I shouldn't of worn flip-flops yesterday. I've never felt such an adrenaline rush before. From 0 to 20 to wipe out in just 6 seconds.
I'm currently in the slightly boring town of Pullman, WA. One fact that should be known about this town is that it has endless hills. They don't look significant at first, but yesterday morning, I found out that they can be deadly steep. My nephew and I (and my parents, that's a given) were walking to the neighborhood park. Lots of ascendings and descendings were approached on our journey. My nephew, Oscar, brought his sweet razor scooter. He refused to let me use it. While he was playing in the park, I was allowed to hold it. I looked at it closely, and there was a warning on the scooter. "WARNING: DO NOT RIDE IN SLOPED AREAS." I thought in my head, "Duh. Of course you ride it on slopes, specifically downhill slopes. Otherwise, how do you have fun on it?" On the way back to the house, Oscar gave me the scooter for uphill and he got it for downhill. Or he'd cry. After climbing a very steep hill, Oscar took it from me, but wouldn't ride it downhill. He said this one was too dangerous. I thought "Phsssh. Yeah right. It looks perfect." My mom heard him say it was too dangerous, and she turned to me and said, "I want to see you try it." She egged me on, convinced Oscar to give me the scooter, and I was off.
That hill appeared harmless, but I am now convinced otherwise. The scooter picked up tremendous speed in so little time. Soon I was using my foot to try to stop the scooter, or at least slow down. Darn flip-flops! They almost flipped off! The next thing I knew; "I'm out of control...I'm going down! Mayday! MAYDAY!" I let out a little grunt. The end result: The left side of my body kissing the pavement, rebounding, and licking the pavement. I'm glad the most impact was right on my belt. That means less torn skin. I immediately look up when I'm finished crashing. My dad is running to me. Right on cue. I immediately stand up, as it hasn't started hurting yet, and say "I'm alright." My dad and I start walking back to the house. We have a ways to go. Pain sears through my body. I stop to look at my wounds, not bad. Weird red liquid is starting to come out of my cuts. My hip hurt, my palm has some missing skin, my knee has road rash (which will soon turn into a scab, by the looks of it), my ankle also lacks a top layer of skin, my elbow as well. This morning, my hip area is turning a beautiful blackish-blue. My mom hopes that I learn something from this. I did. Don't listen to your mom when it comes to scooters.
26 comments:
Wow Nat. Wow. It sounds to me like you had a pretty spectacular fall. We've all had one, and you should be proud that you can point at your battle wounds and say, "Look what I did!"
Your mom encouraged you to risk your life because your tiny little nephew who just happens to be named Oscar said it was too dangerous? WHOAH! That is just beyond comprehension! I sure am glad that you have computer access though. I enjoyed this blog very much.
Actually, that's why I love these stupidcular falls, because then you can show off your battle wounds. My mom wanted me to keep swimming, so she took us all to the pool, so I can swim laps while everyone else is playing. Yeah, right! I hate going into the pool with a bunch of scabs, since after a while, that weird soft spongy white stuff starts to form on your scab. And it stings. Stupid chlorine! ;)
It's the swimmer's blight, cholorine is. It just never seems to go away... not that I would know, as I'm not a swimmer, but still.
Now it is time for my revenge. Or, whatever it is you'd like to call it.
Did you know (no, of course you didn't!) that when I couldn't fall asleep in my younger years, I would think of an animal to go with ever letter of the alphabet. For example: Angelfish, Buffalo, Canary, Dinosaur, Eel, Flamingo, Goldfish, Hippo, Iguana, Jellyfish, Kangaroo, Llama, Moose, Narwhal, Ostrich, Pelican, Quail, Raccoon, Snail, Toucan, Unicorn, Vulture, Wildebeast... and then I'd get to X. What a dilemma! To this day I can think of nothing that starts with X besides Xylophone. And then I'd finish with Yak and then Zebra. But what about the missing X?
Scars are cool. I hope you don't get any scars from your scooter fall. Unless they're lightning shaped, like Harry Potter's. Or Hairy Blopper's.
My sister has a scar on her knee from rollerblading. It's a hole. And it swallows your finger when you touch it. That's a neat one.
I have scars on my neck from my cousin's cat. They're not neat. My aunt is crazy. She adopts all these homeless cats, and at one point she had 12. Twelve! But for a little girl who loved kitties, their home was a heaven of sorts for me. Anyway, one day I was playing with Markie (who is going on a mission in a few weeks, his farewell is this Sunday, hence my journey to Idaho) and we each took a cat and made a nest for him. Or her. I was holding my cat and my aunt turned on the vaccuum. The cat freaked out, scratched my neck severely, and disappeared and wasn't found for many hours after. Good thing too, or I might have strangled it. I still bear the marks on my neck to this day. They're little ugly white scars, and I've had several people ask me how I got them. Perhaps they expected an exciting story, and maybe that's why I hate these scars. The story is dumb, therefore the scars are too.
