Dear Bono,
Since last month, much has changed. Fall melted into winter here in the Ohio River Valley and I fear the sun will not make an appearance until late April. I applied for that job in Montana. The closing date is December 31. I also emailed people in other jobs. Who needs verbal abuse anyway. I have found the 2nd year fellow to be a most kindred spirit. We both hate our boss (ok, so most of the non-physicians in our division feel that way). Actually, here's another example of his "Mean Girls" behavior. He had a physician only Christmas party. And didn't invite the 2nd year fellow or myself. Both physicians. Also, they kept it very hush hush, like they didn't want us to know about it. Of course it still gets out. Slap in the face. I guess I am good enough to drop everything and call his patients whenever he sends me a "can you check on ____" text, but not good enough to be invited to their party. What stung all the more was when the nurses in the operating room put up Santa hats for the physicians and stockings for the nurses, and NOTHING for the 2nd year fellow and myself. Truly, we are nothing. It actually reminds me a bit of that Britney Spears song that I am sure you have never heard but I heard it because I am the same age as Britney and therefore her songs spoke to me despite largely being written by people who were decades older than us: "I'm not a girl, not yet a woman." Except I'm not a nurse, not yet a doctor. Though I have been a doctor. For 6 years. And if I had known 6 months ago what I realized 3-4 months ago (that fellowship is stupid and that I could've been happy being an adult urologist), I would have applied for adult jobs and never had to deal with these drama queens.
Ok. I know I am petty and also could be probably considered a drama queen. It is hard not being overly dramatic when one feels like they are back in the 7th grade drama! But Bono, how are YOU? That bicycle accident-ouch! How is your clavicle/hand/back. I actually can't all quite remember what you hurt, but it sounds painful. Surgery for your injuries! I have to say that after spending 6 years in the operating room, I never want to have surgery myself. Sure, when patients say they are scared, I reassure them. After all, usually there is nothing that goes wrong. But I guess as a surgical trainee, I have taken care of my share of the unusual part-the part that does go wrong. And boy, it is scary. I only have been under anesthesia (besides local-which could still kill a person) once. I was sixteen and getting my wisdom teeth out. Now I didn't go to any of those "oral surgeons" who gives full sedation. That is for fancy people. And the dentist I had my whole life, whom I still see, was good enough to take out my teeth. Just a little local, a little nitrous, and they were out. I remember hearing about how crazy people could act when under nitrous. Now there is proof on YouTube. I was excited to hear about all the funny things I said, because, I am a funny person, so therefore my funny should be exponentially higher with the added socially inhibiting drug, right? But all I remember was feeling like I was suffocating with that mask. It was awful. No funny stories, no nothing. Just me, feeling the "clink, clink, clink" of them breaking my teeth out of my mouth and hearing the dentist exclaim "that is the biggest wisdom tooth I have ever seen." Luckily, it was soon over, and I didn't have to get back in the chair until a week later when I had infections in all my sockets and had to get them incised and drained without anesthesia because it was a Sunday. I remember that as being painful. Nevertheless, I am glad you are doing well. I was a bit surprised at the announcement of the tour, but I'm sure the planning of this preceded the accident and I am sure it is difficult to reschedule arenas, just because of a few broken bones. I did manage to secure some tickets. As usual, this was a minor cluster, and it is a bit frustrating that the two nights are going to be different, but I didn't know a) different it what manner, or b) which show was which, so of course I had to buy tickets to both. And of course, despite being a member of U2.com since 2005 and Propaganda before that (which was way better, in terms of having awesome magazine, and MUCH better ticket distribution, but I'm sure you spend hours reading the comments boards and have already seen how everyone says this. Actually, back in college, I spent HOURS on U2 message boards. I was on the U2 Wire. Oh, the joy! I met friends on those things. The internet in its youth! What a joyful place! But, I have been too busy lately for things like "message boards" and "friends" and only looked briefly over the U2.com message boards when I was having a problem with the ticket purchases. There was much anger on the boards that day. And much wistful discussion about the Propaganda days. The old days were