I've always known that most guys don't treat most girls with respect. I generally, however, surround myself with people who have at least some respect for members of the opposite gender. The usual reaction when my friends and I see an attractive woman walk by, is a deliberate eye contact with each other, wherein we both slightly nod and recognize the beauty in front of us. That is basically all that I had experienced--until now. You know how you always hear about guys "hollerin'" at girls? Well I thought it was only something from movies. It isn't. I was pretty disgusted.
When I was in Long Beach for a rugby game the other week, we had arrived early to the game, and so the whole team was just milling about aimlessly. There were some bleachers that we were set up on, and behind the bleachers was a fence. After a short while, many of the guys realized that there was a track on the other side of this fence, and lo and behold there were females running about on it, sprinting, jogging, and doing hurtles. Within minutes there were probably fifteen guys standing on the bleachers, resting their arms on the fence, yelling at the women who were doing said activities.
"Sup Mah."
"Damn, guuuuurl, Check dose titties!"
"Chu been working dat ass gurl!?!"
"I seen chu lookin' at me gurl!"
Some of the girls looked extremely uncomfortable; this is only the tip of the iceberg of the things that were said. I don't even recall some of the other things, but these were definitely some of the more mild ones. Honestly, I was taken aback. Sure, everyone knows that this is what is going on inside nearly every guy's head for 90% of his life, but most of us learn to control it.
While some of the girls looked uncomfortable, the worst part is that I honestly couldn't tell if the other ones were annoyed, disturbed, or enjoying it. Either they were really good actors at pretending that they didn't care what all my team mates were yelling at them, or it happens to them so much that they have become desensitized by it.
I could tell that their coach didn't appreciate what was going on, but I could also tell that even he didn't want to tell fifteen burly dudes to stop harassing his track team. He gave us a few looks of annoyance, then just pretended that we didn't exist.
Now I can't say that I have ever experienced sexual harassment (Maybe emotional...) but I feel like it is something that I wouldn't thoroughly enjoy. I guess I just thought that some things would be common knowledge such as what is appropriate to say to another person, and what isn't; I guess it is just something that some people have to learn. The worst part about this is that society seems to have become desensitized to manners like this--I was embarrassed for the women who were running track, and also on behalf of my teamates who clearly don't share the same perspective on people as I do.
Some people deserve a little more respect than they recieve.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Stream of Consciousness 2
My mind thinks wierd. It just goes all over the place up and down and around and over and to the side and I hear one thing and I can think about it for a little while and all of the sudden i've thought about three different things and I ended up somewhere super wierd. It's kind of like the experiement they have "6th degree" wherein supposedly you know everyone in the world through a minimum of 6 people except instead of me knowing people my ideas think about other ideas and I can connect nearly anything really rapidly its really wierd really. I before E except after C. See Sea. Saw. Seesaw. "I see!" said the blind carpenter as he picked up his hammer and saw. It's really cold in my room even though I have the window closed and a sweatshirt on and I'm wearing all my pajama attire that isn't very manly but its ok cause I would be way super colder if I wasn't wearing them. Actually I don't even care if people see me cause I'm comfortable. Thats my prerogative. I learned how to spell that today cause I thought I knew how to spell it for my whole life but I didn't. Well relatively comfortable cause it is kind of cold still which is how I got on this whole sentence topic in the first place. Like a race. You can get first place in a race. Wow, I'm super bored cause I just reread everything that I just wrote and wow I just said just twice, well actually now that I add them up, four times in the same sentence. That's just incredible! I just realized that (Wow, just, just keeps showing up everywhere now that I'm thinking about it) yea ok I totally forgot what I was going to type because I went off on that little tangent (Tangerine), but hopefully it will come back soon because I feel like it was important. Oh yea I remember now, it had to do with the way that I type and if some people don't understand my sarcasm because I'm sarcastic online and I use smilies like :) and :( and ;) and :D and :P and >.