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13 October 2010 @ 10:07 pm
Days of Our Hospital. The Young and The Guiding. Restless Light. Something like that.  
This has been, bar none, the most melodramatic year I've ever heard of. Certainly the most melodramatic I've ever lived, I tell you that for free. And this is coming from a girl who was once a suicidal drug-addict.

Sort of. You sort-of had to be there.

Nevertheless: this year? Takes the fucking cake. It's made me realize that I am not living in a gentle indy-movie. Nor a black comedy or even a period-piece (all genre's to which at one time I compared my life.) No, I'm not a movie at all. I'm apparently living in a soap opera. A cheap, second-string, cheesy, low-rated soap opera.

Oh, haha! you say. We know you are having a laugh, haha! Because is it not true that there are some very small characteristics of the traditional soap opera in ALL our lives? You must be making a funny!

I have proof. Step right this way.

I'll start with me. I'm not saying I'm the main character, or even one of the ones that anyone particularly likes, but my storyline is entangled with all the other ones, almost like a pivot point. My storyline is the one that happens right before the really interesting storyline that comes before the commercial. My penultimate storyline is sidekick to that cliffhanger storyline that people actually care about.

So this year: I was offered and accepted a position of authority which made the people who disliked me with no real basis and without speaking to me about it and the people who supported me no matter what actually switch sides. My intestines exploded, hospitalizing me for a month and requiring two surgeries to fix, in the end removing all of my lower intestines and part of my pancreas. I was dying. It was interesting. Then, while recuperating and re-learning how to walk, Chris and I got kicked out of our house so the landlord, who had lost his house, could move in. I had to borrow large sums of money from my grandmother. Then I suffered a dehisance. Or however that's spelled. That means that part of my surgical scar spontaneously re-opened, leading to loss of blood, longer recovery time, and being hooked up to a horrible machine. Then I had a wedding. I got married to a guy I had dated on and off over about a decade, and had originally "stolen" from a good friend. Then my Da announced HE was getting married again. Then my best friend of over 15 years died of something NO ONE dies of any more in this country. Then my step-father comes down with cancer of the everything. No shit. Tumors on his spine and liver and lung and everywhere. The man had cancer of the cancer. Then my job was seriously threatened at the same time that the state arbitrarily cut off payment for my rehabilitation over a small paperwork error made by someone else. Then I paid off my student loans (finally). Then my dog started having seriously awful seizures.

But that's just me. I know I'm leaving some stuff out, but basically, that's me. Wanna know what was going on around me while all this was happening?

My (now dead) best friend's family swooped in and kicked his long-time boyfriend out of their house (the one my best friend bought before he died) and sued for unspecified damages. I had not one nor two but THREE strange love triangles happening to people I was close to. People with penises were sticking them where they did not belong, and people with vaginae were waving them all over the place. There were no less than three car accidents, two pregnancies (one of which was unplanned), two non-familial weddings and one rape. The new theatre building got up and running, but now with extra drama-sauce over things like money and what seemed like a general workers-strike. My grandmother moved in to my mother's house to care for the giant ball of tumors that had once been my step-father, and while she was there she was shot at, had thugs run-up on her, she witnessed and actual honest-to-god gang fight, and then the house across the street from there was set ablaze by ruffians. A miracle: the chemo was working! The doctors had, essentially, told Tumor-Man to pack his bags because he was leaving post-haste, but then everything started shrinking, just in time for his scary, disturbingly-wealthy ex-wife to die (also of cancer) and leave him with a huge chunk of money where his alimony used to be. My aunt got a new girlfriend, my brother-in-law got a new girlfriend, and a friend from work won the lotto. There were people in my circle called to war, called to spectacular jury duty, and one called by the FBI for having the same name as someone on the terrorist watch-list thing.

I know I'm forgetting something. Several somethings. But I'm over loaded, you see. I don't know where the next Thing is coming from, you know? Every time the damn phone rings I'm expecting a bus crash or divorce or Publisher's Clearinghouse. While waiting for the other shoe to drop, I've realized that the shoe-dropper is a caterpillar and CATERPILLARS WEAR A GREAT MANY FUCKING SHOES. I swear to you: I am one Evil Twin In A Coma incidence away from going completely out of my mind.

And yet I keep tuning in. Well, hell: wouldn't you?
 
 
 
High Priest of Half-Baked Autodidactismsankaku_atama on October 14th, 2010 02:37 am (UTC)
I know I'll keep tuning in. And not just because I have to. ;)
Padiwackpadiwack on October 14th, 2010 02:56 am (UTC)
*placesarmaroundyourshoulders*
disorderly_mind on October 14th, 2010 03:59 am (UTC)
My friends describe my life as a jumbled hybrid of Edgar Poe and H. P. Lovecraft. While I'm waiting to tune in for next time, I'm stealing your caterpillar quote.
motherphoenixmotherphoenix on October 14th, 2010 05:49 pm (UTC)
HOLY CRAP. Glad for the update.
Vickivicki7778999 on October 15th, 2010 02:46 pm (UTC)
Whoa! That's crazy. Write this up as a teen drama with vampires and you can make millions.
Mariamc_mensus on October 16th, 2010 01:31 pm (UTC)
Wow. Just...wow.