The waiting game

My grandma had a massive stroke this morning. As of 8pmish, she was lying flat in a hospital bed, unable to move anything on her right side, unable to speak, and basically only communicating by using her left hand to squeeze someone else's. Her doctor told my mom that if (and thats a big if) she makes it through the next 24 hours, they will have to bring in hospice, and consider putting in a feeding tube, because of course she can't swallow. But my grandmother has a living will and all that, and has already decided, no feeding tubes, she has a DNR order (do not resuscitate) and all of that stuff. She decided a while ago she wouldn't live as a vegetable. Which I respect. But I fear that means she will just be gone soon. Granted, we've been told like 8 times in the past year to say goodbye. But just seeing her, this is different. I'm not sure she really recognized me, but I think so. She seemed to know who everyone was, just couldn't tell us that. Uncle A is here too, and most likely Jenny and the girls will come tomorrow. If she makes it to then. I feel really bad because she was so worried about me yesterday, because I had some stupid lupus fever and sickness, and she was all worked up, and I just hope to God I didn't stress her out and do this to her. Not that I could have helped it. It came out of nowhere and knocked me out, like it always does. But I feel horribly. I'm trying not to stress and be worried and sad, because that will just trigger more of my bullshit, but it is hard not to. I'd have to be soul-less. and I'm not. So for now I'm just waiting. And hoping. I think in some ways, it would be better. But it doesn't mean I want her to go. I don't know. I'm a mess. Sorry to depress. 

We're like.....When Harry Met Sally, except without the great one-time sex, and the whole actually falling in love thing

Breakfast with H was wonderful. So good to see her, and she looks great and it sounds like she's doing really well. And it is always just wonderful to catch up with her. And talk about our general lack of interest in the opposite sex. Because they just waste time in life. (but we aren't bitter). And then I used the above statement to describe my life. Caught up on a bit of m-ville gossip, but neither of us really keep up on it too much, so it wasn't that exciting. Then dropped her off back at home, so she could head up to their big family deal. 

And I went to get my massage. And, as usual, heaven. Rich is an awesome masseur. And I found out today that he's massaged random famous people when he used to work in Georgia, at some big hotel that most celebrities stayed at when they performed at the Fox Theatre down there, like Damn Edna, Paul Anka, Neil Young, Whitney Houston and Paul McCartney. AMAZING. Not that it in any way affects his abilities as a massage therapist, but it is kind of cool. So yea. And we chatted a lot about Ireland and all sorts of things. Everyone else seems to think it is weird that I'm not creeped out by the whole thing, but seriously, it's his job. Yes, you have to take off clothes to get a massage, but its not like they see anything. And if they accidentally did, they wouldn't care. He's a holistic healer, and I always feel so so so much better afterwards. Plus, I feel like I'm being pampered. Like a little rich person. And it's fun to occasionally pretend that you live the good life. Even if you don't actually live the good life.

And now I'm going to work on my little project for work. Which is looking up random good advice quotes, which I'm going to attach to pieces of candy, and put in a basket in our cube, so that when random people take candy, they can also have good business and general life advice. I think this will help improve office moral. And I think it will help people change. Because some people there need to work on their behavior in the office. Seriously. I'm frequently shocked that these people function in the real world. I'm a recent college grad and I'm a billion times more mature and professional then some of them. AND I fully intend to put at least one quote that says something about how sometimes words actually speak louder than actions. So that the silly, smiley boy can actually talk to me. Instead of just doing that cute little smile. With dimples. Not that I've noticed. 

Guns don't kill people, people kill people. And occasionally monkeys with guns kill people.

I found a crazy quotes site last night that has like 7 pages devoted to Eddie Izzard quotes. By last night, I really mean yesterday at work. I was trying to find quotes about seeing the "bigger picture" for Stacey....since no one we work with either ad GDLS or GDBIW seems to be able to do that. And while I was searching, I was distracted by Eddie Izzard. Love him. Sad I didn't go see him in June when I could have, but oh wells.