always much better than today, anyhow.) Anyway, I was only able to secure GA tickets for one night in Boston (night 2). Then the other night was sold out. So I had to spend 300 bucks per ticket because that's all it could find in a pair (really, Bono? I have $86,000 in student loans! And I thought the $120 "Golden Circle" for Elevation was rough) for the other night (night 1). But I wanted to be on the floor for both nights! So I have decided to fly to Arizona, where they had floor seats for the opposite night as Boston (AZ night 1), but then what if you switched the order of the shows between AZ and Boston, and now the AZ night 1 show is the same as Boston night 2, so I had to get tickets for AZ night 2 as well, just in case. No floor seats were available this time, but I am old and don't want to wait in a GA line 2 days in a row, so the nosebleeds it is. I am poor. I thought I mentioned this already? Gone are the days of 360 Tour where I easily got GA tickets and ended up on the 1st or 2nd row in 5 out of 6 cities (the 6th being Philly, where I was working in Baltimore that same day and got off work at 6 and drove straight to Philly and walked into the stadium right as Bowie came on and headed to the back because why not? Sure, you can't have Bono call out your poster "President the Edge, 4 More Years"-a nod to the DC show a few nights prior) and make the Edge come look at it if you are in the back like you can if you are in the 2nd row like at Charlottesville. And sure, you can't have Adam Clayton mouth "thank you" after he has seen you elatedly dancing for the past 2 hours because you are on the front row right in front of him like you can at the Salt Lake show. But then again, if you are in the back, you are less likely to need to sit down from heat exhaustion because it is TOO HOT and there are TOO MANY PEOPLE like in the 2nd row at the Baltimore show, and you are less likely to encounter people angrily speaking French to you when you try to get your 2nd row spot back after a port-a-potty break that had like 2 squares of toilet paper left, mind you, like at the Montreal show. So, being in the front has highs and lows. But either way, it involves MUCH sitting and waiting to get let into the show to begin with.) I forgot what I was talking about. Anyway, get well soon, Bono.
-JP
Saturday, December 27, 2014
Saturday, November 22, 2014
Motivation?
Dear Bono,
Work is rough. I can't respect my boss because he is a total jerk. Hmm, not really jerk, as much as a 14 year old girl who likes to just gossip and be mean. I told one of my old bosses from my last hospital that the attendings here are like the "Mean Girls" but wear less pink.
So I'm looking at other jobs. Why torture myself for extra training, when I could just get a regular old job. There's one at this VA in Montana. I love the VA. Montana is nice. Also, this job has NO CALL. Like, ever. And no nights or weekends. I'd be a normal person again. But I guess you don't know what that's like?
JP
Work is rough. I can't respect my boss because he is a total jerk. Hmm, not really jerk, as much as a 14 year old girl who likes to just gossip and be mean. I told one of my old bosses from my last hospital that the attendings here are like the "Mean Girls" but wear less pink.
So I'm looking at other jobs. Why torture myself for extra training, when I could just get a regular old job. There's one at this VA in Montana. I love the VA. Montana is nice. Also, this job has NO CALL. Like, ever. And no nights or weekends. I'd be a normal person again. But I guess you don't know what that's like?
JP
Saturday, November 8, 2014
I blame Colin
Dear Bono,
Again, weeks and months even have gone by without a single note. I shall lame the bulk of the blame squarely on my job. Residency was tough-crazy patients, sick patients, long surgeries, long clinics smelling of urine. But in order to practice as a physician, it was something I had to do. And it wasn't even that bad-for the last six months. That is, once the annoying attending physician we had left, and once I got over my deep depression at the fact I hadn't matched into a fellowship spot.
Which makes it a bit ironic-the fact that now that I have a fellowship spot, I hate it and want to quit. Fellowship is something people do for extra training in a given field-mine is pediatric urology. I could be urologist without it, but in the U.S. one has to do a pediatric fellowship to be able to sit for the boards for pediatric urology. And I like the surgeries, and I like the patients. I hate my boss. He is horrible. I decided part of his issue is he doesn't think that women are full people. This makes it hard to get any respect from him. Luckily, I have the fellow a year ahead of me (there is only one of us a year) to comiserate with, as she is a woman, and she got screamed at by him in a very nice restaurant in Miami. She understands my pain.
