Tuesday, November 25, 2014

Compliment received!

Recently I helped organise a work do at the building I worked in after I returned following my epic collapse then recovery. At the event I got talking with my old foxpod neighbour, V—, who I shared many a convo with over the months I was in that workplace.

"You know, Mikey," she said, "you look better each time I see you."

And it's true. When I first met her I was on half hours recovering from severe anxiety—and do you ever fully recover from it once you've had it?—and was a physical and mental basket-case. 

But that pain and stress ebbed as I got used to being in a new job and far from the horrors of my old workplace, and I felt better about my organisation as a whole because I got to sit with kind, caring people like V—, and because I got excellent support in the aftermath of my collapse and separation.

I had to MC the work do, introduce the topic then throw to the speaker. My head spouted sweat as I spoke but I was okay as I talked because I know my power and ability to communicate. I talked about the import of the issue and even spoke after the event's speaker to plea for people to scope out a similar issue on our website. I felt okay about speaking, even relished it. 

Every day is a win for me now. I'm in my bonus round and loving every minute of it.

Wellness for the win.

Friday, November 21, 2014

A Mikey mondegreen

All this time I thought in "Kiss from a Rose" that the line "A light hits the gloom on the gray" was "a light hits the bloom on the grave".

The correct version makes much more sense.

Curse you impassioned-yet-wrongly-sung lyric!

Current fave rendition of said song is from Community, season three, episode seven.

UPDATE: Pierce's rap rejoinder Vs Vaughn is also most-good

UPDATE2: "Going Crazy" by the Paparazzi Kids from S01E16 likewise rawks. 

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Because it's stolen it's even more delish

I paused my SoTPC ride to get another drink.

(Slurps Pepsi Max)


Oh yeah.

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Poison running through my veins

With thanks to Alice Cooper.

Well, Mikey managed to go and wound himself—and as irony would have it from playing with an existing wound.

I have a raised scar weal on my cheek—though it can't really be seen through my beard—but it's so puckered and "rich" that I can't help worrying the weal with my little finger nail. The face wound received during recovery from severe anxiety when two boil scars became one as I picked away as I considered the darkness I dwelt in.

Because I used the little finger nail of my left hand it meant I rested my elbow on my desk and the hard surface of the desk abraded elbow skin. The hole that was made got infected and I got poisoned as a result. I am now on a fuck-load of antibiotics. 

So well done, Mikey, for allowing oldwork to still impact on you by revisiting again and again physical wound sites acquired in the aftermath of your (my) collapse. 

My elbow was in flaming agony when I awoke yesterday morning and as I walked to the doctor I had to keep my left hand in the neck of my shirt as I was in much pain if my arm straightened. 

I looked like a bearded Napoleon in mufti. 

I spent today in a fever haze, slight delirium from my above average bodily temperature as a result of the infection. I'd forgotten just how unpleasant delirium is. Your head swims, you feel hot then cold, you need a boiling shower to arrest the incontinent chatter of your teeth. 

But, the experience hasn't been all awful. The walk to to doctor's and back was delightful—a warm Spring day complete with bird song and a gaggle of cyclists from my son's nearby school passing me by. My doctor, the first one I've really had that went to the mat for me, is awesome and we got to chat US health policy as he filled out my scripts. Today, though I had multiple fever-laced sleeps, I still got to read on my tablet and I even managed to clamber aboard the SoTPC for my daily ride.

I may have been in agony from the poisoned elbow but it didn't stop my from sucking the marrow from my surrounds or my companion/s of the moment. 

That's wellness for the win, right there. Not even a poisoned limb can put a downer on the Mikester.