Well, it's been a couple of days so I thought I would poke in and say hello.
Things have gone less than ideal since I last caught you up. I have been weakened to the point where every joint feels like they had just been cast from the jello mold of creation. Ironic since jello is made of, well, you know. And, heaven help me, they hurt. They protest like the children I live with. I still shuffle like an old arthritic 70-year old every morning as I adjust to standing after 5-7 hours of lying prone. My hands were swollen on Sunday, but now the swelling has gone down, though there is now a rash on my fingertips. If you look close, you can see these little 'pits' the size of pin-pricks all over every last finger. It's a similar (but milder) reaction that I get in the face of latex. And as my body tears itself apart, my mind decides it needs to work the reverse.
It started innocently enough. I finally dragged my Wacom Tablet out, found a Painter tutorial, and colored an old sketch. It's a far cry from fantastic, but I've ignored this aspect of my talents for quite a while and now I want to improve. I doodled while at work. I created livejournals for my story characters and a community for them to harrass each other in.
And last night...I spent a blissful twenty minutes listening to Sarah McLachlan's Solace album as I knit on the Mystery Stole.
My hands will heal, I've had this rash before, though usually much more local to one finger and usually just under the fingernail, never on the fingertips before. My joints stop feeling like tortuous jello after an hour's use anyways, and this stint of physical deconstruction will leave me inspired and just that much stronger.
I wish I were more eloquent about the effects of adversity on my mind. I'm not a writer, I'm a fighter. I could cry in woe at all the trials I face, but I relish them. I grow while I am weak, I glow in my trials, and I always know that in the end, I am stronger, happier, wiser, and better for it all.