Yay! I've posted! A lot!
Now you'll get nothing for MONTHS and like it.
I'm going in tomorrow for my first visit since the Fainting Incident. I've drunk a lot of water yesterday and today and I'm planning on having a huge and leisurely breakfast tomorrow.
Plus, to be extra extra safe, they're putting me in a hospital bed surrounded by actual sick people, and hooking me up to an IV. Cheers, NIH.
I've been feeling up and down since my last visit. Normally, I'd assume everything was getting better, but there was that weird thing that happened the last time I went more than two weeks without a phlebotomy--my iron actually went up. Whether this was a fluke, a normal fluctuation of iron levels in the blood, or the iron coming out of its secret little hiding places in the body, I have no idea, and the NIH isn't telling. I'm worried that the up-and-down tiredness that I've felt the past two months is due to fluctuating--and perhaps increasing--levels of iron in my blood.
I've felt Alice-in-Wonderlandy (as in weird sensations) and inexplicably tired, and I keep thinking back to Bilbo's feeling "stretched" from the Ring. Specifically, I've felt exhausted all day, tired behind my eyes, and I've had an almost daily sore throat for the past three years that my endrocrinologist swears has nothing to do with my thyroid. I've been keeping a running Zombie-meter in my head--as in: How do I feel today? Just bitten, or brains, brains, BRAINS!! ?
It's gotten better in the past week or so, though, so I'm hoping that things tomorrow turn out fine. Though that does make me wonder--if it turns out there's nothing physically wrong with me, is it really all in my head?
If we're the nation of customer service, why do I feel like I have to be the polite one when I'm out shopping? I'm constantly running into people in the service industry who apparently hate their jobs, and I feel like I need to make them feel better by being the Best Customer Ever.
I mean, nice is a good idea, but I've been so instilled with the whole customer service ethic that I feel obligated to keep on with it, even when they're the one getting paid. I find the urge a little supercilious, honestly, but I don't see any way around it--it just feels rude not to answer their routine "how are you?" with a "great, how are you?"
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I keep getting the following:
From people meeting me for the first time: "So what do you do? Are you an adminstrative assistant?"
From people WHO KNOW ME: "Don't eat that! It has meat in it!"*
Do I need a new look?
*I should point out that I also get the "this is great shrimp--here, try some" from a certain person who has known me for 14 years...
Bill's 501st Garrison went to a Cystic Fibrosis walk in Fredrick, MD earlier this month. They had a working, life-sized R2D2 robot, a Darth Vadar, several storm troopers, and a very handsome clone trooper (Bill), and were charging a dollar for pictures, which they were then donating to the charity. I showed up in Mara Jade attire, partly to make Michael laugh at me (hey, it was his birthday), and partly to get my pictures taken to finally join the garrison already.
Here's a few pictures of Mara:
I picked her because she was one of the less expensive costumes to assemble, and she didn't have a helmet or any fancy makeup. Plus, I already had the hair.*
Oh, and she bosses around storm troopers. :)
So...funny thing about Star Wars costuming. Sure, it's geeky, but only if your helmet is off. If your helmet is on, you're the coolest person around--children crowd around in awe, waiters and store clerks risk being fired to get their picture with you, and burly men ignore scantily-clad women to gape and/or yell out quotes from the movie.
Helmet off, though, and it's the treatment I get. Now, I don't do this because it's my thing--I do it because Bill's going to be there anyway and if I didn't join in I'd just be sitting in a corner knitting or reading or something or else staying at home altogether. But, while I was trying to scare up some customers for the picture-taking business (they were not biting), I had some very normally-dressed men ask me, the girl in the black leather and goggles: "So...[pause]...what possesses you to do this?"
Ugh. Let's just say I managed to be polite instead of smacking them with my pretend lightsaber.
Oh, and here's a shot from the charity event (and I'm not in it):
* Well, to be honest, Bill sort of picked it for me.
I found out this week that I went to middle school with Clay Aiken. Now, I know almost nothing about this guy, except:
1) He has rabid fans.
2) Apparently, he's famous.
3) He can sing.
I looked at our school yearbook and went to his website, and here's what I now know:
1) He was adorable in his picture (he was 12, I was 13--I was a little less adorable, but then again, I was going through puberty).
2) He had a different name back then--so my Ebay prospects for the yearbook aren't looking good.
3) And from his website...let's just say that I don't think I missed out much by not hanging out with him at Daniels. Ugh. Sappy Christian pop.
BUT the other news is that a guy in my office--my 10 person office that my company randomly assigned me to--also went to middle school with me. We were in the same year and never had a class together, but we knew some of the same people. So it turns out that the girl who had a crush on him in elementary school hung out with me incessantly (somewhat against my will) in high school, and was...also very good friends with Clay Aiken (nee Grissom). I wonder if they still hang out--it would be a nice consolation prize for her, since she beat me out for least popular kid in school two years' running ('til I escaped to Enloe, where no one was popular except ANDY CAMPBELL). I almost feel like contacting Clay just to find out what happened to her--she doesn't google as well as he does.
Scary though. A kid born almost exacly a year after me now has his own page on Wikipedia.
Okay, I haven't tried this out yet, but all of you crochers our there looking to make a Jayne hat--try this pattern to get the ribbing effect: