thanksgiving
Nov. 23rd, 2006 04:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eor"I owe my soul to each fork in the road,
each misleading sign." - Poi Dog Pondering "Thanksgiving"
The virus in my throat makes proper enjoyment of food impossible. I swallow the first bite with a wince. The later bites only become tolerable as my threshold of pain increases to the point where I can't feel anything. The food tastes good, but my usual sprint for seconds is replaced by a suspicious glare at the food.
Mind you this is nothing really to complain about. I don't have a fever. I'm sleeping well. And other than taking sustenance and trying to talk above a low conversational tone my throat is trouble free. Even the throat thing has been worse...
After repeated infections in my throat my mom arranged to have my tonsils taken out during 1984 Christmas break. It was the first time I'd be home since June and after being on antibiotics for most of the year, it was past due. But the timing was awful. I had returned home in mid-December after an entirely unsuccessful first run in the great big world. I got my tonsils out during the week before Christmas, leaving me still unable to swallow easily on Christmas.
I had plenty of time to sit and watch people enjoying food and contemplate all the glorious ways in which my life plan from six months prior was null and void. The love of my life had exited stage left. It was beginning to dawn on me that I wasn't driven like the people who become wildly successful. It was also beginning to dawn on me that I wasn't nearly as smart as everyone had always told me I was. I had definitely received an education during my first six months of university, but it didn't occur in my classes. My mood was as bitter as black coffee left to sit for three days. And there was my family all happy and excited about Christmas.
By February I felt I was rebuilding my life: taking classes at community college, building a pseudo-social life, replenishing my bank account. But for southern Florida that was one damn dark, cold December.
What does this have to do with this Thanksgiving? Well, not a lot, but the pain in my throat reminded me. Yes, I owe my soul to each fork in the road, each misleading sign.
Now what I really should have written about today was Thanksgiving 1984, which was an incredible personal experience for me. But I didn't have a sore throat then, so there wasn't a tie in.
This afternoon I'm drinking lots of tea and formatting some more books for the ebook. Later I might have some eggnog with rum. :)
each misleading sign." - Poi Dog Pondering "Thanksgiving"
The virus in my throat makes proper enjoyment of food impossible. I swallow the first bite with a wince. The later bites only become tolerable as my threshold of pain increases to the point where I can't feel anything. The food tastes good, but my usual sprint for seconds is replaced by a suspicious glare at the food.
Mind you this is nothing really to complain about. I don't have a fever. I'm sleeping well. And other than taking sustenance and trying to talk above a low conversational tone my throat is trouble free. Even the throat thing has been worse...
After repeated infections in my throat my mom arranged to have my tonsils taken out during 1984 Christmas break. It was the first time I'd be home since June and after being on antibiotics for most of the year, it was past due. But the timing was awful. I had returned home in mid-December after an entirely unsuccessful first run in the great big world. I got my tonsils out during the week before Christmas, leaving me still unable to swallow easily on Christmas.
I had plenty of time to sit and watch people enjoying food and contemplate all the glorious ways in which my life plan from six months prior was null and void. The love of my life had exited stage left. It was beginning to dawn on me that I wasn't driven like the people who become wildly successful. It was also beginning to dawn on me that I wasn't nearly as smart as everyone had always told me I was. I had definitely received an education during my first six months of university, but it didn't occur in my classes. My mood was as bitter as black coffee left to sit for three days. And there was my family all happy and excited about Christmas.
By February I felt I was rebuilding my life: taking classes at community college, building a pseudo-social life, replenishing my bank account. But for southern Florida that was one damn dark, cold December.
What does this have to do with this Thanksgiving? Well, not a lot, but the pain in my throat reminded me. Yes, I owe my soul to each fork in the road, each misleading sign.
Now what I really should have written about today was Thanksgiving 1984, which was an incredible personal experience for me. But I didn't have a sore throat then, so there wasn't a tie in.
This afternoon I'm drinking lots of tea and formatting some more books for the ebook. Later I might have some eggnog with rum. :)
