I'm pretty tired of this damned cold. It's worse than the allergy problems I was having at Trisa's place. This thing makes me feel incapable of joy. I can still muscle through Boschen and Nesuko pages, but I've gone through the weekend almost totally unable to relax. Every time I start to, I get that pinching sensation in my head and nose that reminds I need to deliver more snot in the bathroom.
Things that make me feel better:
1) Earl Grey Tea. I've been drinking gallons of it, not just for how it feels on my throat, but for the warm vapours, ahhh . . .
2) Notorious. Gods, the most elegant movie ever made. Cary Grant all sharp and classy makes me feel less messy just watching him.
3) A whole pot of coffee. Not so much while I'm drinking it--there's something too feathery about the flavour right now--but once it's in me, the world seems a little more hopeful, like it just might come around to my low cognisance level.
4) Soul Calibur III. I've been going to Tim's house to play it, as it's mostly the only thing I feel capable of doing for several hours at a time--bashing away at my fellow gladiators, assassins, and ninjas. And when I find a really hard boss, and am forced to strategise quickly, the squishiness in my head almost feels like a real brain again.
5) Um, Miles Davis. Now I feel like an old MTV ad.
And somewhere outside and around the fog of my sickness are the sinister and shadowy dealings of the people around me. Did I say sinister and shadowy? I meant bloody irritating.
Last week, I was eating lunch when my uncle and 10 year-old cousin dropped by to help prop up my grandmother's bed with wooden blocks. My uncle asked me about my visit to San Jose.
"It was nice," I said. "It was nice being in a place where the trees have actually changed colour for the season."
"What part of San Jose were you staying in?" asked my uncle.
And before I could respond, my young cousin replied, "Campbell."
"Er, how did you know that?" I asked.
My cousin told me my grandmother had told him.
So I asked my grandmother, "How did you know that?"
"Oh," my grandmother laughed nervously, "your mother told me."
When I asked my mother, my mother denied it. What's interesting is that I didn't even know I was going to be in Campbell until well after I got there. Ever get the feeling you're being talked about far more often than you're being talked to?
And along those same lines, it seems my parents are getting separated. This is in spite of the fact that I've seen them argue only once or twice as far back as I can remember. My mother tells me they've been having secret arguments for the past three years, and that their secretly bad relationship they've kept veiled from my sister and I has finally become intolerable. Isn't that nice? I'm surrounded by phoneys. It's a wonder I talk to anyone at all. I think the girl at the grocery store this evening picked up a weird vibe from me.
I can't help thinking this whole situation would be a lot better if I wasn't sick.