I call [Bloody] shenanigans.

The past few days have been rather rough for my standards. Monday, I was woken up by my pain and vomiting from my kidneys, took a bit of Oxycodone and ZOFRAN medication for the pain and nausea, respectively. It got to the point where I had to call the emergency services and be wheeled to the hospital. Blaaaah, while I was in there, I was writhing in pain for most of the time until they finally administered Toridol via IV, as well as fluids and ZOFRAN for the nausea. Glad that it was through a vein and not orally, otherwise I would still be throwing up.
Which I ended up doing, once more. Blegh.
While I was there, something humourous, a child named "Hånter" was brought in as an OD victim in the ward across from mine. He was whining, groaning, resisting the help of the medical professionals, even so when his mother arrived. It was... mildly entertaining to watch him in the bed as they used the catheter on him! Then they pumped his stomach... bluuh. There was blood in his stomach contents. The nurse had to call for assistance because no one else was in the room with her. It was humourous until then. All until then. The day ended on an odd note. I passed out while on the Oxycodone I took before given Vicodin.
Now, after urologist appointment, bad thing happen. I was told that I have eight stones in kidney. It is degrading, what I have to do; I have to urinate 2½ L. a day, and mail it in. Each day. Everything medical... embarrassing.


And on a worse note... I lost a person that I cared greatly for. I almost lost another, too, in the process. I told them what I like to do. I study people, subconsciously. I take notes, for the future. I test people with things, too. I don't notice it but I do. It is... fun to do. Fun to watch. As long as nothing big happens, I am fine with it. I can predict everyone's reaction to something if I know them well enough, even if it is a situation they haven't encountered before. (Run that through your mind. "A situation they haven't encountered before". I get different scrambled images of the characters gasping, holding their hands to their mouth, or just letting their jaw drop. Kskakska.) I'm about to pass out from the exhaustion of repeated Vicodin crashes.
Böök, Onni's funeral is today. I feel sad. I won't be awake at the time. I would much rather curl up and starve than miss the funeral.  I want to pay my respects. Paying respects, be good friend to good friend. I am shameful friend. I did not much good to them. I was angry. I was quite bad to them. I regret a lot of things. I want to hug their dead body.


Farvel.

Just a bit of a post here... nothing special.

Sometimes, I tend to get these rather ludicrous idea in my head that come across as rather crass, for me (I hope I used that word correctly), then I mention them to someone before completely forgetting it the next day. Like the "feel the world" idea. It would have come across as racist to quite a few people, and brilliant to an even smaller amount. So, it was scrapped, which I am sorry to say. I'm talking with Tero about how some Finns act, and seeing from his picture, I decided to comment on it being related to how some Finns seem to act. I also asked him quite a few questions regarding things that are popularily believed about Finns. I'm quite clueless, as I've never been to Finland, before. Not ever. Eeeever. Something, though, has embedded "yelling" into "Finland" in my mind. I don't know what it is, but I can't help but associate yelling with Finnish for some odd reason. I feel rather degraded as I say that. I realize that I can be quite the bigoted and racist bastard when I start to think about things. Though, I push those things aside and divert my attention, for it's not gentleman-ly of me to think things such as that. It's crude. Quite so, though with being crude can also come being simple. Being simple is quite fun, though! Simple things make simplicity -fun-. Though, I don't know if I'm simple or not. I'm merely described to be rustic and charismatic.


Fufu; I'm Remilia.


Well, not really. I'm not a vampire that is over 500 years old. I'm just a simple man that likes to yell, sometimes. I'm also quite senile, as memory loss is becoming more and more apparent. I can't go many places without a cane, now, for two reason's too.
Broken foot; Arthritis. Broken foot hasn't been much new, if you knew me in the last few days or so. Over Steam, that is. No-
Fuck, my back. That's lovely, that piercing feeling you get from back pain. Not an ache, but more of a jab, pull, and scrape... with the scrape being all that is felt. It just hurts quite a bit! Now my arm and hand, too. Ugh, I'll go and call it a night. 

Scandinavian flight path

As per recently, I've been becoming more and more interested in Sweden, mostly, but also the rest of the Scandinavian countries. They truly fascinate me with their culture, their people in general, their language and judicial system. Truly everything, really(even the Finnish "comedy" you might find lying around)! I've actually been saving up quite a bit... I plan to visit Danmark, Suomi, Sverige, and Norge. I already live here, in Greenland, so I somewhat feel like visiting the Faeroes and getting lost. Though, if I get lost, there goes the visit to Danmark. I expect to spend... at least two weeks in each country. I've money for tickets alone to three out of four (Not counting the bloody Faeroes)and-FONT CHANGE~


As I was saying: I've money for 3 ox 4, and now all I need to do is save up for the food that I might buy, small taxes, etc., and then mentally prepare for the jet lag and several time zones I will go back and forth through. Other than that, though...? Things have been going swimmingly, other than conflict here and there. I don't think that Askberg will like where I'm going when it comes to Norway.
I think I'll scare him a bit.

