Freezing cold one minute and then boiling hot the next. Right now, I’m sitting in the lab…shivering in my lab coat. I skipped most of last week and so decided that despite the strange colour of my mucus (Yes S, you’re right…it certainly was far too much information), I was coming in today. Now, I’m thinking whether me staying put at home would’ve been the better option. It’s just me today, my colleague came to see me briefly but she’s left too. This time of year…generally has a very *nothing* to do feeling, well it does for me. And it’s certainly no different this year round. I’ve been battling more than just symptoms of a lingering cold (dare I say the ‘Flu’)…inclusive of a blocked ear (darn those grommets!). It’s been a mass overhaul of emotions the past 2 weeks and more just keep on coming, I want to say that I’m strong enough to fight them all…but I don’t feel like I am. I want to be Prince Philip in Sleeping Beauty…cutting through the thorns in the final few scenes, before he battles Maleficent. That’s what I want to be. Strong, with some sort of metaphorical weapon wielded in my hand, even a pen will suffice…but I’ve not written anything in days (maybe even weeks).


It’s strange how different ways of writing can make you feel, I never thought that I was the type of person who needed pen to paper to feel a certain way. And though I risk sounding incredibly odd (when have I not?), ‘typing’ just doesn’t have the same effect. I’ve always loved writing, it was always a way to express myself and better yet…to lose myself. I always wrote on paper…my compilation of short stories, my strange ‘off the top of my head’ poetry or even my journal entries. Writing always achieved something, but not like this. Don’t get me wrong, I love this blog and I love being able to put my thoughts out there, in this odyssey of emotions and intelligence. But it’s just not the same. You know when you need to get something off your chest…but you can’t physically confront the person in question; we’re always told to write down how we feel. I thought, why not give that a go…but I typed it. And I don’t feel any better, I don’t feel like I’ve released what needed releasing. Maybe it’s just me, but perhaps I need to go back to pen and paper. The humble pen and paper. With all my spelling and grammatical mistakes. With all the real emotion and feeling…the depth of the nib pressed down on the page, the flicks of the lettering, the legibility of my own handwriting as I write spuriously. That’s what I need. Strange, how writing on my blog has helped me to identify my need to write on paper.


Peace Out. NQ


PS. The title is in reference to my mucusy feeling…always lets me know it’s winter.


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