Wow, Internets, I’m actually typing and stuff. Like with words and everything. Hi how are you?

The usual work blahblahblah stresscakes and an overwhelming feeling of who gives a bibble? are the main reasons for the dearth of posts, and the whole holiday thing has me pretty down. I would give anything to be able to just take a pass on the rest of this joyous season, for reals.

We watched the first several episodes of Season 6 of The Sopranos the other night, a hefty portion of which (if you haven’t seen it) takes place in an ICU. Many of the details were very realistic: nurses buzzing immediate family into the unit, the flower arrangements in the waiting area that were sent by well-meaning friends and family but weren’t allowed patients’ rooms, and the utterly haggard appearance of scared-shitless relatives. (The only detail that the producers didn’t get right was a shot of a character using a cell phone in ICU — that’s verboten.)

I dream about my father or the days following his death almost every night, but my subconscious seems to have been insulating me from the worst memories, for the most part. I was so glad to have my boy next to me and holding my hand tightly during the program. Just as he did when a group of friends discussed their parents’ health problems at Thanksgiving dinner. He’s gotten me through so much.

I saw a new therapist this week (my usual one moved to a far-flung office in my HMO network), which only served to dredge up periods of my life I’d just as soon forget. At some point, I’ve got to get my shit together and start feeling like myself again. The question is, how?