to us, he thought I was the patient. I’m fatter and even when half dead, K looks better than me though she’s 16 years older. It is what it is.

K was angry that she mainly was brought to the hospital that night for liability reasons and that the cardiologist who was going to do her pacemaker “probably went home at 4:30.” When she asked to speak to the head nurse, magically an exam room was made available. This may have been coincidence, but they probably knew if a symptomatic cardiac patient with a heart rate in the 30s to 40s left and coded it would be a liability.

The exam section of the emergency department felt like a different dimension somehow to me. A marker board with patients on it had in giant letters EXPIRED by someone’s name (but hey, we got a bed), and as we passed by, a medical worker was saying “…several inches into her vagina.” It was the fragment of a conversation that I’m sure would’ve been interesting. Accidental impaling? Misadventure while trying to insert something in absence of a proper dildo? Or was it something worse?

A crazy looking fellow lay on a gurney seeming perplexed. Small world, but I’d see him the next day at the Walgreens across the road looking just as crazy and perplexed.

The cardiology PA on call came to the exam room and convinced K that she’s be taken to surgery as soon as possible the next day and it was imperative that she be admitted., So K. finally agreed. K. was permitted to eat something since she hadn’t in 12 hours. K handed me her card and I wondered if I’d ever find my way back to Exam Room 83, or even if I’d find my way to the cafe, an overpriced Panera Bread knockoff. It’s easy to get turned around in that giant hospital and I managed to both to and from the cafe. Luckily, most people who work at the hospital are nice and will help a wayward idiot on her journey. On the way, I was helped by the nicest orderly. He seemed bursting with sunshine even at 2 am and asked people on his way if they wanted anything as they camped out in the halls (probably ICU people). I was in awe of him. I’d like to think I’m a good person, but when you see the genuine article, you have to be amazed.

We wound up on the 4th floor, one of the cardiac floors in a comfortable room. I had to ask an aid how to work the fold out guest bed and I could tell she wasn’t happy though I apologized a couple times. She was the only rude person on the floor though.

It took awhile to fall asleep. K.’s monitor alarmed several times as her heart palpitated and her heart dipped down to 32. The nurse later admitted she had to turn away when that happened though K. told her it happened frequently.

Did you know you can order Domino’s contraband and they’ll bring it to the main entrance. The food has gone to shit since my sabbatical there 10 years ago, but K. doesn’t remember that part.

Sometimes, we’d make the rounds on the cardiac floor. I saw the cloroxing of a mattress for the next lucky person and once we got a “Code Red.” Apparently, folks in maternity hit the fire alarm if they smell cigarette smoke. Is it spite, genuine fear lest a molecule of a carcinogen hits their snowflake babies for a millisecond, or are idiots churning out babies? Fuck if I know! I probably inhaled all the smoke of Hades before I ever saw the light of day and look how well I turned out.

In my Youtube recommended videos, was this.

I like watching Youtube while eating lunch and pushing cats away. I did see myself in a few things, but all of it could be chalked up to other ….uh, pathologies I have.

I’m not clean, neither in self or house. I clean really well maybe once a week.

I love watching drama unfold, but causing it myself, not so much. Though I do talk about my drama way too much.

I am ruled by my emotions, but I do feel for other people, and am aware that other people suffer far worse than me.

i can’t deal with criticism well at all. I generally fly into a rage alone if I feel someone close to me is being unfair. I don’t seek revenge.

I can feel myself wanting to be as good as someone else at things if not better, and I hate when I’m wrong or don’t know something. I hate admitting I’m wrong or in the wrong ever.

I do worry sometimes I don’t feel some things as much as normal. Some people never get over the death of close people. I honestly think I miss the feeling of being loved more than I miss my family, but they’ve all been dead for years now. I can remember finding a dead young kitten with a friend. She wept, but I was like ‘the kitten isn’t suffering.’ If the kitten was alive and crying I would feel it deeply, but as it was deceased, not much at all.

I think that is all. Oh, and I’m afraid of being abandoned, too.

