Thursday, March 24, 2011
Being Sick Sucks
One of the things I often hear is that I'm a bit of a brick shit house. Nothing stands in Justin Luke's way! So move! He'll barrel through anything that tries to step between him and what he wants. I'm impervious to disease, weakness, exhaustion. I am an endless automaton who will blow up anything and everything and not even feel the scorch marks that result from the explosion.
That is for the most part true, except when I am sick. Which I am right now. And when I'm sick, I'm anything but the monster machine man that everyone tells me I am. I am sniffling and whining. I am coughing and sneezing and wheezing. My eyes are half-closed and my mouth half-open. I even whimper every ten or so minutes.
Yes, when I'm sick, I become an Instant Pussy.
This is in part BECAUSE I am basically unstoppable. I get sick, usually, one and a half times a year. So when some sort of renegade illness penetrates my Norton Anti-Virus body, I get walloped and left for dead on the side of the road.
The most annoying part is that my brain is always the same. It's wanting to get up, run around, take on the world. But my body is sniffling and pleading it to just lie down and rest. And so my brain gets hella pissed and starts bitching and screaming at my body: Move it, you wuss! Get your shit together and let's go take trapeze lessons or something!
My body usually then starts crying or groaning.
Seriously. When I'm sick, it's like I'm trapped on my couch between a triathlete with untreated attention deficit disorder and an overweight slug that somehow learned to speak. It's not fun. It's a frustrating, snot-ridden affair.
Needless to say, I plan on drinking a carton of OJ today. I will allow myself to be sick for up to 24 hours. After that, my brain won't have any more of it. My body gets one pity day every six months. After that, it had better buck up and get moving. There's shit to be done.
I'd write more, but I have to go blow my fucking nose. Grrr.
- Justin Luke