--Buckcherry
"You're crazy, but I like the way you fuck me."
I have been writing. I went through a paper journal in about ten days. I wrote a couple verses of poetry, but most of it was just about my life and my thoughts. So much negative shit comes out when I'm writing just for myself.
First, I suppose, is the good news. I scored a 100% on my History 207A midterm. I had class high score on my POLS 202 midterm (I only made a 90%, but I guess the rest of the class sucks). For my Engl 245A midterm, which is European Literature (we are just studying epic poems), I scored a 98% on my in-class essays (we had two: I scored 99% on one, and then a 95% on the second, I guess he felt like giving my final grade a little boost). For my Creative Writing short story, the one on my Grandma, I scored a 90%, which I figured was awesome considering he grades the toughest out of all the community college English professors who I've encountered.
On the day I spread my grandmother's ashes (My Uncle B. had her remains, and he asked his brother, the eldest, to spread them. Uncle L. declined, and everyone just kind of stared at everyone else, so I volunteered to do it myself), I had a minor breakdown. My mother was sick with dizziness and nausea. I started crying and yelling that she wouldn't go to the doctor just like Grandma even though I told her to. I crumbled on the ground in the parking lot of a small market, where everyone was waiting for my Uncle B. to show up, and I started sobbing hysterically. My parents kept telling me to get back in the truck, but I just grabbed my wallet and started walking down the road, crying, on my way to a bar. My mother finally caught up to me, and held my hand as we walked back to the truck. I started crying again as I put Grandma's ashes in the creek up in the mountains, just like she asked of me, and saying, "Is this all a life ends up as?" My Uncle B. kept telling me that Grandma was in a better place, but I'm not sure I believe that. I'm not sure he believes that either.
Mom and Dad finally put down PeeWee yesterday. I wasn't particularly attached to the dog, but I walked into the den when I came home from school yesterday, and surprised myself by how much I missed her wandering around brainlessly. I was a proponent to having her euthanized very early on because she would get hysterical and spin in little circles. Valium, prescribed by the vet, didn't seem to do her much good. She was constantly pissing and shitting on herself, and all over the den. By the end, she was almost completely isolated, save for a few minutes that my parents picked her up and moved her in and out of the house. Even if she was able to be around the other dogs, and us, I know she wouldn't interact. She didn't seem to recognize anyone. Her happiest moments were when she was sleeping, and her little legs would kick, and she would bark and growl. I often thought that she was out in some meadow chasing rabbits or maybe even a small deer. I know the ability to sleep has gotten me through many a' days of depression.
The LSU Professor and I have gotten into a terrible fight. I have doubts as to whether or not we'll be able to survive it. He is currently in Australia, although he will be home by Thanksgiving. He kept sending me emails right after my grandmother died, and honestly, I didn't feel like talking to him about what was going on with my life. Finally, as opposed to simply ignoring him, I sent him an email saying, "I just don't have anything to say. Love, [Jae]." For whatever reason, he took that very personal, and sent back an email saying that he thought we should disconnect from Facebook. Shortly after receiving the email, I checked Facebook, and sure enough, he de-friended me. That would make sense if we were arguing embarrassingly in front of an social media audience, but our only interaction on there is very sporadic, maybe giving a "like" or leaving a short comment. Needless to say, it pissed me off. I am technically a millennial, and de-friending someone on Facebook is a major move. I have quite a few of people who I would like to de-friend because they have these extreme conservative views (I'm thinking of a couple of people right now), but I don't because it would hurt their feelings needlessly. I felt like the LSU Professor did this specifically as retaliation, and to hurt me (what other purpose would it serve?). So, I wrote him an email, telling him how I felt, and then I said at the end that even if he replied, I wouldn't read it. He did reply, and guess what? I haven't read it. I also haven't deleted it, thinking that someday when I'm less angry, I will read it and try to mend things.
For the most part, Morpheus has disappeared. I have known for some time that I'm blocked on his cellphone, that he probably doesn't get my TXT-messages, but I can still leave a voicemail. Recently, for reasons I don't understand, I was either blocked on his email account or he's deleted and changed emails. I keep getting a "domain error" on an account that I've used to speak with him with for years. To be fair, I did block both his cellphone and his email account for a while using the Verizon Wireless website family controls (I have no idea if this has anything to do with him doing the same or if it was just a strange coincidence). After a while, I figured out I could block him on my cellphone, using a feature that just sends his calls to voicemail, and then stores TXT-messages away in a special folder (I assume it is similar to the capabilities of the iPhone). I figured out how to do the same to his email messages, they just go to their own folder instead of coming directly to my inbox. I do know, however, that he is not dead. I did see a couple real estate website with a posting of his house. I don't know if that's because other houses around it are for sale or if his place specifically is (the worth is recorded at 1.15 million). I called him a few days ago, and left a voicemail, saying that I knew he had blocked me on his cellphone, and that I was probably blocked on his email account, and that I thought too that it was best if we both just moved on. The message wasn't angry or sad. I don't remember him doing anything similar to this without at least telling him that he wanted no contact or that he would be away for a while.
I have a bunch of negative thoughts that go along with Morpheus' disappearance, but I will not share them here for the simple fact that repeating them only entrenches them.
My pain is not getting any better, but I have an appointment with a rheumatologist at UCLA to decide if I have fibromyalgia. I'm still waiting to hear back from the Stanford new patient coordinator to schedule an appointment with Dr. Sean Mackey, MD, Ph.D. at Stanford Pain Management Clinic.
By chance, I did manage to run into the English Instructor as he was locking the door of his classroom after his lecture. He even smiled at me (that, honestly, doesn't happen that often). He said that this was his busiest semester ever. A few hours after I saw him, I sent him an email, offering to volunteer to help with his classes (for the price of a letter of recommendation), that I could record grades, check for completion on journal entries, and to correct basic, minor grammar and spelling errors on papers, leaving him more time to write more detailed feedback. He politely declined and then said he would write me a letter of recommendation anyway.
A few days ago, I decided that I would take all of the Morpheus emails, and put them in that special folder. I started from the least recent, and moved forward. Depressing shit. After a while, I just couldn't do it anymore.
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