I'm not really a hypochondriac, but...

Right now, I'm freaking out a bit.

Looking at me, you'd probably not realize this, but beneath the apparently calm exterior, right now, a guy is freaking out, hyperventilating and silently screaming in frustrating dread.

No specifics. Not that I'm hiding, but who needs details anyway?

The second bloodwork report (of the week) comes in tomorrow.
And it will effectively tell my doctor (and me of course), if my current ailment is just a minor thing or a chronic bedfellow I'll have to live with the rest of my life. With a lifetime of careful monitoring and medical regimen.
I'm trying not to sound so melodramatic, but it's hard to express verbally, the roiling waves of worry inside my psyche, without that bit of sensationalized prose.
I guess I need to indulge my drama queen side occasionally after all.

I don't mind the needles. To be honest, I HATE needles, but with the routine of the past year, I'm gradually growing accustomed to them. From a crippling phobia, they've turned into a temporary nuisance, that can be borne with a grimace and some grudging acceptance.

What really scares the bejeezus out of me is the whole WebMD-fueled hypochondriac paranoia about the possible ramifications of a bad-case-scenario bloodwork report. Some serious conditions which could potentially affect the quality of life.

I'm normally an abjectly apathetic person, with an unhealthy disregard for caring about myself (and others, I suppose), but this has been quite the jarring wakeup call. Whatever the diagnosis, I need to get the fuck off my butt and shape up.

Start eating healthier.
Exercise
Lead an active lifestyle
Walk. Or better yet, run.
Get started on that damn bucket list.
Do stuff to be happy.

It's amazing how things like death and disease make you appreciate life more. Nothing like a jolt of hard-hitting negativity to make you crave the positives in life.
No more c'est la vie. No more ennui. No more of that nihilistic bullshit.

Get the fuck out of your room and get a life.

Better yet, LIVE.

Well Hello there!

So much for THAT resolution. Start a blog I'd write in regularly?
Hah!

I knew I'd never keep my New Years' Resolutions anyway, so I guess it makes sense that I don't do that stuff.
Which really makes me wonder whatever made me think a 30th Birthday Resolution would work. A rare burst of optimism and wistful thinking in my otherwise apathetic world, perhaps.
What the hell was I smoking? (Nothing, really.)

So, as a means of keeping the blog alive (in a manner of speaking), we're putting it on artificial life support systems, hoping there's no DNR form signed (I've watched too much Grey's Anatomy, so bear with me).

Now comes the awkward textual silence. The one where the blog's waiting for something to be said, while yours truly has no idea whatsoever what's the appropriate thing to say. There's something terribly painful about forced writings. Writer I'm not, but I suppose this is what writers' block feels like. A frustrating phase where nothing interesting comes to mind.

But fear not, for here comes BSMan! Part of my education, training and experiences have prepared me for moments like this - make shit up as you go along. (Hey! We've made it to the third paragraph already! w00t!).

So, what's goin' on?

Bloody nothing. Nothing interesting anyway.
It's been three weeks into 2014 and the only thing I have done that feels useful, was attending a 10-day technical workshop in my area of interest.
Oh, and finally deciding firmly to get my ass out of my comfort zone and seriously consider changing my career path. If not moving away from academia towards industry, I now want to at least move to another institution, where my efforts would be appreciated, and hopefully rewarded.

Oh, and just yesterday, one of the two classes I taught last semester, got 100% result in my subject. Granted the question paper was rather easy, but considering just how much the kids were complaining all semester about the subject, and that there are no failures in the subject I taught, I'm pleased as punch. There's to be that obligatory pat on the back and handing over of some tacky trophy - or some equally empty gesture, but that's for later. I will try not to let those cynical thoughts mar my cheerful day.

That's all for now, I suppose. I guess I should that other Oz for reminding me I need to update my blog. Even though he doesn't know (at this point of time anyway) that I maintain a blog (or three).

As the Von Trapp kids are bound to sing,
So Long, Farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, Goodbye..
For now.