The Children's Hospital + my list

The Children's Hospital by Chris Adrian

My rating: 5 of 5 stars




I recently read this. Or rather finished reading it. I've had it for like 2 years. Originally I read it a few pages at a time, in the bath, as it was already water-damaged when I received it, from a man I met online whose name I no longer remember but at the time was involved in a sort of territory dispute between myself and my roommate at the time. For a start, I can't live with people, and that may have been the underlying issue. But also as we were both on the same dating site it was sort of inevitable . I was more childish about it so I won and my roommate refrained from hanging with a nice guy. I now can't remember his name and he had no interest in dating me anyway, which I pretty much knew all along.

I'm not telling this story because I'm depressed and self-hating today, by the way. But I do have a streak of it* and my low self esteem at the time told me nobody would ever choose me over anybody else so why bother, and yet while i'm at it yes i think i will lash out.

I'm a little better nowadays. This is all just my dark bad past. I try to keep the best in its cage. Oh...that was freudian. I was just going for cheesy.

This book, The Children's Hospital, is so good. But it does sort of have a way of making you feel terrified and ashamed. It's a post-apocalyptic sort of Great Flood event, and certain characters busy themselves trying to find out what the human race did to deserve the calamity. It's all way, way better than I'm making it sound, and the list of sins is only a small, small part of the incredibly rich story.

By the end you kind of look around at your world and think what a bunch of bullshit, and what a shit am i. At least I did. But then, the first thing I did after finishing it was go to the mall to get free underwear from Victoria's Secret. So did the book change me? Not really. Not that it was trying to. It was not preachy, not in the least. Just... probably the most depressing book ever, while managing to be, like, actually pretty lighthearted and entertaining the whole damn time. It's a devilish piece of work. And if you like hospital dramas (and who does not?), well, bonus.

And I have a lot of things the almighty can punish me for right now. Here's my list of shame.

• Making unneccessary drives to far-off coffee shops when I could simply walk to the one in my neighborhood and risk seeing my friends whom I love.
• My bike tires are flat, but I'm ashamed of being a fat girl on a bike, who doesn't know how to fill up her own tires, so it just sits there.
• Plus, driving a car is just easier. There's a heat wave out there! On account of global warming!
• My republican friend thinks environmentalists (and i'm not one, obvs) are whackjobs. I want to whack him on the head. But kind of envy his complete and utter faith in his own lack of responsibility for anything ever. Must be fuckin great.
• Shame over provenance of this great book I just read (see above).
• All the angry spoiled bitch emails I've been sending on account of my frustration over the size of my feet... got mad at payless AND birkenstock.com over their websites' inability to show me shoes that were in fact available in my size.
• I slept too late and missed the whole morning.
• I have yet to volunteer for any labor organizations.
• I watch too much TV (but fewer ads now that I've installed adblocker, woohoo!)
• I spend too much time online.
• I spend too much money and I'm not getting another paycheck for like a month.
  
• I recently started taking birth control pills. Pleased with them so far, but feel bad for all the extra hormones in my pee and the fact that that may be contributing to more and more girls reaching puberty at age 7. Ummmmmmm... quite simply, fuck.
  
• I'm having a really hard time sticking to the Artist's Way method. Maybe I'm getting cocky now that I'm not particularly blocked (heh, cocky-blocked)... but not exactly prolific, either.
  
• I'm writing this blog instead of working on the story I should be writing.
• I need a shower but feel like I simply don't have time! Even though I had a frikkin four-day weekend this week? WTF.
  
• When I write fiction, I kind of turn into Ayn Rand, i.e. someone who quite simply has no place being so outlandishly sentimental and self-indulgent considering she has no use for other people's feelings and in daily life is an ice cold bitch...!

This could be an Artist's Way exercise... Just let the harsh self-criticisms flow out of you! Create a counter-affirmation for each one..!

What would that be? Well...

• I, Rachel, CAN ride a bike...
• etc.
  

*a streak the size of Haley's Comet, to be precise...