confessions of an evangelist…

So, its been a while since I blogged last… I’ve found blogging to be therapeutic, and why I haven’t done so in the past week or so is, well, very well explained. I’m starting to come to terms with a few things that “hit” me a few weeks ago. And I suppose I’ve started to realize that I am, inspite of the fact that my mom still calls me a child, and that I’m the younger one, and my grandmother loves to tell stories about how she’s changed my diapers, apparently, not *too* long ago, yes, I’m growing old. I’m old, and I’m getting older.

A couple of weeks ago, after my event in Sacramento, I had a dizzy spell, and, well, umm, yeah, fainted. Thrice. And no, it wasn’t one of those fainting spells like a woman who finds out her boyfriend’s proposed to her would have. You know when one of those guys strikes a gong with a big thing. Now imagine, a sumo wrestler stringing a gong with a big thing. Now imagine a sumo wrestler inside my head striking a gong which is placed just beneath my forehead. I blacked out thrice with mind-splitting headaches and couldn’t see or feel for about 10 seconds (approximately, I’m told) each time. It was concluded that my dizzy spells occurred because of a combination of anxiety, caffeine and lack of enough brain power to be talking about Yukon’s newer features or guessing when Longhorn’s going to be released. I was rushed to an ER facility in an ambulance and saline and benadryl (yes, benadryl) were injected directly in to my blood stream. CAT scans were done to ensure that my brain was alright, and apparently, it is [alright]. After all that had happened that evening, I insisted that I did not want to be tested for meningitis, and that I was willing to take my chances with the disease (the test involves testing your serum for red-blood cell count which they would extract from between the last 2 discs in your spinal cord??!?) I said “no”, vehemently.

So, all said and done, here I am trying to make a big deal of this whole thing (as I always do)… I’m sitting in SeaTac, about 20 odd miles from the motherland, trying to get a perspective on “things”, but then I keep asking myself if I should care at all? Should I worry about being unhealthy and worry about dying, or should I just not care, and die anyway without ever knowing what hit me? Right, that one…

I was hoping for better things to come out of this experience though. I felt like after my ER visit, I’d suddenly be able to street fight and kick people’s behinds. I was hoping I had a secret identity, and that I was really a secret service agent who was wired really tight and was drafted to steal the shoes of the prime minister of Preplipistan (way too much “Whose Line”), and that I could really speak 12 unique languages, and that my paranoia would get the better of me, and that I’d just want people to leave me alone. Turns out, people leave me alone as it is, and I have no new powers (my neighbor’s 12 year old can still kick my butt, yes she’s really strong for a 12 year old), and I can still only speak 6 languages as opposed to the 12 I would’ve liked to. About two weeks later, I’m now comfortable talking about it.

So, that’s where I’ve been. I’ve been trying to sort things out (don’t ask me what it is that I’ve been trying to sort out, or if I’ve even been remotely successful). Trying to rest. I’ve been sleeping for between 8 and 12 hours lately and wake up still feeling like I need more sleep. And I have really weird dreams like, the 76ers beating the Pistons, or the Kings beating the Sonics, or a woman actually wanting to date OJ Simpson (yeah, I have really weird dreams ok – sue me) Maybe I need to get referred to Rory’s shrink?

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