Week 8: Not so great.

I shouldn't joke about laying on the couch all day. In a stunning display of karmic retribution, I got my comeuppance for making a flippant comment about it. Yesterday, I buried myself in my comforter and pillows and cried until I fell asleep. During the day. The downfall of being a graduate student is having enough time for such foolishness. Most of the time I am thrilled to be living in a cool new city, in my cool new neighborhood, doing cool new things, and then other times (like yesterday), I am absolutely debilitated by the realization that I am alone. It sucks. Remember when there was all this talk about the importance of having 12 meaningful touches during the day in order to be healthy? I'm not even close to 12. In fact, breaking single digits would mean that I had probably been involved in some sort of drug-induced orgy.

And remember how I was bitching about my neighbor's loud singing? Worse than the singing is listening to how goddamn happy she and her boyfriend are. Never yelling, never arguing, always laughing, always cooking, always listening to music together...I fear I'm becoming the auditory version of a voyeur: I strain to hear the sounds of their pedestrian happiness (no, RaRa, that is not a euphemism).

However, my malaise is well-timed: it's Thanksgiving, y'all! (Or, as someone keenly pointed out in one of my classes, her First Nation family calls it Thankstaking.) Regardless, I'm suiting up to eat through the pain. And when I'm done eating through the pain, I'm going to drink B- and watch football through the pain. And then eat through the pain some more.