Today was my first day of classes for winter quarter. I'm feeling pretty meh about school at the moment. All I did over break was feel crappy. I had my skinectomy and that knocked me the fuck out for a while. When the numbing shots wore off, the pain was worse than I expected. It felt like something had cut my bone. I was pretty depressed afterwards too, thinking about how it can come back, that I could have to go through this again and again. Just a little local anesthesia and goodbye skin. I could feel the sawing pressure when he cut it off. For a moment, before he stitched me up, I could feel my skin hanging loose around the bone, my bone exposed and cold. The whole time I felt something cool and wet seeping out all around my arm. It was horrific. I thought I was going to pass out or puke and I wasn't even looking at it. My doctor kept asking me questions to distract me, so I was laying there trying to talk about Salman Rushdie but all I could think about was my blood and bones. And then when he finished my wrist, again on my leg. Thinking about possibly having to go through this again makes me crazy. I look over my skin every day.

I feel different now. I feel old and tired. I'm afraid of the sun. When I started feeling better after surgery I got a really bad cold that knocked me back down. I spent new year's eve sick and alone. Nobody called me except some guy from work who I'd already told I couldn't work for him.

The other night at work Sarah Bonilla pointed out to me that I have the 11:11 stitched into my body, eleven stitches on my arm and eleven on my leg. 11:11 is a strange phenomenon. I did some internet investigating (internetstigating?) that gave me some food for thought. Eleven is associated with enlightenment and while I think a lot of the "angels make me look at the clock at 11:11" stuff is kind of crazy, I do think there is value in adding a level of symbolism to your life if it improves the quality of your life. I don't think my personal 11:11 enlightened me in any way, but maybe it was a call for me to pay more attention. To keep trying to live better.

But shit god damn, I wish I wasn't back in school already. It's going to be super hard for me to care about the antebellum South and 1890's England, let alone Plato and Aristotle.

I've been playing the piano a lot lately. When I got the mole on my wrist removed, I got some gnarly stitches that made guitar hurt in a really yucky stretched out skin kind of way. Turns out I had me some malignant melanoma there so I gotta get more of my skin cut off, more gnarly stitches. I figure it's the Lord's way of telling me I should get back to my roots. I can play "Shave and a Haircut".

I can also play other things.

I got a B+ on a paper. Oh ouch. Notoriously difficult professor so I should be proud I suppose, but I haven't seen one of them wiggly B letters in ages. I'm used to the more angular and straight forward A. Luckily, I already have a syllabus for one course next quarter and I am going to get so far ahead the year 2012 will be eating my dust.

I made another friend at school today for a grand total of 3. Things are going pretty well. Long holiday weekend full of cramming and working at a diner crammed (I hope!) with cheap, crabby holiday shoppers. Adam is coming down for the holiday weekend and next weekend is the dance show. Have to get a costume, powder blue and white for maximum washed-out effect, and backstage more cramming for finals. The next week finals and then, Liberty, Debauchery and Pleasure Reading!

And Faulkner.

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.


marriedtothesea.com

been playing guitar a lot. Trying to get my fingers back to gnarly. Stina said I should put superglue on my fingers but I feel like since I didn't do that the first time when I was 12 there's no reason I should do it now. I don't want to think I was tougher at 12.

Hate to admit it but I'm getting a little sick of summer. I want school to start. I'm finally going to real college! I can't help being excited, chomping at the bit to write some literary analysis.

blah. I have to go visit my dad today which is fun and stuff but the AC in my car don't work when it's actually hot and I really hate driving when it's hot. Maybe if I whine about it he'll fix it for me.