When the road to recovery feels like the highway to Hell

Last weekend’s Operaćion: Go out three nights in a row and jackass around with the vices of my choosing has left me with a pretty manly cough that I haven’t been able to shake for the last four days. 8:30 p.m. basketball start times (FU, national television schedules) didn’t help tonight, and now I’m going to miss my 8 a.m. out of necessity if I ever stand a chance of recovering from this hot mess. Not seeing a doctor, as every time I’ve been worn down in the past and had these symptoms they always tell me it’s a viral sinus/upper res infection and antibiotics are worth dick, and to just “drink plenty of water and rest.”

Had I toughed it out last Fall and trudged through two shitty instructors instead of taking an F I’d be enrolled in six hours and not the 12 I need to graduate. That’s gonna take its toll. I’ve also returned to the television station I previously worked, and hope I can manage to keep it at a limited capacity for academics’ and sanity’s sake. It felt good to mend the fence with my manager. Score one for knowing some very understanding people and valued friends. And a good lesson learned as my anger problems in future jobs will probably render me homeless.

I had planned to blog much more here. At least weekly. I’ve let a lot of shit slide due to a renewed schedule of work/school and general ADD/depression. Score one more for understanding parents falling on the grenade and remaining spendthrifts for their irresponsible firstborn. I had a lot of promise at two through 11 but 13 through 24 couldn’t have been an easy ride for them.

They’ll probably be on the hook for 25, too. Graduating in this job market.