< and ## and oh man there are tons more that I could go on and do but most people probably don't understand them but anyway people probably think i'm really rude but I'm just trying to be funny and when I use a smily face I'm trying to convey the sarcastic tone because there isnt a voice tone (at the tone the time will be xxxxxxxxxxx beeeeeep) but anyway I wonder what makes some people laugh at some things and some people think that the things that those people were laughing at is the stupidest thing in the world. Sometimes my friends want to show me something and they are super excited about it and they have been talking about it for days and building up my expectations of it and they keep laughing and then they finally coerce me to come see whatever it was they were talking about and making inside jokes about and then it was really dumb. The end. I wonder if I ever do that to people too cause I think my sense of humor is really wierd (I before E except after C) compared to lots of people. I think sometimes I think really simple things are super funny and lots of people think they are stupid and then sometimes I look really deep into a situation or sentence or joke and see something really funny and ironic that nobody else sees (candy) and they think I'm really crazy like daisies wow phil just knocked on the door and ruined my train of thought cause he forgot his waterbottle inside my room but yea where was I, humor? oh yea. And thats kind of where I got the name for this blog because lots of people just glance over life in general and don't see the little things that can actually turn out to be pretty funny or depressing or sad or important and they miss out on what life is actually about. Wow now I'm all in this pensive mood and this stream of consiousness thingy isn't working out anymore cause I can't type as fast as I can think even though I can type super fast pretty accurately. Pretty pretty. Pretty fast. Pretty lady. Pretty bird. "You sold my dead bird to a blind kid!?!" Oh so epic. Except only things like oceans are epic because they are so big. And really big stories are epic too. Epic epics that span epochs. Ok I'm done. Time to go think about my life.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Diversions
We all have problems in life. Things we can't handle, or don't want to handle at the moment. At first we ignore them, but the more we encounter them and think about them, the more they continue to eat away at us. School, work, bullies, taxes, love--life in general adds up. We end up getting overwhelmed by all of them, and we start doing things to forget.
I'm not talking about doing things to take a break from the monotony of life-- hobbies and enjoyment aren't bad things at all--I'm talking about the habits that we fall into as a way to escape from the things that we can't control. In a sense we are running away from them, just hoping that they won't come back.
They always do.
These habits look different for different people. For the vast majority of my peers, it is drinking. For others, it can be sports or video games, or music, or drugs, or eating, or even being social. For me? I would say that the two biggest ones that I realize that I do are video games and sleeping. When I have papers due that I don't want to think about, errands to run, or people that I don't want to confront, I find myself sitting down and trying to get lost in a virtual world. I just run away from my problems and pretend to be someone else. Of course, even I get tired of video games after a while (As I get older, the amount of time I spend playing them has been greatly dwindling), but I still try to escape through sleep. I feel the weight of the unfinished pressing down on me, and I become weary. I sleep until there is no reason to sleep anymore, and then just lay down until I become tired agian. The more I sleep, the more tired I become, and the cycle continues.
It is a weakness that I wish I didn't have. Maybe it's time to stop wishing.
Nobody can run away forever; these things do need to be handled.
I'm not talking about doing things to take a break from the monotony of life-- hobbies and enjoyment aren't bad things at all--I'm talking about the habits that we fall into as a way to escape from the things that we can't control. In a sense we are running away from them, just hoping that they won't come back.
They always do.
These habits look different for different people. For the vast majority of my peers, it is drinking. For others, it can be sports or video games, or music, or drugs, or eating, or even being social. For me? I would say that the two biggest ones that I realize that I do are video games and sleeping. When I have papers due that I don't want to think about, errands to run, or people that I don't want to confront, I find myself sitting down and trying to get lost in a virtual world. I just run away from my problems and pretend to be someone else. Of course, even I get tired of video games after a while (As I get older, the amount of time I spend playing them has been greatly dwindling), but I still try to escape through sleep. I feel the weight of the unfinished pressing down on me, and I become weary. I sleep until there is no reason to sleep anymore, and then just lay down until I become tired agian. The more I sleep, the more tired I become, and the cycle continues.
