Bits from my finals week that are making it mad funny:
I tried out a mnemonic on Bec for the twelve cranial nerves (and she gave me a better, deliciously inappropriate one). Her response to mine, after a moment, was, "I just couldn't figure out why the hell the virgin was on fire. And why a flaming virgin was leading around an eclectic group of valkries and hellhounds." Oh, carina, you make my life so much better.
An Asian friend of mine ran across the lawn to the parking lot, where his friend was waiting in the car. The waiting dude was quite white, whiter even than I am--but friend Asian yells, "Hey, my nigga!" And they drive off happily, leaving me in a state of stupification. I can't believe I just heard that...
Also, somebody who is quite talented in the art world told me I have mad skillz, for a beginning. Rather made my day. The compliment was nice, of course, but what was really awesome was that when he said "skillz", there was absolutely no question in my mind about there being a "z" on the end. Verbal misspelling takes...mad skillz.
There's more, but I have a kidney to dissect. Wish me luck.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Tattoo
After carrying a metaphorical pencil around all week, I have two lines. Which is, I guess, better than nothing. But I can tell you all about the role microtubules play in the CDC and I can discuss the origin and insertion points of the sartorius muscle, so you could see how my week has been going. I like the rhythm in this, though, so I may do something else on it.
Sketch a tattoo on my mind, ink a memory in my head
In the swirling design find a word I should have said.
Looking up tattoos, incidentally, I found a few people on google image that made me gasp and wonder how someone could have that little respect for their body. Go for it. I searched under "tattoos on face."
Sketch a tattoo on my mind, ink a memory in my head
In the swirling design find a word I should have said.
Looking up tattoos, incidentally, I found a few people on google image that made me gasp and wonder how someone could have that little respect for their body. Go for it. I searched under "tattoos on face."
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Change
One week left.
It's been a long time since I've written poetry, and I miss it. I could always count on a flow of words with just the right cadence to describe whatever turn life happened to take--but I haven't done that in a while. I tried just now to think of something to sum up what "one week left" feels like...I've got nothing. Because I'm not sure yet.
How'd you guys do it? When you graduated? How do you wrap up four years, or more, into a neat little package and move on?
The last month and a half has been pretty rough. They tell me I was depressed--I guess that was it. I do know my grades slipped dreadfully, I had teachers approaching my siblings and asking why my personality had shifted so abruptly, and I felt as tired as if I never slept at all.
I've never had to leave a place I actually wanted to be--I hated high school. I felt like I couldn't think, didn't want to leave, was tired of studying, scared of going so far away, afraid of being alone again, and plagued with all the things I wished I'd done here, on top of trying to meet financial deadlines that were out of my control but still my responsibility. So I buried myself in whatever would distract me, and ignored everything else. I'm not saying that was right, but it was nasty. I'm not much of the crying type, but I did a lot of that. I forgot how to smile. I think I scared my sibthings.
But I'm not trying to get any sympathy here. My life is perfect compared to most of the rest of the world, so I have no excuse for wallowing.
Anyway, the sun came back out for me a few weeks ago, and I found a great deal of grace with my teachers, so I'm still graduating with honors and suchlike. I'm even excited about it...but it's still new. I'm not sure how to take it. I know how to do college. Not sure about everything after.
So far, this feels like every other pre-finals week I've had yet. But I know it's not. I'll be walking away from this place in two weeks time, and I won't be back next fall. How do you...deal with that? What does it feel like from the other side? What does one do with the last week?
It's been a long time since I've written poetry, and I miss it. I could always count on a flow of words with just the right cadence to describe whatever turn life happened to take--but I haven't done that in a while. I tried just now to think of something to sum up what "one week left" feels like...I've got nothing. Because I'm not sure yet.
How'd you guys do it? When you graduated? How do you wrap up four years, or more, into a neat little package and move on?
The last month and a half has been pretty rough. They tell me I was depressed--I guess that was it. I do know my grades slipped dreadfully, I had teachers approaching my siblings and asking why my personality had shifted so abruptly, and I felt as tired as if I never slept at all.
I've never had to leave a place I actually wanted to be--I hated high school. I felt like I couldn't think, didn't want to leave, was tired of studying, scared of going so far away, afraid of being alone again, and plagued with all the things I wished I'd done here, on top of trying to meet financial deadlines that were out of my control but still my responsibility. So I buried myself in whatever would distract me, and ignored everything else. I'm not saying that was right, but it was nasty. I'm not much of the crying type, but I did a lot of that. I forgot how to smile. I think I scared my sibthings.