Had a lovely chat with my buddy last night. Not that I don't love being such good friends with him normally anyway, but sometimes I really really love it. Last night was one of those good conversations, he rambled for a bit, I rambled a ton, and we effectively caught up. And now we have a 2 conversations per week rule. I'm not gonna lie, I think this is awesome. I feel like I'm really content and settled in this friendship, and I appreciate that he feels he can talk to me about things, and I know I can talk to him about things. And its just really good. And now I can use him to help me actually find a guy. He's already been helpful with the silly work boy. (whom, by the by, I said "Good Morning!" to in a not loud, but clear voice yesterday, and wonder of wonders, the fella spoke, saying an enthusiastic "Good Morning!" right back). So yea. And we determined last night that if I was a Batman villian, I would be The Mumbler. Yes thats right. The Mumbler. Batman could never catch me because everytime he asked my weakness, I would mumble it back, and he would be like "what? what did you say?" and I would say "HA! you missed it. Now you're dead, Batman!" This stemmed from the fact that he accuses me of mumbling a lot. I only do it because sometimes I can't keep what I'm thinking in my head, but I don't really want anyway to hear it, so I mumble it rapidly and then then miss it anyhow. So yes, that was the great conversation with my best bud (I won't say best friend because H has that role technically) from last night.

Also last night, I allegedly knocked over some plant of EA's, but the plant fell after I left her room (I had borrowed Disney movies, which btw don't belong to her they are just in her room, and she keeps them on this schistey shelf that is uber unstable, and the plant is on top) and nothing was out of place when I left. First she was pissed because I went in her room, but the night before both K & A had assured me that since her door was open and she wasn't home to just go in, and again they aren't just her movies. Then she was pissed because I should have owned up to having knocked the plant over. Um hello? It wasn't knocked over when I left the room. I grabbed the movies, all was well, and I left. How can I apologize for something I didn't realize even occurred. Then she and A started saying how rude I am, and irresponsible, and my mother agreed with them that I never seem to think that I am in the wrong, that I am a blamer and never take credit for when I mess up, which is a lot more that I seem to think that I do, according to mom. Great. Not only have I had some weird blues going on, but now my mom and sisters need to make me feel like more shit. I need to get out and away from them all. That was another thing we talked about last night, how my family kind of shoots me down a lot. He thinks they are bad for me, and of course thinks I should move there and get a job there and everyone could hang out and it would rock. I just need to find a job in general. The one at CSC is a no go, but I have lots of resumes out. Maybe I will look in Westchester. Except that I have to stay close by till October and the show. Oh well. And now I'm rambling. Time to go get ready for work. Boo, work, boo. And boo, stupid family, boo.

sometimes a girl needs to feel like a princess

Note the tiara made out of beads. I'm pretty sure I acquired it the year I did Miss Montville, and effectively won NO title whatsoever, so my best friend at the time bought me a tiara at the Montville Fair to make me feel special. And last night I dragged it out (not really out, just took it down from where it was hanging) because I watched Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella, and damnit I thought I should get a tiara too. Whilst viewing these Disney classics, it occurred to me why I have a freakish obsession with guys with nice teeth and fabulous smiles. Because every damn prince/heroic male figure in Disney films has beautiful teeth and a winning grin. Prince Philip, as he croons to Brier Rose about having known her "once upon a dream" is flashing the most beautiful animated smile. In Cinderella, Prince Charming's (because frankly, you never do hear his real name) regal countenance is lit up with a sweet smile as he and Cinderella waltzed through the palace. And while I didn't watch the others (tonight perhaps? Beauty and the Beast, Little Mermaid, Snow White, Aladdin) I know they all have great teeth. Even the Beast as a Beast has pretty pearly whites, despite the fact that they are all pointy and sort of like fangs. But heck, when he transforms, again, it is dental perfection. And so I feel that my deep seeded attraction to men with great teeth stems from watching too many tales of true love, in animated form. Other things stem from this as well. Some hopeless romantic idea that some wonderful person is going to show up out of nowhere and love me and sweep me off my feet. And of course they will love me at first sight. Or potentially first sound-another common theme seems to be that the woman has a beautiful singing voice, and as she sings to her forest (or ocean, or jungle) friends, the prince/hero hears her "Hark, what is that lovely sound?" and even before laying eyes on her ridiculous beauty, falls for her. Better get my vocal chords back into shape, and start singing randomly to any squirrel I see. Just in case my hero is waiting around the corner. I don't know, I remember talking with the mexicans about all the things they've done for women in their lives, and then them asking me what guys have done for me, and I believe what I said was "I want a refund on romance. My love life has been crap". (of course, the things those two did for women was over the top. I might have a heart attack if any guy I liked did even a quarter of what they did). And watching disney reminds me that I have shitty taste in men, who suck at being a prince or a hero, and who never put forth the amount of effort that I deserve. I work my ass off to impress men that could care less. So yes. Even though it makes me somewhat melancholy (which, I remember hearing that word used by Mellificent in Sleeping Beauty when I was little, and thinking she was talking about cauliflower....I was weird when I was little) I will probably watch more tales of true love later tonight. Because despite the fact that it reminds me that up until this point, I've been shafted by the fates, it does remind me that, even in animated fairy tale form, love does exist. It likely has no forest creatures singing and helping with chores, nor men on white steeds, nor castles (though if I go to Ireland....), but it is there. Eventually I'll find it. And when I do, I will come home, put on my tiara, and sing to a squirrel. 

