I break my illness-imposed silence to share a few observations I have made over the past few days:
a) Were I a superhero, my fatal weakness might very well be Thin Mint cookies. I have sucked down four tubes of that Girl Scout Goodness in two days. A supervillain might someday be on the rampage, Super Me the only thing between him and total world domination, and I would stop at the store because I heard there was a sale on Thin Mint ice cream -- and all would be lost. Moral: Do not trust me with the task of saving the world from supervillains.
b) I heard the phrase "You're cooler than the other side of the pillow!" a few days ago. At the time, I thought it was merely clever. Now, after several days wherein the coolness of the other side of the pillow against my fevered cheek has been the only thing that keeps me from devolving into gibbering madness as I cough myself to sleep, I find that phrase to be imbued with a godlike intelligence and prescient charm. Moral: Every new idea is genius, given the proper circumstances.
c) My Village Voice horoscope yesterday left me breathless. I shall quote it for you here:
"Chances are you're not a mystic. Perhaps you don't even believe in invisible phenomena like telepathy, auras, angels, X rays, and radio waves. Nevertheless, you're now in the midst of a delicate spiritual mission involving factors that are imperceptible to the naked eye. You may have felt no more than odd tugs so far, but luckily I'm here to tell you about the secret that's behind them. At the moment of your conception, you see, a genetic potential was programmed to switch itself on in February and March of 2002. Ready or not, Leo, you're about to come into possession of a previously missing key to your destiny."
I am very excited about the possibility of destiny-keys. Naturally, I apply this horoscope to my recently acquired plan to attend culinary school this summer, and I stand amazed and gratified. Moral: Astrology works better than Prozac sometimes.
d) These diaries are remarkable for several reasons, but primary among them is the fact that they allow me the opportunity to see that I am not alone with my problems. Were I writing this diary a few years ago, you would hear about how often I missed my classes (it was a good week if I made it to one). I would recount the letters from my mother that somehow managed to convey utter disappointment in my status as a human being, not to mention a son. I would describe my lethargy, my lack of will to do anything productive. Thankfully, my diary is being penned now, long after those events, long after I changed careers, changed cities. I have, against all odds, *somehow* managed to become a successful member of society. I have plans and goals and excitement and friends and fun, and to top it all off, I often call my mom just to chat, and on occasion get through an entire phone call without feeling defensive about something. I find that time, patience, and distance are the three essentials for coexisting with parents. Moral: Perhaps if you don't have energy to do things, it means you should really be doing something else.