On Being Human

Utah really is so beautiful.

Hello my friends. I am finally back after the grand mouse fiasco that consumed my life for a couple of weeks. I feel clean and safe in my home, but now I have a cold. One of the most human experiences imaginable.

Everyone has had a cold at least once in the last five years. They likely will have another cold in the future. We could measure life from cold to cold (or from non-cold to non-cold, although that seems overly optimistic given the circumstances). My nose is stuffy. The sockets behind my eyes ache. In fact, my entire body aches. I am hyper-aware of all of my muscles and all of my joints because they all hurt. I suppose it is good timing to have my cold collide with Thanksgiving. This is a great opportunity to reflect on gratitude. I am definitely thankful that I am not perpetually physically ill. Usually I can swim and jump and smell things. Instead, I sneezed a four-inch-strand of boogers out both nostrils before deciding that it might be time for a decongestion shower after all. (That is sadly, not an exaggeration). After the decongestion shower, I snuggled into my bed with a roll of toilet paper and a trashcan next to my nightstand. I will heal eventually.

Tragically, there is no cure for the cold, although cold medicine does help alleviate symptoms. Suffering is human. Even alleviated suffering is still suffering. A cold lasts seven to ten days, typically. Sniffles and fever illuminate how fragile humanity is, how plausible it is that a virus might end things for good this time around. Then, there is a return to normalcy. In a few more days, I will swim and jump and not have difficulty breathing. What a funny conundrum, the common cold.

This part might truly just be me, but I always get sad that no one is around to keep me company. It is such a funny thing to fantasize about. I want to have a girlfriend or boyfriend to come sit in bed with me and watch bad movies. Eventually, when they also get sick, I can take care of them too. I don't actually want people to get sick, but I love the idea of not being isolated in temporary weakness. When I am the most tired and the least capable of doing the dishes, I would like help. Needing help is human.

But I don't need it. Duh. Actually, my therapist and I are working on being willing to reach out to people when I am sick. When I can't get out of bed because I am too depressed or too congested. I'll get 'em next time. Humans bounce back.

As always the poem:

-

What’s Left of Love?

Just for the record,

I wanted to fall in love 

because of grand gestures.

I wanted cream-colored letters,

sealed with wax,

begging me to come dancing in the rain.

I wanted ballads sung by starlight 

and silver ball gowns 

and stable politics.

But my soulmate

will be curated

by an algorithm, not fate.

We call it chemistry

when we both swipe right.

So, “hey:)”

Let’s give it a try.

We just might collide, 

falling in “like.”

You don’t ask for love,

just attention.

So let's be friends.

End before it begins.

Mute each other’s stories.

Ache with almost.

Now, liking your photo 

is lonelier than love.

Once upon a time,

I thought I'd get swept off my feet.

But this is the only love left.

Maybe waiting is enough.

Maybe love isn't what I thought.

Not grand, not perfect, just real.

Whatever that means.

Yours Truly,

Macy