St. Valentine died in a snowdrift.
The College is closed. Well, so they say, but I'm pretty sure I still have class.
Last night I went on WebMD dot com. Why does that site exist? It has nothing to offer but fear and distress. It actually made me cry. Then, when I couldn't seem to stop crying, I gave up on the day and went to bed at 10:50pm. This was a good idea, because when I woke up at quarter to six this morning I actually did feel better, and I swear I'll never "check my symptoms" again. (That's a lie.) But, honestly, what would you do if the little WebMD checklist indicated that you either had 'chronic depression' or 'cancer'? Cry? Yeah me too.
The snow is romantic, isn't it? It kind of makes me want to visit Emily Dickinson's grave or bake cookies or write a letter to a soldier. Perhaps now would be an appropriate time for a meditation on Valentine's Day. But I, unfortunately, have nothing to say--no strong feelings one way or another, except that maybe it would be nice to wear red today. There was a big construction paper heart under my door this morning, which I think must have been created in a certain Big Brother Big Sister session yesterday afternoon, and I certainly appreciated that. And I sent Rachel a virtual cup of coffee. My mother had asked for the name of my dorm and then immediately confessed to trying to send me something, but I suspect that even the intrepid delivery men and women of this town may balk at the weather, reasonably so. Beyond, then, Abby, Rachel, and my mother, I must admit I do not have a Valentine. That phrase has a lot less weight than anticipated; perhaps it's because I'm too worried about my impending death-by-WebMD.
Last night I went on WebMD dot com. Why does that site exist? It has nothing to offer but fear and distress. It actually made me cry. Then, when I couldn't seem to stop crying, I gave up on the day and went to bed at 10:50pm. This was a good idea, because when I woke up at quarter to six this morning I actually did feel better, and I swear I'll never "check my symptoms" again. (That's a lie.) But, honestly, what would you do if the little WebMD checklist indicated that you either had 'chronic depression' or 'cancer'? Cry? Yeah me too.
The snow is romantic, isn't it? It kind of makes me want to visit Emily Dickinson's grave or bake cookies or write a letter to a soldier. Perhaps now would be an appropriate time for a meditation on Valentine's Day. But I, unfortunately, have nothing to say--no strong feelings one way or another, except that maybe it would be nice to wear red today. There was a big construction paper heart under my door this morning, which I think must have been created in a certain Big Brother Big Sister session yesterday afternoon, and I certainly appreciated that. And I sent Rachel a virtual cup of coffee. My mother had asked for the name of my dorm and then immediately confessed to trying to send me something, but I suspect that even the intrepid delivery men and women of this town may balk at the weather, reasonably so. Beyond, then, Abby, Rachel, and my mother, I must admit I do not have a Valentine. That phrase has a lot less weight than anticipated; perhaps it's because I'm too worried about my impending death-by-WebMD.
posted by priyanka at 8:15 AM
2 Comments:
WebMD is the most frightening - and frighteningly useful - site I know.
But I love that it exists.
I HATE WEBMD!!!! I hope it dies, just like it convinces me I am going to die.
Well...if you don't have a travelling (preferably civil-war-era) soldier to write to, I urge you to send me more emails. ;)
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