"But in parting..."?

It would make a great post, indeed.

So, recently, I've been under a bit of pressure; not like peer-pressure from co-workers or anything, but mostly from being around certain types of situations. Like seeing one person give affection to someone else, whom I may have had feeling for in the past, and might possibly still have it, and have them react as if they liked it. If I do the same thing, I'm refused, in a rather cold manner. Even talking to them is somewhat of a chore, while others have no problem. I don't even have a history with them yet they seem as if they know me. Whenever I complain about it to someone else, all they can do is say that they feel sorry for me, or try and empathize. Most of the people, I know, are doing it because they feel obligated, or forced to do so. Even the one I who shows cold emotion towards me does something because I seem desperate.

It's making me sick, the thought of it. People are even offering to help me in my little dilemma. I want to hit each and every one of those people who say they can help. Whether it be by explaining the situation to Ø, or convincing Ø to do something for me, I always want to hit them. It's just so bloody fake. Too fake!

Recent happenings

So, recently, on Saturday, I was hospitalized with what I thought was appendicitis. Lovely thing, that. I mean, what else could cause this much pain? I was shaking, vomiting, and in so much pain! I couldn't stop shaking. I couldn't get into a position where the pain would just stop, or go away. I would try and try. I had taken a shower to attempt to relieve the pain. I ended up just lying down on the shower floor and whimper until I was coaxed to finally pick up the damned phone and call a friend to drag me to the hospital. It was quite the pitiful state that I was in. I regret having it happen. So, finally, my friend had arrived -and had to drag me into his car, no less- and drove me to the hospital. There, I was rushed into a room, and put on a morphine drip. At first, it was 1litre (Apparently 1 litre and 2mL are the same thing) of morphine, which had worn off in only minutes. It was an excruciating type of pain. It wouldn't go away! Then, they asked me to urinate. Oh gods, I couldn't. I was apparently so dry that I had nothing to let out. They told me that if I couldn't urinate, they would have to use a catheter. Now, I know what a catheter does. I know how they use it. No. No. No. No. No. No.

Anyways! Eventually, after drinking the two litres of contrast (So they could scan me), I had enough fluids in me to urinate. The colour of it was... a dark brown! I had nothing in me.

So, after 4mL more of morphine, it was decided that I don't have appendicitis, and it was just a kidney stone. Lovely. After the scanning, though? It was found out that I had two. The scanning was rather intimidating, though. The signs that say "CAUTION. RADIATION HAZARD." I had seen two men wearing lead plating on their chest. Intimidating indeed. The actual scanning was rather ah... scary! No one told me that they had to leave the room to operate the scanner. Scary indeed...

Three hours later (Let's just skip, here.), I was discharged from the hospital. Fast forward two days later, nothing happened, and I feel on top of the world because of a song. Well... three, actually.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XPYLIy3FWpk
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rQuExgINlSQ
http://horobox.co.uk/u/creec_1331001136.mp3

Lovely songs, those. I especially love the second one. It's a masterpiece...
The third one reminds me of Shogun 2, and I have it playing in the background. Each time. It's lovely... quite so! Stockholm Syndrome? It's... a strange one. I can't find anything that I like about it, yet I do. Maybe it's the feel overall. Maybe because of "Stockholm." Maybe... anyways!

I'm on Percocet because of this recent happening. That, and Keflex, Flomax, ZOFRAN... that's pretty much it. I say Percocet first because it's a painkiller. It makes me high as a kite, too.

Not that high, though. Not as high as morphine.

I forgot what else I was writing. Maybe I'll write it later.

A dream

Another screwy dream! Ooh, how fun.