I just want to be cooooool

And by that, I mean temperature wise. Cool people often aren't really that cool, I've found. I've also found that heat waves suck. I'm melting like a popsicle in hell. Sweating like a ho in church. That sort of deal. Gross. 

I said before I would update about Maine, but really, I was only there a day and was not present for all the really great moments. Which both makes me mad/jealous, and also a bit feeling as though I don't belong with them in the first place. I'm not really fun. I like observing their fun madness, but I am never really part of it. And for some reason, I feel like they only let me in out of pity. Even when they all came to my place for my party, I felt like they felt they had to. Excepting one person, of course. And there is the whole going away party for little L tonight, and of course I can't go (one, its a Tuesday, two, its two hours away, three I have to work in the am duh) and that makes me feel even more detached from them. As if I didn't already, since they get to see each other and hang out and be fun like every damn day. I know I'm supposed to grow up, but isn't that like, a choice? Don't I get to be the one to decide its time? I feel like its being forced upon me, and making me think my friends don't really want to be my friends (again there are exceptions to this). I don't know. I feel like I've been fired as TRON Mom, like I'm not even in the family at all. 

Maybe I'm just being mopey and depressed because I'm hot and tired, and had a shitty day at work which I feel like is going to get worse as I "escalate" the issue, following company procedure. I'm applying for a gajillion jobs, sending out resumes and letters and all sorts of nonsense. I'm working on the play- doing my part of the research for my character (its like homework for community theatre- crazy). And this Saturday I get to see my BEST FRIEND EVER, though only for breakfast. Briefly. Stupid Michigan. But even a bit of time will be great. I miss her so much. If she was around, even if I did miss my purchase folks and feel like they didn't like me, I would be able to pick her up and we could go somewhere and do something awesome and it wouldn't hurt so much. Because even though I know she loves me, its better when shes here to show me. 

The rest of my party was great- John & Lesley Byrnes came so that was AWESOME. and David, Dylan and Patrick Conaway (I haven't seen the kids in like 3 years). Also Patty & Frank, Joanne (missed her soooo much) and Jon and Toni-Anne stopped by too. And the Baldwins. And my grandpa and nonnie (though she hermited up in her room for most of it). The food was great, I tried my hardest to be a perfect hostess, and overall it was pretty sweet. 

The next day the kids left mad early, and later the sisters and I saw Batman (AMAZINGINCREDIBLEBESTMOVIEOFLIFEPOSSIBLYEVER) And later Mamma Mia (don't waste your time. And if you EVER enjoyed Pierce Brosnan as Bond, for your own sake, keep far away) Now back to the main boring crap of life. Tonight, seeing EA and Pablo play a gig in Mystic (margaritas to follow I hope!). Next weekend, Adirondacks with the family (sans EA) then the next week, Styx and Boston in concert! wooooo. Hopefully all this fun will get me out of my schlump. And maybe it will finally thunderstorm and release us from this death. We shall see.