It is a weakness that I wish I didn't have. Maybe it's time to stop wishing.
Nobody can run away forever; these things do need to be handled.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Junkie
I have never been high. I have never done drugs. I don't think that I ever will. About the most powerful thing I have ever been on was Vicodin, right after I got my wisdom teeth out. Apparently, it wasn't a very big dose either because I still remember that being the most intense pain that I have ever felt in my life. It could have been a placebo experiment for all that I know. I realized, however, after yesterday, that I am a junkie.
I get a slight buzz from bombing a hill on my skateboard, going way faster than I should because I have no control. You can feel the wind rushing past you and you can feel every little crack in the sidewalk as you roll over them at extreme speeds. It still got old after a while. I have never been bunjee jumping, that is on my bucket list, but I have been skydiving. It was pretty intense, to know that you were falling at 120 MPH towards the ground and certain death if your parachute failed, but it still wasn't enough. I love free climbing, the beat that your heart skips when the rock you were putting most of your weight on starts to crumble a little bit and you look over your shoulder to the sheer drop below. Maybe not instant death, but definitely a life-changing maiming, and a slow death afterwards if you aren't rushed to a hospital by a passerby. In hindsight, it is nothing.
Yesterday, I felt the biggest adrenaline rush that I have ever felt. I will be chasing it forever.
It was a warm, sunny day in Fullerton, California. A slight breeze, barely noticeable. Perfect weather. I was on a grass field wearing shorts, and a jersey, cleats, and a mouthguard. No pads, no protection. Me, the field and the twenty nine other men dressed the same. Rugby. It is still so vivid. I don't think I will ever forget. As I stood on the field, slightly crouched at the knees, spring-loaded, I could feel the uneven dirt under my feet. My fists were clenched and shaking.
Fight or flight?
Fight.
I could feel the hair on the back of my neck stand on end as I bit down on my mouthguard. I could taste the testosterone in the air. My breaths became deep and deliberate. I could FEEL my heartbeat. Hear it. Everything else drowned out.
Boom-Boom
Boom-Boom
Boom-Boom
Every muscle in my body was clenched. I was shaking; not fear, exhileration. Poised. From my neck to my toes. I heard my breath groan slowly out of my clenched throat, almost a growl. My foot twitched.
Go
There is nothing like running full speed at someone who is also running full speed at you, knowing that when you collide, because you will, it isn't going to feel nice. But you don't feel it. You get up and hit them again. And get knocked down again. And then run. And get knocked down again, and piled on. And run again, and you hit again. And you don't feel anything. No pain. Just the rush of blood through your veins. A battlefield. There is no other way to describe it. It has to be experienced.
I am alive. Life is my drug.
I get a slight buzz from bombing a hill on my skateboard, going way faster than I should because I have no control. You can feel the wind rushing past you and you can feel every little crack in the sidewalk as you roll over them at extreme speeds. It still got old after a while. I have never been bunjee jumping, that is on my bucket list, but I have been skydiving. It was pretty intense, to know that you were falling at 120 MPH towards the ground and certain death if your parachute failed, but it still wasn't enough. I love free climbing, the beat that your heart skips when the rock you were putting most of your weight on starts to crumble a little bit and you look over your shoulder to the sheer drop below. Maybe not instant death, but definitely a life-changing maiming, and a slow death afterwards if you aren't rushed to a hospital by a passerby. In hindsight, it is nothing.
Yesterday, I felt the biggest adrenaline rush that I have ever felt. I will be chasing it forever.
It was a warm, sunny day in Fullerton, California. A slight breeze, barely noticeable. Perfect weather. I was on a grass field wearing shorts, and a jersey, cleats, and a mouthguard. No pads, no protection. Me, the field and the twenty nine other men dressed the same. Rugby. It is still so vivid. I don't think I will ever forget. As I stood on the field, slightly crouched at the knees, spring-loaded, I could feel the uneven dirt under my feet. My fists were clenched and shaking.
Fight or flight?
Fight.
