high levels of pathetic
I am one of the millions affected by the flu epidemic. But I survived. And I'm here to tell you my story.
And actually, I won't tell you my story, because it's a rather pathetic tale that mostly involves either me sleeping, being curled into a ball on my bed, mustering up energy to walk up a flight of stairs, eating, coughing, sleeping, having delusional dreams, and sleeping. (I was so excited that I got less than 10 hours of sleep last night and didn't even need a nap.)
I am just here to say thank goodness there is more to life than trying to eat all your Frosted Mini Wheats before they get soggy! There are greater challenges than trying to stay awake for more than four hours! Today was the first day I didn't wear pajamas for the majority of my day. It was magical.
Basically, all the flu does is reduce you to an absolutely, embarrassingly, pitifully pathetic excuse for a human being. I felt like a house cat for over 50 hours straight. I was going insane.
But it's gone, and its only traces are some sniffles and a cough (which I'm told can last up to 17 days. wonderful). And I will gladly wave good-bye when my lungs and nose are once again empty, and when I can laugh without fear of coughing fits. It's the little things.
And though the patheticism (not a word) from my recent sickness is finally dwindling, another form crept in this afternoon as I drove from piano lesson to piano lesson. I was reduced to a blubbering, pathetic, sentimental mess because...I'm in love.
I fell in love four and a half years ago with a 1997 Chevy Cavalier. I never believed in love at first sight until I laid eyes on that beautiful red salvage car. Mercedes was worth every penny of that $1885 dollars I gladly dished over to make her mine. And we drove out of that man's driveway and never looked back.
My baby had trouble starting last night, which got me thinking while I was driving this afternoon: my car could die soon. MERCEDES COULD DIE SOON. Rather than worrying about the financial complications this would entail, I immediately got teary-eyed and began to put together a playlist (while driving...not recommended but completely necessary at the time) of love songs (including but not limited to Better Together by jack johnson, Fix You (obviously) by coldplay, Forever Young by alphaville, Keep Holding On by avril lavigne, My Life Would Suck Without You by kelly clarkson, This is Not the End by gungor, The Story by brandi carlile, and When U Love Somebody by the fruitbats). As I sang romantic songs to her in off-pitch harmony, often screeching notes that my cold-ridden vocal cords were clearly not yet in good enough condition to handle, memory after memory flooded into my mind.
From every time my speeding eluded a police officer, to that one time I completely changed from normal clothes to workout clothes WHILE DRIVING, to western Nebraska small towns during poorly-planned roadtrips, to the countless times my nanny boys would declare, "Your car is a piece of crap," to the time I rear ended a Grace professor's wife, to my anxiety last summer as a mechanic told me, "Your car could blow up at any moment," to my grandpa showing me how to change its tires, to saving Rachyl from the Dodge Expressway, to running out of gas in the middle of winter, to the first DTR with my now boyfriend, to when some very mean people busted out my windows and stole her radio; every weird smell from the air conditioning, every loud and off-pitch song I would sing, every tear it saw me cry, every prayer it heard me offer, every gust of wind that caught my doors and banged them on cars parked next to me, every cookie I spun in the middle of winter, every Starbucks run, every piano lesson, and every hail dent.
Do I still have any readers? Probably not, and that's okay. Mercedes was bound to get a blog dedicated to her sooner or later. And I figured I'd do it while I'm in my pathetic stage.
Here's to having a life that isn't just dedicated to sleep and Frosted Mini Wheats, and NOT crying about cars.
God help me.
And actually, I won't tell you my story, because it's a rather pathetic tale that mostly involves either me sleeping, being curled into a ball on my bed, mustering up energy to walk up a flight of stairs, eating, coughing, sleeping, having delusional dreams, and sleeping. (I was so excited that I got less than 10 hours of sleep last night and didn't even need a nap.)
I am just here to say thank goodness there is more to life than trying to eat all your Frosted Mini Wheats before they get soggy! There are greater challenges than trying to stay awake for more than four hours! Today was the first day I didn't wear pajamas for the majority of my day. It was magical.