You know what I hate? Keyboards and mouses that are run on battery power. Both have died on me simultaneously in the past five minutes. And because they die so often, I have nearly exhausted our supply of AA batteries.
*curses*
I'm just not as good at this thing as you are.
Jos, I couldn't finish the alphabet, as the blogspot.com noticed that they were all from me, and disabled my commenting ability. I love your comments! I detest cats and flies! I have a distinct circle-shaped scar on my left ring finger. It is exactly where I'd put a ring...so I guess I'm already married...to fire and skittles. When I was a wee lad, (fourth grade), I got some skittles from primary. I went home, lit a candle, and stuck one skittle at a time on a fork, and roasted them over the open flame and ate them. They tasted so good! Soft and creamy in the middle, black on the outside...anyhow, as one skittle was travelling to my mouth, some juice dripped from the burnt skittle and onto my finger. A huge blister formed, and I, I the idiot, ripped it off, forming a ghastly scar.
Yikes! Sounds painful. And yet, it was a good story. It would be better to be married to fire and skittles than to a man.
I'll have to write another blog so you can continue commenting. I was ecstatic to see I had received 27 new messages in my email inbox, all of which were from you. Yay for Abby Norman and her prolific commenting talents!
I have never tasted skittles over an open flame, but I hear they are heavenly.
On a different note, I will now proceed to tell you the things I love:
1. French bread with cream cheese and meat (ham, pastrami)It sounds gross but it is incredibley delicious.
2. The Harry Potter books on tape (or CD) Jim Dahle has the most amazing voice. He'd be the perfect Grandpa. I would go to his house all the time to listen to his stories.
3. My brother, Kristian. He is coming to visit from New York tonight. I haven't seen him for almost a year. He calls me butt-head, he is addicted to his vaporizer, he is unmarried, raking in the cash, and game for anything. Oh, how I do love that kid.
4. The Shout Out Louds. Oh. My. Goodness. Love the Comeback song. Love it. Don't know if you've heard it... are you keen on people burning Cd's for you? Because I know some people who don't like it. BUT if you do, then I shall burn you a CD. And hopefully you will like it. Because that's another thing I like to do...
5. Burning CD's. For people. And so I can make tapes for my car.
That's all I can think of right now.
And now back to the evil, pessimistic Joslynn: (we like her better)
Things That Suck
1. Regis Philbin: he sounds like he has a cold all year long. He is not funny. He's a terrible host. He has orange skin.
Get off the stage Regis-- you're old and you cannot sing.
2. My poetry from eighth grade, oh the cheesiness!
I had never seen another butterfly
Since the day that Sarah died.
That our sweet friendship was killed by prejudices,
Just tears me up inside.
I could no longer see my precious friend
When the second world war began.
My folks were too fearful of Hitler's wrath
To allow me to see her again.
She told me to always remember her,
If to her Death would cling.
Reminiscing now she comes back to me,
Free, Like a butterfly with wings.
I think of her soft, sweet, smile
As I kneel here alone by her grave.
She was marked by the image of a hedious star,
That at long last she forgave.
And I am taken by complete surprise
As I turn away to leave,
To discover there, on Sarah's tomb--
A Monarch, descended, to Grieve.
I've got a whole folder full of these. And they're all the same. Terribley written, long, and dramatic. The worst however, is my short story, which is basically copied from Silas Marner. *Shudder*
3. The bed in my old room. While I was digging out my old poetry for you, I got stuck in the crack between the mattress and the wall. Yes. And then I spent a good deal of time trying to disengage my bathrobe tie from the metal. A few minutes later, I was free, and yet decidedly disheveled and angry.
I hate that stupid bed.
The only animal that I can find that starts with "X" is: Xenops: genus name and common name for a group of nuthatch-type birds native to Central and South America.
Not very good, eh?
To go with my other comment on cats... here is a poem I like (the only one) about cats. But it's by John Keats, so that's probably why I like it. I tried to copy this one too in 7th grade. Luckily it didn't work.
Cat! Who has pass'd thy grand climatrick
How many mice and rats hast in thy days
Destroy'd? How many tid bits stolen? Gaze
With those bright languid segments green, and prick
Those velvet ears- but pr'ythee do not stick
Thy latent talons in me- and upraise
Thy gentle mew- and tell me all thy frays,
Of fish and mice, and rats and tender chick.
Nay, look not down, nor lick thy dainty wrists-
For all thy wheezy ashthma- and for all
Thy tail's tip is nick'd off- and though the fists
Of many a maid have given the many a maul,
Still is that fur as soft, as when the lists
In youth thou enter'dest on glass bottled wall.
Now, as to your favorite things: 1. Bravo! Hooray for bizarre treats!
