Wingnut Presents: APE 09

I've made it through my surgery well enough. I found out I have a high enough pain tolerance that I scared a couple of the nurses, especially when they messed up with the IV three times in a row; I was joking around about how I was scared of syringes the whole time, ha.
They removed scar tissue from the left part of my pelvic wall. I also got some lovely candid snapshots of my appendix, liver and uterus. I'm officially diagnosed with endometriosis (fucking duh, thanks Sparky), but my gyno (i.e. mentally I call him Sparky because the genius came by with my results just as I had woken up from the anesthetic ... I think that's part of the curriculum of medical school) wants to start me on a regiment of hormone killers just to make sure. I'm reluctant to mess around with shutting down any of my systems, let alone one that has been so troublesome to both sides of my family. Supposedly there's no long term effects, and that it would only be for 3-4 months. I say not right now, if at all.

Reality didn't kick in until I actually went to look at the rates for Alternative Press Expo in October. It's a month sooner this year than it was last year. Last year I pushed it to the absolute last minute, and ended up producing something that I was less than satisfied with. It's weird to actually put this thought out there, or to even contemplate this: but I feel like everything is falling into place, and that this downtime is the perfect oppurtunity for me to produce something that I can be happy with and want to share with other people.

Let the games begin.

"Get me to the church on tiiiiiiiime"

All within the past ... I'd say two months, I've found out a multitude of friends, current and past, are all getting married.
Pheromones, anyone?
That or they're having children all at once, and I find myself in a time where no, I wouldn't be able to support a child currently, but the idea that I wouldn't be able to have one in the future lays heavily on my shoulders. Pictured here is probably one of my best friends in the world, Eric. He's marrying a wonderful girl and I couldn't be happier for the two of them.
I've been cutting ties with people close to me, not really on purpose, but because I feel like I know where this is going, and what can happen if I don't pull up from this downward spiral.
My surgery date is set and will hopefully alleviate some of this funk I've been in.

Passing notion, and I promise, it is only a fleeting recollection:
On the first day of our senior English class, the teacher alluded to a weird statistic: suicides happen more frequently in the spring than they do on holidays. When we asked why, he said that spring always means the promise of change, and that the lack thereof, is heartbreaking.

I almost love this town when I'm by your side

At twenty-two, I didn't expect to have deal with the problems of my own fertility, or lack thereof at this point. I've got bum parts and no instructions, ha. Also, let it be noted that going and getting blitzed out of your mind is no way to deal with these issues (as I did last night, oi vey), but I got overwhelmed being surrounded by children, babies, and pregnant women. They all seemed to flock to one spot (no, not the bar), and I couldn't escape my emo self.
I did this drawing about three years ago from a borrowed anatomy book. A lot of my earlier work has been based off of anatomy because of my family's long genetic history of having bum parts (be it the heart, ovaries, skeletal structure, etc.), and their various ways of dealing with them.
I've kind of tried going forth with my life and trying to function, but it kind of sucks when it feels like there's a tiny gremlin in your pelvis trying to remove your ovaries with a broken spork.
More embarrassing details to come, and hopefully some more art.
Cheers,
c.i.