Words of Wisdom; George Michael Edition

I could whine endlessly about all of the things that have prevented me from blogging for the last 11 days, but I'll spare you. Suffice to say: grading! writing! grading! driving to the DuPont State! eating! grading!

More important to say this, perhaps: I'm sitting in my office, contemplating the great wisdom of George Michael. No, I'm not planning on propositioning an officer of the law in a public bathroom, but I am humming (to the extent that it's hummable) that great paean to modern life: Monkey. If you don't have on your fluorescent shorts right now, let me remind you of the first stanza:

Why can't you do it?
Why can't you set your monkey free?
Always giving in to it. Do you love the monkey or do you love me?

Ah, George. Wisdom for the ages. Applicable in so many different situations, but particularly this one. I'm sitting in my office being stood up by a student who has missed 3 weeks of class. I'm on my second day of a headache. In a meeting this morning, the apparently invisible, throbbing railroad spike in my eye was making me nauseous. A quick trip to the student center armed me with Advil, chips and a Dr. Pepper (caffeine and fat being key to holding back the full-on migraine). In an hour, there is a meeting that I've been dreading for three weeks. Dread of the "wake up in the middle of the night sweating, shaking with a combination of fear and indignant anger" variety.

So why, dear readers, am I still here?! Because I just can't get enough pain and nausea? Because I'm two teeth above de Sade level masochism? Because inertia is the most powerful force on earth? All true. But I think I'm going to let George speak to me. For today, I'm going to let my monkey free. Because, dammit, I don't love the monkey more than I love me. If you need me, I'll be at home watching Oprah.