Well, shit…

I privated a bunch of posts, but found this in my comments waiting for approval. I googled her name, and if she really is a therapist, she might not wish to come on as strongly as this. I’ve only had 3 critical comments in 12 years, no doubt because my blog is not widely read, but when they come, they hit. This isn’t the worst one. The worst was when someone said “I pity the people around you.” But this one, oh my… Maybe I am selfish and so off I don’t realize what a bitch I actually am. I really need to double down on trying to be selfless and try not to let my emotions get the better. If it is any consolation to anyone, I do dwell on my mistakes, and they repeat multiple times in my head. My mind could be far from my foibles, and suddenly, bam. I think this person was trying to be helpful, and yes, the person who said I might be a covert narcissist, is also herself mentally unstable, but… She’s not a narcissist, though, so she has that going for her!

Uber Eatsing

We’re still out delivering for Uber Eats almost every night. K. starts later usually, picks up a couple orders from ‘decent’ restaurants, then after 9 or 10 pm, picks me up for fast food. It’s quite a sociological study in the various economic strata of our town. We go to the ghettos and the ritziest places in town.

The other night, we were at Super 8. It was definitely a super shithole. The front desk gave us a look like “Are you hoes?” K. always dresses extremely well, no matter what, so I could see the mistake, but I always look like I came out of a homeless encampment or a 72 hour detox or something, so I guess I’d be an ‘econo-whore.’

“I’m not scared,” I said, but K. insisted on waiting downstairs. Once I got to the floor the customer was on, I was almost glad she could hear me scream. It smelled strongly of smoke, men spoke loudly in the rooms, and a few of the doors were a jar. I took this as a sign of waiting for illicit trade of some kind. One of the stains on the stairs I wondered if it was jizz and dark stains were all down the hall as though I lived there. The chap I was delivering to had his door a jar too, but I was rather weirded out by the whole ambiance of the place, dropped the food by the door, and hurried away.

Another time I’m at a Hilton owned property by the river where you aren’t getting in for less than 200 a night. I get distracted when someone calls me on my cell and I leave K’s delivery bag at the door. Luckily Hilton guy snatched his order from Checkers and left the bag.

I’m not afraid of any ‘Leave at Door’ situation, but won’t go for ones where we must meet. I’m always scared people will think I’m weird, gross, and a potential vector of disease. When K. decided to confront a woman trying to score a free meal by not giving her an Uber safety code, I did not want to go up there. K. has a temper that boils up at the slightest provocation and I know how she can get. I always feel like I’m going to die of embarrassment when she goes off on someone. She banged on the door and threatened to call the cops until the woman came out and gave her the code. If the woman had any thought of resisting her, she probably thought better of it when she saw the fires of hell’s fury in K’s eyes or heard her Brooklyn accent screaming at her through the door.

“Next time, I have to go confront someone, you should come with me,” she said, still fuming.

“I don’t like confronting people,” I replied.

” I care about YOUR safety,” K. countered This isn’t exactly fair, considering I was willing to deliver Taco Bell to Norman Bates that time, traipsed around in the dark after midnight trying to find an address without being mistaken for an intruder many times, and climbed flights of stairs so she wouldn’t have to, but OK I’ll come. I have to die of something sometime, and death by embarrassment probably isn’t the worst way to go. Ride or die.

Tonight, I had a few encounters with the Uber public. It couldn’t be helped. One fellow met me outside. I thanked him, called him sir, and all that, and he must not have found me too objectionable because he tipped K. $10.00 for a Taco Bell meal. Another guy tipped $5.00 and the last person also tipped . Maybe if I have enough interactions that don’t go south, I won’t be afraid to meet people at the door. I’m really scared they’ll find me disgusting though, especially since looking people in the eye and smiling is very difficult for me. I expect them all to think I’m creepy.

Day 5: Trying to Stay Alive/ Valentine’s Interlude

I wondered after you all day Valentine’s Day. Said a prayer or two. This week of my exile is no doubt a welcome respite from my neuroses for all the denizens of Discord. I’m sorry I’m so clingy. I’m sorry I’m so fond of people who barely tolerate me. People who genuinely like me I can  only love, not feel a romantic inclination for. Maybe I can later? I’ve always been starved for affection and approval, but afraid of it too. I appreciate honesty. I can never quite guage how most people feel about me. I will try to fake not being cringe… except this post clearly!

