Sunday, December 11, 2005

set adrift on nyquil bliss. No, I'm not remotely addicted. How does anyone get addicted to something that tastes so atrocious... something that makes you feel as though your brain is encased in Jell-O? J-E-L-L-O! It's rather horrid. But the NyQuil does allow me to hold off the consumptive hacking that inevitably arises when I am horizontal. And for that, bless the Big N. There are still three side effects of my cold that remain annoying, however: I blog about my cold far more than I should. I can't sleep for the congestion -- although the big N helps. My mind is so consumed with the management of mucous as to be a blank slate. That's right -- I can't think of a friggin' thing to write about. I should really have untold reserves of ideas, but I'm a horrible, dull, blank slate of a girl right now. THOUGHTS. COME HOME TO MAMA. I mean, I have a plethora of scattered thoughts. I always do. They just don't amount to a blog of any consequence. And when I think of all the consequential blogs out there, I feel somehow that I should dredge something up that someone might like. At the very least, something someone might laugh at. Among my recent thoughts: Is romance a creation of the media? Does anyone fall in love properly anymore? Do hamsters get pissed off when we put them in those plastic globes? Who invented the pom-pom? Why don't I go to the museum anymore? How come I keep wanting to groove to 90's tunes? Does this mean I am highly uncreative and unadaptable? Or is it just that it reminds me of a more innocent time? A time before student loans and my 30's and Viagra? How am I going to get a massage? Why is there a moose on my bedside table? Why haven't I had any candy canes thus far this season? How come I never actually smell coffee anymore? Are my hands smaller than they used to be? Why is Larry King so scary? Have I been selfish thus far this holiday season? I want some strawberries. And a pomegranate. Will I ever learn how to encourage people in exactly the right ways they need? Can one ever drink enough juice? What IS the best brand of Kleenex? Is meanness ever actually funny? Do fish laugh? Why doesn't it work when people say, "Get better!" Why did I used to dress up my cats? And why did they not kill me? I wasn't much bigger than they were. What should I blog about? What shouldn't I blog about? Is that my brain ticking? People go through so much more than I do in any given day. Absolute, unadulterated hell, some of them. So who am I to complain? I need to read more. I want to learn morse code. I would like to become a better kayaker. I should love more. I should talk less. I'm fading. So very, very random. ARE WE OUT OF KLEENEX? OH NO. Alas. I'm sleepy. I give up for tonight. It's been a slow weekend for Megblogging. And that's saying something, since Megblogging generally occurs overfrequently at a breakneck speed. But sometimes you have to take a sick day, even from this. Though not from work. I think I would break out in hives if I tried that. I'm slowly becoming convinced that I need to take better care of this hobbled old shell of a body. For now -- until independent inspiration returns and I kick this thing -- I invite you all to leave any blog topics you'd wish me to address in the comment space (I will blog on each and every one, as long as they aren't obscene or criminal), or just any happy or random thoughts you might have. Because, well -- I'd like that. Off to snooze now. 11:35:38 PM    well, yes, but...  []

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