Basically, all the flu does is reduce you to an absolutely, embarrassingly, pitifully pathetic excuse for a human being. I felt like a house cat for over 50 hours straight. I was going insane.
But it's gone, and its only traces are some sniffles and a cough (which I'm told can last up to 17 days. wonderful). And I will gladly wave good-bye when my lungs and nose are once again empty, and when I can laugh without fear of coughing fits. It's the little things.
And though the patheticism (not a word) from my recent sickness is finally dwindling, another form crept in this afternoon as I drove from piano lesson to piano lesson. I was reduced to a blubbering, pathetic, sentimental mess because...I'm in love.
I fell in love four and a half years ago with a 1997 Chevy Cavalier. I never believed in love at first sight until I laid eyes on that beautiful red salvage car. Mercedes was worth every penny of that $1885 dollars I gladly dished over to make her mine. And we drove out of that man's driveway and never looked back.
My baby had trouble starting last night, which got me thinking while I was driving this afternoon: my car could die soon. MERCEDES COULD DIE SOON. Rather than worrying about the financial complications this would entail, I immediately got teary-eyed and began to put together a playlist (while driving...not recommended but completely necessary at the time) of love songs (including but not limited to Better Together by jack johnson, Fix You (obviously) by coldplay, Forever Young by alphaville, Keep Holding On by avril lavigne, My Life Would Suck Without You by kelly clarkson, This is Not the End by gungor, The Story by brandi carlile, and When U Love Somebody by the fruitbats). As I sang romantic songs to her in off-pitch harmony, often screeching notes that my cold-ridden vocal cords were clearly not yet in good enough condition to handle, memory after memory flooded into my mind.
From every time my speeding eluded a police officer, to that one time I completely changed from normal clothes to workout clothes WHILE DRIVING, to western Nebraska small towns during poorly-planned roadtrips, to the countless times my nanny boys would declare, "Your car is a piece of crap," to the time I rear ended a Grace professor's wife, to my anxiety last summer as a mechanic told me, "Your car could blow up at any moment," to my grandpa showing me how to change its tires, to saving Rachyl from the Dodge Expressway, to running out of gas in the middle of winter, to the first DTR with my now boyfriend, to when some very mean people busted out my windows and stole her radio; every weird smell from the air conditioning, every loud and off-pitch song I would sing, every tear it saw me cry, every prayer it heard me offer, every gust of wind that caught my doors and banged them on cars parked next to me, every cookie I spun in the middle of winter, every Starbucks run, every piano lesson, and every hail dent.
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| illegal amounts of things hanging from my mirror: two owls, a note ornament from some piano kiddos, air freshener, and some project a two year-old made me that used to have noodles, but the noodles exploded in the summer heat |
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| always on |
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| I could care less about penguins, but my grandpa gave this to me, and I'm sentimental like that |
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| Mercedes' second stereo. May the first one rest in peace |
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| can you see the tiny pieces of glass still there? I still find them. from that terrible day. when Mercedes was violated. |
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| one of my favorite parts no one ever gets it. IT MEANS I RAN 13.1 MILES. aka a half marathon. now you're going to see them everywhere. |
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| here she is. |
Here's to having a life that isn't just dedicated to sleep and Frosted Mini Wheats, and NOT crying about cars.
God help me.
I'm still here! I definitely know how you feel. My Xavier was actually a Chevy Cavalier, too. He died in November (RIP). He was definitely one of my most faithful friends this past year when I was going through some horrible, heartrending things... When I needed to get off campus, he was always there to take me to Walmart so I could watch people that had it worse off than me... Until I killed him on I-80, two hours away from Omaha, on the way back from Thanksgiving break...
ReplyDeleteI cried. And probably said some bad words.
(Not like I'm speaking from personal experience or anything but, you know, if Mercedes ever starts to overheat, don't keep going. Pull over right away. There's apparently an aluminum head gasket or something that will melt and then your engine goes patooey. And then you have to sell her to a salvage yard in Seward, Nebraska, for an embarrassingly low price considering how much you loved her. And then you get stuck with your sister's Ford Tempo named Chauncy Mathers. Which hates you.)