Now K thinks I will not be able to process fast enough to find my plane should I pass through Charlotte. If K. lost her phone and missed her plane there, what will happen to me?

“And you are not  vigilant and aware of your surroundings at all times…and why would you want to go meet only male friends? Is this the one who………… you?”

“No! “

Female friend turned out to be a cunt. Perhaps she’ll gloat when I’m dead, apparently either by being beaten to death or by exhaustion from wandering for days in Charlotte International looking for my plane. Plot twist: Charlotte is supposed to be one of the biggest airports in the nation. May I rest in peace.

Day the 4th: The Other Psychic, Eats Uber Alles, Crinoline

Weighed in with the other psychic, K., who seemed not in the slightest bit concerned and to ask her again when this Vegas thing approaches, whether I live or croak. OK. Everyone’s a fucking psychic but me. I can intuit things about people occasionally, but I’m too sure something awful is going to happen at all times, so ‘the gift’ would be wasted on me. I’m sure you’ll be expecting me to talk about my aura, crystals, and levitating soon.

We began Ubering again and we had one altercation per usual. “I can’t believe you won’t even say thanks,” I said angrily, when she bitched at me for not being able to find her in the grocery store and because I took 3 minutes to buy candy bars for us. “I don’t see anyone summoning you in the app.”

“Maybe if we went closer to A RESTAURANT we would.”

So we proceeded to go across the road, literally just across the road. Not kidding. If she wasn’t having trouble climbing stairs to apartments, I might have told her I was ready to call it a night.

“I’ll bet you a nickel that’s a tr@nny ,” K. said after we put in our Eats order in the intercom at Taco Bell. (Believe it or not, K is an ally, but she likes being edgy).

“Be extra nice to her. She’s at least nice,” I reminded her, thinking of the last bitch we encountered at this restaurant another night. But I wasn’t worried at least in that point, because I’ve seen her be kind to another transgender woman before. I remember that one was afraid to go to Walmart lest she be harassed or worse.

I heard a woman won a bunch of times on Jeopardy, but my internalized mysogny wonders if she benefited from having been socialized as her biological sex, but also being a woman in her soul. Anyway, she won, yay for taking one for the ladies.

One of my old hobbies was reading obscure 18th and 19th century books. kept me sane in the last days of living with the guys, when they made me stay in my room. I read a lot of manners books and ‘conduct of life’ stories. I became fascinated by Victorian memento mori photography too, it was almost soothing to me seeing all the dead people in regalia because if I wasn’t reading or sleeping I was wanting a way out, any way out.

Today, I took up The Dangers of Crinoline, a short pamphlet found on Google books. Looking at how lovely women looked with their giant skirts in things like Godey’s Ladies Book , one doesn’t realize how many folks burned to death because their skirt caught fire, etc.

I love the emotive, verbose style of the Victorians. I sometimes like mimicking it poorly when writing over-the-top things. Fun fact: I collected antiquarian books from my mid teens into my twenties. I had so many, my earliest was from 1749. I loved the scent of the paper, which smells different than 1800s paper, and modern paper smells different from that, but all smell wonderful. Add that to my heaven’s smells. Of course, I sold them all for dirt cheap when my mother and I fell on hard times, but I bought most quite cheap from an old man who owned an old book store and I played hooky from college there a lot. Why give an idiot such as myself an education? You may wonder, but apart from already being rotund I’m more well rounded, the good it does me. My first kiss was in that store, hidden among the shelves. He was a 43 year-old fellow and a little slow. I only did it for the experience. I was 21. I felt nothing, too shy, and I had zero romantic interest in him. A Vietnamese family swooped him up to get a cousin of theirs into the states and send money home. She was a little off as well somehow. They had a little girl who most likely was smarter than both of them combined. I doubt their forms of off were very heritable and I’m certain he doted on that child. Sorry, I took 40mg of Adderall and that’s what you get.

