Universe: 3, Doug: 0

Posted: August 7, 2010 in Uncategorized

So, last time I went into the hospital, I was frustrated that it interrupted my plans, but heartened in that I knew it would take care of the problem once and for all.

Yeah. Right. Thanks for that, universe.

Before I get too venty (not to be confused with getting a venti, which sounds much nicer) about my mood, I do want to get it on the record that I’m going to try to get work done while in the hospital this time. I’m getting my ADD meds here, and I’m certainly going to have a lot of time on my hands. So, let’s focus on getting this NDS hole filled, maybe a little practice on one of the other hobby things, programming or drawing or something.

That said… I am so flarking pissed off right now.

I mean, I’m more annoyed now than I was a week ago flying Delta. And I think y’all got a sense of that. My power, apparently, is coming from my boundless rage.

I used to not have so much of a temper, but man, extended hospitalization will do that to you. You’re physically restrained, you’re not in your right head, what with the drugs, the sleep interruption, the beeping… oh, the beeping… there’s no privacy, things are actually piercing your skin and pumping things in and out of your body… gah.

This is not a vacation. (I know, I just had one, and it was much nicer than this.)

What’s especially frustrating about this is that it seems to happen just in time to throw any attempts I make at getting my life together off track. For New Year’s, I determined a writing schedule and a reading schedule. I went a week into it, hitting right on target, and then… bam. The abdominal pain started, sending me to the hospital and killing any momentum I had.

Once I got out and found a little balance under my feet, I decided to really get started organizing life with the May Project. As many of you know, that worked really well, giving me this blog experience to share my progress and keep myself accountable. And, of course, just as I started on the writing schedule, bam. Hospitalization for a month, with a side order of colonic resection surgery.

Two months later. Recovery has gone swimmingly. I’m feeling good, I’m functional, I’m ready to get everything in order for good this time. I write an outline… an OUTLINE, for God’s sake! I get everything I want improved in life listed and put out there to really take in hand. I have a tremendously productive first week of August… and… bam.

Bam, bam, bam. This is the sound of the universe pounding nails into my spirit.

Seriously, it’s so goddamn frustrating to feel like every time I try to improve myself, something happens to prevent it. I literally cannot get a week’s break before the Powers That Be giggle and press the big red abdomen sabotage button.

Pavlov wrote about his dog training, where he linked behavior to rewards and punishments, and how effective it was. Well, I’m starting to feel like one of Bizarro Pavlov’s dogs. And while I’m trying to sound flip about it, it’s seriously getting to me. I feel like the universe is conspiring to keep me from making myself useful… and I don’t know how much of it I can take before I’m going to give up on trying.

Okay, enough self-pity for one blog. Time to lay in bed some and try to keep my eyes from rolling up into my head in a stuporous daze.


Tomorrow: Who the hell knows?

  1. Josh says:

    Hang in there. :^/

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