Virginia is for lovers, Maine is for K-Hawks

Can't do a full post, but wanted to put some pics.....amazing. Absolutely amazing. I LOVE THESE PEOPLE. And the view there- incredible. 

The only appropriate footwear for Maine is LOBSTER SANDALS!

So despite the fact that I'm not actually at 100% yet (ps don't tell the rents) I am going to Maine. Because I love Cole. He is an honorary McGlinchey. And I know that is the only reason my parents aren't making a massive fuss over it. Because they love him too (yes even my heartless, cold father holds a special place for Cole in the space where his heart would have gone). EA said Cole could stay here extra days after the party. Like. Forever. I told her he has a job and responsibilities, but that I would let him know he's welcome. (like in Mulan when she says "would you like to stay for dinner?" and the grandma says "would you like to stay forever?") So yea. I'm uber psyched about the trip. and I have my grandma's horsepill painkillers in case I need them. Which I may. But I'm hoping not. I keep praying for it to go well and for me to NOT ruin it by being my sickly useless self. I need to get through this week without a hitch, if only so that my parents can't keep saying "Meagan, you're not like other people, you can't just run off to Maine for two days, then come back, rehearse, work AND have a party and just expect to be fine." Yesterday was a bit heartbreaking. Every time I'm reminded of what my diseases actually are, I think I lose a teeny piece of my soul. Mom was just like "Meagan- it doesn't matter if you take care of yourself and do everything you are supposed to. With lupus or MCTD, you can be the best patient in the world, and one little bug, one less hour of sleep, one 5-minute session in the sun, one teeny trace of gluten, and you could become seriously, fatally ill. So you trying to be a normal 23-year old and spend time with friends and be fun and enjoy life isn't you misbehaving, I understand that you want to enjoy life, and I want you to, but you need to be a bit more responsible, knowing that often such things render you useless for a few days afterwards. And you can't keep missing work and life." Wow. thanks Mom. And I know shes right. I have NO control over it. Which is the worst. Even when I try to do good (like not using Splenda or drinking diet soda because it could be bad- and because of him of course) it really might not make any difference at all. So frustrating. But I think we're trying Boston next for a new rheumatologist. Levin never called me back yesterday. At this point, I'm self prescribing what to do to be ok, with the assistance of my kind pulmonary specialist who just doesn't want to see me suffer (Dr. Licata is top notch). Thats insane. It is Levin's job damnit. Oh well. The point of this was that I'm excited for Maine anyway. I don't care if by next week I land in the hospital. As long as its after my party :) And yes, I really do feel the only appropriate footwear for Maine is LOBSTER SANDALS. Thank heavens for JCrew. I love them.  See you in lobster-land kids xoxo