I could feel the hair on the back of my neck stand on end as I bit down on my mouthguard. I could taste the testosterone in the air. My breaths became deep and deliberate. I could FEEL my heartbeat. Hear it. Everything else drowned out.
Boom-Boom
Boom-Boom
Boom-Boom
Every muscle in my body was clenched. I was shaking; not fear, exhileration. Poised. From my neck to my toes. I heard my breath groan slowly out of my clenched throat, almost a growl. My foot twitched.
Go
There is nothing like running full speed at someone who is also running full speed at you, knowing that when you collide, because you will, it isn't going to feel nice. But you don't feel it. You get up and hit them again. And get knocked down again. And then run. And get knocked down again, and piled on. And run again, and you hit again. And you don't feel anything. No pain. Just the rush of blood through your veins. A battlefield. There is no other way to describe it. It has to be experienced.
I am alive. Life is my drug.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
On The Bus
I never used to take the bus. Aside from one time in third or fourth grade when my babysitter was required to go somewhere with me and didn't have a car, and one time in high school when my mother forsook me at school and I needed a way home, the first time that I rode the bus was on my first day to college. It was scary. And awkward. Generally, the buses that I take are packed to the brim with college students. When I say packed to the brim, I don't merely mean that all the seats are full; I mean that all the seats are full as well as the isle way, and the door ways, and people are rubbing all over you and its really hot and smelly and you try not to make eye contact with anyone because it is so shameful. It is not always so, but this is generally the case. Aside from the horrible things I just mentioned, riding the bus can be a very interesting experience. There are all sorts of eccentric people doing crazy random things.
The first class of people that are generally run into on the bus are the music listeners. I'm not just talking about the people who are listening to their iPods so they don't have to deal with the environment around them. I am talking about the people who are always getting WAAAY too into their music and audibly singing, if not mouthing the words. These people are often breathing the lyrics under their breath so that everyone can see that they know the lyrics to the song that they are listening to. They play the guitar solos and the drum solos, even though it is very apparent they have no idea how to actually play the instrument they are pretending to play. Their eyes are closed and their heads are bobbing to the beat, and quite frankly, they look dumb. Now I will be the first to admit that when I listen to music by myself in my room with the door closed, I play the air instruments, I horribly attempt to sing the vocal parts as well as the bands do, and I dance all crazy...but I am by myself in my room, with the door closed, not on a crowded bus, bumping into people.
There was this one time, however, that I got onto the bus, and there were four people who literally had instruments with them and were all playing. They didn't know each other either. They just all happened to have all their instruments with them on the bus at the same time, and their natural instincts took over; it was quite amazing. Two guitars, a harmonica and a bongo might not exactly be the requirements for an amazing rock band--but their jam session sounded pretty awesome. They were all hippies too.
The next class of people are the gossipers. These people talk about who they had sex with last week, who they had sex with last night, who they are having sex with tonight, and who they hope to have sex with after they are in a committed marriage relationship; and no, it's not with their spouse. Then they talk about who their friends are having sex with, what times and where, and if they approve or disapprove. They also talk about all the drugs they have done and are planning on doing, and how much their life sucks because they have school so they can't get wasted every night.
BUMMER.
I don't even have this kind of information to share with anyone, but information that I do find a little bit personal, I still don't go spouting off in the midst of a crowded bus of strangers.
Next, we have the intense starers. These people have no qualms about looking at you and staring at you intently, even though it is considered socially unacceptable to do as much. They look at you and then when you see them looking at you, they keep looking. Then, when you pretend to look away so it doesn't get too awkward, you can totally tell from the corner of your eye that they are still looking at you. You check your face in the reflection of the window to see if there is any food on it, but there isn't really anything abnormal. "Maybe they aren't looking at me," you think to yourself, but after a nonchalant check behind you, you find that there is nothing behind you except the wall of the bus. Not even a window that they could, perhaps, be looking out of. And yes, they are still looking at you. Even as you exit the bus, you can feel their eyes burning holes in the back of your head. So awkward. Actually, I won a stare down with one of these people once and I felt really good about myself. Then I realized that I had turned into one of them and felt horrible.
