And then My Head Exploded

Last week I had a migraine for four days. Yeah, four days. It refused to respond my medication so I was up all night, trying not to barf too much and actually considering going to the HUP ER when I wasn't thinking that maybe if I just took that Exacto knife to my temple, some of the pressure would release and I'd feel better. I went to Student Health instead of HUP (because even had I arrived at HUP at 3 am they wouldn't have seen me by 9:15 like the nice people at SHS did) where they basically gave me piles of drugs and said, "there's nothing else we can do." So I spent the next three days on various medications, all of which were severely incapacitating. Like vicodin and this stuff that is a mix of painkiller and muscle relaxant, all in one magic little pill. I did not get much done.

The JC thinks the migraine was his fault. I'm sort of inclined to agree.

Once I recovered, I went out with the JC Friday and most of Saturday which was basically actually very nice except for the frustrating talking about us parts that basically go:
JC: "I'm different! I want you back for serious! Yay, relationships and love and babies and weddings!"
Me: "Stop freaking me out! I don't trust you yet! I'm not ready to be serious about you!"
repeat ad nauseum.
Then I went to lab, dance rehearsal, and out with the NewBoy. Which was very much fun and reminded me that hey, I really like NewBoy and that this is really, really hard because I'm going to have to crush someone soon and I've never done that. Then Sunday they both invited me to the Super Bowl (and I had an invite to another party, that apparently Original Matt went to because my world isn't crazy enough) and I went with the JC because his house is closer and I thought it would be weird for me to be at a party with NewBoy and his friends given my current state of indecision.

The JC is now back in Toronto for his brother's wedding and is apparently bringing me back presents of a Canadian nature. And I'm guessing he'll be bringing back another massive existential crisis, but he seems angered by my insistence that his new found relationship resolve will crumble once he's reimmersed in that insular family-focused culture so I'm trying not to remind him too much that I'm totally waiting to see if he's serious until some post-wedding time has elapsed. But I am. Maybe it isn't fair of me, but I'm sort of expecting something to go wrong again and holding out because of it.

Anyway, my head is generally better and now I have lots of entertaining drugs and an appointment with a neurologist. Lab and teaching and dancing are taking up so much of my time I barely have time for one boy, let alone two. I'm exhausted. I think this dating two boys thing is going to make me break something.