I'm sitting with an absolutely sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Narc still hasn't called or contacted me since Saturday even though I sent him a few texts on Tuesday. I know it has only been two days, but after our week together, it feels like an eternity. I imagine that he's purposely avoiding me. I know that when I see him he's going to act all casual about it, telling me that he was busy with work, and pretend that it’s normal not to respond to a text message for days on end. Maybe I'm stupid for staying involved, but it’s hard to help myself. He's somehow already under my skin...in my body and my heart in a way I can't seem to ignore. I have to try. I have to try to ignore him. There's no other way to deal with it when he treats me like a fucking yo-yo.
Ughhh... So enough about him. I need to focus on something else. Today has to be all about beginnings. It's the first day of the new semester and even though I don't technically have class or teaching until tomorrow, I feel like I have to start fresh today. I am still pretty upset at myself for my little "medicinal" binge on Tuesday night. I have a voice lesson in about 45 minutes, and I just don't know how I'm going to be able to sing with all of this shit still stuck in my nasal passages and burning in my throat. It really fucks with my voice for at least a week or so. I don’t want to give up hope though. I read an article in the NY Times about another opera singer, Andrea Gruber, who had been heavy into drugs for years. She used to sing at the Met in the early '90s all drugged up--a feat I can't even IMAGINE! Anyway, eventually her career started to fall apart, but now she's back and clean and singing the title role in Turandot this month. I’m not trying to say that fucking up my body is okay; rather, I simply need to believe that just because I've made mistakes, it doesn't mean I can't get my singing back on track.
Anyway, last night (after delicious sushi), Hammer, the Wizard and I went to see Million Dollar Baby. The second half of the movie left me wiped. I feel totally drained from the emotional experience. We went to a late show (got out around 1:00 a.m.) and I was so tired from not having slept the night before that my body started shutting down. I couldn't get my teeth to stop chattering. ("Poppy" was out big time!) I caught a cab home and fell asleep almost immediately, grateful that I didn't have to put up with my usual insomnia. I still don't feel entirely rested this morning though, and am not looking forward to going out into the sub-zero weather.
Tonight I have the intellectual history seminar. I still have to read the paper we're discussing--a chapter on Sartre and Post-Colonialism. I should make a promise to myself now not to have wine with dinner. I know that if I start drinking I'm going to end up making it a late night at Keats and I really can't afford to do that. Friday is my first day of teaching for the semester, and six hours of lecturing will not be sustainable if it my brain is trying to filter out the typical alcohol-fog of a "day-after."
That's it for now. Must go find my lipstick. And my amethyst. I think it helped cure me yesterday.
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