It is fantastic to see Marceline and Mr. Shadows enjoying the common interests.
Morning sun and falling leaves make great entertainment.
Tag: fall
Working it out
The piece of wood fell out of my hand today. That’s a big victory. And on my calf I can feel the sliver of wood working its way out of my skin. Its really weird to reach back on my calf and feel a spike sticking out of there.
Sam is currently eating a boiled egg sandwich of some sort next to me. Boiled eggs freak me out. They are just bizarre and smell awful. Extremely awful. Deviled eggs are even worse. Blerg.
Time for a quick story thanks to Rory’s Story Cubes:
In land just across the see was a sad man. He was sad for many reasons. Sad that he lived by a giant pyramid – it blocked out the sun. Sad that apple tree only produced Granny Smith Apples in his front yard – he like Golden Delicious. Sad that his house only had one fireplace – it was on the other end from his bedroom. The sad man had many things that contributed to his sadness.
One day he saw something didn’t make him said. A child. The child herself wasn’t all that unsaddening, it was her shadow that surprised the man. Her shadow was in the shape of a cat. How this happened the man didn’t know. Its not like the child was mishapen or anything. No, she was normal shape that’s for sure. But her shadow, it was definitely a cat shadow.
The sad man invited the child to have a picnic with him. He brought a basket full of peanut butter sandwiches to the park and they sat on a blanket near the old stone bridge. He told her of his old career as an actor and how it made him feel – sad. He also told her about how he used to be a judge in a small claims court – this also made him sad.
He told her how everything made him sad, except her shadow. He confided this in the girl.
She in turn told him a secret. The secret about her shadow, the L-shaped house she lived in and why she had no name.
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Not a bad start to a story, I feel like Rory’s Story Cubes is good for writing the beginnings of stories, which is probably where my strengths lie anyways.
My Nose
I’ve been thinking about my nose today. Weird I know, who thinks about their nose, but mine has been sore lately. Blowing it too much. My biggest issue with my nose is that I broke it when I was younger.
Now I’m not sure if I really broke it or not, I just know it bled for an inordinate amount of time. Hours. Or what seemed like hours. It was the summer after 8th grade and I was at a wrestling camp. I was wrestling someone much heavier than me and he kneed me in the nose, cause it to bleed profusely right away.
I don’t remember everything that was being said at me afterward, but the lady looking at me definitely said “I’m not positive its broken. I’m not a real doctor or nurse. I’m going to school here to be a nurse.” The camp was held on a college campus. I held a towel to it for a few hours an seemed ok later.
However, ever since then my nose has been crooked. It isn’t visible crocked, but looked at from underneath you can see that it is off center. The nasal septum definitely tilts to the right. The problem lies that when I blow my nose a lot it causes the tissue around the septum crack against the septum. It also cracks in the inner corners of my nose making it painful to blow my nose.
I once got told by a doctor that he could fix my nose, but he would have to break it in order to do that. Which in my mind seems a little extreme. They told me the same think about “special pinkie.”
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In other news I’ve spent today shocked at how bruised up my calf is from yesterday’s fall out of the tree. It really wasn’t that big of a fall…. but man did it do some damage. I’ve a solid purple bruise on my calf that has only gotten bigger as the day went on.
It really is impressive. Doesn’t worry me at all (although Sam is a little worried). I find it more amusing than anything else.
I’ve always figured I should “trust my body” to take care of itself. It must come from my parents. My mom always told me that she (and I assume my father) figured that ‘I’d be fine.’ Whatever the situation going on, they always figured I’d be fine. I’ve got a nice story about my mother letting me walk home late at night in the rain rather than pick me up because “I’d be fine.” I’m saving it for her funeral.
Anyways, I think that my body will be strong and take of itself, like I said. I trust it to heal itself, and for even relatively major injuries to get better fast. The doctors thought my appendix would kill me, I survived (take that gangrene). The doctors didn’t think I’d get full rotation of movement in my collarbone, I did (and now I’m titanium enhanced!!). So when I am sore, bruised, or swollen I trust my body to get me through it.
Doesn’t make the smartest person out there when it comes to my body, but I like to think I will always come away with a great story to tell.
Of course I am typing this as I ice my leg with two cans of frozen orange juice.
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Hmmm. 605 words so far. Although I’m not sure if the word count includes the code to insert the picture or not. I’m pretty sure it does, but I’ll count that. At least today I’ll count it. Tomorrow, maybe not.
But regardless it was good to sit down and type something out about the day. The more I do this I suppose the easier it will be. The tough part seems to be that I have lots of idea of what to write, but I don’t always have time to write stuff down when I think of it.
I need to maybe keep a not pad near me to jot my ideas down. Maybe I’ll use my phone to record the ideas and revisit them later when I sit down to type. And I haven’t figured out whether multiple entries in a day count towards the 750 words or if I need one 750 word entry a day and make the rest just extra.
We’ll see tomorrow morning when I sit down to type something.
(780 words. Bam)