If you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge a ball

Oh Patches O'Houlihan. That movie always makes me laugh. Even when I fall asleep during the ending (sorry abs and ea). This weekend was the biggest mess ever. Friday I came home from work at like 10:30 with such massive amounts of pain that I was actually nauseous from it. My mom had assured me that she left out some painkillers for me before they left (Alumni Weekend, to return Monday) and yet, when I came home, nothing. So I called her to confirm, and of course she realized that she had forgotten. I then searched through my grandmothers old pills till I found the pink painkillers, took one, then another, and tried to rest. To no avail. Clancy, having had serious digestive issues since the night before, kept me up going in and out all day. I fixed nonnie lunch at some point, and at about 5-something, decided that the twins would be home soon, and I could go upstairs to try and sleep. I slept perhaps a half hour before abs came in to see if I was ok (I was not) then went back to sleeping. and crying a bit. sometimes pain is overwhelming. Then eventually I went downstairs to take more painkillers, and the girls took the laundry to be done, warning me to keep an eye on Clancy. Long story short, my pain grew tremendous, Clancy would not eat or drink and was unresponsive and shaking, so at around 9 or ten when the gals returned from the laundromat (our dryer is dead) they took him to the emergency vet, where he was given large quantities of fluid as he was dehydrated and had a 104 fever (bad news for an irish setter). They returned home at 2am, and the girls slept downstairs with the dogs. I had woken up when they got home, gotten horrendously ill, and went back to bed. Saturday, Beth had to work. I awoke lacking the ability to use my hands, as they were curled up and would not straighten, and with other random pains, but nothing serious. We called the regular vet. Out, and the on-call vet going on vacation, could not see Clancy. So we called another vet, after much pleading got in for 12. Only problem, I can't drive. Because my hands don't work. So Abs has to drive, with me in the passenger seat and our ill setter in the back, not even attempting to stick his head out the window he is so lethargic. So we get there in one piece (Abs drove very well in fact) and wait for a million years. They inspect him, go over his other records, and decide to keep him overnight for fluids, antibiotics, x-rays. We go home. I collapse onto the couch. The gals go to Panera to pick up soup for me and sandwiches/salads for everyone. They return. We view The Talented Mr. Ripley, during which Abs and I almost can't handle it. Too creepy. Kat comes home, tells us about seeing Dan and his diseased self on Staten Island. Shares her other news with the girls. We watch Dodgeball and eat. More soup for me. Sunday. We visit Clancy, they decide to keep him till Monday for an ultrasound. Tell the vet that Vivi now has the same digestive issues, he gives us meds to feed my little mongrel so she doesn't dehydrate and get as bad as the big dog. We return. I am better today (the extra prednisone at night helping my immune system stop beating the shit out of me) and Abs and I venture out to the J.Crew outlet store, where I find the most perfect pants. And other items.  I come home and call Cole, to make sure he is alright. I miss him most I think. Life is just better around him. And of all my friends, I never feel like I have to explain myself to him. We talk a bit, then I finish my book from Heather, and begin The Far Pavilions. I wonder if my parents will be mad about Maine. I hope not. I hope if I am good and call my doctors and am not sick, they won't mind so much that I am going. My party is on Saturday. I hope it works out. I hope. So yes, this weekend was madness. And now, I am up way past my bedtime. So....bon nuit.

Let them eat cake, she says, just like Marie Antoinette

I really love that song. Killer Queen. I feel like, if I was a Queen, I'd be pretty killer. Indeed.

 So....today. Thursday. The 10th. My unbirthday, in fact. And how did I celebrate? By being forced to apply for a position at my current workplace, but a full-time, real-people position, offering full benefits and 40k a year. By my father. Because it would be sensible. I could stay home and save money on much much cheaper rent, have the same health insurance basically as I do now only under my own name, and save up for Ireland. Reasons I didn't want to do this: 1- I don't want to work for CSC forever. 2-I really wanted to get out of my house and away. 3-I feel like if they give me the job its only because of my dad's position in the company. 4-I really really wanted to be closer to my friends, at least for the one year I would be around (and besides, after that year half of them would graduate and move on as well, so I wanted to treasure the time). Its not the end of the world. Its just not ideal per se. 

Oh well. I guess 40k a year can't hurt. And the health insurance is extremely important. Especially considering the way things are going. Today, once again, the feet, ankles and knees have blown up and are bright red. I know I have edema in my legs because when I press down, the indentation stays. Means I'm retaining fluid like a mofo. Gross. I need to call my dr. And hope he stops sucking at life and does something about this bull. 

In other news, one of my dear friends wrote on my facebook wall today, and called me Irish Cream. Because I'm Irish. And white. Very Very Very white. And I giggled out loud when I read it. Like a real giggle. I adore when people come up with silly/cute/random nicknames for me. It makes my heart smile. 

What else? Nothing really. The parents leave for Alumni Weekend at their college tomorrow, gone till Monday evening, so that will be fun. And by fun I mean, I have to babysit my Grandmother. So not really fun at all. But perhaps some good beach times with the sisters, perhaps some Sailfest (there is this sweet Celtic rock band playing called Enter the Haggis, I want to see them) and the fireworks. And I need to start really planning party stuff for NEXT weekend. And clean my room. A lot. And read a book that my parents said I would love called The Far Pavilions. It is about India. I bet I will love it. So now, I am off to read about India whilst incense smoke drifts and curls about in my room (despite the fact that everyone else in my house hates it) and then to sleep. 

bon nuit, bon nuit to you all.