Some of the worst people to sit next to on the bus are the baby carriers and the smelly bums. Even though these are two completely different types of people, I place them into the same category because they both take up lots of room and they both smell. For some reason, I am always cursed to sit next to a mother with a baby that has a full diaper when I am on the bus. I don't hate babies--they can be awesome, but why, mothers, do you not change your baby's diaper's? They will get rashes if you don't take care of it! In fact, I'm pretty sure this is one of the reasons that all the baby's that I have encountered on buses are always crying--because they have rashes. So they cry and are smelly and they scream and then they wail and its made worse by the fact that the baby is right next to your head, and you just want to change the baby's diaper yourself so all will be right in the world, but you know if you even look at that baby in the wrong way, the little mexican mom will start to hit you with her purse and then tell all her family and friends to beat you up when they see you. Plus they always have two bags and a stroller and groceries with them and they are falling all over you and it sucks. And that's only on your right side. On your left side you have the smelly bum who clearly hasn't showered in three months. I mean, sure, he probably went in the ocean once or twice to rinse off, but then he got sick cause it was so freakin' cold, and hasn't done it since; that is why he has that deep throaty cough that is surely contagious, and he has his backpack which has the smell of a dead animal emanating from it. Probably his lunch for tomorrow, and you just wish that he had better life circumstances. Then, he starts to talk to you. At least, you think he's talking to you, but then when you turn to look at him, he is staring down at his hands and talking to them. After a bit of eavesdropping, you find out that one is named Bob and one is named Ryan, and that they haven't been getting along lately. The bum then begins to punish them by hitting them together. He is moving around a ton and hitting them, and then he abruptly changes the topic to Vietnam and all the sudden you feel really bad for judging him.
The last type of person that you will encounter on the bus are the sleepers. Now I myself am a sleeper, but I'm not talking about my kind of sleeper. I'm normal. I put my hood on, lay my head against the window and nap for 15 minutes until I reach my stop, pull the chord, and exit the bus. I'm talking about the kind of sleepers who drool and snore, and whose heads are bobbing all over the place before they finally come to rest on your shoulder. You want to gently push it off, but are afraid to wake them into a fit of violence wherein you will be brutally murdered. You know they have missed their stop too because you have seen them get off the bus many a time, and it was definitely three stops ago. So you just let them sleep, and hope that they will awaken before you need to move their head when you need to get off the bus.
When I started to ride the bus, I thought it was going to be the end of me. It was a horrible experience that I hoped never to have to repeat. Now, after 4 years of bus riding, I have gotten used to everything. I just find it slightly annoying. As long as it doesn't wake me up, I don't care what happens.
The first class of people that are generally run into on the bus are the music listeners. I'm not just talking about the people who are listening to their iPods so they don't have to deal with the environment around them. I am talking about the people who are always getting WAAAY too into their music and audibly singing, if not mouthing the words. These people are often breathing the lyrics under their breath so that everyone can see that they know the lyrics to the song that they are listening to. They play the guitar solos and the drum solos, even though it is very apparent they have no idea how to actually play the instrument they are pretending to play. Their eyes are closed and their heads are bobbing to the beat, and quite frankly, they look dumb. Now I will be the first to admit that when I listen to music by myself in my room with the door closed, I play the air instruments, I horribly attempt to sing the vocal parts as well as the bands do, and I dance all crazy...but I am by myself in my room, with the door closed, not on a crowded bus, bumping into people.
There was this one time, however, that I got onto the bus, and there were four people who literally had instruments with them and were all playing. They didn't know each other either. They just all happened to have all their instruments with them on the bus at the same time, and their natural instincts took over; it was quite amazing. Two guitars, a harmonica and a bongo might not exactly be the requirements for an amazing rock band--but their jam session sounded pretty awesome. They were all hippies too.
