vicarz | I feel talky

I don't work today, though I'll sign in and keep up just because. I've used enough leave this week that I have no issue with putting hours in. I...meant to write here but can't remember why. So this may be a blurb of unrelated notes.

When you're hurt nothing else is of interest. I remember the line a bunch of old people talking about how their backs hurt - well yeah. When I'm sick I have to remind myself nobody cares about how much my head hurts, why I should't still be sick as if an argument would heal me, about how I might be able to travel on a trail of my own excreted mucus... It's now that I remember I should make an appointment to an ENT to find out if prior reviews of my broken nose perhaps missed something, as when I'm sick I get pressure right where it was broken, and I never seem to recover from simple stuffiness.

I keep meaning to put out a list of canada tidbits. I...felt restrained about talking about that experience, though I've been far more liberal and open in Sarah's journal. There were a few tidbits about canada - perhaps my favorite was race. So I ran into no real race talk, worry, fear, and greatly enjoyed it. I mean I walked away from work too, but
Mmm I have a witness list due 12/19/14, I need a reminder I can't miss as I already can't see the sticky I put on my monitor to that effect.
I just didn't hear the same volume of raceracerace as I do in the US. It wasn't a constant drum of one side or the perceived other (who is pro-racist that they're protesting against?) However I temper that with the fact canada is mighty...mixed but at least around where I was majority white. Maybe there is a certain tranquility with that. I was also in a gay mecca, a population not known for giving a caboose about race discrimination. The real question to me was how much race was a non-issue around me, vs. how much I didn't see around me. Could I simply create the same feeling here in the US? Was it simply a question of me putting down my own baggage; a trick I could do anywhere?

But the rest...I'm less hesitant to express now, but I just feel awful and writing is a chore, a task layered on not feeling good. I can think about writing as long as the coffee is hot, but now when the mug is cold I feel like being at the computer until I get out from under a blanket, then I only want to cocoon again. The tv could be a mindless time-and-pain-sucking drug, but no, without the power to block out commercials I keep seeing a man help santa to get a lexus, women singing about how much they love to clean, the drugs that can help salt-and-pepper haired men sex their fulfilled woman, the angsty but strong men who use certain liquors and fragrances, and the news...the news tells me the same frivolous stories over and over as if reassuring me we're still friends. Thank you for telling me about the highway, and by the way your breasts are enticing yet tastefully displayed this morning! Fuck I hate television. My kingdom for a movie I can sleep through.