Feeling: stronger
Listening to: Grandaddy - Now it's On
Reading/Watching: homework & Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason

Three more days before my return to the Land of the Learning.

I'm still entrenched in make-up work, studying for two tests, wearing pajamas every day and watching as the sticky bandage strips on my abdomen fall off in the shower. They've slowly revealed a crooked purple smile that will one day be my battle scar. It's still a bit scary-looking: like I was eviscerated and glued back together.

The romance of being weak and bedridden has definitely worn off, and now I'm just a girl in baggy clothes who pops a pill every four to six hours (and has very psychadelic nightmares because of it). My friends used to visit practically non-stop, and now they swing by every few days to bring me News of the Outside World.

Agoraphobia does not agree with me. It begins to feel like house arrest, hence why I disobeyed doctor's orders (and learned why they're doctor's orders). I went to see Sin City with the boys on Saturday afternoon, catch a show by the comics from Whose Line downtown with Krynn Saturday night, and suffered the subsequent pain of disobedience on Sunday. (No matter how starved I am for real life, when it comes to driving over the bumpy, folded roads of Schoolville, strapped under a seat belt, my tummy no likey.)

So I am here, finally strong enough to wash my own dishes, make my own bed, and sit up straight without the aid of pillows. It feels good. I'm not loving the return to housework, but it beats being pitiful and needy, and pulling or twisting something if I stand up for too long. I still let mon coeur fetch and carry occasionally, because it makes him feel useful, and it gives me an excuse to ask him to come by every day. (No matter how much conceited independence I feign, it's still nice to know that if I'm really not up to clearing everyone's plates and playing hostess, I can ask his help without feeling like too much of a welch.) Plus, something about his stories cheer me up, even if they're all about work and what's happening on WoW.

I'm ready to be normal again. I'm ready to be busy and stressed and exhausted for real reasons, instead of sitting in bed having hormonal fits of tears, and making a trip to the mailbox the height of my physical exertion. I'm ready to hike up three flights of stairs to work (although I think the first time I try it, it will half kill me), ready to launch into silly philosophical debates with my ethics professor, ready to get back to choir and jazz combo and start singing again.

I'm also really ready for people to stop asking how I'm feeling. There is never. anything. to. report. Seriously. I ran out of yarn for knitting over a week ago, and mostly it's reading textbooks and watching movies for me. Yesterday, I re-potted some flowers. Wo0t.

But I also sang through my choir music (I want to come back and sound halfway decent), and today I took a shower without needing Nimsay's shower chair. I'm beginning to be me again. It's heavenly.

Perhaps soon I can get back to goofy, amusing journal entries instead of whining and depressingly graphic poetry. That'd be nice, mais non?

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