Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Will somone please tell me...

... what is wrong with me?

I have been sick for two weeks now. Sick a few days before vacation, sick all during vacation, sick now that I'm back.

Went back to the doctor last night because it's driving me crazy. I can barely swallow without gagging. They scraped my throat twice, they drew a whole bunch of blood. Now I get to sit and wait for a few more days while it all gets tested.

Since I've been through this all about two weeks ago (but on a slightly lesser scale), I have to wonder if they're going to find anything at all. Maybe I'm REALLY sick. Maybe I have something that no one knows about yet - some kind of as-yet-undiscovered illness that wreaks havoc on the infested.

Or maybe, just maybe, this is the physical manifestation of something completely different.

I am sick, and I am TIRED.

Thursday, September 20, 2007


I've been at Disney World since Sunday.

It's Thursday morning, and I'm camped out in the room listening to Sammy J sing the blues. And trying to catch up on work emails. One would think that the Happiest Place on Earth would rub off a little, but honestly I've been twitching since Monday afternoon.

I've been sick since before we left. I'm still sick. I can't shake it and it's really getting old. That coupled with the fact that I absolutely, positively have been unable to relax this entire trip is truly maddening.

I got up really early yesterday, pulled on the yoga pants, and headed out the door to do some yoga by the lake to try and relax. No dice. It was pouring. And I really missed my yoga class back home last night. It's what keeps me sane in the middle of the week. I've resorted to practicing my breathing at odd times of the day just to stay in my right mind. It's not really working all that well but at least it's keeping my feet in the right place.

Work is on my mind, sickness is on my mind, and there are a million and one other things on my mind. I've been twitching for days. And all I wanted to do was exactly the opposite.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007


I have many a thing to complete this morning, but a post has been screaming inside me since I woke up. I must let this one out, or face complete brain takeover in a mere few hours as it slowly devours the back right corner of my brain and works forward.

Please bear with me; I'm about to make a very strange correlation between two somewhat unlikely objects.

I have a sickness. This sickness is one I know I've carried for a very long time. So long, in fact, that I have long since become comfortable with it.

I love to pack for trips. And not in an easygoing, "this will work" sort of way. I'm tactical. Methodical. Rabid.

Step one is not look in the closet. Step one is make a list. Make a list of everything I'd like to take. Then, cross-reference that entire list to make sure everything is not only coordinated, but interchangeable with each other, as well as able to cover a variety of moods and temperatures. Top it off with everything has to say *me*. If not, it doesn't make the cut.
If I don't really need it, or if I can't picture several instances in which it might be useful, it goes.

Once my list is finalized, time for step two. I assemble, fold, manipulate, combine, roll and origami-style tweak everything into place. Yes, I can travel for a week (probably much longer) from a single carry-on suitcase. Once that bag is packed, ultimate satisfaction is achieved.

Here's where I promised a strange comparison, and where it gets wierd: Packing a suitcase is, at least for me, very much akin to accommodating any given room in a dwelling. Contents: A selection of things most important to you, assembled in a way they fit best in the space, all of them saying *you*.

And this brings me back around to something I have been dealing with for a good year and a half.

Imagine: You step off a plane. You pick up your bag. You get to your hotel, open it up, and dive in looking for the "comfort item" you packed. Maybe it's your favorite pajamas. Maybe it's your bedside crystal. Maybe it's your favorite t-shirt in the color that makes you feel so good. Guess what? None of it is there. As a matter of fact, everything in your bag is someone else's. Now you're stuck on a trip with someone else's stuff. And you have to make do.

That "stuff" was important to that other person at some point in time. But it's since been left behind. It's still *your* bag. It's time to change the contents.

Now imagine that suitcase full of things that aren't yours is the house you've been living in for almost two years. Again, it's time to change the contents.

It's impossible for me to pack well for others. It just doesn't work that way.

Side note:
Today's also a day where my brain picks a thousand different things to think about all at once so I don't have to dwell on some things that really are in the back of my mind. I've been doing that for six years now.

Sunday, September 09, 2007

43 Things

I discovered 43 Things a few days ago. What a perfect place to park my "list"! There are some things that I want to do that don't quite fit in a list of that nature, but that's okay. They can stay in my list from a few posts ago. I've placed the running tally permanently here on Steel Grey Pittsburgh; feel free to take a peek.

Instead of looking at what other people want to do, and then choosing them for my own, I have decided to go about this small project by typing in exactly what it is that *I* want to do... and then seeing how many other lonely souls out there are looking to do exactly the same. Surprisingly for some of these things, there are many. I think it's much more interesting to take what's in my own head and put it out there to see if it's already crossed someone else's mind.

Interesting to know that there are others out there with the same things on their minds.

Makes you feel... not so alone.

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

Guess What?

A journey of self-re-discovery, while undoubtedly delightful for the self, sure can serve to upset others.

Ugh. I could have received that one in a fortune cookie.

Perhaps I'm being thoughtless in my new Roland Deschain style of walking the earth.