Friday, December 07, 2007


This afternoon found me short-tempered at work. I dismissed it, assuming I was letting work stuff get to me, but as soon as I left for the day I promptly got a migraine. That will teach me to listen more closely to what my body's trying to tell me.

Lucky for me, my "migraines" are almost always pain-free. (When they're not, of course, they are excruciatingly painful. All or nothing!) Attempting to read something will lead me to notice a small dark patch obstructing part of my vision. The dark part is usually flashing or glowing bright around its edges. It will grow in size until I can scarcely see anything that I focus on directly; I have to let my gaze sidle up on things using my peripheral vision. Luckily again, this strange flashing blurriness usually dissipates within about half an hour.

I don't get them terribly often, but the frequency seems to be increasing, which is why I'm musing "out loud" about them here, trying to keep track of when I get them, what I was doing just prior, food I had eaten earlier, and that kind of thing. (For the record: today around 4:30 on the bus; staring at a computer screen for most of the day; Triscuits and dried apricots, and earlier than that, half a leftover calzone. And I did have coffee that morning.)

The brain is a strange thing, eh? As much as I used to pine for some kind of mystical experience, I know that I'd gnaw it to death after the fact. I'm not sure I'd ever be able to trust that it wasn't just one more trick of my unfathomable brain. "Flashing lights! Dead pixels in the middle of your eyes! Jesus Christ enfolding you in a loving embrace!" Is one of these things not like the others? Am I certain of that?