Open Bar: Funnier Than White People Practicing Voodoo

[The Good Reverend Roger]

So, my health has been poor for the last few weeks.  The doctor sends me to the neurosurgeon.  The neurosurgeon tells me that my reticular formation is (and has been) "rewiring" itself.  It can't heal, but it can find new ways to use what's left.  This is normally a good thing, because it means that humans can recover from damn near anything.

However, the reticular formation basically acts as the brain's switchboard.  When it starts rewiring itself, that means that important signals get stepped on or interfered with, similar to "chatter" in data cables.  What this means in practical terms is that A.  I will get arrythmia to the point where I fall down if I'm standing, as well as B.  Sensory interference.  This can mean anything from numb limbs to hearing (balance, anyone?  Your brain isn't talking with your inner ear, check back in 30 seconds), to illusions.

Illusions are different from hallucinations in that you don't believe they exist.  The part of my brain that THINKS is unchanged (ie, still stupid), so when I see weird things (and by weird, I mean, HELLO, Ben Templesmith!), I just decide that it's this problem and ignore it.

The good news is, this didn't happen when I was younger, because it's happening far slower in my case and is less likely to, you know, have my brain just stop talking to my heart or lungs altogether.  The bad news is that it may take a little while for my brain to decide that it's done making repairs.  Like, say, 30 years or so.

The treatment course is "choke it down, sissy".  The best they can do is give me sedatives to make me feel better about it.

And if you know me at all, you know sedatives aren't really my style.

So this is what's been wrong with me for a while now.  Weeks.  Longer, really, but it's only just gotten bad this last spring.  I've been a bit of a hermit because I don't need ANY extra stress, and I wasn't going to deal with the latest version of holist.  Also, I've been super busy at work, as I have mentioned.

Thing is, there's been no time to write, so no stress relief.  So I am MAKING time to write, no matter how busy we are.  Next chapter in the PI story goes up sometime today.

Well, shit.  Very unhappiness.

Ah well, Freaky, it could aways be worse.  If the virus had settled in my brainstem, I'd be dead. 

[Pæs]

All the best for the rewiring, Roger.

Also, how I read this:

(and by weird, I mean, HELLO, Ben Templesmith!), I just decide that it's his problem and ignore it.

Which I took to mean that the illusion was Ben Templesmith and your reaction was "Fuck you, Ben Templesmith. You deal with not being real. That's on you."

[The Good Reverend Roger]

All the best for the rewiring, Roger.

Also, how I read this:

(and by weird, I mean, HELLO, Ben Templesmith!), I just decide that it's his problem and ignore it.

Which I took to mean that the illusion was Ben Templesmith and your reaction was "Fuck you, Ben Templesmith. You deal with not being real. That's on you."

Fuck that guy.

[minuspace]

Pls. get well soon.

I know this probably isn't very awesome from your perspective, but I think it's incredibly cool! I hope it doesn't actually take 30 years to rewire itself (just in time to die! Yay!). Does your city have any rehabilitators who work with neuroplasticity exercises? You usually find them in stroke centers, and working with one may be able to help you speed up the reassignment process with relatively simple (if weird as fuck) exercises. I know nothing about reticular formation plasticity, and there doesn't seem to be much written about it but a stroke rehabilitation expert would know.

I know nothing on the subject too - first thing that came to mind tho was those new neuroplasticity drugs - supposedly quite effective re: speeding-up recovery - just if the sedatives get too boring.

[Sita]

Went swimming today. While it was fun and I felt 10x better afterward I now have a sunburn on my chest and shoulders. It hurts like hell
Need to pick up some new sunscreen before going again I think.

[minuspace]

Went swimming today. While it was fun and I felt 10x better afterward I now have a sunburn on my chest and shoulders. It hurts like hell
Need to pick up some new sunscreen before going again I think.

Aloe Vera, meanwhile

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

Went swimming today. While it was fun and I felt 10x better afterward I now have a sunburn on my chest and shoulders. It hurts like hell
Need to pick up some new sunscreen before going again I think.

