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letters for a messed up back

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I should write about robots. Or think about them. Or do some work that keeps me fed. Instead all my grey matter could do this morning on my bike ride to campus was write letters about my back. On September 15, 2012 I shredded some ligaments in my back in a surprising something or other. Since then I’ve had the constant companionship of The Pain and The Feelings.

Dear Back,
I’m sorry for everything I ever did to you.
Actually, I’m not.
You didn’t hold up your end of the evolutionary bargain.
And now I’m mad at you.
Erin

Dear Physiotherapist,
Actually, that’s not my full range of motion. Nice try.
I’m not going to be happy about this until palms are flat on the floor and
I’m running 10ks five times a week.
Sorry,
Erin

Dear God,
I think we both know this isn’t your way of telling me to slow down.
Let’s just ignore them and have a glass of wine.
Sincerely,
Erin

Dear Advice Givers,
It’s hard for me to hear your good intentions.
I really do try.
But.
Your “you shoulds” and anecdotes hurt.
I know what I need, am telling you what it is. Help a girl out and listen to me.
kthxeveryone,
Erin

Dear Doctor #1,
Uhm. “As you get older”
is not something you say to a perfectly healthy and super fit 30 year old
Especially if her name is Erin Green.
I still like you lots though,
Let’s not change a thing,
With forgiveness,
Erin

Dear Future,
Please don’t let this come back to haunt me.
Seriously.
I’m scared.
Fingers crossed,
Erin

Dear Swimming,
You are my saving grace.
But you already know this.
Love,
Erin

Dear Fern,
I’m sorry I neglected you for so long.
And let your chain rust.
And your tires soften.
Spring is coming. Payday is coming.
We’ll clean you up and be best friends again real soon.
Promise,
Erin

Dear Erin,
Shit happens.
Suck it up.
Please & thanks,
Erin

hola

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Here we go. Again.

I neglected this poor blog while finishing up some other projects in 2012. But now there is so much good stuff about robots out there that I felt compelled to relaunch this space as a way to keep track of it. And keep track of what I’m thinking about it. And by good stuff, I mean scary stuff. Stuff that makes me lie awake in the middle of the night and wish that I had been born in the time of Little House on the Prairie or Little Women or something. Not really. But you get the gist. I think.

Being who I am – a fickle, easily distracted creature – you’ll find that I have little choice but to pepper the robots with some musings and grainy Android (the OS, not the robot) photos of my comings and goings. Mostly knitting and my quest to make Toronto not super boring for me while I write something less than 80,000 words on the robots.

I’ll keep the pictures of my cat to a minimum. Promise.