I had a bad flare-up of TPS on Thursday. I took my first FCHD 2400 (Marriage and Family Relationships) exam that day, and got the results via email shortly thereafter. I was pleased.
A few hours later, I went to the Logan Regional Hospital to get a CT scan. I've been having sinus issues for about five/six months now, and the docs suggested that I get my head blasted with radiation so we can be sure that I'm not dying from an aggressive South Carolinian parasite (or something like that). If you haven't had a CT scan before, imagine having your noggin shoved into the core of the Millennium Falcon's hyperdrive.
Chewie picked out the color scheme.
A few minutes later, I was told that the results aren't actually all that bad, and antibiotics should do the trick. Once again, things were going swimmingly.
At Merrill Hall (the on-campus housing where yours truly chills), there isn't enough parking space in the main lot for everyone. That's why we have the Gray 4 lot: down the hill a bit, under a tunnel, and right next to a cliff. At first, I didn't like having to tromp the extra 400 yards to my car (college students are a lazy bunch). But the more I've made the expedition down yonder, the more I've realized just how amazing the view is from Gray 4. You can see the entire Southern half of Cache Valley, as well as the canyon below.
Purdy.
Anyway, after my head-nuking, I got out of my car in Gray 4, and was treated to the best view I've had in years. The sun was on his way out, but was hidden behind some clouds, shooting beams of light across the valley. I had my headphones on, with my Zune on random. Just as the scenery gave me the equivalent of a sucker punch, one of my favorite classical piano pieces, Erik Satie's Gymnopedie No. 1, started playing. I caught myself soaking this tender mercy for about two minutes, then thought, "it just couldn't get any better, huh?"That's when the flock of white birds flew in front if me, in perfect formation.
Some people would would be astounded at that; some would cry. I laughed. It was all too perfect.
That's when the TPS flared up. Good grade on an exam, considerably decent health, and a scene that most photographers would give their left lung for. My first thought after all that? "Well, I'm probably going to die now. This is the prep."
WAH Wah wahhhhh....
You can mock and scorn if you wish, but TPS is a real condition. Don't believe me? Next time you escape a burning car, find some Aztec gold, win the Nobel Prize, and beat Johnny Depp at a staring contest all in the same day, see if you don't find yourself getting a little suspicious.
On that note, the weather has been dubiously good lately...
