You guys. I am horribly sick. What you should really be thinking right about now is "Of COURSE you're sick, Sabrina." And I agree, given that I have been constantly exposed to people on the bus and in lecture halls that are sneezing, coughing, sniffling messes.
In terms of my immune system, moving to Scotland is exactly the same thing as when English settlers gave the Native Americans smallpox. We never even saw it coming. They attracted us with their muskets and puritanical full-sleeve dresses and promised a beautiful land full of equal rights and shared venison. Except that now, we are all dying from plague-esque super bugs that these Europeans have developed immunity to. And we don't even have a way to fight back, because our arrows and indigenous myths about shape-shifting warriors are completely insufficient. And also because the NyQuil is different here.
And I am not even sure that any of this is coherent because, as I said, the NyQuil is different here. I have taken a fair amount of it, with a glass of Prosecco (because, why not?), and now I am feeling overtired and in desperate need of Kale soup.
Which is unfortunate because 1) I can't find Kale soup, and 2) I had intended to stay up all night plotting a way to avenge the Native Americans for their smallpox genocide. But then I started thinking that the Scots are not a people to be fucked with, and that I am Scottish. And that made me realize that waging war upon myself would (at best) be considered suicidal, and (at worst) rip a hole in the space-time continuum. Which is obviously possible given that those neutrinos are now traveling faster than the speed of light. Secondarily, it's just plain fun that "continuum" has two Us in it.
But thinking about Scottish wars lead me to thinking about Braveheart by Mel Gibson. Which is one of the MOST historically inaccurate movies of all time (probably even more inaccurate than 10,000 B.C.- which should have really been named 10,000 B.C.E. a.k.a. 10,000 B.U.L.L.S.H.I.T). But that's neither here nor there. What does matter is that Mr. Gibson is probably one of the most racist people ever, and if he hates the Jews (who are a wonderful people) and women (who are obviously the best gender that humanity is ever going to get) then he probably hates the Native Americans too. I bet he's even glad that they got smallpox. In fact, he's the kind of person that would make a tremendously flawed movie about the Trail of Tears and then keep all of the profits to himself.
Mel Gibson is a dick, guys.
Despite all of this, here is what I know for sure:
1. My nose hurts from having to use inferior quality tissues.
2. I will be going to school in yoga pants tomorrow (that, if I'm honest with myself, are never actually going to be used for yoga).
3. That the NyQuil is different here.
Love & Head Colds,
P.s. Mel Gibson, you're welcome for your next Blockbuster movie idea.