And last night, I had a dream. Our program is putting together a conference next week for visiting faculty to learn about some other elements of pediatric urology. I dreamt that one of the other attending physicians was asking me a question during it, and my boss got mad at ME and then told me to do all kinds of other paperwork because I was whispering while these speakers were here. And when he told me this, I stood up, and told him I quit, and walked out. And I felt free. All this weight I have been feeling, this dread, this ulcer-inducing stress, was magically gone.
And then I continued to dream. I went to Washington DC where I was in the same political internship program I was 11 years ago during college. (The students seemed young-I am clearly not 20 anymore.) And we heard that David Bowie was coming to play an intimate acoustic set in Waldorf, MD. And I had front fow seats. And it was amazing. Although I was mouthing to him that I liked his shoes during it (they were pink/purple sparkly things) and he appeared afraid of me (not unlike how in my REAL life, Nicholas Cage looked like I was about to attack him when I had to get my stuff from a chair behind him during filming for a movie I was an extra in, but that is a different story for a different day.) Irregardless, it was a fantastic dream.
But that's all it was. I had fallen asleep with the 1995 BBC Pride and Prejudice on. Those Darcy eyes must have penetrated my soul and all my true hopes played out while I slumbered.
-JP
Again, weeks and months even have gone by without a single note. I shall lame the bulk of the blame squarely on my job. Residency was tough-crazy patients, sick patients, long surgeries, long clinics smelling of urine. But in order to practice as a physician, it was something I had to do. And it wasn't even that bad-for the last six months. That is, once the annoying attending physician we had left, and once I got over my deep depression at the fact I hadn't matched into a fellowship spot.
Which makes it a bit ironic-the fact that now that I have a fellowship spot, I hate it and want to quit. Fellowship is something people do for extra training in a given field-mine is pediatric urology. I could be urologist without it, but in the U.S. one has to do a pediatric fellowship to be able to sit for the boards for pediatric urology. And I like the surgeries, and I like the patients. I hate my boss. He is horrible. I decided part of his issue is he doesn't think that women are full people. This makes it hard to get any respect from him. Luckily, I have the fellow a year ahead of me (there is only one of us a year) to comiserate with, as she is a woman, and she got screamed at by him in a very nice restaurant in Miami. She understands my pain.
And last night, I had a dream. Our program is putting together a conference next week for visiting faculty to learn about some other elements of pediatric urology. I dreamt that one of the other attending physicians was asking me a question during it, and my boss got mad at ME and then told me to do all kinds of other paperwork because I was whispering while these speakers were here. And when he told me this, I stood up, and told him I quit, and walked out. And I felt free. All this weight I have been feeling, this dread, this ulcer-inducing stress, was magically gone.
And then I continued to dream. I went to Washington DC where I was in the same political internship program I was 11 years ago during college. (The students seemed young-I am clearly not 20 anymore.) And we heard that David Bowie was coming to play an intimate acoustic set in Waldorf, MD. And I had front fow seats. And it was amazing. Although I was mouthing to him that I liked his shoes during it (they were pink/purple sparkly things) and he appeared afraid of me (not unlike how in my REAL life, Nicholas Cage looked like I was about to attack him when I had to get my stuff from a chair behind him during filming for a movie I was an extra in, but that is a different story for a different day.) Irregardless, it was a fantastic dream.
But that's all it was. I had fallen asleep with the 1995 BBC Pride and Prejudice on. Those Darcy eyes must have penetrated my soul and all my true hopes played out while I slumbered.
-JP
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
Say Yes to the Dress
Dear Bono,
A strange thing happened to me yesterday. I ordered a cat food container to keep the ants out (I am a nice cat owner to my cat I rescued from a wood pile in Southeast DC. Now that I think about it, she should just be grateful to not be still living under that woodpile). Anyway, the box arrived and was slightly open. Eh, no worries, nothing too valuable in there. So I opened the box the rest of the way, and there is a J Crew pink bridesmaid dress in there.
My guess is that it fell out of it's actual box, and UPS saw my box was partially open and figured it went in there and put it in.
So Bono, what do I do? Call J. Crew and see if they can figure out where it belongs? Call UPS? Return it and try and get store credit (a couple of people suggested that). My husband said that it's actually like the show, "Say Yes to the Dress" and I need to say yes to it and wear it. It's not my color...
