howdy
finally, its been a week since surgery. i do not wish to bore you folks with droning recovery details, so ill just summarize using a flow map:
swelling lessened-> stitches absorbed (yes, oral surgery stitches use organic lines, so they absorb into the mucosa. there is no need to have them removed. science is lovely)-> mentally recovered-> energy level = 70%
anyway, i have come to appreciate the smaller things in life: straws, eggs, sporks, chloraseptic, painkillers, and q-tips. recovery is a delicate lifestyle, one that renders the big and bulky excessive and perhaps even fatal(i almost choked on my giant antacid; i swear its for cows and hippos -.-).
a little on futbol. futbol makes me chortle. unfortunately, laughing is not something you want to do when you have 20 stitches across your maxilla. ghana vs. us (<- semi punintended <- unintended mistake, but makes an interesting read xD). 3rd world country beats first world country. brazil vs. ghana. ronaldhino didn't do jack crap. ghana seems to possess a mystical quality of bringing the best to their knees, despite the fact that brazil still one as a team.
wimbledon is lovely. the grass is greener on that side; the people are more beautiful too. lee, the korean, rocks my socks. he lost to hewitt, who only knows the wall game--counterpunch until the opponent gives. in retrospect, lee's shots can be characterized by asian thrift. his ardor for perfection and efficiency resonated something within me. too bad im not korean. on the hunky euro front, federer hands everyone their asses on an adorned swedish platter with the same flourishing gusto that makes a mistress remember her knight. safin is freaking gorgeous. he makes me off-straight.
on to people. people give me looks. always up to down. from my unkempt (sanitary, just unkempt. hmm. unkempt implies dirty. make it "natural") hair to my giant my sock-tanned ivories. my flip flops flip and flop curiously across the acoustic hospital like someones clapping for my grand entrance. its embarrassing really. the thing is- i look like a bobble head. my head and my body are conflicting hues on the same browns canvas. the former from supersize me and the other from hotel rwanda, save, perhaps, my clothes.
old friends come to visit me. they are very small. they think i am very big. ive found that wearing a cap makes my meat ball look not as big, so i frequently sport my navy-gold embroidered UCLA cap. actually, its not mine, its my father's--a gift from my sister who probably forgot his birthday and went to the ucla store to throw something together. its a nice cap though.
i always save the best for last. much like the remaining beef in my beef stew noodle bowls, you people are what i slowly chew and savor. you guys also make a mean salad--healthful encouragement croutons, refreshing comment greens, and an unforgetable ooze of sensational compliment dressing. i love you people. its like all of you are sending first class recovery packages--expedited too. no wonder im recovering so fast thank you.
<3 erichen
swelling lessened-> stitches absorbed (yes, oral surgery stitches use organic lines, so they absorb into the mucosa. there is no need to have them removed. science is lovely)-> mentally recovered-> energy level = 70%
anyway, i have come to appreciate the smaller things in life: straws, eggs, sporks, chloraseptic, painkillers, and q-tips. recovery is a delicate lifestyle, one that renders the big and bulky excessive and perhaps even fatal(i almost choked on my giant antacid; i swear its for cows and hippos -.-).
a little on futbol. futbol makes me chortle. unfortunately, laughing is not something you want to do when you have 20 stitches across your maxilla. ghana vs. us (<- semi punintended <- unintended mistake, but makes an interesting read xD). 3rd world country beats first world country. brazil vs. ghana. ronaldhino didn't do jack crap. ghana seems to possess a mystical quality of bringing the best to their knees, despite the fact that brazil still one as a team.
wimbledon is lovely. the grass is greener on that side; the people are more beautiful too. lee, the korean, rocks my socks. he lost to hewitt, who only knows the wall game--counterpunch until the opponent gives. in retrospect, lee's shots can be characterized by asian thrift. his ardor for perfection and efficiency resonated something within me. too bad im not korean. on the hunky euro front, federer hands everyone their asses on an adorned swedish platter with the same flourishing gusto that makes a mistress remember her knight. safin is freaking gorgeous. he makes me off-straight.
on to people. people give me looks. always up to down. from my unkempt (sanitary, just unkempt. hmm. unkempt implies dirty. make it "natural") hair to my giant my sock-tanned ivories. my flip flops flip and flop curiously across the acoustic hospital like someones clapping for my grand entrance. its embarrassing really. the thing is- i look like a bobble head. my head and my body are conflicting hues on the same browns canvas. the former from supersize me and the other from hotel rwanda, save, perhaps, my clothes.
old friends come to visit me. they are very small. they think i am very big. ive found that wearing a cap makes my meat ball look not as big, so i frequently sport my navy-gold embroidered UCLA cap. actually, its not mine, its my father's--a gift from my sister who probably forgot his birthday and went to the ucla store to throw something together. its a nice cap though.
i always save the best for last. much like the remaining beef in my beef stew noodle bowls, you people are what i slowly chew and savor. you guys also make a mean salad--healthful encouragement croutons, refreshing comment greens, and an unforgetable ooze of sensational compliment dressing. i love you people. its like all of you are sending first class recovery packages--expedited too. no wonder im recovering so fast thank you.
<3 erichen