Thursday, July 31, 2008

Dunh dunh dunh...

Wow.  This blog is starting to look like my childhood journal: littered with forgotten promises of writing regularly.  The journal actually turned into somewhat of a record.  For some reason, with each returning entry after a prolonged period of absence, I felt it necessary to update the journal with the ages and happenings of the many people in my family.  I suppose I could do that now, but then I just might relapse into other habits, like forgetting to tell important stories.  And I simply can not allow that to happen, can I?

Important story #1:  A few weeks ago I was going to relate a fairly exciting incident that happened to me the day before.  Then I thought better of it and didn't, since it might not be what my mother would call "dinner table appropriate".  Well now, I've thought better of it again and will share the gist of it, primarily because nothing else exciting could replace the prepared space for a thrilling story.  How's that for honesty, eh?

Allow me to set the scene:  It's early on a Friday evening.  Feeling void of substantial exercise that week, I decide to go for a quick jog before that night's activities are to begin.  Now calling this a jog is a bit of a stretch.  Before letting anyone (namely my wonderfully athletic roommate) see the state of my current exercise routine, I make sure they know that LAST summer was simply the best I have ever been, why the me of LAST summer would be running circles around current me!

(I'll have you know that a large black spider with far superior speed than I could ever hope to acquire has now skittered across my grandmother's desk twice.  For that very reason, I have relegated myself to typing on her wooden chair and am praying that it won't return from whatever crevice it may be hiding in.  Yes, I am 21 years old and am hiding from a spider.  Well, was.  I'm back up.)

So anyway, back to Friday three weeks prior.  I went out for a jog in the beautifully maintained college residential area of Provo.  No, no, that must have been my fantasy self.  I was out and about in the typicality of student living- mostly fairly to barely decent complexes and houses, with a few over-the-top affairs to mix things up, keeping the social strata strong.  I ran into a friend as I looped back in the direction of my apartment.  As we walked together, I noticed that I began to itch both of my wrists, but I didn't think much of it.  Not until I got home and drank a glass of water while watching some people set up for a show at our complex.  That's when I saw the bumps.  Hives.  And what's more, when I got into my bathroom, I saw that my eyes were completely swollen.  My throat wasn't too far behind.  Goodness.  An allergic reaction!  To what?  I still don't know!  

All I know is that I felt like a kid with chicken pox who also got in a fight (the eyes) and also had strep (the throat).  And I was alone.  Kind of a scary thought when you're thinking, 'This could be nothing.  Then again, some people DIE from allergic reactions.'  The good news is I didn't die!  Luckily I have awesome next-door neighbors with even more awesome Benadryl, the miracle solution to most/many of your allergy needs.  And a loving mother who swept in to sweep me away to my conveniently near family home.  

So what does this add up to?  Dunh dunh dunh... Mold spores.  I haven't yet been to an allergist, but I considered foods, then pollen levels, and was led straight to mold spores.  Apparently on some days, they spread around much more than on other days.  Unfortunately for some people that might include me, that means outdoor activity on such a day must be limited, else the dreadful hives and swelling might return.

How's that?  Now I suppose I'll have to give an update when I finally traipse over to the allergist to get jabbed 32 times in the back.  Goodness.  Bon chance to the jabber.

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Caught in the ebb and flow of the written word

I had almost written another blog several times before today. And I even started one once. But I always have excuses for not continuing with it- too tired, creative juices just ain't flowing, could not possibly convey the intricacies of different situations due to the boxlike nature of writing...and trust me, I could go on. But the explanation which I always claim the most is the latter one. Why try to draw something out when it is so much easier for it to sink into your brain, filling up your head with the vague shadows of memories? The answer- Because what is life if it is not the accumulation of our experiences? I hate vague shadows of funny moments, of restless tides of emotions, of so-called unforgettable experiences. When something amazing happens, I want to catalog it away, ready for those instantaneous, memory-relishing times.

...To be continued after I do some thought-sorting. And word-remembering. Dang it! But not to worry, I have an oh-so interesting story to share.