Day the 3rd: Ukraine and the Uber Eats Remake of Psycho

Today, I tried to learn  why the Ruskies are prepping to invade the Ukraine. Apparently, they don’t much cotton being surrounded by a bunch of NATO countries and want their influence or annexation there before the Ukraine can get in NATO. They don’t meet  NATO democracy standards yet. I half paid attention to a Vox article.

In other Proxy War news, Google asked me to review Hooters.

Smash the Patriarchy!

Talked to a couple friends. One says I will surely meet an ignominious end if I go on vacation without a chaperone to a far off place with only strangers around. She had a vision and it was specific, not even knowing who I was going to visit. I really, really want to go somewhere, anywhere. Do people get murdered a lot in Vegas? (Actually they say it’s rather safe). If I got to have a good experience and at the end of it, I had a heart attack rather than come to a violent end, I wouldn’t mind so much. Maybe if I  got  there and was so happy that I would never be happy again, falling down an elevator shaft  wouldn’t be horrible or a Cirque du Soleil performer breaks her fall on me but snaps my neck. But being attacked by someone and beat to death seems a bit not worth it. Maybe there are men there just waiting. As a female, one is raised to believe they’re everywhere just waiting to strike, but I imagine in such a giant place teeming with tourists, there are people who prey on them. And if I was alone in a strange place, with pathological shyness forcing me to always look away from people, they’d smell my weakness. I have been able to fake confidence on occasion in a situation or two when I HAD TO and I have an ability to shut off my emotions in situations where people would be upset because I’m always anxious anyway that when something happens outside of my normal purview, I just don’t have the sense to fear it because I’m busy in my own head worrying about something else.

The latest event that I should’ve cared about perhaps a little more than I did was a couple weeks ago when Norman Bates ordered Taco Bell.

“Why have a gated community when you can literally walk around the gate” I asked,  as we drove into a swank neighborhood with a pretentious gate that had 3 ft gaps at its sides.

The fellow, Norman, began texting us as soon as we were in the neighborhood. Very friendly fellow, smiley faces and calling K. by her name in the texts. Twice he texted us not to knock on the door, but it was after midnight, so that’s pretty normal.

K. wound up calling Norman. He stated that yes, he saw us and we were at the right location, so K. left the bag on his porch. A few minutes later, we got a call back from Mr. Bates. “It’s not here, K.,” he said in a voice completely devoid of affect. “Come back and bring it to me.”

K. was officially creeped out. “Perhaps we left it on the wrong porch and we should go back, ” I said. “Maybe he’s autistic or schizophrenic? Maybe he’s just fucking with us, too.”

But no, K. was certain something was off. “Well, you could stay in the car and lock the doors. If something happens, just drive away and call 911,” I said, more afraid of a bad rating than being the first victim in this budget slasher film. Plus, I figured if he was a sex pest, he’d be less inclined to strike if K. sent Ugly Fat Friend #1 to retrieve Norman’s Taco Bell. It did occur to me that it could be someone just pretending to live there, but then ordering Uber Eats isn’t really anonymous much.

“I’m not going back,” K. announced. “If your instincts tell you something is wrong, you should always trust it.”

Maybe it was sneaking peeks at the gory photos in her homicide detective father’s briefcase as a child or the stranger who nearly did her a mischief in her 20s, but for whatever the reason, I will trust her judgement on that one.

Sorry, Norman. I hope you found your Taco Bell.

Day 2 : Luddite Boogaloo

Day 2 I transcribed an Australian criminal’s arrest record from 1883. An online volunteering opportunity. Pretend I’m useful somehow. The guy was in for embezzlement and did 3 years hard labor in the Sidney Gaol, but he must not have learned much from that ordeal because in 1888, he got clapped for embezzlement again.

I cleaned my bathroom.

