Hey, kid. Good morning. You look like an angel. I don't remember when we fell asleep. Better get up, kid. Cathy is waiting. . .

Went to a high school basketball game tonight.  We lost by one point, and that was. . .well, even I was screaming by the end of the game.

There was a guy behind me that. . .apparently, I always end up sitting in front of (or standing beside at football games) the loudest, most annoying redneck in the bunch.  This guy was literally screaming the en. tire. time.  It was physically hurting my ears.  He was yelling at the boys, yelling at the refs, yelling at. . .everyone.  I had my finger plugging up my right ear for most of the game.  So I was really freaking sick of him screaming in my ear, and at one particular point, he yelled really loudly, and I yelled, too.  I don't remember what I said, but it was indicative of me not being pleased with my ear being yelled in.  This guy puts his hand on my shoulder (False, sir.  Do not touch me.  I do not like being touched.) and says, "Sorry about your ear, Darlin'.  But this is why you pay the money to see the game, Baby."

First of all, no.  I do not spend money to see basketball games to yell at the refs.  (I actually don't spend money to see them at all, because I have a press pass.)  Secondly, if you have never had a conversation with me and do not know my name, do.  Not.  call me Baby.  I am not your baby.  You have not earned the right to call me by anything except my name.  

Up until the point I was a. . .junior in high school, I hated it when ANYONE called me Baby or any derivative thereof.  Baby, Babe, Babydoll, whatever.  I hated it.  I hated it with a fiery vengeance.  And because I was friends with a bunch of douchebags, as soon as my guy friends found that out, that's what they called me.  My name ceased being Sarah and I was from that point on known as Baby.

As in, walking down the hall, "Hey, Baby!  You have the Algebra notes?"  "Where do you want to go to lunch today, Baby?"  "That history test is a killer, Baby!"

You get the picture.

They did it so much, I just got accustomed to it.  And by the time I started dating Richard junior year and that's how he generally referred to me, I found I rather liked it.  It's affectionate and cute, I think. 

However.  I was not dating this redneck behind me.  So it irked me that he touched me (strike one) and then called me by a cutesy nickname.

I need to go to the rec center tomorrow.  I really need to.  I just. . .it's hard to motivate myself.  Especially when I have a house that badly needs to be cleaned and work that badly needs to be done.  (Because of Christmas Sunday.  Yes, Christmas.  No, I don't want to talk about it.)

I also really need to write.  I've got this novel in my head.  It's an entire story, from beginning to end, but I don't have the time to sit down and write it.  I don't have the time and ENERGY to sit down and write it.  But I want to.  I need to get it down.

I'm going to see The Last 5 Years tomorrow.  I'm going by myself which. . .sucks a little, but I really want to see it, so it's OK.  I'd asked MK to come with me, but he already had something else he was doing.  And I can't go Sunday, because of Christmas.  I listened to the soundtrack on the way to the basketball game and I cried the entire way.  

Remember the thing I wrote about how, when I was younger, I used to watch the saddest part of "Follow That Bird," and just cry and cry?  And my mother worried she was raising a masochist?  These days, I keep doing that to myself.  I'm especially bad for it watching Grey's Anatomy and listening to The Last 5 Years soundtrack.  I've been really emotional lately for. . .a myriad of reasons, really.  

Actually, I'm wondering if I should even go to the show.  I love it, but I'll be there alone, and I'll probably cry through the show and all the way home, and most likely when I get home, too.  I don't know if I need to do that to myself at this particular point in time.  

I have. . .a lot of stuff going on at the moment.  I'm not talking about it because I just don't even know myself where I am in it all.  (No, that's not true.  I talked to KentuckyNicholas the other night because I was about to lose my mind and I needed to talk to SOMEONE who wasn't involved in the problems I'm having and who was a completely unbiased point of view.  It made me feel better to talk about it, but I didn't actually come to any grand conclusions, which led to the first part of my day being really sad.

