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March 2003

Monday, March 03, 2003

Today is the beginning of a new week. Some people see Monday’s as bad. In the case of this Monday, I’m glad my weekend is over. So how bad can a Monday be?

It’s not easy to get out of bed when you can’t get out of bed. I woke up this morning and before I opened my eyes I knew I was in trouble. My back hurt me just as badly as it had the day before, and the day before that. Third day in a row and I woke up nearly expecting life to be the same as it had been. But because it was Monday I had no time to be depressed. I realized that’s why my weekend sucked: too much time to hurt.

Up and showered, fed and medicated, I began my day on a lighter note. I’m not sure why I wasn’t as depressed as I should have been, but it could just be because adding "Monday" to the mix would have caused certain disaster. So instead of sulking I awoke with the goal to feel better by the end of the day.

I’m actually well on my way. I took the time to eat – although it was one of those days when my back pain was so bad it made everything else hurt, including my stomach (those are the worst) – and take medicine. This was the first line of defense. Then I took an extra long, extra hot shower. Then I spent an extra 10 minutes stretching on the floor.

It’s about all I could do for myself right now. It’s just another Manic Monday.

Sunday, March 09, 2003

The last few weeks I have been feeling really crummy, trying to vary my medicine unsuccessfully. Walking. Sleeping. Sitting. Driving. There is little I can do without some kind of pain. And it has been pissing me off.

So I went to a place where I could relax. A place where I could wake up and not hurt as much as I usually do. Somewhere with someone who understood and could take care of me. Tucson, Arizona has been calling my name for weeks.

And I’m sorry to have to leave. There’s no question that the weather and climate has something to do with how we feel. The last three days have been clear with 75 degree days, zero humidity and cool, calm nights. No hail or ice storms. No foggy mornings. And definitely no snow storms in March. I spent the weekend trying to find out why I am not living there and to my disappointment, I couldn’t come up with one good reason. We relaxed by the pool, cheered on the Arizona Wildcats to victory and did nothing but relax. And now, as I sit on the plane flying over Texas I think of nothing but when my schedule will let me come back as soon as possible.

It’s simple: every time I come here I feel good. Really good. But I look on the bright side, at home in Boston I have waiting for me two midterms tomorrow, a car covered with snow and lots of laundry to do.

Monday, March 17, 2003

I can think of worse ways to spend a spring break. Granted I’d much rather be on the beach in a country that borders us to the south, but in the grand scheme of life, spending a week at home isn’t that bad. There are the home cooked meals. The comfortable couch. The free laundry. The gentle wake up reminders from screaming people. The incessant nagging to clean up an already neat room. You know, all the things that go into an otherwise perfectly normal college vacation. The good news is this will be the last time I come home from college for a week. The bad news is the next time I come home from college, it’s for good. And that’s scary.

I’m over not going away with friends to a tropical party. I probably wouldn’t have a good time anyway. Instead I’ll do the next best thing: catch up on all my doctor appointments, do paperwork with the bank and let’s not forget about reviewing taxes. This is why God gave us college kids a spring break. He knew that April 15 is quickly approaching, so He should provide a full week to get our finances in order. Which is exactly what I’m doing.

A wise man tried to comfort me by saying spring break is when college kids spend $2,000 to pass out drunk in a different bed. For me and my taxes this week, spring break is costing a lot more only to fall asleep in my extra short race-car-shaped childhood bed.

But at least I get to say hi to my doctors.

Monday, March 31, 2003

After a great weekend in New York with Emily, it’s back to school in Boston – and back to the New England way of life. A way of life that includes snow on March 31st, high winds, and no hint of spring whatsoever. How pleasant.

Last night I cooked a great dinner. Four courses actually. Nothing beats a home cooked meal because it’s everything you want out of dinner. No fussy waiters expecting a big tip. No kissing butt to whomever made it. Just good food, good company, and no complications.

When I cook dinner it always makes me feel in control – and makes me wish I could make the rest of my body feel that good, not just my hunger. It’s so easy to be satisfied, to be happy, that I wish I could make my body happy. I suppose there’s a word for that, called exercise, but for some reason there’s a difference between cooking and working out. I’ll stick with the sautéed chicken…for now.