But I'm not trying to get any sympathy here. My life is perfect compared to most of the rest of the world, so I have no excuse for wallowing.
Anyway, the sun came back out for me a few weeks ago, and I found a great deal of grace with my teachers, so I'm still graduating with honors and suchlike. I'm even excited about it...but it's still new. I'm not sure how to take it. I know how to do college. Not sure about everything after.
So far, this feels like every other pre-finals week I've had yet. But I know it's not. I'll be walking away from this place in two weeks time, and I won't be back next fall. How do you...deal with that? What does it feel like from the other side? What does one do with the last week?
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Canine versus feline
My cat:
Oh look, the human finally decided to drag itself out of bed today, and it's smelling especially repulsive. Not only is it bleary-eyed, it's stumbling in the opposite direction of my food cans--and it is 37, wait, 38 minutes late in feeding me. This is unacceptable. Good morning, human. You think I'm twining around your ankles and purring because I'm glad to see you, but really, I'm going to trip you and break your neck if you don't turn around and head to the kitchen. Now. There you go, that's right. Yes, hurry up. You think that was a love bite on your ankle, but I just licked my butt with that tongue and it's going to break skin if you don't hurry up.
My dog:
Warm, sunny day hurrah let's get outside as fast as I can! Sniff around, run run run in circles for no reason, barking because my voice is strong and makes a splendid noise! Wow that smells interesting, looks like Spark came by here last night and marked my post. I will pee on it even more, to show him who's boss. Yes, I wi--SQUIRREL! Run wildly after it, barking! It flees before my mighty roar! Oh oh OH dig here, at the base of this tree, smells like a badger or even a whole fleet of bears! See the dirt fly! Yes, I will dig forever and catch it! Like I dug to bury my bone...here. No, wait, maybe over here...nope. Perhaps I put it HUMAN HUMAN HUMAN MY HUMAN IS HOME! OH BOY OH BOY OH BOY!!!
Which is why I like cats but have a dog instead.
Oh look, the human finally decided to drag itself out of bed today, and it's smelling especially repulsive. Not only is it bleary-eyed, it's stumbling in the opposite direction of my food cans--and it is 37, wait, 38 minutes late in feeding me. This is unacceptable. Good morning, human. You think I'm twining around your ankles and purring because I'm glad to see you, but really, I'm going to trip you and break your neck if you don't turn around and head to the kitchen. Now. There you go, that's right. Yes, hurry up. You think that was a love bite on your ankle, but I just licked my butt with that tongue and it's going to break skin if you don't hurry up.
My dog:
Warm, sunny day hurrah let's get outside as fast as I can! Sniff around, run run run in circles for no reason, barking because my voice is strong and makes a splendid noise! Wow that smells interesting, looks like Spark came by here last night and marked my post. I will pee on it even more, to show him who's boss. Yes, I wi--SQUIRREL! Run wildly after it, barking! It flees before my mighty roar! Oh oh OH dig here, at the base of this tree, smells like a badger or even a whole fleet of bears! See the dirt fly! Yes, I will dig forever and catch it! Like I dug to bury my bone...here. No, wait, maybe over here...nope. Perhaps I put it HUMAN HUMAN HUMAN MY HUMAN IS HOME! OH BOY OH BOY OH BOY!!!
Which is why I like cats but have a dog instead.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
20-20
She met the Future
In a lonely
Wild
Out-of-the-way place
And she blinked and said
Wow
I did not expect to find you here.
The Future shrugged
And said, Well,
Here I am anyway.
She looked hard into
The Future's eyes, and
She smiled
You know, you're a little frightening.
The Future laughed softly
And took her hand
So are you--I guess
We'll get along just fine.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
Trust
It's a strange dichotomy, this situation.
I'm sitting on my bedroom floor. I need to go to Walmart, as late as it is, but the rain is coming down in sheets and the line of the storm that is rapidly approaching...well, we've got about fifteen minutes. And I'm not going to leave Mandy and Al alone in that.
I'm afraid. Just a little. But...afraid.
