Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand
by krisis
Ahh! Time home with my mom puts everything else in this freaky unrealistic perspective because home is so easy and simple and it makes all my problems look instantly solvable and resolvable. Or, maybe that’s just because i make them out that way to my mother. Rehearsal in two hours … hopefully i won’t die on stage tonight…
by krisis
Nearly a week passes with nary a word from my fingertips, and i’d hope you’d be worried about me. I mean … when i flew to Florida for four days i nearly cried when i last closed down my Blogger screen, and here i am flitting around Philadelphia with hardly a regret? Well, it didn’t work out quite that way… although that was the net effect, wasn’t it?
Last Thursday i was sick. I was totally fine on Wednesday, and on Thursday i was sick. Actually, i’ve been sick for about as long as i’ve been dating my girlfriend, on and off. (That’s sick on and off, not dating on and off). Last Thursday was awful, though. I slept on a tiny green room couch for hours, i dragged my feet through my acting class, and i slept through much of my rehearsal until finally it was my turn to rehearse. Thankfully, my director Bill drove me home, as while i spent the whole day sleeping in the theatre several inches of snow accumulated.
Friday was more uneventful, though i did lose my voice in my first class (that was rather unexpected). The eventful bit was having a largish fight with my darling girlfriend, in which i was a big meanie the whole time because i was convinced that i was supposed to break up with her. It’s funny how in a situation like that my spine is the last thing to come into play; i told Matt i was going to break up with her, i steeled myself against easy reconciliation, and i tried to burn bridges before they could be recrossed. So much for that. All we wound up with was a really hurtful fight that will always be a mark against me. Good job, Peter.
Perhaps as a result of the intense back and forth on Friday (or perhaps it had to do with the small amount of vodka i consumed that night), i was sick on Saturday. Very very sick. Every time i would fall asleep i’d wake up two hours later having soaked through my clothing and the sheets in sweat. My temperature kept spiking and falling, with each spike bringing on a spectacular headache and on the way up or down from it a tremendous amount of sweating or chills. What a spectacular way to spend a Saturday.
By Sunday my body was out of ideas of what to do with itself. Unbeknownst to me, i was completely dehydrated (which was indicated by the fact that i couldn’t muster the nerve to touch solid foods like crackers or granola bars), and running a 102degree temperature. Somehow i crawled my way to rehearsal (a grueling journey for someone in the shape i was in), but once i got there i was a total wreck. I’ve done full dress rehearsals with high fevers before, but i was sweating and shaking and in no shape to sing or do anything else. Plus, there was the coughing. It hadn’t seemed like the central element of my sickness the night before, but it felt pretty damned central at that point.
My director Bill (aka: Guardian Angel) told me that he wanted me to go to an emergency room and come back healthy Monday or Tuesday, so into the scene came Mother. Mother picked me up, carted me to her emergency room, where i had lots of blood taken from me in addition to a trip to x-ray (they wheeled my bed there… wheeled it!). And, the pinnacle of fun and enjoyment was when i was given an IV and hydrated with two litres of saline. I came home that night in better shape that i had been in, and in the possession of Robotussin with Codeine. Yeah.
The capper was yesterday – the day i had earmarked for “catching up on my soap operas and blogging like a whore.” And that didn’t happen, because i was back in the ER, because my chest films showed i had pneumonia! Whee! This time my ER visit earned me my very own room, lots of wonderful breathing treatments, two more litres of hydration, a hospital issue turkey sandwich, and lots of warm blankets.
So, erm, yeah. That’s my excuse. I’ll shut up about my life now. Just wanted you to know that, um, i’ve alive. Which had been in doubt by some people lately. Love ya!
by krisis
As sick as i may or may not be, there will be a new Trio tonight. If you have any requests, get them in now so i can rehearse.
by krisis
I woke up shaking early Saturday morning. I didn’t really understand it at first, i was just shaking so hard that i could barely make it out of bed. As i got a little closer to my radiator i realized that my fever had spiked and the result was that i was shivering so hard i could barely stand.
Times like these i am appreciative of my conveniently located bathroom.
I don’t know quite why, but whenever i feel sick i head for the bathroom. It’s not always the best equipped place for me to be, but i always run to it anyway. Its big draw to me this time was that it’s a tiny room with its own radiator, so it would be at least twice as warm as my bedroom. And it was, but i was still entirely too cold. I sat on the floor with my fingers carefully woven into the open bits of the radiator for several long minutes, shivering and chattering, until i finally steeled myself to go get more clothes.
I came back in three layers and a winter jacket, and i was still midly shaking. The radiator’s waning heat wasn’t enough to pierce through all my layers, and i sat on my bathroom floor for another couple of long minutes trying to decide what to do. Eventually i turned on the faucet as hot as it would go and plunged my hands into the water. At first it was so hot that i could barely take it, but every time i pulled away my hands stung so badly that i had to put them back. Soon the temperature of my hands was responding to the water, and i could feel every pulse beating against the tips of my fingers as if they should open up so my hot blood could seep out and pour down the drain.
I sat like that for as long as the water lasted – maybe a half hour. When the temperature got too low to sustain me i pressed my warm hands tight against my face until i felt strong enough to crawl back to the bedroom, zip up my flannel sleeping bag, and crawl into it still wearing my winter coat.
I was fine in the morning; it almost seemed as though i dreamed the whole thing except how i was pasted to my tee-shirt in sweat and there was a discarded winter jacket kicked down to the bottom of my sleeping bag.
by krisis
I never blog from my girlfriend’s place, so she has no idea where my page is (though it’s rather easy to find via search engines). While this means less updates for the page, it also means i can bitch about her without fear of retribution :p … not that i fear retribution or anything, but god knows i’ve had issues with not being able to talk about my friends before because they snoop around, so i like the separation i’ve managed to establish.
Okay, so, as you might have gathered, i go over to her place a lot. A lot. There has only been a single day in the last 3 weeks where we saw absolutely nothing of each other. I’m fine with this, because i really don’t mind being intense or clingy or any of that stuff, but sometimes i just want to sit here. I like to sit here. My computer is here. my music is here. My bass is here.
This is apparently a problem, because she has fixed it in her head that i’m coming over when i’m obviously sitting here with a horrible head cold just wanting to ache all by my lonesome. I am a highly rational person, and as such i expect to not want to be near other people when i’m sick – because i don’t want to infect them and because i feel slimy. So, i am staying here.
In case you were wondering, my declaration of staying here caught me a lot of shit because she’s sicker and wants me to keep her company, but she needs to learn how to deal with that. While i would love to be with her 24/7 every day, i would also like to live my own life 24/7 every day, and i can’t totally sacrifice one for the other so they’ll have to find a middle ground. Maybe i’m supposed to give up the comfort of my own apartment so i can be trapped in her tiny dorm room every night, and maybe the fact that i don’t want to do that makes me less mature than she thought i was. Or, maybe she’s supposed to compromise and come here every so often. What i do know is that I am not a child’s toy that can be possessed, and sometimes i like to sleep in my own damned bed.
And that’s as much as you’re gonna hear about my girlfriend for a while.