Saturday, December 20, 2008

Crybaby and Doctors

Next year has got to be better. I know it. Or else I'm fleeing to Paris or some remote island.

In this year I've cried more than I ever had in my entire life. Maybe infant stages excluded because I don't remember that and I'm sure it was entirely warranted as a means of communication for basic survival needs. I never used to cry at anything. Steel Magnolias? Nada. Joy Luck Club. Meh. Unless I was in pain or being yelled at by my parents, I rarely cried.

Now, I'm a crybaby. Like those kids that cried at everything. You look at them cross-eyed and they cried. That's me. And it's exhausting and frustrating. I need to fix this.

In other news, part of the exhaustion, aside from the evilness of certain work bosses, has to do with this past week's parade of doctor's visits.

Tuesday - travel to the vortex of hell (Cedar Sinai in West Hollywood) to accompany the bf to the neurologist. Where the doctor keeps us waiting for an hour and tells us that as a precaution, I need to drive the bf around for the foreseeable future until they straighten out his meds. We also need to come back to vortex of hell for his EEG. Sigh.

Wednesday - took the day off to squeeze in 5 appointments. Of course it's pouring rain all day and I need to haul myself out to Pasadena and surrounding areas.
9am - Drop off bf at work
11am - dentist
Squeeze in some lunch and xmas shopping.
1:30 - podiatrist consult for my foot orthotics
2:15 - they can squeeze me in at the orthotics place. Dart over there to get casts of my feet.
3:15 - dermatologist. Where she keeps me waiting for 45 minutes.
4:00 - CRAP. I need to go back to vortex of hell (Cedar Sinai in West Hollywood) to pick up bf's glasses since he absent- mindedly left them there the day before. Need to get there by 4:30-5 before they close.
4:20 - Run out of dermatologist's office with her makeshift map drawn on a giant wadded up piece of tissue paper they use on the beds. Shortcut turns out to be awesome.
5pm - Run into the offices at the vortex of hell just as the assistants are walking out and manage to get bf's glasses. Minus a few years off my life from the drive. I'm gonna glue them to his head. Of course parking charges me four bucks anyway.
6pm - Get groceries, get home, sit down for a bit before I have to pick up the bf from work.

This must be how stay at home moms feel like - running around picking people up, dropping them off, running errands, prepping for dinner... I'm wiped.

Thursday - Work is nuts. All of a sudden, 6pm, my little bro at work, grabs me while clutching his heart and says call an ambulance. I think something's wrong. He's only 25!!! I think it's a panic attack but to be safe, once his heart rate slows back down, work excuses me to take him to the ER. I rush him to Urgent Care, then the ER in Santa Monica (though there is a hospital across the street, gotta schlep over to SM since THAT'S where our HMO allows us to go. Sheesh.) Stay with the poor guy till 9:30 as they run tests and give him an IV drip. All in all, a good bonding experience as we end the night with some dinner after he's discharged as ok. And the fools at work keep thanking me and saying it's so nice of me to do that. Whatever. I would have done it anyway. Like I would ever choose work over friends.

Whoops, the bf is stranded. I'm calling and calling each hour since there's no reception in the ER, and he never picks up or calls back. Great. Now I have to worry and be frantic that the fool decided to walk the 5 miles home along Venice Bl at night. It's one of those things where he better be ok, otherwise I'm gonna strangle him. Finally call his seatmate buddy and the guy chuckles and tells me he gave the bf a ride home - he didn't call you? ARGH!

Anyway, it's 5 more days till Christmas and I have yet to be infused with the holiday spirit. I think I've finished my shopping. Sent out my cards. Going to a party tonight. But man my head is numb. My face hurts from the crying and the dryness of my heater. And I miss my friends and most importantly, my sanity. THAT'S what I want for Christmas. Sanity. and maybe an Iphone.

Monday, December 15, 2008

Hours and Hours of Music Therapy

There's no getting around it. November was a sh*t month. And soon it will be time to do the annual year end reflection on whether or not the year leaned toward sh*t half empty or sh*t half full. Did I mention that my vocabulary has become atrocious this year too?

On a bright note, after yet another gut wrenching argument with the bf, I slunk over to my brother's so that we could catch the KROQ Almost Acoustic Christmas concert at the Gibson Amphitheater at Universal Studios. This is a concert I've been trying on and off for 15 years to get tickets. I've stood in line for hours outside Tower records, called in repeatedly, and jumped on the Ticketmaster website the minute tickets were released for sale. I've never come close.

My brother, however, is blessed by magical concert fairies and managed to get tickets the second year in a row.

We got rained on when we left, but the hours and hours of music, along with some quality time with my brother really salvaged the night and pretty much this week. I had to admit, the first hour during the bands Vampire Weekend and Snow Patrol, I had to rein in some rogue tears every so often when my mind wandered over to sadder matters. But by the time we stepped out for some grub during the not so great Scott Weiland set (he of Stone Temple Pilots and Velvet Revolver fame), and returned to a lively Franz Ferdinand set, my brain was succumbing to the infectious ambiance and tunes.

While riding the wave of happy music, all of a sudden the surprise guest showed up. My brother looked up and said, "that sounds like Kanye...OMG it's Kanye West!" The guy was so cool, it didn't even matter that he was playing to a alternative rock crowd. He's probably so confident, he's thinking "hell yeah, hiphop, rap, alternative rock... whatever. Put me in front of a bunch of senior citizen Neil Diamond fans, and watch me work that crowd! I transcend demographics."

Paramour and Death Cab for Cutie were just as enjoyable, but the main act - the one my brother really came for was The Killers. I loved this band the first time I ever heard them on stage at the KROQ Weenie Roast concert more than 7 years ago. Now, they're one of the biggest acts and all their tunes are super catchy. I mean come on, are we human or are we dancer?

My favorite Killers song of all time - to listen to, sing aloud, and play guitar hero/rock band for is When You Were Young. Not only do I personally interpret the song's lyrics to describe one of my own follies - having idealistic sweep-me-off-my-feet notions and then falling flat on my face - the music video is so nicely done that it manages to tell a real emotional story in about five minutes time.

Finally, the band I stayed all the way till the end for, a band I never thought I'd ever hear live singing songs I used to listen to on cassettes - The Cure - opened with Pictures of You and I nearly died and went to heaven. I think that song came out when I was 10. But mainly I got into The Cure during the high school and college angst years, thanks to UBBF and other more musically savvy high school friends. I looked around and figured a good amount of the crowd wasn't even born when the Disintegration album came out and then I felt old. (On a side note, I also felt bitter, jaded, and old when I saw the young couple in front of me smooch, hug and make out all through the concert and I could keep thinking was "oh puhleeze, go get a room!"

Luckily my brother understood my need to see this band and stayed till I was ready to go. He may not have understood why The Cure sounded good to me or anyone else, but he understood that it was something I needed to do. For now, my concert going is complete. I have seen almost everyone I've ever wanted to see. And for now, I'm on a music high which will hopefully carry me through the night until I deal with reality tomorrow.