A few moments ago, there was a loud, low peal of thunder that lasted for perhaps thirty seconds. And I sat up on my bed and tensed, praying that it would die away. At ten seconds, I was up and out of my bedroom; at fifteen I was listening out the door, praying that it would die. At twenty-five seconds I was tensed and ready to move, adrenaline trickling down my arms--and then it died. Just thunder. Nothing else.
Of all the things I fear on the natural disasters list, tornados are actually pretty low. But we're here, in this flimsy trailer, and I have no way to protect them if something happens. It...makes me angry.
So. Angry and afraid. And trusting. That's the dichotomy. That's why I'm afraid but not frantic--was never frantic, even when I thought I heard what I was dreading. Trust isn't so easy to come by this way--but it's there, I can feel it. I'm thankful for that. Just to trust.
I typed that last word...and the world went quiet. I just got up and went outside; the rain is still on my face. The storm is gentle now, and the thunder is dying away. I even went and checked the radar--the red coming from the west of us has disappeared. There's only scattered yellow.
I think that someday the trust will be so big that fear won't even have a place near it. I'd like that, very much.
I'm sitting on my bedroom floor. I need to go to Walmart, as late as it is, but the rain is coming down in sheets and the line of the storm that is rapidly approaching...well, we've got about fifteen minutes. And I'm not going to leave Mandy and Al alone in that.
I'm afraid. Just a little. But...afraid.
A few moments ago, there was a loud, low peal of thunder that lasted for perhaps thirty seconds. And I sat up on my bed and tensed, praying that it would die away. At ten seconds, I was up and out of my bedroom; at fifteen I was listening out the door, praying that it would die. At twenty-five seconds I was tensed and ready to move, adrenaline trickling down my arms--and then it died. Just thunder. Nothing else.
Of all the things I fear on the natural disasters list, tornados are actually pretty low. But we're here, in this flimsy trailer, and I have no way to protect them if something happens. It...makes me angry.
So. Angry and afraid. And trusting. That's the dichotomy. That's why I'm afraid but not frantic--was never frantic, even when I thought I heard what I was dreading. Trust isn't so easy to come by this way--but it's there, I can feel it. I'm thankful for that. Just to trust.
I typed that last word...and the world went quiet. I just got up and went outside; the rain is still on my face. The storm is gentle now, and the thunder is dying away. I even went and checked the radar--the red coming from the west of us has disappeared. There's only scattered yellow.
I think that someday the trust will be so big that fear won't even have a place near it. I'd like that, very much.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Skipping beats
The weekend is over, and I'm totally trashed.
No, you foolish people. Not like that. More like...I can't move. Literally. I hurt in every single way I can imagine. Except, of course, for emotionally. And spiritually. Or metaphysically. Or rhetorically Or, actually, in any other way besides physically. But I feel like red and silver and opal hell.
Of course, Saturday was glorious, no matter what the consequences may be on Sunday. We climbed for hours and hours and hours all day, down at Foster...lovely. Simply astounding. Outstanding. I love love love going up against a stretch of bare rock and winning.
What I did not love was reaching up for a tiny crimper (I think...my rock vernacular is lacking) and finding a lizard occupying it first. I screamed, the lizard screamed, it was a mess there for a minute. But I didn't fall. Neither did the lizard. I can't think it's a very luck lizard--part of its tail was already missing.
I also did not love discovering a baby copperhead a few feet away from my friend's feet while she's roped in, belaying. I should have killed it. Everyone else was against it, though, and I've got this thing about dealing death when the recipient is not actually trying to deal it first...so we stuffed it back in a crack and jammed a bunch of rocks in there so it wouldn't come out for a long, long time. In retrospect, I should've just smashed it. I have to admit, though, the thing was beautiful in a deadly, I'm-inherently-evil sort of way.
Saturday night we spent at Anisha's place (I'm most likely slaughtering her name), hanging around a campfire and swing dancing under ropes of white lights. It was so much fun! Even if I was so tired that I was tripping over my own feet by midnight.
What a great way to end a wicked awesome day...even if I did experience every possible presentation of the absolute futility of being attracted to someone when a) I'm leaving, b) they don't reciprocate, c) they are interested in someone else, and d) life just sucks that way because who woulda thunk I'd actually meet up with someone I even eyed with interest? Since that hasn't happened in, oh, what, a few years now? (Almost two--that counts as years. Gosh, I sound so bloody old. And repressed).