JP
A strange thing happened to me yesterday. I ordered a cat food container to keep the ants out (I am a nice cat owner to my cat I rescued from a wood pile in Southeast DC. Now that I think about it, she should just be grateful to not be still living under that woodpile). Anyway, the box arrived and was slightly open. Eh, no worries, nothing too valuable in there. So I opened the box the rest of the way, and there is a J Crew pink bridesmaid dress in there.
My guess is that it fell out of it's actual box, and UPS saw my box was partially open and figured it went in there and put it in.
So Bono, what do I do? Call J. Crew and see if they can figure out where it belongs? Call UPS? Return it and try and get store credit (a couple of people suggested that). My husband said that it's actually like the show, "Say Yes to the Dress" and I need to say yes to it and wear it. It's not my color...
JP
Thursday, August 21, 2014
I can't, I'm working
Dear Bono,
You're a busy man. I'm sure you're constantly torn in multiple directions trying to figure out the best balance and the right prioritization (hint: sometimes it's just getting the new album done already). Welp, Bono, you area not alone! I am also very busy. Indeed, I work hours and hours and hours and hours a day, then also every 3rd night. And every 3rd weekend. Nonstop. Ahh, the life of a surgical trainee. It's actually kind of appalling when I tell people about it. So much so, that I can't believe that it is my life and I am living it. (This is also the experience I had last weekend when I was telling a visiting pediatric surgeon from Nigeria about healthcare in the U.S., and how we can't get everyone coverage, and how physician reimbursements are-like how surgeons don't get paid for seeing a patient that had surgery within 30 days because it's part of a global fee, etc, and the more I told him about it the more he said "this is not right" and I just had to agree. But I digress.)
Anyway, there have been many MANY events over the past 9 years of my life that I have missed due to medical school or residency. Family reunions (in Costa Rica, no less), birthdays (I have not yet met my 15 month old nephew), holidays (I made it home for 1 Christmas in the past 5 years. That was worth it though-it was a surprise and my husband and I showed up at his home for Christmas Eve dinner and my home on Christmas morning. Worth the $2000 bucks for tickets. No Thanksgivings.) A friend of mine is getting married in December and I just was looking at the RSVP. Probably can't go because it's over the holiday schedule, and a reception in Las Vegas is on a Friday and I can't make it there because it is 4 hrs away when I work every night until 7pm, and then the one in DC (a 1 hr flight) is on a Monday night, so also not going to happen. Why must my life always be "I can't, I'm working?"
Bono, I need to find a job that will let me sometimes answer "sure, I can make it. And I can help set up/clean up too!"
-JP
You're a busy man. I'm sure you're constantly torn in multiple directions trying to figure out the best balance and the right prioritization (hint: sometimes it's just getting the new album done already). Welp, Bono, you area not alone! I am also very busy. Indeed, I work hours and hours and hours and hours a day, then also every 3rd night. And every 3rd weekend. Nonstop. Ahh, the life of a surgical trainee. It's actually kind of appalling when I tell people about it. So much so, that I can't believe that it is my life and I am living it. (This is also the experience I had last weekend when I was telling a visiting pediatric surgeon from Nigeria about healthcare in the U.S., and how we can't get everyone coverage, and how physician reimbursements are-like how surgeons don't get paid for seeing a patient that had surgery within 30 days because it's part of a global fee, etc, and the more I told him about it the more he said "this is not right" and I just had to agree. But I digress.)
Anyway, there have been many MANY events over the past 9 years of my life that I have missed due to medical school or residency. Family reunions (in Costa Rica, no less), birthdays (I have not yet met my 15 month old nephew), holidays (I made it home for 1 Christmas in the past 5 years. That was worth it though-it was a surprise and my husband and I showed up at his home for Christmas Eve dinner and my home on Christmas morning. Worth the $2000 bucks for tickets. No Thanksgivings.) A friend of mine is getting married in December and I just was looking at the RSVP. Probably can't go because it's over the holiday schedule, and a reception in Las Vegas is on a Friday and I can't make it there because it is 4 hrs away when I work every night until 7pm, and then the one in DC (a 1 hr flight) is on a Monday night, so also not going to happen. Why must my life always be "I can't, I'm working?"
Bono, I need to find a job that will let me sometimes answer "sure, I can make it. And I can help set up/clean up too!"
