I am again on crutches. I have again twisted my right knee. This time, it seems, I've torn (again) TWO -- not just one! -- ligaments. I am again in pain, and again looking forward to an MRI and then probably surgery and definitely lots of physical therapy and rehabilitation. It feels like I just finished my last PT rehab. I do not want to jump around in circles, or walk backwards, or climb a single stair endlessly, or do anything with an exercise ball, ever again. Yet here I am, again damaged.
And again, I find that I can redirect my despair at being painfully hobbled into a rage against the machine. The mechanical machine. The crutches. This time, I have much better upper-body muscle strength going into the crutch period. Be warned: if you cross my path while I am crutching, I will strike you down with righteous fury. With my metal crutches. Leaving you, twisted and broken, on the sidewalk. I will not feel bad about it, because you probably don't exercise and weren't using your knee ligaments. By my reckoning, that makes us even.
This post's theme mantra: "There is not now, nor has there ever been, a well in my cellar." From here. Many thanks to A., who probably prevented me from killing bystanders on my crutchful way home today.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Lila in the news
I was interviewed thrice this evening, while attending the Alien Abduction Festival 2008. Maybe it was a really slow news day? ... because the event was small, and about alien abductions. (And charity.) While constructing an elaborate UFO out of tin pie plates, pipe cleaners, miscellaneous craft materials, and lots of glitter glue, I had the unexpected pleasure of being interviewed by Wired, the Toronto Star, and Rabble TV (I'm not there yet, but I'll keep you updated).
The Wired picture doesn't do justice to my creation; there were stairs (on the left) for easy entry, and the inside was carpeted in green foam. Like a miniature galaxy-traversing golf course, with satellite dishes on top. And razor-sharp edges everywhere.
The glitter was still in my clothes when I discovered that I've also been recently printed in the Harvard Crimson.
The portrait painted of me by Googling my name is now much more eccentric...
This post's theme word: barkentine, "a sailing ship similar to a bark but square-rigged only on the foremast."
The Wired picture doesn't do justice to my creation; there were stairs (on the left) for easy entry, and the inside was carpeted in green foam. Like a miniature galaxy-traversing golf course, with satellite dishes on top. And razor-sharp edges everywhere.The glitter was still in my clothes when I discovered that I've also been recently printed in the Harvard Crimson.
The portrait painted of me by Googling my name is now much more eccentric...
This post's theme word: barkentine, "a sailing ship similar to a bark but square-rigged only on the foremast."
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