right back where i started from

today i feel: achey and awful
today i'm hearing: semisonic -- nevermind
today i'm thinking: i didn't want to wake up this morning in the *first* place...

My consumption has moved into my mask. Which is awesome because that means that it will not, in fact, be with me forever, but horrible because the pressure in my sinuses not only makes me look like a zombie, but also drops my IQ to that of said zombie. All I really want to do is keep my head down for the next, I don't know, decade or so, preferably watching something slow-moving and equally as stupid as I. However, most everything I was supposed to do yesterday got shot to shit and I have to do it today. I've made some progress, but not much.

This weekend has been frighteningly awful. Classes were not cancelled on Friday (unlike everywhere else in the entire state), and the wet boots all over campus made the stairs incredibly slippery. I proceeded to fall down one such set of stairs. Painful, yes. I am still very aware of that fact. I spent a vast majority of the afternoon in bed, attempting to recuperate. However, I did get to watch Lost!'s season four premiere on the interweb, and Randy and I went to see There Will Be Blood. Which was brilliant. And violent. And all-around awesome. He then proceeded to be a douche, but I've gotten very used to this, I think.

Saturday morning, I woke up feeling even more miserable than I did Friday morning (which I did not know was possible), but went and gave my tour anyway. I came home feeling like shit, but Chelsea and I went to Marion anyway because she needed a new purse (something tragic happened to her old one. I'm not sure what, exactly). We came home to discover that one of the homos down the hall was shaking like mad and couldn't even write his own name: the result of his clever decision to drink 14 shots of hard liquor in the period of an hour.

Chelsea dropped the two of us off at the ER of Carbondale Memorial, the worst fucking hospital in the world, and disappeared. She tried to tell me where she was going, but my stuffed-up ears and the rumbling of the car and the rushing of the wind was too loud. I thought she had gone to park the car, and some how got lost for half an hour. Of course, the waiting room was completely packed and I had to fill out all of my friend's forms while trying to make sure he didn't pass out. It was awful, and I'm not even going to describe the worst of it. My back started to cramp up really bad (remember the slippery stairs? I sure do), and my cough was getting worse, so I conned Chelsea into taking me home. Of course, I got some bad news just as soon as I got back, so I climbed up into bed and cried until I fell asleep. It turns out that Chelsea, Clarky (who was the reason why she disappeared, as it turns out), and our friend were stuck in the waiting room for over three hours. Our friend was feeling a lot better, so they left. He never even got to see a doctor. This is the reason why I hate that fucking place.

Today I am just stuffy and tired and not wanting to see Randy tonight. The snow outside is about halfway melted, and everything looks grey and muddy and sad. But I've got my acting resume finished for my audition on Saturday (despite the fact that my mum screamed at me when I called her for help), and I did some of my dramaturgy for The Full Monty, so I've been a little bit productive, at least. Chelsea's on her way back with some Sudafed, which will dope me up more, but at least my head won't hurt so much. In the meantime, I think I'll climb up into bed with Machiavelli and drift off for a while. It's that kind of day.