For the past month and a half I've had some problems with my neck on one side of my body.
It seems that my head doesn't like turning too far to the left, which altogether wouldn't be a problem, except for the fact that it annoys the shit out of me when I forget and have a little twitch of pain when I turn my dome. (For instance, ogling particularly fine men wandering around this lil' ol' town of mine.) I thought the massages I was getting helped, but that only seemed to last for about three hours after my massage, and then it was back to square one.
I've never visited a chiropractor, and I'm tempted more than you can imagine to go to one and have them pop my back and neck back into functionality. I've probably damaged my spine alignment years ago from all the lifting and bending over at the waist (shush, you.) oven work, and a multitude of other necessary tortures I got paid too little for, that I did working for Safeway. If not a chiropractor, then a petite Japanese woman can walk all up and down my back.
I won't complain, seriously.
It's progressed today, into a headache that seems to rest right behind my left eye, and along with being cranky while attempting (poorly) to not smoke, I've got this misfit of a mini-midget bouncing up and down on the nerve behind my eyeball, and swimming laps around the shallow end of my brainpan. It's nothing major, just a niggling, gnawing little bastard of a headache that is pretty darned distracting. I thought it was no caffeine that was incurring this thang, but after saucing myself liberally at Starbucks with an extra sweet vanilla latte, no dice.
I used to suffer from really nasty migranes when I was in my late teens, where I was pretty much incapacitated in a room that was dark, cool and utterly silent, lying as still as possible, breathing shallow-like, for fear of the slightest movement/sound/anything make my head explode. So this is nothing but an annoyance. Since I had to take these damned nigh hydroponic in propensity painkillers (otherwise known as T3's) and I've developed a resistance to Tylenol. I have had to resort to using Advil, which is pretty damned close to god's drug, as far as I'm concerned. Advil loves me, yes I know, the pharmaceutical company tells me so.
I've read three books (And YEAH D, it's the GOOD kind, Sci-Fi and Fantasy. Stick that in your pro non-fiction pipe, and smoke it. :P Just kidding.) all within the past week. My mother decided to toss me two plastic bags full of new vittles for my eyes and imagination, and it fills the time on transit in the morning. If you like a new twist on Fairy Tales check out "The Fairy Godmother" by Mercedes Lackey. I found it to be a really good read if you wanted to escape into a super in-depth, unique look at fairy tales.
Also enjoyable is "Medalon" by Jennifer Fallon. Unfortunately, it's book one of a chronicle set, which is probably the only thing I can bitch about with books nowadays. I understand that authors make wicked cash, the more books they sell, but I'm a believer in enjoying a story start to finish in one book. It's totally cool with me if they decide to continue the theme, with the same characters on a new adventure in another book, but it would be appreciated if they could keep a story in one novel. I also understand that sometimes, a story is too epic to be contained in one 500 page novel, without losing character depth and interesting storyline.
The only reasoning behind why I'm saying that, is this. It ensures that a new reader who accidentally picks up book five in a seven book series isn't totally confused, therefore increasing the likelihood of that reader purchasing more of that authors literature, given the fact that said reader enjoyed the writing style and story behind the novel. It's sorta like turning on the T.V. and watching a soap opera you've never seen before, and wondering what the fuck is going on, who the hell all the characters are, and why on gods green earth is the chick with the eyepatch that is obviously over 50 but built like a brick shithouse, macking on the hot stud that is barely out of his twenties and who is screwing her daughter who is pregnant with her mother's fourth husband's child, who died and then came back from the dead for revenge against his wife who murdered him in a jealous rage over his indiscretions and his murderous wife is trying to get back at her daughter by fucking her boyfriend who has fathered children with half a dozennnn... *gasps for a breath* Yeah. anyways. (I totally made that up, but I'm sure it's been an even more convoluted soap opera plot at one point in time or another.) This however, is just my opinion, which on the whole, means squat, as per usual.
At any rate, I'm going to take my drugs, finish reading book one, and lust after book two that hasn't been published yet.
No comments:
Post a Comment