I don’t know how to make things up anymore. And I don’t know how much I want to share things that are not made up.
That’s a problem that started more or less when my senior thesis ended, but that was May 2010, so…. I guess I’m stuck. Also I have an enlarged spleen and most of my close friends have moved away, so there’s that. But it doesn’t hurt to smile anymore!
I went to a hospital walk-in clinic about a week ago because I had been sick and couldn’t figure out why; turns out I have mono. (WOMP WOMP.) So my boss insisted I take all week off from work and my coworkers texted me to see how I was doing and the office even sent me a giant bouquet of flowers, which was all beautiful and touching and I felt loved. But on Wednesday night, after a few days of being unable to eat or drink much (anything, really) and a solid week of a high fever, I realized I would have to go back to the clinic because there was clearly something wrong with me. And I couldn’t think of anyone in my area who I could ask to drive me.
It’s not as pathetic as it sounds; my roommates would do it but they either have a 9-5 job or do not have a car. I have a friend or two in the area who also would have done it, but (again) no car. I couldn’t take myself to the clinic because it involves multiple transit methods and standing up was kind of a big deal for me at the time. The Professor ended up rescuing me because she is a star and altogether wonderful human being — and thank god for that, since I had to be wheeled to the ER and pumped full of drugs — but all in all, it kind of sucks that I don’t have anyone I feel close enough to to ask a favor like this. The Professor doesn’t live all that close, and she hates driving in cities. The State lives twice as far as the Professor. Both of them have lives.
It’s not that I don’t have friends here, either. I have a lot of friends here, actually; it’s just that I am not on inner-circle terms with any of them (or vice versa). I miss that. I miss my close friends, but they have their own lives in their own cities. I don’t want to go another year thinking I’ll make better friends than I did.
I also don’t want to go another year thinking I’ll write more/better/harder than I did, so there’s that, too!
Guess what I’m trying to say is: grilled cheese writing workshop party, my house, your wine.