Foggy-Headedness

This has been my condition since yesterday. I’ve been told by a dermatologist that I am mildly allergic to changes in barometric pressure. When I lived in a Rocky Mountain state, I would break out into hives a few hours before a snowstorm. Now that I’m a flat-lander, the differences are subtle yet still there. The temperature went from 60 and balmy on Sunday to cold, windy and sleeting today, and my body responded in kind.

In between was yesterday. My violin, which is only a few years old and so the wood is not yet seasoned to the changes in climate, managed to become incredibly untuned. When this happens, I must take it to my teacher for a remedial tuning. A stiff and biting wind kicked up, and I ran from my car to her door in an effort to keep my instrument reasonably warm. After she had worked her magic, I ran back outside, hoping my car hadn’t lost any heat in the five minutes I was gone.

When I returned to work from my errand, I felt flush and foggy-headed. I’d been battling a cold since the weekend. (“Fighting” a cold. Heh… Makes it sound like I’ve been in the trenches with my AK47 and a dozen hand grenades attached to my belt, when really I’ve been overdosing on green tea and orange juice.)

I am too busy to be sick. However, I do not mind foggy-headedness. People admire you for dragging your sorry butt into work, and they are so grateful for your presence that they will overlook the fact that you cannot concentrate for more than a few seconds at a time and you therefore make clerical errors most nine-year-olds would notice.

In my world, I surmise that most people are surviving on foggy-headedness as a normal personality trait. I work with students, and many of them can’t think out a problem. I can’t say if this is a direct result of parenting, schooling or even other environmental issues. I don’t think there is just one thing to blame any of this on.

Come to think of it, there aren’t many clear thinkers even among our leaders and celebrities. No one has come up with a definitive way to end war and poverty. Some high-profile mothers don’t wear underwear and make poor choices.

Heh… And the world keeps spinning…

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15 Responses

  1. You said “In my world, I surmise that most people are surviving on foggy-headedness as a normal personality trait.“. Once we get to see a convergence. I live in that very same world too!

  2. So do I. Gee, I didn’t know we were neighbors! 😉

    Are you feeling at least a tiny bit better?

  3. For some reason, I’m hoping that winter weather will come soon to my little corner of the world, even though I’m not always thrilled when it is here.

    I liked your little blurb on “fighting” the cold. I am slightly perturbed when people talk about “battling” cancer, and people who “vanquish” it are “survivors.” What does this say about the people who don’t survive? That they just didn’t fight hard enough? They weren’t strong enough? They didn’t care enough? The whole vocabulary that surrounds illness bothers me a bit.

    Sorry for that rant. I hope that your green tea and orange juice help you to feel better soon.

  4. Good points, teaspoon. My guess is that in the world of flowery prose (or yellow journalism), we need these metaphors to stress the emphasis of sickness. In reality, I have a head cold, which is probably an eventuality. I’m thinking cancer and heart disease is also an eventuality, given my family background. I’m not sure I want to be known as fighting my body to get back its health.

  5. I always end up rambling on your blog, don’t I? Sorry about that! I am glad that you only have a head cold and not cancer/heart disease/what-have-you. I’m sorry to hear that those things may be an eventuality for you. My eventualities are osteoporosis and skin cancer. Fun!

  6. Not fun!

  7. teaspoon: I completely and totally agree with you about the “fighting” diseases. Thanks for doing my rant for me!

  8. Pan–Yeah, you’re right. Not fun.
    BGG–You’re very welcome!

  9. Related to your post about Zen leaf raking … learning to tune a stringed instrument is a profoundly spiritual experience. When I first started playing the cello, I thought my ear wasn’t good enough to do it, but soon discovered that it was all a matter of stillness.

    I did still have to take it to either my teacher or the violin shop to have it actually restrung on the occasions when I managed to break strings, but the basic tuning was a joy I’ll never forget.

  10. Hmmm… David, I should try that. I’m still afraid of my instrument, but maybe I should gain some confidence by trying it myself.

  11. Don’t be afraid. 🙂 As you’ve discovered, an instrument made of wood is, in a deep sense, a living thing. As absolutely ludicrous as this is going to sound — I think that when you tune it yourself, it is encouraged to give up its voice to you more easily. I think this is especially true of newer instruments that haven’t been “seasoned” yet.

    In my opinion, the most beautiful way to tune is the old-fashioned way, with a tuning fork. You can get a small one at nearly any music store for about $10. It will give you a 440 A, and you can go from there.

  12. I’ve yet to try one of those, but it has to work better than a digital tuner.

  13. You have to use your ears to tune that way.

    Did I mention that my sweetie used to play the cello?

    I think I have now.

  14. She and Rochester could play together. You know he played the cello too…

    Actually, we could all get together and play. I know several composers, and think I could get them to compose something just for us.

  15. That reminded me of something I think is charming. If I remember tomorrow (because say, you remind me of this comment), I’ll recount it and we can chat about it in emails tomorrow.

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