sketches & ghosts

Especially since we're probably both going to be working in Brooklyn -- he definitely is, and I haven't found a job yet because I have no decent work history and am supposed to wait until after finals to start applying (plus the registrar still has a minor screwup on my audit which means I may not get my degree at the end of the month, which is a problem for another day) -- the idea of living with my parents for at least the next few months and possibly longer seems somewhat tiring. Just tiring, not unpleasant, and I am so grateful to them I can't put it into words.

It seemed a lot more tiring, though, before after spending three days there we came back up here and while I love our apartment and having privacy, everything is also so lonely.

And cold, though right now is an exception.

Cold and lonely -- and inaccessible, because there's no public transit anywhere -- isn't a fantastic way to live. When I was down there dad was completely snowed from chemo so I kept checking on him, and then stopping in to talk to mom about stuff; my restless stim walking in circles had actual aims. Here, I just tripped into a mop bucket as the highlight of my accomplishments.

I'm making lists; lists about why I'm glad to be leaving here, lists about good things about living with my parents. I may post them.

(My aunt also made me feel so much better about it when she left me a facebook comment that was basically, "so are you moving back to help your folks out?" when finding out I graduated on Sunday; she didn't make it sound like "lol you're in a permanent relationship and supposed to have your act together as adults living together and not both crash in someone else's house because you can't come up with a security deposit," but like "your family is having a hard time and your moving in is a good thing.")

Things I did today:

• Went to the doctor, where not much of import happened but at least it got done
• Picked up a transcript from my former community college and then drove it to FedEx and paid $32 to overnight it to Chicago

Things I did yesterday:

• Confirmed registration for two simultaneous school programs in mostly unrelated topics; a medical coding program online that is entirely self-paced so this is possible and I can get back into actually working while working on my other thing: a double major in psychology/public health which may lead to two BS/MS programs.
• Figured out a thesis for said double major; I had previously had ideas for each separate one, but when my application was confirmed I was told they had to actually both apply. Now I actually have at least a topic area. I don't have an actual solid thesis -- I know what it's going to be about but I don't know what exactly I'm studying, as I have to do a real study and not just a retrospective analysis or a lit review or a theoretical writeup.
• Bought a refurb laptop because my Mac can't support the coding software and my netbook doesn't have enough RAM; when it arrives I'll get to see if it works
• Came back upstate, along with my mom and half of my new-old dining room table
• Slept. Not at night time, I fell asleep at around 5:15 am, but I fell asleep at all.

All of these things are monumentally notable. Even, and possibly especially, the sleep part. I am so excited to be able to do things, even if it is lots of things all at once and it's going to be crazy and cut down on my free time. This is good, because a lot of my free time is actually taken up by other people making demands of me, which I am 200% done with. Now they can't. And now I won't have any idle time to allow myself to sink back into depressive black holes.

(all of this is on Monday, while we're still in the hospital -- there is more!)

RUE: The board says 'ANN 6 REC.' Annenberg floor 6 recovery? How do we get there?
DAD: I -- honestly I have no idea. Probably over a bridge. That we can't get to.
RUE: Spectacular.
DAD: They won't give us directions because "the patient is going home today," which is another pretty dumb reason.
RUE: Not knowing how to get there means we can't sneak over.
DAD: Yes.
[Later, we did figure out how to get there, but never actually got to go there.]

RUE: Do you think if I start crying they'll let us in to recovery? Dr. K said twenty minutes --
DAD: The business administrators are evil, and I think ... maybe if you were six. It worked when you were six.

[the only quote not from someone who was there, as parents decided it merited inclusion:]
BRADY: Consume some concrete later, and think of me!¹

DAD: Not bad for concrete.
RUE: I think it's pretty good, actually.¹

DAD: It starts with L, I think.
RUE: [Googling] ... Levain Bakery?
DAD: Could be.
RUE: Six hundred and four five star reviews?
DAD: Definitely that one.

[we've been waiting five hours to be allowed to see her]
RUE: ... so ... want to go to a movie?
DAD: I was thinking about that.

DAD: There's an ice cream place about two miles from here, but I don't want your heart to explode.
RUE: It is really hot and I'm starting to feel kind of --
DAD: Mister Softee, five o'clock!

[having moved into a medical school lecture-conference room to play cards]
RUE: Someone's presentation is here. "Shane Svoboda, PGY-1, anal cancer patient."
DAD: Is that really his name?
RUE: ... Yes? [holds out paper]
DAD: [to the tune of "My Sharona"] Dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun, dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun, Shaaaaaane Svo-bo-da!

DAD: You also realize, with this guy, any nurse ever is able to call out, "Shane! Come back, Shane!"

DAD: I just realized -- this room is really dreary.
RUE: ... didn't you used to teach in here?
DAD: Well, yeah. I guess I forgot.

DAD: Go check the board. And if you hear somebody page Dr. Svoboda, go find him and get his autograph.

[having settled into Mom's room post-admission]
RUE: Here, Dad, something to cheer you up. [turns on iTunes and starts playing "My Sharona"]
DAD: [sings 'Shane Svoboda' over 'My Sharona']
MOM: Now, I'm on heavy narcotics, I realize this, but what did you just say?
DAD: [tells entire story]
RUE: Oh, and here's a copy of his presentation we took, if he comes by and you can get his autograph.

DAD: [vanishes]
RUE: ... where'd he go?
MOM: Oh, did he really leave? I thought that was a hallucination.

RUE: Dad. [pokes Dad who has his eyes shut in the chair.] Wake up.
DAD: Why.

MOM: Okay, go home. Rush hour has passed. Get me a lemonade bar.
RUE: Well, we checked in the cafeteria.
DAD: They had frozen tea bars. They had peach cobbler bars. But no lemon.

(In the car on the way home, we listened to The Panderers' "Shane.")


¹ To explain the "concrete": it is a food item available at the Shake Shack chain of restaurants. The concrete is very, very thick frozen custard filled with other things and has the consistency of, well, wet mixed concrete. If you turn it upside down, nothing comes out. Really. We tried.