Oh. And we were supposed to head to this guys house for a very late meal...and a few people decided they were too tired, and the rest of us don't know him very well...so we showed up on his doorstep, but I called him because something didn't feel right--and we were actually on his parent's doorstep. So we ran away very fast and very quietly, and that was the end of that adventure. In my defense, we'd danced there before, and nobody ever told me it wasn't his house. Crap. So I ended the evening feeling like a fool.
*Hahaha* oh well, that happens.
No, you foolish people. Not like that. More like...I can't move. Literally. I hurt in every single way I can imagine. Except, of course, for emotionally. And spiritually. Or metaphysically. Or rhetorically Or, actually, in any other way besides physically. But I feel like red and silver and opal hell.
Of course, Saturday was glorious, no matter what the consequences may be on Sunday. We climbed for hours and hours and hours all day, down at Foster...lovely. Simply astounding. Outstanding. I love love love going up against a stretch of bare rock and winning.
What I did not love was reaching up for a tiny crimper (I think...my rock vernacular is lacking) and finding a lizard occupying it first. I screamed, the lizard screamed, it was a mess there for a minute. But I didn't fall. Neither did the lizard. I can't think it's a very luck lizard--part of its tail was already missing.
I also did not love discovering a baby copperhead a few feet away from my friend's feet while she's roped in, belaying. I should have killed it. Everyone else was against it, though, and I've got this thing about dealing death when the recipient is not actually trying to deal it first...so we stuffed it back in a crack and jammed a bunch of rocks in there so it wouldn't come out for a long, long time. In retrospect, I should've just smashed it. I have to admit, though, the thing was beautiful in a deadly, I'm-inherently-evil sort of way.
Saturday night we spent at Anisha's place (I'm most likely slaughtering her name), hanging around a campfire and swing dancing under ropes of white lights. It was so much fun! Even if I was so tired that I was tripping over my own feet by midnight.
What a great way to end a wicked awesome day...even if I did experience every possible presentation of the absolute futility of being attracted to someone when a) I'm leaving, b) they don't reciprocate, c) they are interested in someone else, and d) life just sucks that way because who woulda thunk I'd actually meet up with someone I even eyed with interest? Since that hasn't happened in, oh, what, a few years now? (Almost two--that counts as years. Gosh, I sound so bloody old. And repressed).
Oh. And we were supposed to head to this guys house for a very late meal...and a few people decided they were too tired, and the rest of us don't know him very well...so we showed up on his doorstep, but I called him because something didn't feel right--and we were actually on his parent's doorstep. So we ran away very fast and very quietly, and that was the end of that adventure. In my defense, we'd danced there before, and nobody ever told me it wasn't his house. Crap. So I ended the evening feeling like a fool.
*Hahaha* oh well, that happens.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Awkward Allegory
He had an unfortunate affinity for metal.
Oh, it wasn't as if he wanted it--he'd just been born that way. Metallic things were attracted to him. It was as if there were a thousand tiny magnets beckoning under his skin, a homing beacon for lost bits of metal. He never asked for it--it just happened. But he thought the pieces were unique and beautiful in their own way. and for the longest time, he didn't realize how different he was.
As he got older, he began to notice that there weren't very many people who walked around with shiny bits and pieces hanging from their arms. At first, he felt a little special, and proud that he was different from all but a few other individuals. People complimented him on his ability to carry around so many pieces of metal. The problem was that, while they all said how good he was to do so, nobody ever offered to take some of it off and carry it themselves. They always looked relieved as they walked away, leaving him alone with his metal.
And he got tired of carrying the full weight of the metal pieces. They were heavy, and they took time and effort to work around. At the end of especially long and crowded days, he was exhausted by dragging them after him. However, when he tried to get rid of them, to separate them from himself and become his own person, it was a painful process, and they invariably found their way back.
So he walked around with all of these shiny metal pieces hugging his skin. Now, when people would look at them and say, "How nice!", he just gritted his teeth and wished with all of his heart that things were different.
Oh, it wasn't as if he wanted it--he'd just been born that way. Metallic things were attracted to him. It was as if there were a thousand tiny magnets beckoning under his skin, a homing beacon for lost bits of metal. He never asked for it--it just happened. But he thought the pieces were unique and beautiful in their own way. and for the longest time, he didn't realize how different he was.
