The Queen Of Shibboleths
2001-02-12 - 20:27:33
I woke up this morning and I couldn�t feel my right arm. I had been sleeping on it all night (my arm is a little more comfortable than my pillow), and the blood loss had finally gotten to it. This happens occasionally, but this morning I couldn�t move it from the shoulder down. No oxygen = no ADP = no ATP = no movement. And then I remembered that it was Sunday, and I�d slept in more than my normal 4 hours. So I wake up, and slightly startled by this fact, I flail my shoulder. My arm limply flopped and crashed into the wall, my alarm clock, and desk, but I didn�t feel a thing, because it was so numb. That�s about how my head feels right now, injured but numb.
Yesterday, I made a little duct tape leash and attached it to a book. I proceeded to walk around the lounge, dragging my book behind me and proclaiming that the books didn�t get enough exercise on the shelf. �Excuse me, pardon me...you know, TV is evil. You should expand your mind with one of these books over there...with just a chapter a day, you can help these poor books get the help they need. The books are starving from malreadingment, and need your help...put down the remote! Hooray for books!�
Step-sister is came up yesterday as a perspective to the school, this place I call home. I�m rewriting a section of my chemistry text. I�m getting into a young student writers club. In my spare time today I helped Dr. H. deal with the psychological aspects of my peers in one of her other classes. And on Friday I have the opportunity to abduct and teach the popcult class. I will have something of mine formally published before I get to college. And I�ve decided that I like distracting myself form the real things in life, by burring myself in things that are meaningful to other people. Yay.
When I flex my biceps now, it makes the skin on my arm hurt from stretch-ed-ness. Maybe in another month I�ll break through it. Toomanypushups, theynevershouldagivenmethosedumbells.
I can count the number of times I�ve been genuinely angry on the fingers of one hand. When I was really young and still living with Mum, I got mad. I don�t remember why, but I thew some things; something large and porcelain. Threatened Sarah with a utility knife. Kicked a hole in the kitchen wall. And I don�t remember what happened after that...the memory just stops. I think I curled into a corner of my room for a while. What�s really strange is that I don�t remember being angry at Jeff, and he used to be the most abusive person I�d ever known (now he�s a born-again something-or-other). But anyways, I just wanted to say that I�m not mad now. I�ve been really pissy to just about everyone lately, and I�m sorry. There�s some other things I�m dealing with besides the obvious, and...yea.
*twitch*