The next class of people are the gossipers. These people talk about who they had sex with last week, who they had sex with last night, who they are having sex with tonight, and who they hope to have sex with after they are in a committed marriage relationship; and no, it's not with their spouse. Then they talk about who their friends are having sex with, what times and where, and if they approve or disapprove. They also talk about all the drugs they have done and are planning on doing, and how much their life sucks because they have school so they can't get wasted every night.
BUMMER.
I don't even have this kind of information to share with anyone, but information that I do find a little bit personal, I still don't go spouting off in the midst of a crowded bus of strangers.
Next, we have the intense starers. These people have no qualms about looking at you and staring at you intently, even though it is considered socially unacceptable to do as much. They look at you and then when you see them looking at you, they keep looking. Then, when you pretend to look away so it doesn't get too awkward, you can totally tell from the corner of your eye that they are still looking at you. You check your face in the reflection of the window to see if there is any food on it, but there isn't really anything abnormal. "Maybe they aren't looking at me," you think to yourself, but after a nonchalant check behind you, you find that there is nothing behind you except the wall of the bus. Not even a window that they could, perhaps, be looking out of. And yes, they are still looking at you. Even as you exit the bus, you can feel their eyes burning holes in the back of your head. So awkward. Actually, I won a stare down with one of these people once and I felt really good about myself. Then I realized that I had turned into one of them and felt horrible.
Some of the worst people to sit next to on the bus are the baby carriers and the smelly bums. Even though these are two completely different types of people, I place them into the same category because they both take up lots of room and they both smell. For some reason, I am always cursed to sit next to a mother with a baby that has a full diaper when I am on the bus. I don't hate babies--they can be awesome, but why, mothers, do you not change your baby's diaper's? They will get rashes if you don't take care of it! In fact, I'm pretty sure this is one of the reasons that all the baby's that I have encountered on buses are always crying--because they have rashes. So they cry and are smelly and they scream and then they wail and its made worse by the fact that the baby is right next to your head, and you just want to change the baby's diaper yourself so all will be right in the world, but you know if you even look at that baby in the wrong way, the little mexican mom will start to hit you with her purse and then tell all her family and friends to beat you up when they see you. Plus they always have two bags and a stroller and groceries with them and they are falling all over you and it sucks. And that's only on your right side. On your left side you have the smelly bum who clearly hasn't showered in three months. I mean, sure, he probably went in the ocean once or twice to rinse off, but then he got sick cause it was so freakin' cold, and hasn't done it since; that is why he has that deep throaty cough that is surely contagious, and he has his backpack which has the smell of a dead animal emanating from it. Probably his lunch for tomorrow, and you just wish that he had better life circumstances. Then, he starts to talk to you. At least, you think he's talking to you, but then when you turn to look at him, he is staring down at his hands and talking to them. After a bit of eavesdropping, you find out that one is named Bob and one is named Ryan, and that they haven't been getting along lately. The bum then begins to punish them by hitting them together. He is moving around a ton and hitting them, and then he abruptly changes the topic to Vietnam and all the sudden you feel really bad for judging him.
The last type of person that you will encounter on the bus are the sleepers. Now I myself am a sleeper, but I'm not talking about my kind of sleeper. I'm normal. I put my hood on, lay my head against the window and nap for 15 minutes until I reach my stop, pull the chord, and exit the bus. I'm talking about the kind of sleepers who drool and snore, and whose heads are bobbing all over the place before they finally come to rest on your shoulder. You want to gently push it off, but are afraid to wake them into a fit of violence wherein you will be brutally murdered. You know they have missed their stop too because you have seen them get off the bus many a time, and it was definitely three stops ago. So you just let them sleep, and hope that they will awaken before you need to move their head when you need to get off the bus.
When I started to ride the bus, I thought it was going to be the end of me. It was a horrible experience that I hoped never to have to repeat. Now, after 4 years of bus riding, I have gotten used to everything. I just find it slightly annoying. As long as it doesn't wake me up, I don't care what happens.