As he got older, he began to notice that there weren't very many people who walked around with shiny bits and pieces hanging from their arms. At first, he felt a little special, and proud that he was different from all but a few other individuals. People complimented him on his ability to carry around so many pieces of metal. The problem was that, while they all said how good he was to do so, nobody ever offered to take some of it off and carry it themselves. They always looked relieved as they walked away, leaving him alone with his metal.
And he got tired of carrying the full weight of the metal pieces. They were heavy, and they took time and effort to work around. At the end of especially long and crowded days, he was exhausted by dragging them after him. However, when he tried to get rid of them, to separate them from himself and become his own person, it was a painful process, and they invariably found their way back.
So he walked around with all of these shiny metal pieces hugging his skin. Now, when people would look at them and say, "How nice!", he just gritted his teeth and wished with all of his heart that things were different.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Dear John
Dear John,
I'm leaving. By the time you get this, I'll already be gone.
I feel terrible doing this to you. I feel even worse because I'm breaking a promise I made to you in good faith--several, in fact. I wish it didn't have to be this way, so suddenly and unexpected, but there's really no choice. It just does.
By this point, you've probably got my engagement ring back in your pocket, and my finger is empty. That was the first promise I broke--I can't marry you. I know I said--but I can't. You understand, don't you? I hope so, so very badly that you do. You were so sweet and strong the night you asked me--I can still almost see your face, John. Maybe someday, mine might fade from your memory. I can't lie to you, I hate that thought. I want you to remember me like that, when we were happy and in love--not like this. Not like me leaving you.
And I am leaving. I can't stay but another moment or two--then I have to go. I know you; at this point you're probably frantic and panicked and dearest, I am so sorry. I know you would follow me if you could, but--I don't want you to. I want you to stay, and live your life, and just be happy. You might wonder how I can possibly say that when I'm saying goodbye like this; but you can. I pray you'll find somebody else, someday, who loves you as much as I do. And John, I love you more than life and death. I always have, from the first autumn I saw you. It's just not enough to keep me here. I wish it was.
Do you remember the hammock under the double oak? That's where we made that last promise--the last one I'm breaking today, very soon now, I think. I told you I'd always be here, as long as you were too. Don't hate me for lying to you, dearest. I didn't know this would happen. And I fought so hard against it; but in the end, I don't think I'm strong enough to stay. And I can't ask you to forgive me for not holding to my end of our pact. I can't ask you to forgive me for leaving you forever. I can't ask you to forgive me for dying like this.
My moment is over, John. I love you. Remember me.
--Kirra
I'm leaving. By the time you get this, I'll already be gone.
I feel terrible doing this to you. I feel even worse because I'm breaking a promise I made to you in good faith--several, in fact. I wish it didn't have to be this way, so suddenly and unexpected, but there's really no choice. It just does.
By this point, you've probably got my engagement ring back in your pocket, and my finger is empty. That was the first promise I broke--I can't marry you. I know I said--but I can't. You understand, don't you? I hope so, so very badly that you do. You were so sweet and strong the night you asked me--I can still almost see your face, John. Maybe someday, mine might fade from your memory. I can't lie to you, I hate that thought. I want you to remember me like that, when we were happy and in love--not like this. Not like me leaving you.
And I am leaving. I can't stay but another moment or two--then I have to go. I know you; at this point you're probably frantic and panicked and dearest, I am so sorry. I know you would follow me if you could, but--I don't want you to. I want you to stay, and live your life, and just be happy. You might wonder how I can possibly say that when I'm saying goodbye like this; but you can. I pray you'll find somebody else, someday, who loves you as much as I do. And John, I love you more than life and death. I always have, from the first autumn I saw you. It's just not enough to keep me here. I wish it was.
Do you remember the hammock under the double oak? That's where we made that last promise--the last one I'm breaking today, very soon now, I think. I told you I'd always be here, as long as you were too. Don't hate me for lying to you, dearest. I didn't know this would happen. And I fought so hard against it; but in the end, I don't think I'm strong enough to stay. And I can't ask you to forgive me for not holding to my end of our pact. I can't ask you to forgive me for leaving you forever. I can't ask you to forgive me for dying like this.
My moment is over, John. I love you. Remember me.
--Kirra
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Both
She stifled a curse and jerked backwards for a moment, balancing on the edge of the drop, eyes locked on the ledge to her left. The snake also flinched, but he didn't loosen his coils on the warm rock as he eyed her from several feet away.
