The camera pans over a serene cemetery, disturbed only by the occasional swaying of the willow fronds. Many beautiful marble headstones catch your eye – here an angel, draped in mourning cloth, there an obelisk arrayed with flowers – your eye keeps returning to a run-down old stone, half buried by weeds. You draw nearer, a force you cannot name pulling you closer. Who is this person? Crouching down, you reach out to pull away some of the obscuring greenery.
A hand shoots out of the grave to snatch your wrist.
I’m alive! One part of my life has grown a little too big for its britches, and so it’s been sucking the life out of nearly everything else – blogging is obviously at a Paucity is so slow I am probably going backwards at this point. Well, no more, fun sucker! I am going to snatch at what I may and damn the consequences!
Besides, with all the new Mists information coming out – good and bad! – it’s a great time to be a WoW blogger. Yours truly will be in the beta this weekend, sniffing around for fun tidbits to share. I’ve also got a lot on my mind lately with regards to writing, and of course, the state of the world, particularly a growing anti-feminist backlash happening among nerd communities.
It’s good to be back! Aside from, you know, the decaying flesh and shit.
Now that I’ve officially made my dad proud by quoting Allan Sherman, let’s talk about where I’ve been. which is to say, nowhere, really, except a one-way ticket to monoville.
Getting mono is one of those things that changes significantly from childhood to adulthood, like getting your appendix out. Getting mono in middle school is fucking amazing for your cred: you got it because you had hot make-outs with someone, you get to miss a week or two of school and play video games, and you come back with a sexy story about fighting at death’s door and beating the odds.
Getting mono as an adult sucks. You feel kind of gross for a week or so, figuring it’s probably due to the humidity and month-long drought the county’s been suffering. You make it through the work day just sort of skating on the pile of urgent stuff, while the less urgent stuff piles up in drifts around you. You eventually sort through the less-urgent piles searching for things that are now urgent. You go home to sleep, and wake up three or four hours later, sweat-soaked and dry-mouthed. And you think well this sucks, but it’s normal.
After a week of the work->bed->couch->bed cycle, a couple of rashes, eventually you wake up one morning with the lymph nodes in your neck standing out like goose eggs and you’re like “Well, shit son.” I’ve mentioned this before, but a few years ago I tested positive for ANA, one of the markers for lupus, but I didn’t have any of the usual other problems (aside from fatigue) that point to a diagnosis. But when things start acting up, I decided to go to the walk-in clinic.
“No, it’s not auto-immune, I don’t think,” the doctor says, “Looks like mono to me.” She sends me off to get blood taken, the results of which will take two weeks to arrive (aw bless your face Canadian health care). “In the meantime, is there anything I can do?” I ask. “Nope!” she says cheerfully, “Viral infections don’t respond to much. Sleep as much as you can, take lots of fluids.”
So that’s what I’m continuing to do, in between still going to work, because here’s the thing about adulthood – very few jobs let you take a week or two off to sleep off an unconfirmed diagnosis of an illness while your friend brings you homework to look at, laugh and go back to sleeping with a PS2 controller in your hand.
Although, my desk does have a sweet overhang that would create a perfect napping nook…