As for now, though, I'm going to finish watching "Halloween" and go to bed.  And try to sleep.  Which actually probably won't happen.  

I should add that it's at the part of the movie that the two characters just had, apparently, a lot of sex, and that just brings to light the fact that I'm going to be. . .well, I'm probably going to be spending my Friday nights exactly like I am right now, alone watching other people get it on in scary movies, indefinitely.  That's. . .it's just a little sad to me is all.

I guess it's some consolation that everyone who gets lucky in this movie is killed.

My body is callin' out for you, bad boy. I get the feeling that I just want to be with ya.

I have several different stories I could start this post out with, but I feel absolutely compelled to share what I've been doing for the last 20 minutes or so.  

I'm warning you now, this is going to be long.  Don't start reading if you're going to be easily bored or if you don't want to hear about the weird, scary things diabetes does to me.

Every now and again, I check craigslist for freelance work.  I realized that I go to the same post areas every time I go (art/media/design, part-time, education, wanted, creative, and writing) and I'd never really paid much mind to anything else on the site.

Well.

I went into the "personals" section, and I have been through a few pages on misc. romance, casual encounters, missed connections, rants and raves, women seeking women, and women seeking men.  (Honestly, I'm a little afraid of the men seeking men and men seeking women sections.  I'm not entirely sure why, but I feel like I'd be scandalized and horrified by what I'd find.  I'm already a little scandalized and horrified by what I HAVE found.)

The casual encounters section, by far, is the most interesting.  I just don't understand the. . .the concept, really, of posting on here, looking for sex, whether it's a one time thing, a recurring event, whatever.  I suppose one could argue that it's very similar to online dating (which, as you all know, has NOT been something that worked out for me).  But. . .I don't know, man.  I can't see putting up an ad saying something like, "Hey!  Want to have sex?  Send me a picture!"  I guess if I were desperate (and unafraid) I might consider something like that, but I can't see EVER being that desperate.  I've been holding out for. . .24 years, so I think that my desperation has probably plateaued, and I never EVER got the urge to ask strangers to service me.

The funny thing about these is that I'm generally looking at the ones from my county and there are a. . .surprising amount of people looking for gay hookups.  I mean, I know there have to be gay people around here, but you just don't really hear from them.  I guess that's why they're looking on craigslist.  I have also seen. . .more penises than I'd care to admit.  If I were into porn, I could just get it here.  There was also a woman who posted pictures of herself. . .servicing a gentleman caller, and I KNOW I've seen that woman before, but I just don't remember where.  If I ever see her again, I'm probably going to laugh.  In Raleigh, I could see posting pictures of yourself or your junk, because it's unlikely that any random person would see you and run into you on the street and recognize you.  But this is a small town.  It is a conglomeration of small towns, and I would never do something like that, not only because I'm not into that kind of thing, but SOMEONE would be bound to recognize me.  Especially considering my job.

Anyway, some of my favorites from my town thus far have been the "Cop looking for a good time" who said, "hey guys!  hot average build white male, 6 ft tall brown eyes black hair.  6 to 7 inches cut.  cop in training so im fairly good shape, looking for guys in the the 20's near (my town) to have a good time tonight.  im straight but curious.  hit me up!"  Then there's "Hey, let's relax together" and it says "HI.  One of my biggest fantasies is getting up with a friend, laying him down, and slowly stripping him as I give him a massage, making sure to hit all the most tense areas with some oral techniques.  I don't expect anything in return.  Think you might be that friend I'm looking for?  If so, hit me up and we'll make it happen."  That was also in my town.  All I'm saying, I guess, is that I dated Richard for a year and a half and didn't sleep with him, so I don't understand the concept of advertising for some random person.  

So my day.

My alarm went off at 10:30.  MK called me at 10:45.  I lounged in bed until 11:30 or so, chit-chatting.  I decided not to be entirely lazy today, so I got ready to go to the rec center.  My shower still wasn't working, so I took all my shower stuff with me to just take a shower there.  It made sense.