2. I have listened to this awesome guy, and yes, he'd be a cool granpa to go listen to.
3. Yay for long-distance family member visits!
4. Never heard it. Burn one.
5. I LOVE burning CD's, and (I used to have to) make tapes for me car! But then my high-tech bro-in-law comes and yanks out my original low-tech radio, and installs a sweet radio that can hook up to your ipod! Yay for bro-in-laws to revolutionize my family!
It is wonderful! It is just what I've been looking for all these years. At last! I am complete.
X is for Xenops.
Yes indeed. It feels very good to know that there is an animal that begins with the letter 'X'.
You are a lucky duck. Really. My car is as low tech as it's possible to be. At least I have power windows. That don't work. Sheesh.
Now, on to your life sucks post:
1. I agree whole-heartedly. I hated his butter commercials...
2. I think we all have our writing embarrassments. Mine are all over the place. It seems like whenever I try to write, it's never original. I wrote a whole novel about some Kinkajous and such, only it sounded almost exactly like Redwall--with Martin the Warrior and all that.
3. My old bed was awful too. First of all, I was long, and the bed short. My feet hung off of the bed. Second, it was a hand-me-hand-me-hand-me down. The lumpiest bed ever. Plus some springs were ready to burst through. But now my patience has paid off! I now am lodged in a nice roomy extra-large queen bed. Aaaah.
Actually, I don't have power windows or locks. I kind of like it that way, though.
Everything is done better the old fashioned way, I agree. And if you drive off a bridge and into a river, you are much better off with manual windows. Therefore you will be the one who lives-- and for that you should be grateful. We power-window nerds will have to pay the ultimate price for our laziness. Plus, you get a sort of arm workout every time you want some fresh air when you roll down the window instead of pressing a button.
That poem that I wrote was terrible. I had no idea what I was talking about when I wrote it. As you can see I just tried to make it as emotionally stirring as possible. Unfortunately, it did not work, and the end product was what it is: a badly written poem. Kind of like the hot chocolate poem, only worse. I'm sorry it was so long and boring. It was the shortest one I could find. I know. Everything I write turns into a novel. Including this comment.
When you were in elementary school, did you ever do the packet things that allowed you to 'publish' your own book? I did mine in 4th grade, and being very concerned about the quality of my book, I was reluctant to use my own ideas. So I copied an story line from a book that my 3rd grade teacher read to my class entitled, Jeremy Thatcher, Dragon Hatcher. Basically Jeremy changed into Joslynn in my version and the pages were shortened from 100 to 10. It was awful. But I can laugh about it now...
Well, well, well. I also turfed it this week. I crashed while biking the red rock in Moab and had some nice road rash to show for it. That was OK by me. However, I then proceed to fall for no apparent reason on a measly little hike while walking on flat ground. Being the model of consistency, I caught myself in the exact same places as before and really tore the flesh up. At that point, I wasn't feeling hurt so much as indredibly angry and stupid.
The stars are aligned against us.
By the bye, Joslynn, Keats didn't write very good poetry to begin with either. But he worked diligently for a few years and evolved into one of the greatest poetic minds of all time. Then he died.
There's a moral there somewhere.
Melissa-the moral I get about Keats? Once you become a genius, you're going to be a genius for a short time before dying, or experiencing a premature death.
Jos-yes, we did those publish your own book things. Mine were pathetic. My first one? I instructed people how to take care of hamsters, since I, at the time, had over seven hamsters. Don't make me remember or try to remember...short version: The hamsters had babies then the babies had babies like two weeks later, etc. (I eventually just donated them to the pet store to feed to snakes, etc. Shh.) Then my other book was interestingly stupid. It was pretty much a mix of Star Wars, The Dark Crystal, and Pokemon. Really silly.
Nat: Silly as your book may have been, it was still your own genius that created it. I will forever lament the horrific monster I have created. And you, I believe, will never breed hamsters again. You know about the Dark Crystal? That movie!
Thank you for your assurance, Melissa. I admire Keats to the point of distraction, and discomfort for those present while I am reading it. But for my life I cannot mimic his drama without making my poetry sound like an Air Supply song.
It's a terrible curse.
25 comments. Wow. Here's what happens to me when you guys do this:
1. I read the post, and have an idea for a short comment or two about it's context.
2. I begin to read the comments.
3. I forget what the original post was about.
4. I start to think of comments for your comments.
5. I'm still reading your comments.
6. The comments are about the others comments on the others other comment.
7. I start to get lost and forget my comment for the comment 23 comments ago.
8. I get to the end, and have nothing to say. The end.
I'm sorry Britt. Truly, I am. Maybe you should consider posting more than one comment as you recollect each thing you were going to say. But then again there might be well over 40 comments on each Beans post, as I'd respond to all of yours.
Poor Nat.
Post a Comment