-JP
Saturday, August 16, 2014
Mix Tape
Dear Bono,
Remember mix tapes? I loved making them. Recording songs I loved off the radio. I remember permanently having a blank tape in one of slots on my 2 deck sound system just in case something great came on. I probably still have that tape somewhere with the Hollywood remix of "Desire" and the extended mix of "Two Hearts Beat As One." Somehow being able to just go to iTunes and download any song takes some of the fun.
I've been trying to put together a care package for my sister in law. What do you give someone who will be in the hospital getting chemo for a month? So far I have earrings (what woman wouldn't want gorg Kate Spade earrings), a hat (Beaker from the Muppets. His perma-panicked expression matches my feelings most of the time), the Doris Day/Rock Hudson movie collection on DVD, and plans for some macaroons, lip balm, lotions, socks. I was thinking what else to get, and then I thought about a CD. But then my thoughts went back to iTunes, and how nobody buys CDs anymore. Screw it. I made a mix CD.
My husband made me a mix CD 11 years ago. This was before we were really dating. We were still in that "friends" "hanging out" phase. He dropped it off at my college apartment before he went home for the weekend. I wasn't home and was surprised when my roommate showed me the gift. I always thought I liked him more than he liked me. To that end, I tried not to read too much into the CD. Not long thereafter, we actually started dating. At some point, I made him a mix CD (pre-iTunes, post Napster era). I put all kinds of great songs on it, and some special rarities including one of your own 1976 demos. I put this at the end of the CD, knowing he loved U2, and thinking he may have not heard it. Unfortunately, it was titled "The Dream is Over" (whoa whoa whoaaaaaaaaa) and he, unlike me, read a lot into each song on the CD. Oops. He still won't let me forget that (though I won't let him forget the time that before we were dating he had me order a Freur album off Amazon, even though I said he could borrow it from my sister who already had it (random), and he never paid me back).
Because of this thing that people do of apparently finding meaning in mix CDs that really the only meaning is "here, I hope you like this" I spent several hours stressing out over what songs to put on this CD. Obviously, it needs to be uplifting. And Phil Collins never hurts ("I have two ears and a heart, don't I?" Which, come to think of it, should be the title of a Phil Collins biopic, should one be made). Any other recommendations?
-JP
Remember mix tapes? I loved making them. Recording songs I loved off the radio. I remember permanently having a blank tape in one of slots on my 2 deck sound system just in case something great came on. I probably still have that tape somewhere with the Hollywood remix of "Desire" and the extended mix of "Two Hearts Beat As One." Somehow being able to just go to iTunes and download any song takes some of the fun.
I've been trying to put together a care package for my sister in law. What do you give someone who will be in the hospital getting chemo for a month? So far I have earrings (what woman wouldn't want gorg Kate Spade earrings), a hat (Beaker from the Muppets. His perma-panicked expression matches my feelings most of the time), the Doris Day/Rock Hudson movie collection on DVD, and plans for some macaroons, lip balm, lotions, socks. I was thinking what else to get, and then I thought about a CD. But then my thoughts went back to iTunes, and how nobody buys CDs anymore. Screw it. I made a mix CD.
My husband made me a mix CD 11 years ago. This was before we were really dating. We were still in that "friends" "hanging out" phase. He dropped it off at my college apartment before he went home for the weekend. I wasn't home and was surprised when my roommate showed me the gift. I always thought I liked him more than he liked me. To that end, I tried not to read too much into the CD. Not long thereafter, we actually started dating. At some point, I made him a mix CD (pre-iTunes, post Napster era). I put all kinds of great songs on it, and some special rarities including one of your own 1976 demos. I put this at the end of the CD, knowing he loved U2, and thinking he may have not heard it. Unfortunately, it was titled "The Dream is Over" (whoa whoa whoaaaaaaaaa) and he, unlike me, read a lot into each song on the CD. Oops. He still won't let me forget that (though I won't let him forget the time that before we were dating he had me order a Freur album off Amazon, even though I said he could borrow it from my sister who already had it (random), and he never paid me back).
Because of this thing that people do of apparently finding meaning in mix CDs that really the only meaning is "here, I hope you like this" I spent several hours stressing out over what songs to put on this CD. Obviously, it needs to be uplifting. And Phil Collins never hurts ("I have two ears and a heart, don't I?" Which, come to think of it, should be the title of a Phil Collins biopic, should one be made). Any other recommendations?
