on crazy journeys and blue haired waitresses

i hesitate to write about this past month with any finality. there have been several moments when i thought i was finally crawling out only to be hit again like the back wall of a hurricane's eye.

i have gone crazy. the farthest i have ever been before. i have been up and down, anxious and sedated, uncontrollably twitchy and slurred. i was forced to stop driving for almost four weeks (a feat in this gasoline-blooded city). i missed as many weeks of class. and had a complete identity crisis as well.

the cherry on this particular cake or sundae or sweet of your choosing came with the paste eight days of food poisoning induced (bacterial or viral?) infected vomiting, sleep, and bloody shite. but now, after an er visit, a horrible doctor's appointment, and finally just giving in to being completely, physically and mentally ill, i am awake and i can think for the first time in much too long.

one of the benefits of the last week's wretch(-ing) is that i had to stop all of my mind meds. my body's levels of hydration alone could have lead to unexpected and unpleasant side effects, so the psychiatrist suggested i stop them completely until i have held down food and liquids for 48 consecutive hours. surprisingly, i am much more cognizant. i never felt sedated on my last regime, where i had been balanced for almost two years. but maybe my chemicals changing had also changed the way i reacted. or maybe it was the solid week of sleep interrupted only by sandy licking my face because she needed to pee. having already told all of my professors that i did not know when i would be returning to classes certainly helped relieve anxiety.

additionally, i had a wonderful phone session with my new york therapist thirty six hours before the food poisoning hit, that ended with a twenty minute joint (three way) session with my mother on the phone extension and a great follow-up conversation with my father the next afternoon.

at this point, i have a plan.
i am dropping two of my three classes. keeping epidemiology, a surprising favorite that is easily followed online and has no group work. i will also be taking longer to graduate. how long? we'll see. right now, there is no time limit (aside from the school imposed six years). next spring i plan to enroll in two courses. do two online classes over the summer while attending a sexuality institute (in san francisco or amsterdam). then return for a full load next fall. at that time obtain an internship or position in the fields of old people or sex, preferably both.

after i have a semi-dependable level of sanity, i am going to get a waitressing job. best-case-scenario: house of pies. i have dreamed of working at house of pies since i was sixteen. it is the urban equivalent of a truck stop with 38 kinds of pie at any given hour. i highly recommend the bayou goo. honestly, i love waitressing. it is my favorite job that i have ever held (including whoring). i like regulars. i like kids that hang out for hours smoking, drinking coffee and splitting a single club sandwich with a bowl (not monkey dish, a whole bowl) of ranch for their fries, and the one skinny goth girl drinking dr pepper with cream on her boyfriend's lap, then tip five dollars on a ten dollar tab. i love regulars that order the same thing every time. i like being able to bring people the comfort of coffee and greasy food. add pie to the mix, and the set up becomes ideal.

i miss the support and identity of working. i never really had a support structure at school. why would i start to have one in grad school, when students are more alienated and competitive? i feel confident as a waitress. and it doesn't require me to uphold the role of the smart one. yes, i am intelligent. but sometimes, right now especially, my brain is caving in under the pressure. i need an escape that provides me with a second source of productivity and worth. so i will be the waitress.

more specifically, the blue haired waitress.

i saw the corpse bride. beautiful. i now must dye my long curly hair blue.

i know it won't last long. two to three weeks max. i know it will turn green. i know the bleach will fry my hair. but i know it will fill a whole in the picture of my self. i do not recognize the girl in the mirror. i need something i can point to so that i can regain the footing of my identity.

so i will bleach my hair. it will be blue. with turquoise highlights. when it begins to turn green i will either add more blue, or bleach it out and go bright red, later to be layered with darker reds, until it returns to the motley reds, bronzes, coppers, and crimsons it currently is. of course, i may decide to keep turquoise highlight. the turquoise was always my favorite wig.

in a matter of weeks, when i rack the mirror (both inside and out) for who i am, i will be able to answer in short hand: the blue haired waitress.

ps in light of the possible less than sexy course of the near future, i have set up a second blog for the more mundane, although no doubt hilarious hijink-filled, episodes of my life. those who fancy that sort of tale can wander over to bluehairedwaitress.blogspot.com. entries will most likely be sporadic for the next week or two as i regain my footing in life. but they are guaranteed to be more frequent than here.