going up

A funeral last Monday. The way in which the oldies said goodbye to my grandmother's friend was inspiring. People were sad to say goodbye and tears were shed, but nobody appeared desperately inconsolable. They remembered happier times and celebrated having known Judy. They acknowledged the bigger questions without letting them get in the way of their honouring of Judy's life. It was funny to see the things people remembered. A whole life was over, and it was the quirky, highly individual, perhaps superficial characteristics that people associated with her.

Back in my own selfish little plane, it must seem like a dark cloud is following me. My PhD supervisor already thought that I deserved a bit of a happier run of events before I missed the day of work on Monday to attend the funeral. A day or so later, he asked how my work was progressing. He didn't know that a drink bottle had leaked water all over my laptop. In addition to that, my labwork was basically at a standstill because the GPC had broken down. After telling him about these things, he seemed sufficiently shocked at my seemingly endless run of misfortune. I could have also told him that the prize (and $500 cheque) I got from topping his advanced polymers class last year got lost in the mail, and that I'd been spending the last few days trying to get the office people to resend the documents and money, but I never got around to it. (Speaking of my recent rough trot, have I also mentioned in this blog that I missed graduation when I was in the hospital? Or that I recently had to fork out $350 after leaving a nice little ding on a neighbour's car? Throw in a $175 parking fine. I've got other stuff that I'd prefer not to mention as well...)

Oh well, as long as I'm feeling happy. It's gotten to the point where I'm almost enjoying lining up all the little unpleasantries that I've been surrounded by recently. They just don't seem to bother me any more. If I want, I can now even find consolation in the many obvious little positives which are now creeping back into my world. I can exercise again. I'm lifting weights without fearing that my lungs are going to burst. My appetite's back to monster levels and I'm starting to feel really healthy once more. That, coupled with the promise that my sense of wellbeing is only going to get bigger boosts as I really get back into the exercise, is already a nice uplifting buzz. On top of that, the students from my tutorial classes are being nice and friendly at uni. I've even received a couple of sympathetic emails after they'd heard about my operation. In fact, everyone at uni's been sympathetic. I'm no longer walking around feeling like a crippled zombie with a mangled torso. I can laugh and joke with people again without worrying about bursting into a fit of coughing. I feel great. The fact that I feel great after having been dragged through mud makes me feel even better.