Weekend Warrior

Till this day I'm not quite sure exactly what the slang in the title of my newest entry means, but I think that only a true warrior could have survived a weekend (and a week) like mine.

Before you start anticipating - No, I didn't go to AC 3+3 (6) nor did I go to UWI campus carnival and survive many attempts at the snatching of my blingage. I call myself a warrior because I fought hard against aches of the heart and troubles of the mind and managed to hold it together for all three days (Friday, Saturday, Sunday) and make it through a Monday and then some! ***pats himself on back***

Now I mean, there's probably somebody reading this entry and saying "I've done that too" but I assure you my friend - it was not like this

Now it all started on Friday, really when I broke up with my girlfriend; ok now that's not entirely true - I don't want to give myself the bragging rights nor do I wish to award those to her. Long and short of it was that she was crushing the nut juice out of me and I was frustrating the hell out of her so we both agreed to go our separate ways (that way nobody sounds cooler hehehehe :P.. but not for long :) A few hours, some offline messages and a telephone ceonversation later and we were back together... well, kind of. We're kind of in a spot now like where Keanu Reeves was at the beginning of the third Matrix. Maybe a pretty picture will explain:
Yeah, so as you can see from the little map I drew, we're kind of nowhere and I am just as clueless as you are about our status, but it's sort of a sweet spot. Now in the original post, I was going to describe exactly how painful the whole break up was but I think that anybody who's been in a long relationship would know the feeling. For the young ones out there, it's not nice - it's probably why you see your daddy drinking so much :'( that's what relationships cause, kids - alcohol, drug and spousal abuse. Stay in school and out of each other's pants. That kind of slackness is only for us adults :D

As if losing the one I loved (temporarily) wasn't enough, I had this PBL for Engineering Science to do - something about static and dynamic engineering systems. I couldn't really give a rats ass about what they were, but my lecturer was apparently very interested in finding out and she designated me (and the rest of work drones aka students) to do the research for her. Now that would have been fine and dandy except for the fact that searching for Static Engineering Systems would only bring up some Fortune "One Dollar" company. The process of research was not aided by the group conversation I had running in MSN Messenger - this guy was sending this set of links to trance music on YouTube. Though I know that listening to trance automatically puts you on the fag train, I couldn't resist the shiny blue links that the featureless green fat man kept pushing forward. MSN and PBL DO NOT go together, folks. Take it from me.

Eventually frustration kicked in and I resorted to whacking away at the keyboard, making up definitions and theories as I went along. I had a word cloud with items like "force", "displace", "work" and other physics related terms and I just plugged them in after words like "the" and "sum" and "sigma". The whole presentation didn't look to shabby... not too sure if it made sense but...

Another thing that happened was more on a personal scale, but for the sake of awkward silence and rapid downward scrolling, I'll still relate this incident:

Now I never liked doctors and I never liked being naked in front of other people - I always felt that awkward stare, their marveling at imperfection. But somehow, it was written in the cosmos somewhere that K. Sheppard was to frequent the place were nudity was not requested, but demanded upon every visit- The Doctor's Office.

Now, give me a fine doctor with long hair, a tight ass and who is evidently blessed in the chest and I'll go to the doctor's office in a tear-off outfit with a bottle of lube. But give me a medium height, grey, old, hairy, brown skinned man and I'll go to the office kicking and screaming and possibly with a concealed weapon. Unfortunately, my physician is the latter :'( My physician is very good at what he does, but boy do I hate to visit him. He has this thing with the removal of all clothes... I dunno. The last time I visited, I had an infection on my bicep and he asked me to take off my t-shirt and my vest just to look at it - whadafxup with that? I tell you, that man has some serious issues.

Just yesterday I went to see about a problem I as having with my knee - now I could have just as easily rolled up my left pant leg for easy access, and doing so did not even limit my range of natural motion, but he demanded that I be without pants. My mom was there with us, so I suppose nothing could have happened due to the presence of a witness.

So my pants are off, and what's worse is that I'm not wearing boxers, just plain old jockey shorts... and a long jersey... with socks. You have no idea how much I hate that combination of clothes. I don't wear jockey shorts and socks, or a jockey shorts and a jersey, something about the jersey makes it feel like a dress and something about the socks makes it feel like baby shoes... weird.
ANyway, that was my ensemble for the evening, but it didn't stop there my friend.

I could have just as well sat down on the edge of his sofa thing, but he insisted that I lie down. As to not run the risk of getting yelled at again, I just complied. I got the feeling that when he turned his back he was going to break out into a Barry White song, the lights would dim and then a disco-type heart would come down from the ceiling. I Didn't like the feeling at all.

So it's on to the examination and the bastard insists on passing his hand up and down my shin. It was all very uncomfortable. It was only after he placed his hand firmly on my thigh to "show me where the tendon is" that I had enough and resumed a sitting posture (much to his displeasure I assume). From the moment he left the office to get some paper, I jumped back into my pants so fast that I got some frickin' leg burn. A most unpleasant experience.

I'm sorry that I couldn't be as descriptive but believe it or not, I haven't gotten my glasses yet. I suppose mom would get around to buying them when i'm blind so that I can see that darkness clearer. But I think you get the basic drift of how me week was.

I'd say that doing work on top of heartache and escaping the clutches of "Dr. Love" would make me count as a warrior. Sure it didn't happen all in a weekend, but had it been so, I would have been on the 7 o' clock news in an orange jumpsuit.

I am really getting to old for this!