Don't mind me, I'll just be in the corner dying

Yesterday sucked. Well, not totally. Work was fine, getting groceries with Abs was fine, then once I changed into shorts to make dinner, my body apparently decided to hate me. My knees and feet and ankles turned bright red and hot and swelled up like nobody's business. My face got all red and puffy. And my head felt like it was in a vice. This was all okay until at dinner Abs and EA started to make me laugh. Then it was death. Even though I tried not to laugh, I couldn't help it, but then my lungs just started seizing up and I couldn't breathe and then I started to cry and it was a disaster. Later, we tried to sit down and watch a movie, but again, they were being funny, and I just couldn't handle it. So I decided to just go to bed. I know they were mad, but I can't deal. It is too hard to try not to laugh, but if I do, it hurts too much. So I went up to bed and hoped to feel better in the morning. Which I didn't. Massive headache, and really, all over body ache. Good thing I have a dr.s appointment later. The thing was, it was so random. I didn't do anything different from my normal routine yesterday. What the heck triggered this? I don't know. I guess its probably just what comes with all the nonsense I have. But it doesn't seem right to me.

In other news, watching Bridget Jones Diary the Edge of Reason with my mom is a bad life choice. She starts to say things like "you know, I think shes right- a man should fight for you. if he doesn't or can't fight for you before you're married, he never will during the tough times" blah blah blah. Okay mom. When I actually find a guy willing to date me, then I'll be concerned about whether or not he can fight for me. I can't even get them on a real date, much less fighting. My sister says I don't try to meet people, and how can I expect to find someone to date if I don't meet people. The fact is, I don't like people that much. Even people that I am friends with I sometimes really dislike. So why would I want to meet more of them? Until I can find people worth knowing, I don't see the point. And besides, where would I meet someone? At work (uh skeevsters) or a bar (again, skeevy mcskeevsters) or where? Nonsense. I'll just bide my time and I'm sure eventually I'll meet someone. But right now, I don't feel like putting forth the effort. Especially because it always seems that when I put forth effort, it goes to waste. I refuse to work hard to impress or win over someone ever again. Its a waste of my time.

 Anyway, I'm done ranting. I need to get ready for the doctors. And maybe have a sandwich. I like sandwiches. 

I'm a sucker for peer pressure

So since all my friends are now blogging, I somehow feel the need to as well. Because I like being a sheep. ANNNNND I totally had weird things happen to me today, so I do have something to type. Instead of the last blog I used to have that sucked because it was me going "um. today I worked. and lived. the end"

Today, in my Vulture Tree (the tree where my pretty vultures can usually be seen every morning on the way to hell, I mean, work) there was a strange white bird. Blindingly white. I almost drove off the road. As I'm trying to drive and see what the heck it is, I realize it is a snowy owl. In the daytime. I suppose it was confused, perhaps because it was foggy? But there, amongst my black, hunched over, depressing friends, was a beautiful, white snowy owl. It was pretty sweet. 

Then the other weird thing that happened today was this horrendous story I read on cbsnews.com in the strange news section, that totally made me want to check my blood sugar every five minutes, and never eat sugar or any other carbs EVER again. So this 57 year old woman has diabetes (no specification as to whether it was type one or two). She had a hangnail on the big toe of her food (I can't remember if it was left or right). In any case, since the hangnail was still healing, she had the toe bandaged up. Many people know that foot injuries are kind of a big deal with diabetes, because there is nerve damage and you can get infections and lose the toe etc. Well so the woman apparently took a nap with no shoes or socks on, just her bandaged toe. And indeed, she did have nerve damage in her feet. When she awoke from her respite, her big toe was gone. GONE. And where, you ask, did it go? Into the mouth, and then digestive system, of her miniature dacshaund dog. Her dog ate off her toe while she was sleeping, and because she had such bad diabetic nerve damage, which caused complete numbness, she didn't feel it. At all. Subsequently, the poor dog was euthanized out of safety concern. This whole thing blew my mind. I mean, how could you completely not tell that your dog was eating off your big toe? there is bone in toes. Even if the flesh was numb, the bone would have to hurt. I just don't understand. And so now I'm like scared into being a good diabetic so that I never have numb enough toes so that Vivi can eat them off while I nap. GAK. 

And thats really all I have for today. Snowy owls, and dogs that eat their owner's toes. Bleck.