Month: February 2015

Because it’s been awhile, and because I’m returning after radio silence brought on by being sick:

Hello! I’m Graeme McMillan, a writer about pop and nerd culture for Wired.com, Playboy.com and the Hollywood Reporter’s Heat Vision and Live Feed blogs. You can find me on Twitter, here on Tumblr, and early morning ramblings here. I’m also one half of the Wait, What? podcast, which you can listen to on iTunes, Stitcher or find right here, and I write weekly blog posts for that site, as well. I also run the Wait, What? Tumblr which updates sporadically at best. Like Auric Goldfinger, I love only gold. Owwwwwwnly gohhhhhld. Owwwwwwwwnly gohhhhhhhlllllllddddddd.

After days of enforced solitude, yesterday was surprisingly social — brunch with one group of friends, late afternoon donuts with another — and I spent the entire time pretty much leaning back and hoping that I wasn’t infecting anyone (Kate to everyone, at more than one point: “He can’t be infectious anymore, he’s been sick for too long,” as if that makes me feel better). Nonetheless, it was apparently good for me — I feel better today than I have done in almost a week, which might be a sign that I’m finally on the mend.

Of course, the fact that I started taking cold medication properly yesterday after days of just hoping that relaxing, hot tea and watching Star Trek The Next Generation might also have something to do with it. But I’m placing all the credit on the friendship.

I woke up this morning at 2am, far earlier than I would have liked, coughing and with my throat burning. Clearly, I wasn’t healthy just yet, and that realization was at once depressing, frustrating and angering: I had gone to bed convinced that I was “getting better,” and that I’d wake up this morning at a sensible hour, feeling healthier and back to normal or at least almost back to normal. Instead, I woke up and thought, no, wait, I was supposed to sleep in today and not feel like this, what the fuck. There’s a stage of sickness where it’s not enough to distract, but enough to irritate, and it feels like that’s where I’ve been for days, now. To me, my medication! To me, my health. We can but hope.