-JP
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Dinner
Dear Bono,
Today I went out to dinner with a co-worker. The one who is a year ahead of me. The one who knows the challenges of my fellowship better than anyone else. It is nice having someone to relate to.
Sincerely,
JP
Today I went out to dinner with a co-worker. The one who is a year ahead of me. The one who knows the challenges of my fellowship better than anyone else. It is nice having someone to relate to.
Sincerely,
JP
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
Phone Calls
Dear Bono,
I am not an unfriendly person. I don't like crowds of people, but I get energized when I talk to some people (not all people.) I really hate talking on the phone though. Hate hate hate. Ever since I was a kid, the thought of calling someone has given me anxiety. It has eased up. Mostly because my job involves returning calls (doctor, no order for tylenol. Please place order for tylenol).
I keep thinking I need to call my sister in law, but I keep not doing it. It's easy to rationalize-she is probably getting more calls than she can handle, plus I had a lot of stuff to do at work, etc etc.
I should call though.
Sincerely,
JP
I am not an unfriendly person. I don't like crowds of people, but I get energized when I talk to some people (not all people.) I really hate talking on the phone though. Hate hate hate. Ever since I was a kid, the thought of calling someone has given me anxiety. It has eased up. Mostly because my job involves returning calls (doctor, no order for tylenol. Please place order for tylenol).
I keep thinking I need to call my sister in law, but I keep not doing it. It's easy to rationalize-she is probably getting more calls than she can handle, plus I had a lot of stuff to do at work, etc etc.
I should call though.
Sincerely,
JP
Monday, August 11, 2014
RW
Dear Bono,
Robin Williams is dead. How does it feel to have your doppelganger be gone? Not that Robin Williams was really your doppelganger-especially not in the Neil McCormick Way. Your similarities began with fame and ended with looks and extreme hairiness.
Apparently it was a suicide. An endpoint of a deep dark depression. I wish I could say I cannot fathom why people do this, but I can. I have faced darkness myself-that "God-shaped hole" you have mentioned in the past. I guess sometimes that hole can just swallow us up. With some hope, we are perhaps spat back out-off to fight another day and another chance to fill that God-shaped hole. But for some, it is a void that cannot be filled.
Sincerely,
JP
Robin Williams is dead. How does it feel to have your doppelganger be gone? Not that Robin Williams was really your doppelganger-especially not in the Neil McCormick Way. Your similarities began with fame and ended with looks and extreme hairiness.
Apparently it was a suicide. An endpoint of a deep dark depression. I wish I could say I cannot fathom why people do this, but I can. I have faced darkness myself-that "God-shaped hole" you have mentioned in the past. I guess sometimes that hole can just swallow us up. With some hope, we are perhaps spat back out-off to fight another day and another chance to fill that God-shaped hole. But for some, it is a void that cannot be filled.
Sincerely,
JP
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Emotional Cripple
Dear Bono,
I am an emotional cripple. I really feel like most of the time I just feel.... nothing? No, not nothing. Just flat. Little punctuations of emotion show through occasionally. Usually, this is signified by an exclamation point signifying anger or frustration. Occasionally, maybe a comma of calm and joyful peace. Rarely, it's a hyphen of sadness. I tend to bury that sadness.
The difficulty of my life escapes my exterior during sad movies. I melt into a mess of goopy tears that the 3 year olds sitting next to me in any given Pixar movie peer at from behind their 3-D glasses.
I returned today from a laparoscopic surgery class in Toronto. That sounds pretty bad-ass of me, doesn't it? Bono, I took out a pig's kidney from one 10 millimeter and two 5 millimeter incisions on her back. I mean, think of how good she would look in a bikini, if only pigs wore bikinis, and, obviously if she wasn't put down at the end of the day. Still... I am pretty awesome.
Except I'm not. At least that's how I feel. I feel like a small fish in a huge ocean. Maybe even one of those fish that live in the dark depths that largely go unnoticed by everyone else. A guy getting into my shuttle from the red parking lot to the airport on the way to Toronto stepped on my right foot, moved, then stepped on my left, never noticing I was there. I want to shout, "I'm right HERE, don't step on me!" But I don't. Because I bury feelings.
