November 7, 2008

November 7, 2008

November 7, 2008

Shiiiit.  It was a crazy night.  Sometime during the protest my phone mysteriously stopped working and I hadn’t called Kyra yet so I kind of started freaking out about how I could possibly meet up with her.  Eventually I just used a friend’s phone to call and then mine started working shortly thereafter, but it really highlighted how incredibly dependent this project has made me on my cell phone: not only do I need it to keep in touch, but it really is integral to me having a roof over my head each night.  Kyra, Beverly (who I hadn’t really gotten a chance to talk to much the day before, but had been texting back and forth with all day yesterday), and Celina (art major… we once went to a Bloc Party concert together!) were all hanging out watching movies and so I headed over there after celebrating a friend’s 21st, around 1:20.

Well, the four of us went to the Christian frat because we heard they were giving out free food.  Then we came back and watched an episode of Californication.  Celina then went into the bedroom to check on her drunk roommate Kelly; Kyra went to help, along with Celina’s boyfriend Nick.  Beverly and I were then asked to help lift her to the toilet… when we got there she was on her back, kind of choking on red vomit and unresponsively staring at the ceiling while we ineffectively tried to flip her over.  When it became apparent that things were not okay, Nick called 911 and he and I waited outside to show them which apartment when they showed up.  Nick, who clearly had been drinking more than I had, kept repeating how great this would make my art project and that it was just too bad that it was such a shitty situation otherwise; despite the situation (or perhaps because of the situation?) we got to know each other surprisingly well for five minutes… it was a really chill conversation that was completely devoid of small talk on both sides.  Once help got there, we all waited in the living room while the paramedics put her on a stretcher and Celina scurried back and forth trying to help them, repeatedly bringing up how Kelly had class at eight the next morning.  It was really intense and it was easily the most unresponsive I have ever seen a drunk person before…

There was one moment that sticks out in particular: I was sitting on a tiger-print stool at the bar, Beverly and Kyra were on the couch to my right, Celina and Nick were leaning against the wall in front of me, and the paramedics were moving Kelly on a white sheet from the bathroom to the stretcher in the entryway.  One of the paramedics (or a firefighter maybe?) said they were going to need more sheets.  Nick kept trying to hold Celina’s hand to calm her down, but kind of just kept bumping his hand against where her arm went behind her back and she seemed too distracted to notice.  Then finally they got it right for a few moments before she left to ride with Kelly to the ER.  It was a beautiful moment in the midst of everything.

Beverly, Kyra, Nick, and I cleaned the bedroom and bathroom–409, paper towels, laundry detergent, and scented candles > vomit.  It was such a weird situation.  We talked about how much we all bonded; I can’t believe that this all happened the one night I happened to be sleeping over.  I think at some point Celina came in and said good night, but I’m not sure if I just made that up or not.  I wanted to be at Broad at seven, but woke up at eight… I basically was falling asleep in the editing room, so I came home to write this shortly after class.  I’ve never had this happen before, but my neck muscles are really really sore from yelling so much (my voice is completely shot as well, I kind of throatily whisper at everyone and the cracking sounds like the stereotypical kid going through puberty.)  Whenever I yawn, my neck and jaw feel like they’re on fire… and I am yawning a lot.  And I still have dishes from Tuesday’s dinner to do.  Ughgah, eight nights left–last night Kyra told me that she wasn’t sure if she could find a place for today, but hopefully she does.

UPDATE:  I am absolutely not okay.  I guess it took three weeks to get to this point, which seems pretty solid.  I thought the shaking was from not eating properly, but that’s not it… I actually bought some cereal and have been eating three meals a day, but I still shake all the time.  Bad shaking, enough to make typing fairly difficult at moments, and it is actually coupled with the kind of weakness that you feel when you first wake up, like your muscles just aren’t quite willing to work properly.  My constant, natural optimism is gone and I just have a vague sense of dread and melancholy all the time… which I don’t think I have ever had before, even during some of my more down periods in early high school.  I am a social wreck, questioning / replaying / worrying about everything I say and I also have lost almost all ability to keep things to myself and have already told a few people things that I really wish I had been able to keep to myself (and then repeatedly called / texted them because I was so paranoid about it.)  My brain is seemingly unable to put things together like it should be able to–mentally things are moving really slowly or kind of just stay separated in a way that is really bothersome, as I can normally hold quite a bit of information at any given time and see how it relates / sift through it quickly and easily, but I feel like I am just accumulating raw information without anyway of dealing with it.  I can’t multitask, forgetting things that I should be able to remember which is causing me constant low-level stress.  A few days ago I made a “Genius” playlist on iTunes that started from the Lykke Li song “Dance, Dance, Dance” and it’s a really good mix, but it’s become all that I want to do–basically just sit around and listen to it over and over.  Tonight I’m supposed to sleep on a couch in a frat, which almost certainly means no sleep and maybe no place tomorrow night since I’m not sure if I even have a specific host.  Fuck this.  And sorry to everyone who has had to deal with my ridiculousness.

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