Not a very inspiring day today. I’m not all that driven to write but what’s the point of having a blog if I’m not gonna fill up the memory hole with fresh new adventures and drivel. Nothing notable happened today and maybe it is why I feel the dregs of the void pulling at me, trying to suck me into the abyss; but I’m fighting gravity with what little strength I possess. Actually I feel like falling into it and letting it take me into whatever realm it sees fit. In truth I feel like a boost, but the sort of boost I desire is not of this world, rather a synthesis from it. An enhancement that is not of natural means. However, it is futile allowing myself to be swept away with whimsical fancies when the consequences of reaching for the sun is more than a bad case of sun burn.

The cunning little devil fueling my flight into madness is whispering her lies into my ears, trying a seduction that is too old and weary to be taken seriously. Yet, it’s curious that she has awoken after such a long slumber. Perhaps she never sleeps with full unconscious abandonment. Always the opportunist, awaiting moments of weakness to suggest one more flirtatious fling, a dance for old times sake. As long as I don’t become too tired I should be able to quell her unwanted advances but one can never be too sure. If I’m to believe the soothsayers then the old she-devil is out doing push ups while I sleep, but I have trouble picturing a devil really needing physical exertion to build muscle mass and it seems to me muscle bulk is not really a part of her appeal or strength anyway. Her real appeal lies in the promises of uncovering the secret, the promise of unraveling the veil that shrouds her dark eyes so that one may peer into the abyss and see the unseen. To clasp reality in the palms of ones hands; to posses and shape it as if it were a lump of clay. To be able fly with the gods and not be concerned with the trivialities of humanity. To become more than human. That is what she offers but cannot deliver. As the seduction unfolds so too does one’s sanity, the price that is ultimately paid to see what cannot be seen.

Alas, the truth turns out to be lies and once caught in her spell it is difficult to relinquish yourself from it. But still, sometimes lies are more preferable to the mediocre. I guess that is why she is persistent and never willing to entirely disappear from memory, because having had carnal knowledge of the mind, she does possess the advantage of pulling a trick or two in times of unwary listlessness.

The pestilence has returned. I thought rather naively that I would be immune to a second bout of this accursed condition but I am now riding it out for an encore performance. Once again microbes have usurped or perhaps deceived the apathetic antibodies that swirl through the arteries of my inner being. The torture of getting sick is not the sickness but the moral dichotomy that comes with it. Extra baggage that reinforces my conviction that I am but a mere slave in the wheels of this machine. Maybe it is just my cynical eye that forces me to view the place I find myself in, in the super organism of humanity as less than flattering. But what other option do I have when the first thing that happens when I become ill is to have to decide if I am sick enough to have a day off from work.

I want nothing more than to stay home tomorrow and lay in bed and hope that this bug will be duped into believing that I am not a worthy host, however because I only just had a three day sick leave binge the other week I am now faced with the question of soldiering on like the Codral ad says we ought to do. This moral dilemma is a constant cause for anxiety in times of illness and in my arrogant mind I can’t see any reason why I shouldn’t expend my sick leave when I’m sick but there also is this sort of shame in doing so. Maybe the dilemma is a dysfunction in me but the feeling that taking leave is unacceptable behaviour and one that only the weak partake in is not without at least some foundation. Case in point being a colleague commenting in a humorous way that women are much stronger and can work when they are sick when I returned to work from my last bout of sickness. Don’t get me wrong, I do have a sense of humor and get that the comment was said in jest but jokes can disguise half truths and in my paranoia I could also imagine that by having leave I was somehow not strong or of weak character or some other blight on my personality.

However, after all is said and done, I’m sitting here writing this blog post and one has to wonder how sick I really am? Well it’s a question I’m struggling with but I think if I had the option of a guilt free exit from work today I would’ve taken it. I still have the option to take a sickie tomorrow but without a doubt it won’t be entirely free of guilt if I do. Am I free? or am I slave? Maybe the question is do I have the courage to be free or will I be enslaved and imprisoned by my mind’s eye?