It appears, though I was convinced for a spell I would succumb to some dark death, that the honey sesame chicken assassins from Panda Express have failed in their attempt to remove me from this plane of existence.
What I once considered a delectable treat, the aforementioned honey sesame chicken, now holds a top spot on my list of consumables that have betrayed me, right beneath, or perhaps even above peach schnapps.
The last few days have been a blur of painful stomach violations induced by some insidious poison I am certain was meant to cripple me to the point of lifelessness. It has been four days since the unwarranted attempt on my life, I’ve come through the worst of it and am now certain I will make a full recovery. Then again, I was celebrating my victory at this time yesterday when the pain resurfaced and I readied myself to bid a fond farewell to this cruel world.
But I am strong. I’ll not be felled by the contents of a styrofoam box of fast food Chinese(ish) take out.
I’ve never been the target of assassination by food before. I always thought there would be more purging of all things ingested, but my case has consisted of mostly pain. Excruciating, labor-like, and unrelenting pain. The worst of the pain has subsided for the most part now though, leaving me feeling a little more than slightly weakened and afraid to consume anything but liquids . . . damn you Panda Express.
I like to fancy myself as a writer and generally speaking, I am more often than not quite adequately equipped to forge words into whatever I will them to be and wield them at once in whatever way I see fit, but of late – not so much.
I’ve plenty to say. I do. It’s not that my mind has lost the functionality required to form thought, it has however, seemingly lost the practical knowledge required to transform those thoughts into words that work together while simultaneously placing them one after another upon a page to form something somewhat coherent to whomever may chance upon them, including myself. That sentence alone should be enough to convince just about anyone that what I’m saying has some validity to it.
one, will undoubtedly know what that blasted brain fog can do a person. For those who are blessed to be bewildered by my seemingly overly dramatic angst regarding the current state of my fogged in mind – you are actually, quite literally, blessed.
found in the undertaking of extensive, exploratory journeys where I dawdle, gander, meander, and mosey my way through the well-lit aisles of a bookstore. Betwixt the rows and tables and displays of beautifully bound words, my wandering turns to wonder, and my woes slowly fall like gently drifting autumn leaves. I’m left with unencumbered branches, quivering in anticipation of new growth.
The Qwiet Muse 