MELLIPOP GETS ANOTHER MIGRAINE
Ok, so the Virgin gig was cutting into my blogging time so I quit today. My body is just not made to work more than 38 hours a week, and it told me so quite categorically this weekend, most of which I spent in bed with a migraine. I took it as a sign, you see. We're talking complete sensory deprivation - minimal light and sound. Nausea. Weird things going on with my eyes. An 8 Nurofen kind of day, with little relief. As anybody who has ever experienced a migraine will know, you basically just want to curl up and die, which is really just the desire to retreat into the deepest darkest silence there is. The ultimate experience of sensory deprivation.
Migraines are the worst way to be sick. Because your visual and auditory senses are in complete revolt, all the usual "sick day" comfort mechanisms become your worst enemy. Watching TV and listening to music becomes a sort of hell. Reading is impossible. Even just the thought of food gets the bile churning. Sunlight burns into your skull like napalm. Birdsong sounds like an industrial drill. All you can do is close your eyes, hide under the covers and pray for a moment of sleep to release you from the surreal madness of the migraine. The next day migraine hangover is a killer, too.
And when your partner calls it "just a headache" you really begin to understand the murder-suicide impulse.
Anyway - there's the sick note for my recent absence. Once I've got these freelance assignments taken care of in the next few days I'm truly all yours again. Like a Virgin. Or more precisely, like an ex-Virgin.
posted by Mel @ 5:53 PM
2 Comments:
Hey, glad you're back and glad you've quit that dead-end second job. Nothing beats quality of life and health and believe me, I understand about the migraine and Anton deserves to die for the 'just a headache' comment! Isn't spewing with a headache just the worst experience ever?
Nah. Not cute or blonde or trendy enough. Plus I have the wrong style of handwriting. Seriously. Girls who work at Sanity & Virgin all have big loopy legible girly handwriting. Like with hearts over the "i"s and stuff. I know this both from working at Virgin and from painstakingly trawling through stacks and stacks of handwritten Sanity stock returns when I was working at the music label. Which I would spend hours processing. I hated those girls then. Me, I have a madman's illegible scrawl, the inevitable product of my unrelenting impatience and years of long sociology lectures.
I always feel very alientated from bouncy handwritten femininity. Like the girls at work, who all read Cosmo and wear fancy high heels, all dressed like extras who've stumbled off the set of Sex in the City. And then there's Mellipop reading New Internationalist and wearing the same sensible pair of flat black leather shoes every day because the only other shoes she has are her dirty trainers. Because she is a pragmatic Capricorn, she is both devoutly uninterested in fashion and strongly opposed to the lunacy of wearing uncomfortable shoes all day. Who has time for all that ephemeral fashion shit, anyway. Besides, I'd rather spend my money on books.
Geez...that wasn't intended to end in a rant, but I'm all pent up....
Post a Comment
<< Home