I've been good -- all day. I've avoided screens of all kinds, except for three phone calls to doctors and professors, attempting to reschedule my life. Asking people with scrambled brains to make decisions is just plain cruel.
I stayed home today -- and unless there's a miracle between now and Monday, my sub is already lined up, as I have an appointment with the neuro dude. Of course, I guess the miracle might be possible, what with the Pope coming to town, and all. He seems like a decent guy, who might be willing to overlook my departure from his church 21 years ago.
In any case, I am not fit to wax philosophical on topics related to education -- or life. I knew this yesterday, when I told a colleague I'd shoot the information to her in a toenail. Oh the images that must have conjured -- I meant email, I swear. It's just that my head doesn't allow the actual word I'm thinking about to come out of my mouth, and I cause people to laugh hysterically at me. (Or at least Andrew Erb relayed a good tale, I'm told. I am sure I will enjoy the retelling when I'm sane again.)
In the meantime, I am binge-listening to PARENTHOOD on Netflix, with my eyes closed. I've learned that high pitches, spinning and scrolling, and hammering and drumming, all cause me to feel it in my brain. So right now, my happy place is a dark room and a soft pillow.
I may be off for the weekend, after 390 consecutive days of blogging. It's tough to look at anything scrolling, and thinking is off limits. It's also the most frustrating thing to lie around waiting to not be confused anymore, with no idea when that will be.
But I know that there are stories out there to be told -- and I've extended the offer to some guest bloggers. So stay tuned. There are lessons in all of this -- I'm just tiring of being the student in the front row in Understanding Neurology 101.
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