I Might Have Spoken Too Soon

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So, my throat is sore again.

I was doing very well, hadn’t had sore throat problems for days, and now it’s coming back. This is somewhat concerning, since I’ve been on antibiotics since Thursday night, and there was supposed to be a noticeable improvement within 24 hours.

I don’t think I’ve caught it again from somewhere, at least, I hope I haven’t. I’d hate to have to go through a second round of antibiotics to get rid of a recurring case of strep.

My energy level is somewhat less than it was yesterday as well, but I was decidedly more energetic yesterday than I’ve been in a long time. I was dozing off and on from 6:30 when I got out of bed for my back to 11:00 or so. Now that I’m awake, I’m feeling like being productive, but this sore throat is causing a tickle that’s sending me into coughing jags from time to time, the hard ones that kind of shake you for a couple minutes.

I hate feeling under the weather. I already feel kind of impotent in a way during a regular day, but tack on feeling bad on top of that and my mood tends to plummet. Fortunately, my mood seems to be fine so far. It’s not as rosy as it was yesterday, but it’s better than it’s been in the recent past.

I’m sucking on Smith Brothers’ Warm Apple Pie Warming Throat Drops. If you can find the things, they’re amazing for a sore throat, and taste fantastic. I have to be careful, since they’re basically pure sugar, but one of them every couple hours won’t be a problem. They have little droplets of cinnamon suspended in them, and the cinnamon surprisingly helps.

Can’t remember if I mentioned this, but both my wife and I have replaced our gaming drives in our laptops. I downgraded from a solid state drive to a hybrid drive, and she upgraded from a regular optical hard drive to the hybrid. Both of us are getting more space. The downside to this is that everything needs to be reinstalled, but that project, at least on my end, is going well. I should be done sometime tomorrow, I would think.

That’s about all I have for today. Sorry for the stream of consciousness post today. I’ll try to be a little more thematic tomorrow.

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Holiday Bonus and Other Musings

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This morning I awoke at 8:00, did my vitals, took my meds, and rousted my wonderful wife out of bed to indulge me for breakfast. We went for bagels. Then we came home and took a nap.

And didn’t wake back up until 12:30.

Such is the bonus of it being a holiday at my wife’s workplace, because of Independence Day on Saturday.

At some point this morning, I started having a panic attack. I don’t even remember what started it or when it was – that’s becoming more and more prevalent. I can’t remember the trigger, I think it was because we were planning to entertain later in the day and I was nervous about how the visit would go. (It wasn’t panic due to the visitor, who follows this blog, but rather the whole concept of opening our doors and being sociable.)

Before I could even start to think about it, my wife was Johnny-on-the-spot with our new weapon.

“What do you see?” she began. And like clockwork, by the time we got to the last question of the five, my panic had subsided and I was actually starting to be excited about the visit.

The visit went well, though it started to head in a direction that I couldn’t really contribute to the conversation. (The subject of fiber arts came up and while I am capable of both knitting and weaving, I tend to let my wife dominate those conversations, since she’s far more advanced in knitting, crochet, spinning, and dyeing than I am.) We even took the show on the road, grabbing a snack and then heading to the local library to see another friend (my wife’s matron of honor works as a librarian there).

When our visit ended after a nice, long time, I started in on those items on my checklist that aren’t so time-sensitive.

And then the crack outside rang like a bell.

This is a time of year that I tend to dislike, not because I’m not patriotic, but because loud noises trigger my PTSD (even though it’s not combat-related, I’m easily startled sometimes) and every Tom, Dick, and Harry has plunked down a sizable chunk of money in equal parts fireworks and beer. The two rarely are a good combination, as tomorrow night my neighbors will celebrate by lighting small explosives at random intervals throughout much of the night. It won’t surprise me in the least if the last firework goes off after midnight tomorrow.

It’s also not a favorite of our beloved cat, who really gets antsy during this time of year, and it’s all we can do to keep her calmed down during the worst of it. When the one single firecracker went off earlier tonight, the kitten jumped. I can’t imagine what it will be like for her tomorrow with everything going off all in one evening. Then again, I can imagine. I go through it too.

If I know to expect fireworks, it’s not so bad. Going to see a municipal display is fine with me, except for the part where I have to fight the crowds. I even raised money one year for my historical non-profit to put on a 20 minute long professional fireworks show, complete with custom made ground effects and shells representing our organization. I sat practically underneath them and loved the whole show.

