theraflu ramblings

I may not be able to lift my head, but my hands are able to attach themselves to my mobile device with enough effort that they actually effect button pressure and as a result create letters on the screen. So…

I’m sick. And I absolutely haaate being sick. Ne-Yo actually called me to get my permission before releasing that song about me, “Miss Independent”.We argued for a while because I told him, “No, I’ll do it myself”. Well, no, of course he didn’t really silly but the point is, cupcakes, I like to do for self. As much as I possibly can. And at times when I cannot, like when I am so sick my eyelids hurt, I am abso-bloody-lutely miserable.

I am convinced, however, that God has it in his Blackberry reminders to make sure that I am sick every couple of months to the point of immobility just to force me to sit my ass down. I am forced against my will at these moments to be still and reflect. Though I kick and scream and curse the heavens He knows I can only do so with a voice and energy. Both of which He finds it humorous to take away.

And just when I say, “Aha! I have fingers! And my fingers have been given a voice through technological innovation! So HA!” and go to typing all the vile adjectives and distasteful nouns my many human years have gifted me, I am stopped. The introspective portion of my mind overtakes the shallow emotional and I delete… And begin again…

My experience of living alone in New York has, at times, been like voluntary quarantine. And all it takes is a little illness for a tail to sprout and Voila! I am transformed completely into the Ebola monkey with whom no one chooses to make contact. I say “my experience” because as I mentioned earlier, I’m pretty independent. The problem with being generally independent is, though you may have hundreds into thousands of friends and associates, everyone has this impression that you’re good. Good meaning you’re so tough and ready for life that regardless of what you’re served in your booth in universe’s cafe, you can swallow it. You won’t choke. You never bite off more than you can chew. Etc. Etc. Metaphors and silly sayings.

Alas, tis untrue. And in my three days of utter dehabilitation, I got a clear picture of how alone I am. No, no, no. This is not a pity party. Ne-Yo and I agree that when it comes to those we’d much rather “go have calamari”. This is simply observation. This is how I’ve been for some time now. Perhaps it lends to my nomadic lifestyle. Perhaps I prefer it this way. Either way and anyway, I’ve learned something else about myself after being forced to lay still: I choose to handle it. I always have and most likely always will. Yet, at times, such as now, I want my mommy.

I think I might begin laying still on my own. Doing so would probably make realizations less painful. So there, I guess I learned two things today boys and girls: I’m independent to a fault and I need to lay my ass down more. Fine. Whatever.

**Qimmah shakes fist at the heavens and mouths an obscenity before collapsing back into her pillow and pressing POST.**