Is this really how it’s gotta be, November?

You know the saying, “bad things happen in threes”? I’m starting to believe it. Early last week, we had Hurricane Sandy, which wiped out our power and heat (but luckily nothing else, as Staten Island and Breezy Point were battered beyond belief by the vicious storm that knew no bounds). Last night, we got a Nor’Easter, which clogged the roads and made me slip (but not fall! High five!). Now, I am the victim of a cold and pink eye. Glorious early Christmas gifts, ey?

I don’t mean to sound like an ungrateful whiner, and I won’t hold it against you if you view me this way. That’s really not my intention, I’m just trying to understand why this month has to be so damn hard just eight days in. I thought January was supposed to be the most miserable month of the year, certainly not November, which has always been exciting for me. Last November, I was finalizing my move to New York, so I had that and a cool new job to look forward to. The year before, I was interning at a website I loved and enjoying my first winter on the east coast. Before that, I was having the time of my life as a college senior. Junior year, Lauren, Crystal, and I had an epic reunion and lip synced Spice Girls’s “Wannabe.” Just look at how much fun we had:

Things can only improve, and I’m lucky my friends and family members have taken care of me in the wake of everything. I shouldn’t get so easily discouraged or take the defeatist approach — many have told me I’m too young to be this jaded. My old boss, Tucker once said that I’m extremely cynical for someone under thirty, and while he added that my inherent skepticism will benefit me in the long run, I don’t want to be a Debbie Downer all the time. Even so, no one would argue that the east coast has overreacted to the bizarre weather patterns. Even though our power has been restored, we’re not over Sandy yet, and I will never ever live below the third floor again because of the mass flooding that occurred in Manhattan. I’m never going to forget the image of the inflatable duck floating on waves a couple feet below my window. Our building was surrounded by eleven feet of water, which came close to reaching my unit. It was one of the most unsettling, frightening moments of my life, but once again, I’m lucky that was the worst thing I experienced that night. People in Staten Island are exhausted and losing their will to live. One man appeared on CNN to say that his body is simply shutting down. He has no fight left in him. That’s not me, but God knows I could never survive what that man has.

At any rate, folks, I’m cranky, phlegmy, pink-eyed, and drowsy, so I should really stop now before I start complaining about something else — like the fact that my bloodshot eyes make it look like I’ve been crying all day. Everyone has been giving me weird glances and I’ve had the urge to say, “Don’t worry, I’m not sad, just sick.” Nope, I have nothing to be morose about. I’m just irked and drained. Sandy really did a number on my immune system, but once this is all over, I’ll be able to laugh about the dreadful round of suckerpunches I got from late October to mid-November. Until then, I have “Home Alone” to keep me sane, even though it had the exact opposite effect on poor Macaulay Culkin. Was the timeless comedy worth it? Not for the celebrity himself. He once said he’s the most out-of-work actor he knows. How could that be? He was so unbelievably fearless and funny in both “Home Alone” films. It’s astonishing how incredible a performer he was at such a young age. I suppose you have to be a little nuts to succeed in the arts, and sometimes, when you fully throw yourself into your art, it rejects you. Ouch.

Okay, there I go again rambling after I vowed to stop writing. That’s all for now, and thanks to those of you who warned me not to use eye makeup during this pink eye debacle. As much as I’d like to look semi-presentable and well-groomed this weekend, I can’t afford to get any sicker than I already am. Time to heal. Who’s with me?


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