I am on day 10 of recovery. The scabs down my legs have partially fallen off, revealing fresh, glossy pink skin. My arm, however, remains an open wound: A soup of plasma, fat, and regenerated skin. But that’s not what’s kept me from making my triumphant return to work. On the evening of my accident, I had that familiar tickle at the back of my throat, signifying an incoming cold.
Continue reading “I am Jack’s seeping wound.”Tag: communication barriers
The gum is not yet ready for consumption.
Check out the progress I’ve made on my tub of blueberries:
It’s underwhelming, I know. Two reasons I still have this many blueberries:
- The second vaccination did not make me ill.
- I haven’t smoked cannabis in almost two weeks.
On Saturday–the day of my shot–a colleague asked me how I was doing. I told her I was booked for my second dose in the afternoon and that I was worried that I’d be among those who get super sick since my first shot didn’t go so well.
Her: “I don’t mean to scare you, but I spent three days vomiting after getting my second shot.”
Well… I guess I’ll keep worrying!
Continue reading “The gum is not yet ready for consumption.”When to yell at a deaf person.
I feel like the increase in demand for instant gratification has stripped people of the patience to communicate with me.
I had a dream this morning about getting into an altercation with two unfamiliar old ladies who insisted on communicating with me verbally through their masks. I responded, on paper, reminding them that I, too, would love to communicate seamlessly with the public, but because I dared to get sick as a child, I don’t get to do this. Think about it, I continued scribbling, you can’t deal with what I have to do 99% of the time, for five minutes. One of the ladies started bleeding at the fingertip and scribbled her response in blood, accusing me of being disrespectful, thus summoning the manager.
What a sinister bitch!
But that was a dream. In reality, I’ve had many people simply walk away from me upon learning that I can’t understand them even if they start yelling at me from behind their masks. The correct response from me is: “Fuck them.” But when it starts happening regularly, there are some days where I go, “Fuck me, right?”
I don’t like that I’m a misanthropist, but it’s hard not to be when you’re confronted with rude, ignorant people routinely. On the contrary, when strangers do something as simple as sign “thank you,” it brings me joy. This is an everyday interaction most people are accustomed to, but for me, it’s like, “Wow, you’re treating me like everybody else. You’re practically the kindest stranger I’ve interacted with all day. If not all week.”
Continue reading “When to yell at a deaf person.”Makeshift southpaw.
Essential oils? As in, you’d die without them? I think not.
My right arm has been out of commission for a few days now. There’s no exciting story behind this injury: it’s a repetitive strain injury that started back in my desk job days. It began with tendinitis in my wrists, which is why I now use a mouse with my left hand and can type one-handed. For the most part, my wrists are okay; however, the bike accident from two years ago added a dodgy right shoulder, which is what’s currently bothering me, to my growing list of ailments. It feels like I have a heavy, burning limb hanging from my shoulder: 0/10 would not recommend.
Continue reading “Makeshift southpaw.”Lighthearted pandemonium.
‘Member VCRs? I owned one up until 2009, which I feel is far longer than most people. I finally gave up on this antiquated technology when I first moved away from Victoria. Now, the story of how I let go of my VCR is more involved than, “I donated it. The End.” It’s more like: “I donated it, then realized that the VHS tape featuring seven-year-old me in an educational video about sexual abuse was still in there, and the tape in its case had been swapped with a vintage porno.” See this post for details.
(The photo to follow is somewhat NSFW.)
Continue reading “Lighthearted pandemonium.”
squaremeat.com 