Fear is the mind-killer, or, Screw the presentation, sir, you'll have to excuse me.

If there is anything good to be said about Ulcerative Colitis, (and those of you who consider "good" to mean any weight loss, sit down.) it would be the relaxation. At moments when the keys and the hamburgers are locked in the running car, which is stuck on the vibrating railroad tracks, when even A. is tearing his hair out or kicking kittens, I am so zen it is disgusting.

I used to have hissy fits over everything. The excitement! The drama! Can I cry or spill something? Hell, yes! And then we'll cry about spilled milk! (or popcorn. Whichever is handy.) I miss throwing things out windows, and having a reasonable excuse to gorge myself on cadbury mini-eggs.

So why have I turned over a new-fallen leaf with edges of infinity and the universe? Because any sort of stress starts the gut a-roiling. So far I'm doing pretty well at irritating A. with my mellowness in high-stress situations.

Tonight I have to give a speech about a well-known library computer system.

Gut: Heh heh.

Me: Er. What're you doing?

Gut: Me? Nothing at all. I don't do anything, you know. I just REACT. Especially to messy immune systems and foolish emotions.

Me: Uhum. But I'm calm. I am so calm I am the tiniest dew drop in the smallest fold of a rose petal.

Gut: Really? Rose petals? What about... The Big Speech? The Five Minute Time Limit? The Glowering Professor with itchy stopwatch thumb? Your Silly Pathetic Notecards?

Me: They are not pathetic. Lots of people use them.

Gut: Uh huh. Wow, things are really moving down here, if you get my gist...

Me: Shuttup! Shutit! I am calm! My mellow is not harshed!

Gut: Liar.

Me: holds belly.

Gut: Better relax, or who knows when I'll make my move?

It is hard to be relaxed all the time when your gut talks to you. Damn distracting.