She recovered and scowled at him, irritated that he had frightened her and wishing he would slither away and bother someone else. He glared back, affronted that she had disturbed his sunbathing and hoping she would move on quickly. Neither one was willing to go.
After a few moments, he cautiously relaxed his muscular body, deciding that the girl wasn't a problem yet. She gingerly let the tension flow from her shoulders, allowing that the snake wasn't going to attack her at the moment.
She wanted to sit on the rock above the ledge he was curled on. He wanted to stay in the sun and soak up the last rays of the day. After a long hesitation, she continued to climb and settled on the rock above him. He continued to hug the stone and watched her out of the corner of his eye. Without a word, they agreed to see what would happen.
They stayed like that for a long time, not moving, not speaking, simply watching the day end. He felt like the stone was warmer because she was on it. She felt like the evening was less empty with him below her.
They both liked knowing the other was there.
She recovered and scowled at him, irritated that he had frightened her and wishing he would slither away and bother someone else. He glared back, affronted that she had disturbed his sunbathing and hoping she would move on quickly. Neither one was willing to go.
After a few moments, he cautiously relaxed his muscular body, deciding that the girl wasn't a problem yet. She gingerly let the tension flow from her shoulders, allowing that the snake wasn't going to attack her at the moment.
She wanted to sit on the rock above the ledge he was curled on. He wanted to stay in the sun and soak up the last rays of the day. After a long hesitation, she continued to climb and settled on the rock above him. He continued to hug the stone and watched her out of the corner of his eye. Without a word, they agreed to see what would happen.
They stayed like that for a long time, not moving, not speaking, simply watching the day end. He felt like the stone was warmer because she was on it. She felt like the evening was less empty with him below her.
They both liked knowing the other was there.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Grace Note
I almost died yesterday. Again. Sheesh.
(I'm going to tell this story, JG, and you absolutely shouldn't read it again because you were there and I know you're still freaking out, and I'm going to tell what happened, and you're not going to like it...)
We went swing dancing at Ryan's house this past evening. Ryan is a new acquaintance who is rapidly becoming a new friend, and he has an amazing big living room with a hardwood floor, and his mother is lovely. But that's besides the point.
The point is that we were practicing arial swing, which involves a lot of flips. I'm all for that--I love dancing passionately, and I would kill to be able to pull these wild moves with as much grace as I've seen other people do.
Anyhow, there was something Reed and I were going to try. It involves the girl standing in front of the guy, braced on his hands. She bounces high on her toes and does a back roll over his shoulder, landing on her feet behind him while still keeping hold of his hands. Foolproof, right? I've even done it before, in gymnastics. But I was a little worried, so I called over two of my friends (who shall remain nameless) to spot me.
This is where I messed up, and I take full responsibility for this. I'm so used to spotting and safety stuff that I forgot to specify how--and where--and when they were supposed to do so. I just gave vague directions on where they should stand, so I wouldn't kick them, and got ready to rock. I took another practice bounce, and then jumped up, rolled back, and tucked.
I'm still not sure what actually happened. I think that the friend who was behind me was confused about what I was doing and where I was going. I do know that I rolled over the back of Reed's shoulder, parallel to the floor with my legs tucked to my chest, and was about to straighten them and land. It was going beautifully. Then, my friend grabbed my feet.
My backward roll reversed, and I crashed down into the floor on my face, still mostly tucked. I should have kept a hold on Reed's hands, but I let go to try and catch myself. I wasn't quick enough.
I did turn my head. I was fast enough for that. So, instead of a broken nose, the side of my face took most of the impact. That, a little on my hands, and some on my right knee. My leg didn't bruise, though, and since I bruise when someone sneezes on me, that should tell you how much force my neck took. (As I sit here, I'm trying to work it out--sore as heck.)
I did cry. I tried not to, but I did. Just for a moment, laying there on my back with the three of them looking down at me, and freaking out in my head because I had an awful flashback to last spring break, after the snowmobile had crashed and I was sprawled on the ice, completely alone in the dark, and I thought I had died. I thought my back was broken and I was so afraid. And that's what I remembered. Also, it didn't help that I could feel grit between my teeth. Just a tiny chip out, but that scared me too. It took me a while to calm down. But I did.