Monday, February 13, 2012
My Mother
My mother can be a wonderful person. When I was young, she was there for my scraped knees and my sunburns. She made me dinner, sewed my clothes, and drove me places. Most of all, she took care of me when I was sick. She would make me special soups and broths, rent movies for me and make fires for me to keep me warmer. I would be well on the road to recovery very quickly with a mother who was so self-sacrificial.
I found out this morning, to my great distress, that she was sick. I was romping around the house fairly early in the morning because I thought I was alone when I heard a feeble little voice calling out my name. Startled, I peered into her room to see a lump of pillows and blankets reposistion itself slightly. It was, I found out after some excellent investigative skills, my mother. I felt horrible because I knew without a doubt that it was I who had gotten my mother sick; after everything she had done for me. I quickly made her some hot water for tea and asked if there was anything else that needed to be done for her. She just told me to leave her alone so she could sleep. I guess I understand.
These days, I put bandaids on my own skinned knees (sometimes), I put on my own sunscreen (often a little too late), I make my own dinner (microaveable foods and cereals [ok, I like real cooking too]), sew my own clothes (or attempt to), and take care of myself when I'm sick (just sleep a ton). And when I can, I take care of my mother in any way possible. It's the least I can do.
I found out this morning, to my great distress, that she was sick. I was romping around the house fairly early in the morning because I thought I was alone when I heard a feeble little voice calling out my name. Startled, I peered into her room to see a lump of pillows and blankets reposistion itself slightly. It was, I found out after some excellent investigative skills, my mother. I felt horrible because I knew without a doubt that it was I who had gotten my mother sick; after everything she had done for me. I quickly made her some hot water for tea and asked if there was anything else that needed to be done for her. She just told me to leave her alone so she could sleep. I guess I understand.
These days, I put bandaids on my own skinned knees (sometimes), I put on my own sunscreen (often a little too late), I make my own dinner (microaveable foods and cereals [ok, I like real cooking too]), sew my own clothes (or attempt to), and take care of myself when I'm sick (just sleep a ton). And when I can, I take care of my mother in any way possible. It's the least I can do.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Getting Sick
Unless you are a super human, you know the feeling. You maybe miss out on a couple hours of sleep here and there, perhaps breathed in a little bit too much cold air, maybe you were kissing that sick person a little too intimately for a little bit too long, or maybe something is just overpowering your system. You wake up one morning with that feeling in the back of your throat. "NO!" You think to yourself, "I am NOT getting sick!"
So you ignore it.
By the end of the day you are definitely feeling worse and you think to yourself, "It's ok, I'll just get a good night's sleep tonight and have a nice warm shower and take good care of myself and everything will be ok." But it's not. You wake up a few times in the middle of the night cause you are all stuffy and your throat hurts and you go to the kitchen to take a bunch of Emergen-C even though you know its way too late for that stuff. Then, you go back to bed and think about how far you are going to get behind in school or work and whose going to yell at you when you tell them that you are sick and that you need to forgoe your responsibilities.
When I was young I liked it. I hated the fact that I was forced into the institution of elementary school, and I would even pretend to be sick sometimes. The funny thing is that sometimes I would pretend so hard that I was sick, that I would actually get sick. Yeah, I'm an awesome actor. The fake coughs would irritate my throat and get it red and make me cough more, and I knew ALL the tricks on how to make the thermometer read 99.8 degrees. (A full 1.2 degrees higher than the average body temperature of a healthy person.)When the final decision was made by my mother that I would be staying home that day, I would pout a little and tell her how dissapointed I was that I would be missing [insert some "fun" activity] at school that day and that I wished with all of my little heart that I could be there. I would then slowly walk over to the couch where I would pull the blanket over my tiny shivering body and pretend to sleep; I was really shaking because I was so excited that I didn't actually have to go to school that day.
As I have gotten older, I have realized that being sick, or even pretending to be sick isn't as great as it used to be. Back in elementary school, missing a few days here or there, or even a week at a time was no big deal. You would just show up with your weekly homework packet on friday and everything would be fine. When I reached Jr. High and Highschool, however, it got serious. Missing even a single day would put me so far behind that all my grades would drop. Work was even worse.
