Hello My Beloved Journal Friends
I have been sick, sick, sick, sick, and I am, of course, sick of it. I'm sick of hurting and feeling crappy everyday, sick of not having any energy and wondering what the hell is wrong with me. My doctor wants me to come in and see her and I guess I'll have to make myself go, because it's just too scary feeling like this every day and wondering what in the world is going on with my immune system.
Last night I finally fell asleep around three and then at five I woke up with that oh my God I think I'm going to barf feeling. I went to my book and vintage-girly-stuff crowded bathroom and just sat there forever wondering if I was going to be sick or not. I didn't feel well enough to go back to bed, and I hadn't thrown up so I couldn't leave. Then I noticed how cold my hands were, I had a headache, and I felt so weak. It occurred to me that I had probably made my blood pressure drop too low by taking my blood pressure medication and a pain pill, so that got me panicked and thinking that I was going to have to go to UCLA and tell them that I had stupidly turned myself into a minor Vicodin junkie and that in turn got me thinking about Melanie Griffith and rehab centers. I don't know when I finally got to bed but I slept on and off until about one in the afternoon today.
Just as I was getting going, but before I had changed out of my sick gal flannel nightie, or eaten anything, Irma told me someone was at the door for me. I couldn't imagine who it could be and when it turned out to be a lovely (and I mean lovely in every sense of the word) old friend who I hadn't seen in twenty-three years, since high school, I was so surprised.
This beautiful, lush, flower of a girl, had turned in to this sleek, gorgeous, race horse of a woman, and she still has her gorgeous flaming red hair. Segue, but I've always been obsessed with red hair. I can't explain it, it must be some kind of past life thing, but I could just sit and play with red hair for hours, it's that beautiful to me. I know that redheaded children have a really hard time with it because they get so much attention and not all of it is positive, especially from other kids, but I've never understood why anyone wouldn't want red hair. This'll probably sound really weird and superficial but I sometimes tell Beau that I hope when he grows up he'll fall in love with someone with red hair, either that or someone Asian. Now I know that's stupid, and he knows I'm kidding, I just want him to find someone loving, faithful, devoted, and kind, someone who will adore him, but it wouldn't hurt if she or he, (you never know), had red hair.
Anyway my little sister from high school decided to find me and she pulled it off. She visited a mutual friend I had mentioned in my journal and he told her what street I lived on and what my house looked like and then when she saw the little crystal Eiffel Tower on my porch, (the one I had to have when I saw it on The Osbournes), she knew it had to be me. I'm really glad she came by because with the way I've been feeling it might have been another month before I would get around to hooking up with her. Maybe longer. My get-together-with-friends track record hasn't been too good lately. I haven't even been seeing my beloved Scott-man very much.
At Marymount we had this sweet tradition where girls hook up in little family groups. One senior girl is the big sister and then she picks one girl from every grade to be her little sisters and they all do things together. (One of my little sisters was Mariska Harguitay who is on Law and Order SVU.) It was a good thing and it was a lot of fun. Although I always felt that I had neglected my little Tara because by the time I was a senior my mind was on other things, like not getting caught smoking pot, surviving my lonely, rigid home life, and becoming world famous.
I can't remember if we were allowed to do any hazing to our little sisters when we were seniors, I'll have to ask Tara, but when I was a freshman we had to do things like dress up as baby ducks and push rolls of toilet paper with our noses down the runways at LAX. I do remember putting someone younger in a dumb waiter and getting zapped across the hallway with electricity when I tried to push this button to send her up to the spooky, forbidden, territory of the upper convent floors. I also remember planning to put beer in the coke machine on senior prank day but no one wanted to risk getting expelled so close to graduation. High school, I have so many stories, I could go on and on, I know there's a movie in there somewhere. High school for me was like a cross between those wacky, Hayley Mills movies, The Trouble With Angels, with Catholic schoolgirls going on road trips in buses with nuns, and Valley of the Dolls.
It's weird how when you're at your absolute worst, flannel nighty, unwashed hair, unshowered and zitty, (you know you want me), everyone picks that day to stop by. I had other visitors as well, and it was just funny how it worked out. I thought I was going to spend the whole day in bed moaning and feeling sorry for myself and instead I saw an old pal, met a nice guy named Joe, dealt with one of Rosa's freak outs, and tried to hold up my end of a conversation with a very smart man about old Hollywood. He was talking about Anita Loos, Charlie Chaplin, and Hitler and I suddenly had one of those brain meltdowns where you find yourself saying, "Uh yeah, unhunh, yeah, that's...interesting." and just hope the person you're talking to doesn't notice your mind's wandered off on some canoe trip down the Danube.
I've been worried for all of the people who are in the path of Hurricane Lili. I spent some time browsing Louisiana and Texas communities here on Live Journal, hoping to pick up scraps of current news. I just feel sorry for all of those people. It's got to be so scary to have to evacuate, to leave your home behind, not knowing what you'll be coming back to. I really worry for people's pets and am praying that this thing loses momentum before it reaches land. I've been thinking maybe I'm so concerned about hurricanes because I've never been in one. We don't have them here so I don't understand them in the same way that maybe someone from Louisiana might wonder about our earthquakes.
Next Thursday is my long awaited date with the bariatric surgeon, he's scheduling his surgeries for February. Amazing, when I think I decided to do this last December, that's how long it takes to get a surgery date.
Okay, well, I've run out of things to say and I have got to get some sleep. I have to extend my promise to catch up with all of you via your journals, at least until I'm up on my feet a bit more regularly and can sit here and read for a few hours without feeling so weak. Goodnight my little cyber-pals. Love you - Jacqui
Oh and another thing, I'm horny, is that hysterical or what? I can't even stand up long enough to take a shower but I want my man to come over here right now and be my lover-pie, sigh.