I managed to get an email during my trip to Toronto-my phone functions were turned off due to the high roaming charges that I cannot afford. Despite my recent 32nd birthday, I am too laden with student loans to pay 50 cents per text and 89 cents per minute on the phone. The email let me know my sister in law has cancer. She spent her birthday in the hospital getting more and more blood tests.
Bono, why is that? Why do bad things happen to good people? I know that this is a generic questions, and of course I am not really asking you. I think that this is more of an address to God, and I know you are not God, except maybe in the way Alec Baldwin was God in "Malice."
During my layover at LaGuardia, I called my in-laws. My husband doesn't yet know his sister has cancer because he is halfway across the world. Bono, I realize I haven't written you in over a year. I will have to fill you in on all that later. I didn't cry. I felt flat, yet again. On my flight home, I listened to music, skipping songs that were incongruent with my mood. I found the songs I rested on-Phosphorescent "Song for Zula", U2 "So cruel", "Love is Blindness", "One", The Ark "Stay With Me", Ryan Adams "Two", Coldplay "The Scientist", all reflected a bitter sort of love, one that may or may not long for something better. I guess that's how I feel really. Not flat, but not brightly polished like so many of the people around me are. More dull, but not in a boring sort of way. Dull the edges of my antique mirror-the one that distorts my face with the blotches and stretching that happens as mirrors lose their sparkle.
Bono, I will try and be better about writing you.
Sincerely,
Me
I am an emotional cripple. I really feel like most of the time I just feel.... nothing? No, not nothing. Just flat. Little punctuations of emotion show through occasionally. Usually, this is signified by an exclamation point signifying anger or frustration. Occasionally, maybe a comma of calm and joyful peace. Rarely, it's a hyphen of sadness. I tend to bury that sadness.
The difficulty of my life escapes my exterior during sad movies. I melt into a mess of goopy tears that the 3 year olds sitting next to me in any given Pixar movie peer at from behind their 3-D glasses.
I returned today from a laparoscopic surgery class in Toronto. That sounds pretty bad-ass of me, doesn't it? Bono, I took out a pig's kidney from one 10 millimeter and two 5 millimeter incisions on her back. I mean, think of how good she would look in a bikini, if only pigs wore bikinis, and, obviously if she wasn't put down at the end of the day. Still... I am pretty awesome.
Except I'm not. At least that's how I feel. I feel like a small fish in a huge ocean. Maybe even one of those fish that live in the dark depths that largely go unnoticed by everyone else. A guy getting into my shuttle from the red parking lot to the airport on the way to Toronto stepped on my right foot, moved, then stepped on my left, never noticing I was there. I want to shout, "I'm right HERE, don't step on me!" But I don't. Because I bury feelings.
I managed to get an email during my trip to Toronto-my phone functions were turned off due to the high roaming charges that I cannot afford. Despite my recent 32nd birthday, I am too laden with student loans to pay 50 cents per text and 89 cents per minute on the phone. The email let me know my sister in law has cancer. She spent her birthday in the hospital getting more and more blood tests.
Bono, why is that? Why do bad things happen to good people? I know that this is a generic questions, and of course I am not really asking you. I think that this is more of an address to God, and I know you are not God, except maybe in the way Alec Baldwin was God in "Malice."
During my layover at LaGuardia, I called my in-laws. My husband doesn't yet know his sister has cancer because he is halfway across the world. Bono, I realize I haven't written you in over a year. I will have to fill you in on all that later. I didn't cry. I felt flat, yet again. On my flight home, I listened to music, skipping songs that were incongruent with my mood. I found the songs I rested on-Phosphorescent "Song for Zula", U2 "So cruel", "Love is Blindness", "One", The Ark "Stay With Me", Ryan Adams "Two", Coldplay "The Scientist", all reflected a bitter sort of love, one that may or may not long for something better. I guess that's how I feel really. Not flat, but not brightly polished like so many of the people around me are. More dull, but not in a boring sort of way. Dull the edges of my antique mirror-the one that distorts my face with the blotches and stretching that happens as mirrors lose their sparkle.
Bono, I will try and be better about writing you.
Sincerely,
Me
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