I went Uber Eatsing with Karen. Six hours and she made 12.00. She raged at Wendy’s workers. Wendy’s was getting supplies delivered and didn’t accept orders during that time, as stated by the guy at the window so she had to cancel an order there. Five minutes passed and the delivery truck pulled away. A woman was driving up picking up for Uber Eats herself. My friend’s rage started shooting lasers. First, she drove up to the window, but the guy who said they weren’t taking orders wouldn’t come and the woman at the window wasn’t coming either. Then she blocked the delivery truck from getting out because she was yelling something like ‘how does it feel?’ and ‘time is money!’ Then, as they were taking the order of some other delivery gig driver, she pulled up close enough, and yelled, “20 year-old twat, don’t come to the window!”

That excalated quickly.

” You’re one day going to get us killed,” I told her, as I have every time I’ve witnessed her go into a fit. Usually, it’s over screaming at other drivers and flipping the bird. It just takes one redneck with as bad of a temper as her to pull a gun. Well, actually, it’s kind of already happened in a way. She got into it with a guy at McDonald’s a few years ago, and he calmly set a weapon on the table.

Lately, I’ve been fussing back. I think that day at the hospital when she called me ‘stupid’ I realized that she would always be an ungrateful bitch, and it flipped a switch inside of me. We had two minor altercations. She tried to blame me for being 5 minutes at my apartment and the food already being picked up by someone else. Then she got mad at me for not being able to find my phone right away when she wanted me to navigate. I started yelling right back, just a little, just enough to let her know not to fuck with me, when apparently she has the whole fucking world to get angry at.

At Hooters, I waited for an order, and wondered if the waitresses’ mothers knew how their daughters were making a living. I don’t know if it’s the prude in me or something feminist, but I find the whole thing…a bit much. I’m not saying that places where lecherous men can ogle college girl titties while devouring chicken wings shouldn’t exist, but there is something debasing about making waitresses wear shorts up to their vaginas and shirts down to the nips. And don’t get me started on the men who bring their middle aged wives to such establishments. I mean, the food does look good, but…

I got to go in the Marriott to deliver. I will go if I don’t have to meet the person.

There’s always such a pleasant scent in hotels and I hadn’t been in one in years. There are several scents I feel would be in my heaven: Hotel scent, pool chlorine scent, laundry aisle scent, and K-mart scent. I don’t know why I felt the need to share that, but there you go. That would’ve made an awesome tweet.

I know this correspondence is getting super long, but I kind of want to address something. I saw the woman who saw me as a ‘lolcow’ and faked liking me, get utterly destroyed by another ‘content creator.’ I wouldn’t have known, but I was reading an article and saw. It seemed as though karma had struck her in the face, finally. Now she knows how it feels to be rejected and humiliated in 4K high definition, I thought gleefully. And then I thought, now she knows how it feels, and I began to empathize with her, clout chasing egirl that she is. I could feel her pain and it made me sad. So I’m happy it happened, but I’m sad too. My mind can never make up it’s mind.

Social Media Break Ep. 1

I’m taking a break from social media, Discord, Twitch, Facebook, and Twitter for a week. Someone suggested I should for my health and I agreed to it.

I miss Discord the most. I wanted to tell my friends that I was able to get $30.00 more out for my ‘Vegas Vacation’ and/ or emergency fund, making a grand total of $50.00. Considering I’m usually down to zero at the end of the month, this is pretty good. As it stands now, I still have enough in the bank for the 3 other bills I have to pay. I hope I won’t need to return any to the bank. I’ve been pretty good about ordering in food this month too, only allowing myself one meal as a reward for finishing the most boring book I have ever read in my entire life and I’ve read some boring books in my 44 years, Normativety and Phenomenology in Heidegger and Husserl. I have decided philosophy, or at least Heidegger,is better left to high IQ- low common sense people. If I had to read another book like that I’d die by seppuku.

I haven’t been on my PC since ‘the break.’ My friend was over most of the day yesterday. I think I can make Discord disappear without it popping up by right clicking the icon in the tray or something. I think my PC was supposed to restart for updates anyway, so hopefully when I wake it, Social Media won’t be staring at me. If this post appears on Twitter, WordPress auto-shares.