But those random bangs and pops that go on outside my door while I’m safely inside always startle and surprise me, and while I don’t jump like the cat does, my breath always catches in my throat for just an instant every time.

Tomorrow’s going to be a long day for me. In addition to the fireworks, it’s a show night, and being “on” for three hours straight is going to be tiring.

On the plus side, it looks like we’ll be playing an online version of Cards Against Humanity during the show, so we’ll have that to distract us.

This post has been rather stream-of-consciousness. Not necessarily a bad thing. A lot of journaling is done in this manner, and as much as this is a public blog, it’s also where I go to write what’s on my mind. Some days, it’s thought-provoking. Other days, you get this mish-mash of thoughts and expressions.

I never promised I was a good writer. Just an honest one.

Non-Glossophobic Glossophile Practicing Glossolalia, Glossing Over The Point

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If you’re like a lot of people, you’re not really sure what that title means. If you haven’t read ahead and already know, then you should know that I am a sapiosexual and I want to have your babies. Logic and biology be damned.

Many of you suffer from glossophobia. In layman’s terms, it’s the fear of public speaking, which I do not have. In fact, I kinda enjoy getting up and performing. When I was 22 I had a relationship end and, with the wisdom only a twenty-two year old can muster, had closed off every other relationship and activity that I had had before I met the girl. This meant reinventing my life, something I have had to do a couple of times since. I decided to try my hand at improvisational comedy as a means of meeting people and being social.

I wasn’t so quick on my feet, mentally speaking, back then, and so I wasn’t very good at improv. With a little preparation, I could have you rolling in the aisles. But tossed a concept to respond to in real time, I would founder and flail. Part of the reason for that is that puns were verboten in the troupe that I participated in, and my go-to for being funny in those days was to rattle off a pun. That brings me to word number two in the title, so I’ll interrupt my story for a definition and likely another story. (Today is a very stream-of-consciousness writing day. By the time I get done with it, today’s blog post might be more about a cross-eyed lemur playing a double bassoon in a wind ensemble in Oslo than anything the title implies at present.)

A glossophile is someone who loves language. I’m a writer, it kind of goes with the territory. I love how language can be woven to produce different concepts and affectations, just with punctuation and inflection. I love how one word can remind you of another in a cascade of connections that synergize together. (Usually I hate corporate doublespeak, but that’s the word to use when the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.) But back to our story, where our intrepid hero, arms outstretched, cant pun. (Not a typo.)

One of the skits that our troupe would do was called “Five Things.” It’s essentially team charades. In this skit, one member of the four-person team would go backstage and don noise-cancelling headphones while the referee would ask for five things from the audience, then weird them all up. (Like a double bassoonist who’s a cross-eyed lemur in Oslo.) They’d call for the departed team member to return, and then the team would have three minutes to convey those five things using only body language and gibberish language. No actual words could be used. And hey, this is where word number three comes in.

Glossolalia is the use of nonsensical syllables in the manner of language. The end product sounds like some exotic foreign language, but doesn’t really mean anything.

I was complete pants at Five Things. I couldn’t convey anything. (“No,” I would think, “it’s not an airplane, it’s a seesaw.”) I couldn’t understand anything. (“What do you mean, it’s a seesaw? No, that’s an airplane, I’m sure of it.”) But I sure had fun.

Anyway, the improv gig led to an invitation to try out for a community theater production. I went hoping that I would just be in the chorus and could mouth the words and get away with it, but oh no, I got a part! And then the guy that had another part dropped out, so they asked me to take over that part instead. And I did. Only this wasn’t another bit part with a few lines and maybe one song, I was the second male lead and the lead voice in almost every ensemble piece there was. I was too busy and panicked to be scared. I just went with it and learned the new part the best I could.

I must have done well, because I won best actor for the theater that season.

Most recently, I would perform around campfires on the weekends I dress like a Viking, and I’ve received awards and won competitions for my performances. But my memory isn’t what it used to be and so I’ve been shying away from performing in the hopes that no one notices that I have trouble performing off-book. But that itch to perform is back, and I’m thinking on how best to scratch it.

I remember songs better than anything. Are there karaoke leagues?