Aloe Vera, meanwhile

And vinegar.

[minuspace]

Vinegar works too?

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

Vinegar works too?

Works for me. Although apparently since it's anecdotal home-remedy experience, it isn't very trust-worthy. Whatever.

[minuspace]

Vinegar works too?

Works for me. Although apparently since it's anecdotal home-remedy experience, it isn't very trust-worthy. Whatever.

Have done it on chigger bites - kinda works...  Aloe works for sure on sun burn - was worried the acid in vinegar might be painful rather than soothing.  Probably more just that I'm like what?  Why not use wine instead

[Junkenstein]

Smashed thumb.

Moderate to considerable pain. Taking it out on those around me.

[LMNO]

Day 2 of audit.  Have no soccer to distract me.  Actually have to do this.


Bleh.

[Cainad (dec.)]

Sorry to hear about the health crap, Roger. As holy tribute, I have elected to make a post in a friend's status update, speaking out against paranoid anti-medicine attitudes. If the results are lulzy, I shall post screenshots tonight.

[Luna]

My day yesterday:

Wake up late, since I'd taken the morning off to hit the Social Security office.  Gotta fill out some paperwork regarding my father passing away.  This starts the day off in an utterly charming mood.

Get up, get my shit together, step outside...  Flat tire on the van.

As the lovely folks at Social Security are only open a few hours... Hoof it.  It's a mile and a half.  No problem.  Nevermind that the night before was my first fencing practice in nobody knows HOW long and I woke up stiff and sore...  It'll work itself out as I walk, right?

Hike the mile and a half.  DO remember, before leaving the apartment, to remove a few... interesting... items from my purse that the good security guards might object to finding.  I fail to recall, however, that my keychain has a little, bitty knife on it.  We're talking a one-inch blade, that I use at work to open boxes, mostly.  Said knife is confiscated, with no hope of return.  It being Richter-sharp, I hope the bastard that takes it home with him gelds himself with it.

As I'm standing there, filling out the paperwork and coming to the conclusion that I've done a FANTASTIC job of not dealing with it over the past couple months, I get an email from my landlady.

She wants me to agree to sign a lease.  Note that she has not even mentioned what said lease will entail, other than informing me that, despite the fact that she bought the building over six months ago, she NOW wants me to hand over a security deposit.  Turns out the security deposit I paid to the last guy that owned the building is up in smoke, as the building was foreclosed upon.  She swore up and down that she'd told me at the time via e-mail, but, oops, she apparently sent it to the wrong address.  Oh, and if I don't want to sign the lease, I should consider her e-mail a 30 day notice as of July 1st, and be out of the apartment by August 1st.

Note that this is AFTER she was told that the reason I hesitate to sign a lease is that my job is ending on July 31st, and that, while I don't have anything lined up, I'm currently looking, don't anticipate trouble finding a job (I've broken some speed records for re-employment in the past.  My temp agency LOVES me.), and would REALLY rather see where my job ends up before I tie myself down in Providence.  (I'm looking as far afield as Boston, and, while I was willing to do the pain in the ass commute to where I am now, first as a temporary position, then because I really liked the people I work with, I won't be doing it again if I can at all help it.)

Haul my sorry ass back to the apartment to deal with the flat tire.  No jack.  Joy.  Fortunately, I have a AAA membership.  Give them a call, and, wonder of wonders, they DO show up within 15 minutes.  Looking up?  Well, except for the fact that, in order to get the spare out from under the van, you have to pop the back hatch... which has a busted handle, and hasn't opened in, literally, years.

Awesome.  Okay.  AAA driver refills the tire, and follows me to the nearest tire place.  Patch it?  Nope, sidewall damage.  Well, shit.  Okay.  I'm planning to replace the van in a couple months, so just give me something that won't blow up for the next couple of months.  Sixty bucks I didn't want to spent, poof.

Fortunately for the east coast, LunaBF had the good sense to take me out for an ice cream sundae.

[Cainad (dec.)]

Holy crap. Your Thursday had too much Eris.