flaneuse.org

I have my first sinus infection since my surgery. I can just imagine all the green goo up in the cavities where they broke my nose… that would definitely explain the migraines and facial pain. Luckily, I have antibiotics and will be on the mend soon. More later.

Dammit already. And again. I missed my sis’s 30th bday party by coming down with another nasty, intense migraine last night that spun me off to the Land of Vicodin for hours (contrary to the version presented on House MD, for me Vicodin makes me shaky and sad, not so much out of pain as distanced from it. I’m just not a girl who can take opiates — once, when given morphine, I found myself panicked and convinced I was going to die alone in the emergency room. No good…)

The thing is, I think I’m doing everything I’m supposed to be doing in order to avoid headaches. No red wine, not too much sleep or too little. I really am trying to work out as often as I get myself out there to do it, and Willa’s love of the outdoors is certainly helping. I had that surgery last spring. So what the hell? Have the preventative meds ceased to work? Am I exposed to some new trigger and I don’t know? I really really really wish I knew how to crack this puzzle and come back to some semblance of a life without this. I spent three days this week in pain and confusion. I mean, do most people realize what happens during a migraine?

First, I become shaky and very cold, unable to get warm. I can smell anything very intensely, almost like a dog. Many smells make me want to vomit at this point — coffee, cigarette smoke,  strong perfume or air fresheners. Lights begin to flash at me, brighter than I can stand. I’m disoriented and just want to crawl into a warm, dark hole to sleep. When I can’t sleep, no amount of Tylenol PM will let me get away from this, I have to take the Vicodin and then, whether from the meds or the headache or both, I feel so guilty for being a problem to those around me. A drill bores a hole from right above my right eye, in the socket next to my nose, working its way through to the back of my skull. Noises like typing seem like they are inside my head and I want to crack the bone open like a shell, peeling away the pressure and letting the gray matter breathe and expand. Sometimes it feels like the inside of my brain itches but I can’t scratch it. Sometimes I vomit from the pain. Sometimes I end up in the emergency room, warm cloth pressed around my head to keep the light out, and they have to give me an injection for the pain. Sometimes the injection makes me want to die, causing my heart to race out of my ribcage and my eyes to jitter in the sockets.

Wow. I’ve never written down what it feels like before. Am going to go rest my eyes before I cause another one.

It’s Saturday morning and my butt is almost asleep as I sit outside the computer lab, waiting to teach my Sat morning class on New Literacies (class wiki is here if you want to check it out). It’s cold cold cold and it’s been a long week with the migraines and various details of starting up the semester. Tonight, though, is my sister-in-law’s 30th birthday party in the city and I’m excited — it’s at a tony place with bottle service (I am not completely sure what this is) and should be very hip and chic and all of that. The hard part is motivating myself to get on the bus and head in to the city on a cold night — but she only turns 30 once and hey, parties are good for the soul.

Right?

Well, my migraine came back yesterday and bit me — laying me out for another 12 hours and destroying my day. Crap. That’s no good at the beginning of the semester, when it feels like every minute counts. It’s also no good in January, when it’s hard enough to get up as it is. And then there’s February, the endless Monday morning of months. Thank God it’s so short.

Not sure why I am struggling so much right now — everything is essentially good, just waiting to turn the corner I guess. The divorce is final and when I sit down and think about the last two years, all that’s happened sort of washes over me. I didn’t know I could be this strong, and I am so glad that I am. On the other hand, it’s easy to let my walls stay up — hide out from the world. It’s much harder to keep turning a soft, open heart to everything that comes along. I don’t want to be 33 going on 56, but it’s hard not to be jaded. Married already and divorced. No kids. What’s next?

Then I remember what I do and how much I love it, and it gets easier. I know the corner is out there, just have to get around it.

Sidelined by a migraine last night — a nasty one that didn’t respond to meds or do anything that made sense and got rid of the pain. At 3:40 am this morning I was contemplating the paint in my study office, on the slanted ceiling (it’s also the guest bedroom) while Spenser kneaded my hair and purred loudly. It sounded to me like when they used to do flight tests over my high school at the Air Force Academy. Poor guy, he was just trying to help.

And I’m still not myself, even now. Canceled a meeting this morning and praying my head continues to get better so I can teach this afternoon. Nothing like trying to teach from the middle of a pain-induced fog that must make me sound like a space cadet.

Chris and I went to see Children of Men yesterday night. I had heard good things about the movie, but not really researched it — which I think turned out to be the way to see it. Powerful, beautiful stuff. There are scenes that won’t leave my head and more than once I wanted to (and did) sob audibly. (This also made me realize how much I hate seeing serious films at the Saturday night movies with giggling teens and idiot drunks who won’t shut up). I won’t give it away except to say there’s nothing implausible about the movie, in my opinion. All of it could happen and in fact is; in many countries around the world, life looks like and sounds like this. Small acts, simple pronouncements (”All foreigners are illegal” “No immigration”) have deep, long-lasting consequences.

But don’t believe me — there’s really no reason why you should. Check it out for yourself and tell me, and everyone else, what you think.

I’m here, early on a Saturday morning to teach a graduate course on New Literacies. The course is a hybrid of face to face and online, so we’re here for the next two Saturdays and then online until the end of the semester. What I thought is that I would be pretty much the only one poking around campus — but I get here and the parking lot is nearly full, there’s people in the department office and multiple classes meeting.

Welcome to the nature of higher education today — where, for a variety of reasons like making $$ and having so many students, classes meet around the clock. Classes here meet as early as 8:30 am and end as late as 10:45 pm. We’re offering more and more on the weekends and piloting these hybrid courses as more flexible (’cause it ain’t always about ass in the seat, folks). As I think about it more, I like it. I like that people who work full-time are able to take classes, and I love the variety of perspectives I see in my students. The more flexible we are about scheduling and methods of taking classes, the more people can be and are included — and that’s what public education is all about. Even at the college level.

I just broke two copiers in a row. I’m supposed to be good with technology, but the copier and I have a long running feud. They make no sense, have no logic as to their workings, are environmental nightmares, and almost never work when I need them to — like 15 minutes before class is scheduled to begin. They are a stupid, archaic technology but still pretty much the only way to copy something out of a magazine or book unless you want to scan and then print it, which is another step. They suck and these two machines suck in particular. My inability to work either one has now reached epic status — hell, I can do an end-run around the building network and print from virtually anywhere on campus, but I can’t make a photocopy. Damn. It.

Truly I am behind already, and I left the syllabus I meant to copy today at home. Am going to have to copy them by hand or carve them into cuneiform tablets or something.

At least it is cold — sunny and chilling, the kind of weather I love (except when Willa wants to sit on the corner for endless minutes and watch people and squirrels and my toes go numb…). This has been such a weird, warm winter that my fears about global warming have compounded daily. No snow? This can’t be good. Drought is an ugly thing, people, and it can happen to New Jersey too. People are going to be pissed this summer when they can’t wash their cars and water their lawns whenever they want. We’re talking about finite resources here, people. Nothing lasts forever.

when you oversleep your alarm by an hour. On the first day of the semester. And when your class and another class are scheduled for the *same* room at the *same* time.

On the up side, I finished and ran off the syllabi with enough time to actually hand them out. My laptop is functional again and I could give back the 1992 version the IT people lent me that basically worked as a paperweight for all of break. It seems most everyone is back and doing well — a friend may have some exciting news complete with sparkly in the next couple of weeks. I still have a job.

All good things. And I have Ben and Jerry’s in the fridge *if* Chris was good and didn’t eat it. So if you’ll excuse me…