Yesterday, I was going to my therapist's, sitting at a bus stop outside Hillsdale Mall, and there was a bus sitting there, idling. I would've asked the driver if the bus was going to be the bus I needed, but he was in the back, apparently asleep. So I sat down at the stop, and waited.

Well, five minutes later, the bus starts up, and without checking to see if anyone at the stop needed him, he took off. (The bus was in such a position that I couldn't see either of the electric signs that explain which bus it is.) So I took off after the bus. Stupid, I know, but the bus was at a stop light, so I thought I *might* be able to get to the next stop before he did.

Ha! I tripped on a raised paving stone, fell, rolled into the street, and was hit (lightly) - really more like tapped - by a "big, white whale of a car". That's the best description anyone could give. Anyway, I got up, staggered to the sidewalk, whereupon two sweet ladies pulled over, checked me over, then took me to my therapist, who insisted I go to the hospital to be checked out. They kept me overnight, and I'm fine, but I have a bit of road rash, and my back bloody well hurts.

I inadvertantly dropped my phone in hot water (literally) and, thus, erased all my numbers. So if you know me, know I know your phone number, please call me back and give it to me again, because I suck. ;)

I just discovered that David Tennant and John Barrowman are going to be at ComicCon this year, and I wanna go! I mean, what a trip! I could meet Tycho and Gabe from Penny Arcade, the guys from Jump Leads (sort of Red Dwarf, only in comic strip form) *and* The Doctor and Captain Jack, all at the same place!

Who wants to take me? ;)

Seriously, though, Morgan's mom tends to go to ComicCon, so maybe I can get David Tennant's autograph, anyway.

And, AND.... July 11th is coming up kinda quickly. :) I'm looking *so* forward to it. ABC again, this time with Berlin, Cutting Crew, &c. as opening acts.

I fucked up this morning.

See, the guy who sexually assaulted me a few months ago (and who was stalking me for a bit) called this morning and asked to come over and see me. I said, "No." He said, "How about in a few days, then?" And I hung up on him.

What I *should* have done was let him come over so I could have at least gotten a picture of him to show the cops, or even let him in after calling 911 so they could have caught the bastard.

Instead, all I got to do was add to the report they have on the guy by telling them about the call.

Anyway, I've been jumpy and a little hyperalert all day, which, believe me, without the proper medication has been *really* unpleasant. And it made me space my appointment with the psychologist today. But I guess my grandmother is right - "When going through hell, just keep going."

I just had a rather surreal conversation with my grandmother. Especially considering how she raked me over the coals at my 'birthday party'.....

She sent me an email today saying, "I am sending this to you, and be sure to read to the end where they talk about Migraines, and what has helped some people.
How are you doing? I haven't heard from you lately. I know you are having to endure, but you know what they say, "When you're going through hell, just keep going." I love you. Grandmother"

*puts on "Only Makes Me Laugh" by Oingo Boingo* I love this song, and when I'm feeling particularly bad about my situation, it sort of cheers me up. Anyway...

She told me that a) she thought that it was wonderful that I still had my sense of humor ("Aside from the chronic migraine, the back pain, the leg pain and partial hemiparesis, my depression, [at which point, I started to laugh] the PTSD, the OCD, and the generalized anxiety disorder, I'm doing great!") b) she told me that she thought I was really strong, maybe even stronger than I am aware, and c) she said that she was "proud of me" for how well I was doing. Doing well? Well, I'm still here, so I guess.... but I really feel that all I'm doing right now is waiting, trying to survive until I can see the doctor - I see the psychiatrist on the 26th, and the primary care physician on the 30th. And that's before I can get into the pain clinic and start remedicating myself - hopefully the PCP will prescribe *something* for my pain until I can get into the clinic.

*smiles as "Happy" spins up on iTunes* This song cheers me up, too. "I read the paper, I saw the news - all those people are excited, why don't they just relax? All they gotta do is kick back, kick back and be happy - happy, happy that the whole world is ready to blow. I'm happy that I made it through another day, that when I pick up the phone, I still remember what to say, I'm happy that my brain still lives inside my head, but most of all, I think I'm happy that I ain't dead...."

Anyway, I'm just kinda shocked that my grandmother said so many positive things about me. It's a rare thing, y'know?

I know I really shouldn't be doing this, but...

I just looked at the LJ of an ex- ex- ex-. (Wow, I'm three exes deep from 2001)! Those of you who've known me longest will know who I'm talking about if I explain that he had a "homework question" on his journal that reminded me SO DAMNED MUCH of Zork, it's not even funny. Of course, he doesn't know I'm here, mostly lurking, but, still..... But it makes me ache for the conversations we used to have - philosophical, mathematical, whatever. What was funny was that a(n old) acquaintance of ours figured it out before.... what was it he said? Before "beating out most of my class in solving this".

Morgan, thanks for the sushi birthday dinner (complete with cocktail and souffle for dessert), and for the iPod.  I can't wait for it to show up!  8G of silver loveliness......

I. Have. Fucking. Had. It.

Here I sit, less than 24 hours away from my 37th birthday, and my mother has cut me off. Oh, I'm not homeless (yet), and I still have internet/phone/TV (thank gods, or I'd *really* lose it), but I've been eating ramen for a month and a half (once a day) and my mother thinks that the best use of the very little money I have left (call it $10) is to go down to San Jose (bus, train, light rail) so that I can miss my phone call with Patrick and spend the evening with my mother, grandmother, sister, brother-in-law, and their two children.

I am currently only able to take the barest minimum of medication for my psychological disorders (not to mention my chronic pain issues) because guess what? My mother now says (after promising to take care of me after she lost my second health insurance plan) that she cannot afford to help me out anymore, and so the county is going to have to take care of me.

If things don't work out in a big, big way within the next couple days, I am going to have to move to Canada. And I'm not joking.

I wish to gods that House was real. I could use a good diagnostician. "Gee, Dr. House, why the fuck am I bleeding in my lower GI tract?" "Gee, Dr. House, can you give me a reason why I'm feeling utterly shitty?" *sighs* Sadly, he's not real. If he were.... Well, that's another story entirely.

I may or may not have posted recently about my friend Leath and his wife, Kathy. I may also have mentioned something about my friend Heinz, who isn't very far (at least in my mind) from Leath - after all, they were my brothers-in-arms at the biology department at Evergreen.

Sadly, Kathy (Leath's wife), at the terribly young age of 40+ had a heart attack. I don't know anything more than that, but am hoping that she makes a swift recovery.