Having worked in a food service for two years, every work meeting they are always telling you time, and time again. "DO NOT COME TO WORK IF YOU ARE SICK!!!" They would say this multiple times and in multiple different ways to make sure that the got the point across. Now the rule for calling in sick was that you had to call in sick at least two hours ahead of time so that they could find a replacement, or else you would get written up. In the two years that I worked there, I think I called in sick maybe two, maybe three times. I would always call in 5 hours ahead of time, yet the reaction that I would get was still almost violent. They would be mad at me the next time that I came in to work, and even cut my hours sometimes. Towards the end of my employment there, I would just come in anyway if I was sick because I hated getting yelled at for calling in sick, even though they made such a big deal of not coming in when you were sick. Hypocrites.
As I have gotten older, it is no longer fun or feasible to pretend to be sick because I have responsibilities that still exist, even if I am lying in my bed for two days moaning and groaning. The world doesn't care. As far as really being sick, I dont like the feeling. I would rather be healthy and working than stuffy and have a headache and be throwing up and having a sore throat and playing video games.
Anyway, I have a sore throat so I'm going to go make myself some tea and take some Vitamins.
So you ignore it.
By the end of the day you are definitely feeling worse and you think to yourself, "It's ok, I'll just get a good night's sleep tonight and have a nice warm shower and take good care of myself and everything will be ok." But it's not. You wake up a few times in the middle of the night cause you are all stuffy and your throat hurts and you go to the kitchen to take a bunch of Emergen-C even though you know its way too late for that stuff. Then, you go back to bed and think about how far you are going to get behind in school or work and whose going to yell at you when you tell them that you are sick and that you need to forgoe your responsibilities.
When I was young I liked it. I hated the fact that I was forced into the institution of elementary school, and I would even pretend to be sick sometimes. The funny thing is that sometimes I would pretend so hard that I was sick, that I would actually get sick. Yeah, I'm an awesome actor. The fake coughs would irritate my throat and get it red and make me cough more, and I knew ALL the tricks on how to make the thermometer read 99.8 degrees. (A full 1.2 degrees higher than the average body temperature of a healthy person.)When the final decision was made by my mother that I would be staying home that day, I would pout a little and tell her how dissapointed I was that I would be missing [insert some "fun" activity] at school that day and that I wished with all of my little heart that I could be there. I would then slowly walk over to the couch where I would pull the blanket over my tiny shivering body and pretend to sleep; I was really shaking because I was so excited that I didn't actually have to go to school that day.
As I have gotten older, I have realized that being sick, or even pretending to be sick isn't as great as it used to be. Back in elementary school, missing a few days here or there, or even a week at a time was no big deal. You would just show up with your weekly homework packet on friday and everything would be fine. When I reached Jr. High and Highschool, however, it got serious. Missing even a single day would put me so far behind that all my grades would drop. Work was even worse.
Having worked in a food service for two years, every work meeting they are always telling you time, and time again. "DO NOT COME TO WORK IF YOU ARE SICK!!!" They would say this multiple times and in multiple different ways to make sure that the got the point across. Now the rule for calling in sick was that you had to call in sick at least two hours ahead of time so that they could find a replacement, or else you would get written up. In the two years that I worked there, I think I called in sick maybe two, maybe three times. I would always call in 5 hours ahead of time, yet the reaction that I would get was still almost violent. They would be mad at me the next time that I came in to work, and even cut my hours sometimes. Towards the end of my employment there, I would just come in anyway if I was sick because I hated getting yelled at for calling in sick, even though they made such a big deal of not coming in when you were sick. Hypocrites.
As I have gotten older, it is no longer fun or feasible to pretend to be sick because I have responsibilities that still exist, even if I am lying in my bed for two days moaning and groaning. The world doesn't care. As far as really being sick, I dont like the feeling. I would rather be healthy and working than stuffy and have a headache and be throwing up and having a sore throat and playing video games.
Anyway, I have a sore throat so I'm going to go make myself some tea and take some Vitamins.
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