dealing.

There is nothing quite like reading a good book. It doesn't have to be an epic tale, written by an award-winning author - 2000 pages of grammatical perfection. It simply has to evoke thought, take you away from everyday life, and make you want to read more. Have you ever known that feeling, when you're completely wrapped up in a book, and then you set it down? You feel a bit dazed, and the obvious facts of reality keep melting in with the fictional details of the story. For a few minutes, things in your own life seem completely distant, and it takes some time to feel the earth beneath your feet again.

I had gone without this feeling for quite some time, now. I'm not sure why I quit reading on a regular basis. Ah well, there's nothing like an illness that binds you to your bed to make you start reading. I finally picked up a novel today. It isn't a well-written one, by any stretch of the imagination. It was just an old teen novel from the 90's, and it was enough to keep me entertained. I flew through it, and I've already reached page 281. I honestly believe that my brain itself missed reading.

I'm slowly getting better. I don't care to recount the details of my illness, but it's easy to guess that it wasn't enjoyable. I'm still quite weak, but I'm getting through. Certain friends, and my family, have been a huge part in helping me recover. I don't know what I would do without them.

Unfortunately, being at home in bed means no rehearsing. As a die-hard drama geek, this has been painful for me. I hate hearing about what I'm missing. I hate NOT hearing what I'm missing. I simply hate missing anything at all. I know it's for the good of my body, but my spirit has definitely drawn the short end of the stick.

I suppose the only thing I have to look forward to right now is recovery. Any and all other events have to be thought of afterwards. It's hard - but I'm thankful it wasn't worse. It could have been. It almost was.

I'm going to try to write more often than this.

Lots of love,

KareBear