Dearest Rachel –
In the movie Heathers, the protagonist Veronica Sawyer describes her relationship with the titular Heathers (the queen bees of the social hierarchy at Westerberg High School) thusly: “they’re just, like, people I work with, and our job is being popular and [stuff].”
Fortunately, I’m under no such onus to get out there and be ‘popular’; I’m well aware that I would fail miserably at that. Frankly, given the fact that my fellow passengers are of a much more diverse demography as that of a bunch of high school students, I wouldn’t even know what it would take to be popular in such a group. So it’s a load off my mind to not have that requirement in my ‘job’ description, so to speak.
But at the same time, I still do have to get up, get myself put together, and get out there, just as if I were going to work. Because, for me, getting out there is a form of work. Socializing, for me, is a challenge; I’d much rather just stay in my room and recuperate. I’d even have a reasonable excuse to do so, as I’m feeling less than fully healthy at this point (although I’ll admit, it doesn’t show in this video; frankly, it seems that my regular voice is sufficiently nasal that you can’t tell I’m congested in this one):
The fact of the matter, however, is that I really don’t have much of a choice in the matter. I Komang has to make up my room – he has to do his job, after all – and I need to get out and get myself something to eat (neither a cold nor a fever is meant to be starved out, as I understand it). While there are options to skirt both of these, in the form of the “do not disturb” sign and room service, they have their own set of protocols – and if you think about it, they rather come into conflict with each other, when the steward delivering the food is confronted by the sign on the door. Which one does he violate; does he disturb me, or does he not actually deliver the food?
Having discarded these options as impractical, I have to figure out how to suppress my symptoms for the day, in order to get out and do what I need to. As far as being communicable, I rather have to assume that I’ve likely been contagious even before I began to show symptoms (or at least, before I was willing to recognize them as symptoms); at this point, I’ve probably been a vector to as many as I’ll be in contact with. There’s no preventing what’s already been done; it’s just a matter of soldiering on for now.
Or, failing that, I suppose I could just go and get myself some hot tea with lemon in it.
Anyway, honey, I don’t have much to add to all this; I’m at my worst first thing in the morning, but even as things subside throughout the day, I’m at nowhere near full power. At least, when we’re at sea, it’s not as if I have to be, but I’d really like to be in decent shape by the time we reach Lombok.
Oh, and I need to look that island up at some point, too… but not right now. I think I’m going to try to get a little more rest, and see if that helps. So keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck; I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 