I just totally lost my shit at some fat forty year old fuck at Circle K who told me to smile.
"That ain't free and it ain't cheap."
Then I stormed out with my vitamin water muttering about what a presumptuous dickbag he was. Overreacting much? Whatevs. My ladyparts are spasming in pain with such regularity that it feels like they're trying to build up momentum to exit my body. Bitch, don't tell ME to smile.

Went to see the surgeon today. She wants to take one tumor from each side because it's the only way to know for sure what I got going on in there. She talked a lot about the aesthetics of the surgery, where my scars would be. I guess it's better to cut around the areola because the scars show less. That's cool for the one on my right but the one on my left is on the "cleavage line" so I have to decide if I want them to cut around the areola and dig a tunnel through my tit or if I want to have a little scar. I'm leaning toward the scar because the other way sounds more complicated and um, really fucking gross. It's going to be a "partial bilateral masectomy" which sounds a lot worse than it actually is. And good news! I don't have to be awake! My surgeon is actually the first doctor who made me feel like everything is going to be totally fine. Cheers to you, Doctor Tanaka!

Now I want to share a sweet story from restaurant land. A couple weeks ago, I had a lady at one of my tables bring in a thank you card for a man who had bought her and her 3 kids lunch there a couple weeks ago. I guess he's a regular who comes in by himself at lunch and picks someone, usually a single mother, and buys their meal. The servers and managers know him but he remains anonymous to the other guests. I gave the card to my manager and he said it's the first time anyone has ever come back with a thank you card for the man and he would make sure to give it to him. I've been thinking about it a lot, what motivates that man, who he is, why single moms. Maybe he has a kid he's never known or even just thinks he might. Maybe his mom raised him on her own and he knows how hard it is. Maybe he wants a family of his own but feels like time is running out. Maybe he just gives to give, no back story, no baggage.

When the woman came back she was with her husband and 3 kids and I gave them all ice cream cones on the house because that shit is sweet.

Is it so wrong that I just want a boy to cuddle with?

I went to the doctor today to look at my skin and shit. He put a little magnifying glass all over my body. I have to get two moles removed. Week after next I have an appointment with the tit surgeon. I feel like I went to the doctor once and as a consequence I have to go for the next two months. I feel like any day now they're going to find something else that's wrong.

I feel better when I dance. So I should dance more. Bonilla said I should have a passionate fling to distract myself and that sounds like a good idea because I want physical comforts and I want a boy anyway but I still feel really emotionally fucked and I don't want some dude I really like or maybe don't like that much but just want badly feeling up my tumors because the big one feels really gross and I'm sure it's only a matter of time before the others get bigger too. I miss Ray because the Ray I remember would never have told me that my tumor was gross. He used to tell me my armpit was pretty. He would tell me that I'm okay, that I'm going to be okay, that worrying will make things worse than it could possibly help them and most importantly he would make me believe all those things. Things that I know I should think but wish I could believe.

Went to the dirty monday tonight after ballet. Stina has been talking lately about how they always go earlier now and how Gabe plays better stuff early and blah blah and I thought when she said she and Jenni were almost ready at 9:40 that they would be there in a timely fashion but long story short I sat by myself at the fucking saloon for almost an hour. I was going to just finish my beer and leave but David the bartender gave me a pity drink so I stayed but I was too irritated to have any fun and Stina decided to leave after she chugged a beer anyway. I just wanted to go out and have fun for a night like over summer and not worry about school (I'm not going tomorrow because of the fires) and not think about my tumors and just have a good time and fucking relax but now I feel worse than before.

I keep acting like it's kind of a joke that I have five fucking tumors and shit and laughing about it and yeah, they're benign, but they won't necessarily stay that way. The fact that I have this many benign tumors makes my risk of developing less benign growths go way up and I don't want to have to think about that possibility. I don't ever want to get that sick. I don't want to carry something around in my breast that could kill me. It's just such a shock to me. I have no family history of breast cancer or anything like that. It doesn't even look to me like I have room for that many tumors in my b-cups. It's scary. Thinking about the surgery the doctors are recommending for me is scary. And it's not a fear I was in any way prepared for. I don't know how to deal. I've thought about calling Ray so many times because I wish he would comfort me. I need that but I don't feel like I can ask that from anyone else. I want to lean on someone and lean hard right now but I feel like that's clearly more than I can expect from any of my friends and more than I would put on my parents. But things he has done to me can't be undone. I can never lean on him again.

