Friday, March 22, 2013

In which we catch up with my body

Did I tell you I have pityriasis rosea, friends? No? Well then. Monday before last, I broke out in the most delightful rash, all over my torso and arms, and creeping up my neck and down onto my thighs. I thought stress, or allergies, but a visit to my doctor while we were in Auckland cleared that up. Pityriasis rosea is thought to be caused by a virus, spreads in the pattern of a fir tree (which would be pretty cool if it wasn't a fucking ugly rash), and lasts about six weeks. Furthermore, although it doesn't itch in 75% of cases, just like my inability to roll my tongue in spite of having two parents who can, mine itches like bejeezus. Side effects include nausea, fatigue, and headaches, which is very confusing as when I feel these things I don't know if I'm just being my usual lazy/wanting to be babied self, or if I really should go and lie down.

Our move here has coincided with the onset of what I think goes a lot further than dandruff - my scalp is falling apart. I thought head and shoulders would be a miracle cure but if it is, it's one of those slow-acting miracles that runs the risk of being called just an ordinary solution.

While we're on my head, I'm wondering if it's a really good idea or just boredom that I've been thinking I should cut my own hair into a bob again (the unevenness of last time having become less of an issue with the passage of time, and, if I'm honest, our distance from High Street). I know I've been carrying on for about a year about how much I want long hair (I blame two of my friends from work who have the most ridiculously beautiful Rapunzel-like locks, in wonderful shades of brown, that always smell nice), but now that it's within a year's reach, I'm looking at old photos of myself with long hair, and realising my hair type really isn't the kind you can do nothing to unless it's short. I look like mermaid from a dirty small-town harbour. Perhaps you're wondering if I'm prepared to style it every day this time, now that I'm a grown-up? I'm not.

To make up for forcing you to be privy to things you really didn't care to know: a song Vincent and I have been listening to about ten times a day for the last couple of weeks. I find Ruban Nielson fascinating, in a way that I don't want to know any more about him than the nothing that I do, so I can feel as if songs like this spring from his mind like Athena, fully-formed, and mere mortals like me hear them and just go whaaaat.

Also, in case you haven't heard it, here's an acoustic version that Vincent found. It's often really pissed me off that modern rock bands get away with having really average/bad vocalists; it seems almost like a badge of honour to have a singer that can only just carry a tune. Is it fear of becoming Singer and The Band? And then just Singer? Anyway, his voice is ridiculously good, especially considering he's already a musician and composer. Happy friday, and may your bodies hold together in harmony.

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