So, they got me ice, and after a few minutes I was ok. I didn't really think about what had happened. Besides, it was too lovely of a night not to dance more. Nearly becoming a quad besides the point, it was one of the most fun Saturday nights I've had.
That was yesterday--since then, I've had headaches pretty badly, on and off, come and go. There's a knot on the side of my head and the faintest bruising on one cheekbone, but not enough to notice. My toes are slightly blistered from the dancing. There are good things, too; I found somebody whose rhythm perfectly, perfectly matches my own. I danced with another person who I thought hated me, and found out that he's really pretty fun when he wants to be--we might even end this year on a note of grace. I taught another boy how to--as he put it--stop dancing like a robot, and I saw a beautiful full moon on a perfect night.
I'm still trying not to consider my own mortality. I greatly dislike reminders that I possess such a thing. That, and my head really hurts, so I've been pretty grumpy all day. If any of you have crossed my path and I snapped, I'm sorry.
But, truly, thank God.
(I'm going to tell this story, JG, and you absolutely shouldn't read it again because you were there and I know you're still freaking out, and I'm going to tell what happened, and you're not going to like it...)
We went swing dancing at Ryan's house this past evening. Ryan is a new acquaintance who is rapidly becoming a new friend, and he has an amazing big living room with a hardwood floor, and his mother is lovely. But that's besides the point.
The point is that we were practicing arial swing, which involves a lot of flips. I'm all for that--I love dancing passionately, and I would kill to be able to pull these wild moves with as much grace as I've seen other people do.
Anyhow, there was something Reed and I were going to try. It involves the girl standing in front of the guy, braced on his hands. She bounces high on her toes and does a back roll over his shoulder, landing on her feet behind him while still keeping hold of his hands. Foolproof, right? I've even done it before, in gymnastics. But I was a little worried, so I called over two of my friends (who shall remain nameless) to spot me.
This is where I messed up, and I take full responsibility for this. I'm so used to spotting and safety stuff that I forgot to specify how--and where--and when they were supposed to do so. I just gave vague directions on where they should stand, so I wouldn't kick them, and got ready to rock. I took another practice bounce, and then jumped up, rolled back, and tucked.
I'm still not sure what actually happened. I think that the friend who was behind me was confused about what I was doing and where I was going. I do know that I rolled over the back of Reed's shoulder, parallel to the floor with my legs tucked to my chest, and was about to straighten them and land. It was going beautifully. Then, my friend grabbed my feet.
My backward roll reversed, and I crashed down into the floor on my face, still mostly tucked. I should have kept a hold on Reed's hands, but I let go to try and catch myself. I wasn't quick enough.
I did turn my head. I was fast enough for that. So, instead of a broken nose, the side of my face took most of the impact. That, a little on my hands, and some on my right knee. My leg didn't bruise, though, and since I bruise when someone sneezes on me, that should tell you how much force my neck took. (As I sit here, I'm trying to work it out--sore as heck.)
I did cry. I tried not to, but I did. Just for a moment, laying there on my back with the three of them looking down at me, and freaking out in my head because I had an awful flashback to last spring break, after the snowmobile had crashed and I was sprawled on the ice, completely alone in the dark, and I thought I had died. I thought my back was broken and I was so afraid. And that's what I remembered. Also, it didn't help that I could feel grit between my teeth. Just a tiny chip out, but that scared me too. It took me a while to calm down. But I did.
So, they got me ice, and after a few minutes I was ok. I didn't really think about what had happened. Besides, it was too lovely of a night not to dance more. Nearly becoming a quad besides the point, it was one of the most fun Saturday nights I've had.
That was yesterday--since then, I've had headaches pretty badly, on and off, come and go. There's a knot on the side of my head and the faintest bruising on one cheekbone, but not enough to notice. My toes are slightly blistered from the dancing. There are good things, too; I found somebody whose rhythm perfectly, perfectly matches my own. I danced with another person who I thought hated me, and found out that he's really pretty fun when he wants to be--we might even end this year on a note of grace. I taught another boy how to--as he put it--stop dancing like a robot, and I saw a beautiful full moon on a perfect night.
I'm still trying not to consider my own mortality. I greatly dislike reminders that I possess such a thing. That, and my head really hurts, so I've been pretty grumpy all day. If any of you have crossed my path and I snapped, I'm sorry.
But, truly, thank God.
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