God, I don't ever want to get that sick. I don't even want to be as "sick" as I am right now. I feel fine. I feel the same way I felt before the tests and diagnosis but knowing that there are things like that inside of me that are beyond my control is terrifying. I want to go to sleep and wake up in the morning to find all the bad things are gone.

I have 5 benign tumors (fibroadenomas if you please) in my breasts. The radiologist recommended that I consult with a surgeon about the largest one. Apparently if it gets any bigger it will be visible to the naked eye. Right now it feels like there's a big peanut m&m in my boob.

Last Saturday night at work Dave Mosely accidentally punched me in the boob and it made me really mad. I am going to tell him that he gave me tumors and try to make him do my sidework. He will probably not care but it's worth a try.

So much to do today and all I want to do is go back to sleep.

Went to the lady doctor this morning. She found a stupid lump in my stupid left tit so I have to get a stupid mammogram. She said it feels a little harder than a cyst and it's probably not a big deal but it's still kind of scary. Then she yelled at me about this mole I have on my wrist that's getting kind of dark. Then she told me all kinds of scary stories about cervical cancer. Basically made me feel like I'm dying of eight kinds of cancer. I had to go home and look at the worst of playgirl for a while before I could feel better. Delightful.

Just had a really good talk with Sarah Bonilla. We went to 7-11 after work and split a forty in a parking lot and talked about what it means to be human. She is somebody who I feel very innately close to and comfortable with in a very rare way. She is very spiritual and contemplative and she really tries to live well and I admire that. For reasons that I can't articulate, I am afraid of disappointing her somehow.

We talked a lot about energy and language and how we shape our own worlds. I've been more contemplative lately because of the changes I've made in my life and I feel like I'm at a turning point and it's very important for me to be mindful of how I am living, of how I care for and know myself, but that's not the most important thing. Our culture's emphasis on individuality puts a lot of pressure on the self, a false importance of the self, know yourself, be true to yourself, express yourself, love yourself, but that's not the whole story. It's about other people. It's easy to feel like you know yourself in a vacuum but you fucking can't live in one. It's easy to reduce humanity to an abstract, human nature, and it is easy to make generalizations about how one should live. There are so many distractions in our world and it seems like most people don't think about what's really important. It's finding a pulse in white noise. Trying to decide which star out of the millions in the sky you should follow.

I talked to her about Ray, about how he could read me. He would say things to me sometimes about just sensing me or feeling my energy and at first I thought it was kind of crazy but as time went by and coincidences added up I realized there was truth to what he said even if it went beyond my understanding. He would ask me if I could feel him reaching out for me and I never could. When he is in my dreams there are always two of him and in my memory I feel like I have known at least two versions of him and I could never read either of them the way he read me. It was really comforting on a really deep level to feel that somebody who knew me in such an intuitive way as well as he really did (at one point at least) actually loved me, actually wanted me around. But I always doubted too, because I never really knew what he was feeling, I couldn't sense him the way he sensed me. And it was a bad situation on the surface. I know a lot of my friends never really understood. I tried to ignore it, but it turns out surfaces can be pretty fucking important when it comes to letting someone shit on your heart.

I want to make sure that I heal right. I've thought about going into therapy because it would be nice to talk to someone about how to cope with things, how to move on, how to make sure I won't keep cycling through the same self destructive patterns, but shit's expensive and I think I'm smart enough and strong enough to pull my crazy ass together. I think the best (and worst) thing I did was when I found myself in love I threw myself in completely, total surrender. I would like to be able to do that again someday, just maybe in a situation that won't fuck up my life. I don't want to be afraid.

Stina and I just saw Nick and Norah's Infinite Pandering to Our Marketing Demographic. I think the best part of the movie was when she dropped one of our empties and you could hear the glass bottle roll all the way down the theatre. The second best part was when I whispered to her that Michael Cera was going to take off his hoodie and his vans and fuck her and that's pretty much exactly what happened.

Except Michael Cera doesn't fuck. He makes love.

Remember when George Michael Bluth had a crush on his teacher so he made her a collage of Saddam Hussein? That's fucking romance.

I made a friend at school this week. A friend, within the first week of classes? Must be a damn record for me.

School was really stressing me out because it's big and intimidating and I was kind of worried that I drank myself stupid over summer in various attempts to not deal with my feelings but according to my English 102D prof that is not the case.

So I'm gonna keep drinking my feelings.

Not all of them. Just a couple.

Oh shit.


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