Personally I have an insanely low tolerance to physical pain. Therefore, I generally do anything I can to avoid it1. As luck would have it, these past weeks have not exactly been conductive to my peace of mind.
First I get some serious cramps from my period. Dry-heaving can be so much fun at work… Next, I (once again) forget that my arm is much too sensitive to stand any type of draught, so my right arm starts hurting like hell. But then I suddenly decide that I’m going to evolve and jump headfirst into… things. Either that, or my arm pain made me delirious.
Me: It hurts, therefore I demand sympathy.
Dad: It’s your own fault, really. I told you to take care.
Me: I still demand sympathy.
Dad: Fine… I know it hurts a lot.
Me:… and you know the best part? I’m having a tooth extraction tomorrow.
Dad: You can always call the doctor and tell her you can’t make it.
Me: But the bad tooth is on the other side.
Dad: I see. This is like the part where the doctor tells you to eat on the other side. So you cross the street and eat there.
Me: EXACTLY!
How do you react to pain?
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1 … such as grabbing onto the door, when I’m being forcefully dragged to the dentist.
Thanks to an insufferable amount of nagging from dad, I finally decided to do something constructive about my weight and joined a gym. More specifically, I decided to attend aerobic classes almost every day of the week1.
So obviously, I needed roughly two weeks to prepare myself, only to almost forget about it and startle Beth with my sudden ending of our IM conversation2… all this to merely subscribe.
Yesterday was my first class, after which it was painfully clear that the little physical condition I had ever possessed was long gone. I’m pathetic, really: they made us lift our legs high and mine were literally screeching in protest after 10 (out of 50) tries. The end of the class literally had me wobble into the changing room, only to wobble out and into the nearest store to buy some mineral water. Apparently my legs weren’t the only wobbly body parts, as I ‘neatly‘ dropped the change into the cashier’s booth3.
Deciding that for once in my life, I should keep my mom’s advice in mind, I immediately took an aspirin when I got home (I live 7 minutes walking distance from the gym)… followed by another one because I didn’t feel the taste of the first one.
The aspirins had one Hell of an effect, as I only felt a slight pulling in the back of my legs. Suffice to say, that I went in today much more determined to do well. Only to encounter… MY 12th GRADE GERMAN TEACHER!!one11! I hadn’t seen her since Autumn 2003 (that’s when I started university).
We were sitting side by side and she suddenly turns to me saying
I know you… I can’t remember where from, but I DO know you!
I was not wearing my glasses, so I had to squint at her outline and hazard a very very wild guess:
Me: Were you a German teacher?
Her: YES!
Me: You taught me. I’m Vera.
Her: OH yes!
Considering the rest of my classmates had no interest whatsoever, while I practically inhaled every single word she said… not to mention I was among her first students4, I was very glad she remembered. It has been over 4 years since then. I also found out she’s not teaching anymore.
I probably tried harder, most especially since she was right next to me… of course I still barely managed to complete 40% of the exercises. My hand-eye-coordination is … what’s that again?
In conclusion: I’m on my way to becoming a drug addict (another 2 aspirins just got swallowed, this time taste and all)… and I should probably try and fish my watch out of the bottom of my backpack. Hopefully it’s still intact, after having tossed my sweat suit and trainers right on top of it…
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1 the gym’s closed on Sunday.
2 though by now she should be quite used to my airheadedness (yes, that’s a word =P )
3 no, it was not intentional, I had to bend over and fish them out, right afterwards.
4 she had finished university the same year we started 12th grade (2002).
Some people, like dad, are extremely lucky. I mean, what kind of person manages to win 100 liters of wine (very good quality at that) TWICE in a row? Apparently dad does, and apparently this gives him reason to buy a small Christmas tree *sulks*. See below:
The barrel is from last Christmas, since we hadn’t found enough bottles for storing and thus being able to open this year’s barrel. Apparently, once opened, the wine must be put into tightly closed bottles for it not to ferment. Keeping in mind that, this year Santa has finally brought us a digital camera, I’m expecting more ‘wine-conquering’ pictures like below:
Me, on the other hand, somehow only manage to muddle up even the simplest tasks. At the beginning of December I finally found some determination (lying around unused) and got my ears pierced1. Having been given two pairs of earrings at Christmas, I couldn’t wait another week and had to try them on. In the end I only tried the following pair on:
… since they looked less threatening. Not only did I manage to bloody both my ears in the process, but I also needed an entire hour to put the medical earrings back on. I also managed to waste 1/2 bottle of hydrogen peroxide, in the process (at least that’s cheap). Granted, 3/4 of said hour was spent glaring at my reflection as a means of braving the pain (it damn well hurt, but I can’t have the holes close up).
The second pair of earrings, while quite interesting looking, seems much too lethal in my current position. Still, I’ve made a snapshot so you can see what I’ll be voluntarily torturing myself with (as put by mom):
It’s your job to assure me that this is normal, and that I’m not suffering of some form of masochism.
Site Update: new article for those interested in creating a WPR site - Taking Up Reviewing. Tell me what you think, should you be patient enough to go through all of it. Speaking of which, I WILL get through my YS.nu ‘clients’ this holiday… or at the very least I’ll try, as I’ll be going into finals-induced isolation till the start of February.
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1 Meaning that I went to a jewelry store which also did ear piercing (using a gun-like ’stapler’).