So, I was waking up at around... 7AM? Well, let us say late 7AM. I was woken up by my phone, but it had gone to voice mail. There wasn't anything special about my waking up, except for my finally picking up the phone around 15 minutes later, checking my voice mail and such. As it turns out, I was supposed to drop into work early. So, since I don't have much of a way to drive when I wake up like this, I decide to call a friend of mine, who has a wife, and have them pick me up. After getting dressed and such, washing my hair over a sink for a short time, I walk out from the hallway and into the living room. There, I saw my family, a wife, her child, and her grand parents, as well as my mother. I don't have any of these, but this didn't strike me as strange. Not in the slightest. So, eventually, I can start to hear thunder, as if a storm was approaching. Soon after that, I hear the beep of a car horn, sling the strap of my satchel over my shoulder, and walk out of the door to my friend's vehicle. Something unusual? He had his wife with him. I questioned him about it as I walked to the door. My friend was a rather kempt man, usually shaven, wearing a suit EVERY DAY. His car is rather small, too. It's like a... a porsche? It's too small for me to normally fit in, but I managed to get inside. In the back, was his wife ( I don't know why I didn't just sit in the front.), sitting right behind him while curling her tongue around a lollipop. I struggled and struggled to sit down in back next to her, before she finally pulled a small lever on the side of the seat (Which I apparently hadn't noticed) and nudged it forward, giving me room to at least sit down and stretch. So, the car pulled out of the driveway, and on we went to where I'm supposedly working. Around... five minutes afterward? We come to a ramp for a highway, continuing up it and onto a rather large stretch of road above a large city. This is nothing like Greenland, though, but it didn't strike me as odd, either. As we continue on our way, I try to make small talk with the wife, which she doesn't respond to. The low rumbles of thunder became more sounded out, and soon enough, rain had began to tap on the roof of the car. Along with the tapping, though... the rain decided to leak through. Suddenly, it's as if we were in a downpour, with rain pouring in through the roof of the car. I try and get to my feet, to block a bit of the inflowing water with my back, but that only makes it worse, since I had apparently raised up the roof of the convertible ( Did I say it was a convertible? I can't remember.) and let in even more water. So, I sat down, soaking wet, with all three of us groaning in dismay from our now tattered clothes and soaked physique.

Then...? We crash. The vehicle slammed into a light post, sending us both jolting forward, with my head slamming into the back of the seat in front of me, and the wife doing the same, but with her body following suit. I can already tell that there was a serious injury, as there was a mass of blood in the front. I lean to the wife, grabbing her by her arm and shaking it, saying that I'll get an ambulance. I turn, letting go of her arm, and try pushing open the door with my foot to no avail. Then, a kick. Or two. Or three. I can't recall, but the door swings open, and I rush... or morely, limp, to what is apparently my house. My house? That it was. I pull open the door and start yelling "I need to call an ambulance.", over and over. Everyone is apparently in disbelief, and suddenly, it's night. My wife is asking me what happened, if I am alright, and again what had happened. I rush outside, tugging her with me, and let go of her as soon as the accident is in view. "Come on, we have to help her!" I yelled, rushing over to the car. Around half way into my run to the disable vehicle, I can see the wife rush out, screaming, wielding a large, machete-like knife, an swinging it in my direction. She's nowhere near me, though, but I quickly back off. She's screaming and yelling, all while lugging around something orange and apparently heavy, as she gets tugged to and fro between each of her swings by inertia. I start to move closer, and, in what I can call the most idiotic thing I've ever done for a dream, I run right after her, wanting to subdue her, but also with this urge to hug her. She flees, running straight away from me to the end of the street. I chase her, but she drops the machete, then reaches for the large orange object on her back. She props it up on her left side, holding it as if it were a rifle. It was a nail gun. How anti-climactic, right? I try and move toward her once more, but with caution. A hiss of air, the sound of a sharp object tearing through the air in front of me, then the sound of a large nail impacting wood, or in this case, my chest. The centre of my chest. Right in my heart, it seems. I gasp, then fall over, turning to my left, landing on my side on the soaked concrete. Everything fades. Then I wake up.

That isn't all of it, though. One more detail. It feels like there is a hole in my chest, now. I keep raising my hand to the centre of my chest, expecting to feel a hole. But, oh well. At least I'm dreaming again.

Why does this February feel like it's been dragging on?

I don't know! I truly don't. I do know that it's a leap year and that this month is supposed to be longer than it would usually be, but that doesn't affect how used-to I am of the standard 30-31 days! In fact, this would make it more fitting, as I don't like to morph to dates. I'll have them morph to me. Perhaps I'm just not doing anything with my time? Perhaps I just can't find an outlet, and things are causing me to drag on and on? What's up, February? This isn't like you. You're supposed to be short and sweet (Unlike March.).

Hunh... Garmarna. I love this Swedish folk band. Or uh... group. I'll call it a group. I'm fascinated by the stories that these songs tell, as well as how the song is preformed. Onni was... a Finn? Yes. I do believe Onni was Finnish, as "Onni" means "happiness" in Finnish. Hm... I don't know much of the Finnish music culture, sadly. I would love to be directed to a sort of Finnish group that has songs such as what Garmarma plays!

I need to sleep. It's 6AM. What am I doing?