Whoa. Now I can't see my fingers. Good thing all this transcription (ten interviews in two months, four in just the past weekend) has honed my typing skills. I'm probably at 75 wpm with a gajillion errors. Maybe I'll try typing with my eyes closed and see what hapens. Happens. That's what happens.
Some people get migraines from stress. Sometimes hormones play a role. (I don't have any of those left, so I know it's not that.) Migraines for me are caused by chemicals in food. I'm not sure what chemicals. Usually there's a 15-24 hour lag time. I can't remember what I ate yesterday. Not much, since I was freaking out over something that happened with my data collection method, which I may or may not share with you at some point. Suffice it to say, it was sufficiently serious to upset my normally healthy appetite, a very rare occurrence for me.
So, what did I eat that is causing this brain fart now? Hmmmm. About an hour ago I cooked vegetables in curry powder. Nothing new, I use curry powder every now and then, not skillfully, but what I lack in skill I make up in exuberance. This time I added a second kind of curry powder that I got at Trader Joe's. The label didn't list any preservatives. But it was not organic. Could that be the culprit? Pesticides? Herbicides? A one-hour lag time is not impossible. It's happened before.
Now the aura is multicolored, looking rather festive as it moves out from the center of my left eye toward the periphery. The icons on my desktop are refracted and swirly. Cool. No, I should say, psychedelic, man. Did I spell that right?
The data collection methodology crisis was averted. My Chair left me a loophole and I leaped through it with neither style nor grace. As my beloved sister says, just get it done. I'm getting it done. Just a word to the wannabe-wise, remember, your Chairperson is not your confidant. Neither is she your friend. Enough said.
Wow, now I'm looking down a deep tunnel. Like reverse binoculars. I can see the words on the screen again, but only in the center of my gaze, not out to the edges. No peripheral vision on the left side yet. It's coming back, though, along with the usual boring headache. Thank god I don't get the debilitating headaches that some people get, the kind that make them bang their heads against walls or retreat whimpering to dark closets. I'm so fortunate. Not only is my migraine only mildly painful, but it is multicolored. Maybe there is a god.
It was 97° here today, by my widget. Maybe hotter, who knows. I'm sure it broke a record. My ankles are swollen. My cat is sleeping in the tub. I've been working on Chapter 4 of my dissertation all week, immersed in the voices of my ten faculty members. Today, though, I've been at half-mast. Much as I love this extreme heat, it's just not a day for reveling. I cannot forget this is a day for reflection and mourning. Usually I go walking on this day to commemorate and remember, but it was just too hot, even for me.
Now the aura is gone, retreated to a buzzing space somewhere in back of my ears. I can see again, although things look painfully sharp. I think I'll dump out that Trader Joe's curry powder. It's just not worth it.
Tomorrow I'm scheduled to meet some friends at a Mexican restaurant for lunch. Can you say, migraine factory? I'll take my next migraine wrapped in a flour tortilla, thank you. Hold the bright green guacamole.