I ellipticaled, "ran," and machined for 45 minutes or so.  I feel like such a loser when I hear people like my friend Carol say, "Yeah, I was at the Y for 2 hours."  I'm thinking. . .what the hell do you do for 2 hours?  I'm saying an hour tops.  Maybe because I'm. . .not the gym-going type?  I don't know.  So after all that, I go get a shower.  I had, in fact, forgotten what it was like to take a public place shower.  I felt like I was either at camp or in college again.  It was not an altogether pleasant feeling.

So after the shower, I had one of my "episodes."  I have two kinds of these.  The first one I haven't had since I left Raleigh (thank God), but it's when my blood sugar goes dangerously low overnight, and I don't wake up unless woken up.  The last time this happened to me, I was hours late for work because my blood sugar had gone so low, my alarm didn't wake me up.  My dad always left before I did, so he didn't think anything of the fact that I wasn't up when he left.  My mom called me like 5 times before the phone woke me up and I answered.  My job had called me, my temp agency had called me. . .none of it woke me up.  When I was finally roused from my being passed out (there's a fine line, I've found, between being asleep and being passed out.) my blood sugar was, like, 20.  Luckily, this hasn't happened since I've lived here.  I'm super careful to eat something before I go to bed so it DOESN'T happen, but I'm continually scared that it's going to happen, and no one's going to realize that I'm. . .essentially passed out.  And then I will die.  And no one will know.

But anyway.

It happened once in college, senior year.  I went to bed at midnight and didn't wake up again until 5:30 the next day.  When I came out of it, I was actually getting out of the shower.  I don't remember getting INTO the shower, so that was particularly scary.  I also missed a fraternity meeting, but when I explained what had happened, it was excused.  But really?  I took an entire freaking shower, and washed my hair without being conscious of it.  I think the only reason I came out of it was because I had (thankfully) detached my insulin pump before getting in the shower, so that probably helped my blood sugar to rise.  

It's like being in a daze.  You really feel like you've lost hours of your life, because you have.  I lost that entire Sunday.  And I don't know why it happens. 

The kind I had today is ever so slightly less scary, but still vaguely terrifying.  What happens is, I feel like I'm getting overheated, and I start to black out.  Like, I can see blackness creeping in from the corners of my eyes, and if I don't sit down, it's entirely possible that I'll hit the floor. It seems like this happens to me most often when I'm in the shower, and I hypothesize that it has something to do with the hot water.  Probably the reason diabetics aren't supposed to get into hot tubs and saunas (I did hit the floor in a sauna once.  That's actually kind of gross, but it happened.  I never again ignored that sign that said diabetics should not use the sauna.)  The last time this happened to me, I was in the shower, but I was at home, so it wasn't so bad.  I just laid on my little sofa until the overpowering blackness went away.  The time before that, it happened in the newsroom.  If I remember correctly, Dennis and Kim were there, and I may have worried them a little.  The time before THAT was actually at graduation.  I was walking toward my seat and I literally could not see where I was walking, because. . . I couldn't see.  There was literally blackness closing over my eyes, and it was all I could do to walk straight.  And I was wearing heels.  I had to sit down when I got to my seat, despite the fact that everyone else was still standing.  That was really scary, because there was the potential for me to pass out in front of thousands of people.  I didn't, luckily.

So today, I got through the shower, and decided to get dressed in the stall, because there were children running around the changing area, and I felt creepy walking out in a towel.  I managed to get my shirt on before I got really, really dizzy.  The overheated dizzy that goes along with one of these "episodes."  Luckily, the shower was one of those with. . .there's the shower, and there's a curtain in front of it, and then there's a little area with a bench-looking thing, and a curtain in front of THAT as well.  I wrapped my towel around my waist and sat down on that bench thing, putting my head on my knees.  I felt like the room was spinning, and I was honestly afraid I was about to pass out.  I didn't know where to go for help because, for one, I'm wearing a shirt and a towel, and for another, I couldn't stand up without feeling like I was going to fall down.  I could feel the blackness creeping over my eyes, and I would be DAMNED if I was going to pass out in a public shower.

