Going To The Well

Sometimes I'm lost for what to say. Sometimes I go to the well and it's like, "Um, what do you want? I've given you plenty. Leave me alone." Sometimes I've just got nothing.

When that has happened in the past, I'll end up writing a piece of erotica. Frankly, for me, it's easy. I think of a character, what that character finds sexy, and craft a story around that. It can be long. It could be just a page. But leaning back on erotica is easy.

Today I wanted to write something profound. I wanted to express a sweet sorrow of some sort.

All I've got to talk about, though, is allergies. (Yeah, not so sexy today folks.)

As an adult, this year is the first where my body has decided to attack itself. For the past week my head has felt like cotton balls have been shoved up my nose, lubricated but the abundance of snot dripping out.

I've sneezed more in the past seven days than I may have in the previous seven years. I set a new record for how many sneezes I expelled in a row: five.

Random Fact: I love to sneeze. Love the build up, the anticipation of the release, and then finally the massive gush of air as my body convulses and I let go. A wave of relief passes over me. My skin is tingly sweet. I feel almost high.  (Bet you didn't know sneezing could be so sexy.)  This experience, however, has almost dampened my love of the act.

I know things change. Our bodies are constantly changing, no matter how much we try to stop it. As an adult, I've recently found a love of physical activity on a semi-regular basis. (Translation: I'm exercising, and I kinda like it.) I feel better. Others have said I look better. Overall, it's pretty fucking awesome.

And, funny enough, physical activity did help, somewhat, in the relief of my allergy symptoms. It's funny, a good friend of mine recently mentioned how, when she is sick, if she has sex the symptoms ease during the act and for a time after.

Today I can't give all the credit to my yoga DVD. I took a Claritin at 8:30am. It's currently 8pm. I feel much better, less like I want to kill everyone and everything. I seriously hope this shit doesn't come back, but I know it will. Thankfully, I bought a five pack, so at least I'm good until I fly away for a week.

And yeah, really excited for my trip. And scared shitless. And wondering if I'm crazy. Or whimsical. Or adventurous. Or super naive. Or optimistic beyond belief. I guess I'm a little bit of everything.

Left coast, I will see you in nine days.

Allergies: GO AWAY!