I hate that I’m very prone to illness, that a bout of fever brings me down. To be fair to me, this latest fever was with aching knees and joints so I had to watch myself very closely. The terrible (but very romantic) weather didn’t help. That’s why I had to call in sick, throwing a day’s worth of important work plans out the window. As much as I hate calling in sick, my hatred towards my very low resistance kicks in as well.
I tried to be productive and I think I was, overall. I did the first leg of my research for next week’s classes, read Muthia Alagappa’s book (dorkiness), swallowed everything Maurice Duverger stipulated, gave myself sufficient rest, and ate decent meals. The only downside was watching Good Luck Chuck. The movie was not that funny, it was shitty. I didn’t finish it but still, that’s 50 minutes of my life I should’ve just spent doing something else not as disappointing as that.
My mother told me that I am stressing myself too much for no real good reason at all. Well, that’s better than telling me another round of I told you so’s. She said I’m thinking of too many things. As a reflex, I told her I’m not but she’s my mother so she probably sees through me. So yeah, she’s right, I think about my work, my other projects, my classes (it bothers me twice than the others), my finances, and if I’m going to
get laid have a boyfriend to be my human rantboard spend the holidays with anytime soon. Anyway, occupying my mind with all these thoughts stresses me too much which probably contributes to why I get sick easily.
I pray that I will be resistant to germs and viruses so I can pull off the next few months without glitches. I want to always be up and about. I want to live.