This weekend, I’m staying in bed most of the day, under the watchful eye of the drama department. The drama department, in spite of the amount of drama that goes on within, is a good group of people, and perhaps the best at taking care of one another. Perhaps it’s just me, or perhaps it’s a running trend among art majors, but I tend to neglect myself at times.

So, for the past two or three weeks, I shrugged off my drama friends’ demands that I go to the wellness center, attributing consistent body pain to “just being sore” from glassblowing or some such, or maybe carrying one too many heavy things, who knows.

It wasn’t until yesterday, when my bones felt like they were on fire, that the drama department took action and forced me to go to the wellness center (Matthew told me that he was calling up Sheldon to say that if I showed up to painting class that day, I was to be sent directly to the student health center, and Jeff made sure I didn’t escape, and walked me over there. I went, got a check up, pulled out of my glass slot for the evening, and have since been watched over and mothered about by Brendan and D Flo and whomever else, to make sure I stay put and stay rested.

As such, I’m sitting and fretting about the work I should be getting done in the studio, but am getting some needed rest. I really think there should be a Drama Department to Art Department caretaker program, because I know *I* really have a tendency to shrug off potential threats of bodily harm. I don’t even realize how bad it is, until Brendan says “when you’re in too much pain to ride your bike there’s something wrong, and it’s not just lifting heavy things.” No wonder there are starving artists, we probably just shrug it off until it’s too late to do anything ^_^;;;

I suppose it works both ways, I tend to have a watchful motherly eye myself, just not for my own sake. Perhaps it’s the entire college environment, to need to take care of each other, so it doesn’t kill us all.