So I sat there for. . .however long (The entirety of this story took place between 1:08 and 1:53.  I know this because when I put my insulin pump back in, having taken it off to take the shower, it was suspended at 1:08 and when I unsuspended it, it was 1:53.)  I felt a little better, and decided to try to make it out to the changing area/locker room.  I didn't attempt to put my jeans on, because I didn't want to overexert myself.  I made it. . .to the bench about 5 steps outside the shower before I had to sit down again.  Again, I had to put my head on my knees.  I was seriously overheated, and I couldn't walk straight.  After an undetermined amount of time, I decided to try again.  This time, I made it to where the bathroom stalls were (about 25 paces away), and I had to make the choice again to either sit down or fall down.  I chose to sit down.  Unfortunately, I chose to sit down in a stall where someone had, for some reason completely unbeknownst to me, thrown a really, really dirty diaper away in those little things intended to throw away feminine hygiene product wrappers.  Thanks to this, I gagged every time I tried to take a deep breath to clear my head.  I tried putting the towel around my just-washed hair over my face so I could breathe, but the smell of the flower shampoo I'd used made me even more dizzy.  It was a lose-lose.  Really, a true comedy of errors.  If it weren't so utterly terrifying, it would have been. . .a little funny.  I'm sure I'll find it at least mildly humorous one of these days.

So I'm sitting there, really thinking I'm going to either A) die, B) pass out, or C) pass out, catch some gross disease from a bathroom floor, and then die.  I put my head between my knees, trying to breathe and not gag or get dizzy, and I notice something very odd.  I don't know if this has happened to me every time I've had one of these "episodes," but my feet were. . .purple.  They were swollen and purple and you could see every cute shoe-induced scar I've got on them.  Also the scar from the removal of the tumor thing.  Every little imperfection on my feet was very pronounced, but what really concerned me was the color.  They were honest to God purple, with weird white spots along the arches.  I'm wondering if this could give me some insight into why this happens, or what exactly is happening when this happens.  But they were gross-looking.  I mean, more gross-looking than feet usually are.

After what had to have been 25 minutes or so, I was finally able to get up, get my jeans on, and walk out to where my locker was.  I got my stuff together VERY slowly, didn't bother to dry my hair (like I needed more heat pointed straight at my head), and left.  When I walked outside, the sun seemed oddly bright.  It hurt my eyes.  This may have been thanks to the "episode."  I sat in my car for a while before leaving, not wanting to, you know, pass out behind the wheel.  I felt better by this point, though, so after returning Carol's message she'd left, I headed out to get groceries.

I now have legit groceries in my house, and I will be bringing my lunch EVERY DAY this week (except Tuesday, where I'm going to a luncheon.  Not just a lunch.  A luncheon.  I'm going to have to be "business professional" that day.  And I will be lunching on quiche.)  And I have dinner, probably, too.  Unless I get the urge to go out for dinner one night or something.

Then I met up with Carol, and we walked Main Street a little while (in the FREAKING cold), went to a little store I'd told her about, and then went to a little bookstore where we had awesome, AWESOME tea.  Then she went to an engagement dinner she had tonight, and I went to Zaxby's (because they have my boneless wing meal back again.  LOVE!) and then to Wal-Mart, because I was having this mad cherry pie craving like you would not BELIEVE.  So I got a cherry pie.

And now, here I am, looking at the freaks on craigslist.  I also got to talk to Karen, which was cool.  We were able to catch up (since we hadn't talked in a while) and all is good in the world.  I've had 2 glasses of wine, and it's about bed time for me.

It's been snowing this evening, and I'm hoping the roads aren't horrible so I can go into work tomorrow and not have to work a crazy day Monday.

Oh, and if you're wondering?  My shower is working again.  So that's good at least.