After reading Elisha’s play and hearing Cassandra thinking it were a phone call, I’ve decided to translate it into a text messaged conversation. There will be no stage direction, because this is no longer a play, but a dialogue. I have also changed the couple from college graduates to college students in order to use the language of “lolspeak” or “txt”
Daniel: Hey
Vanessa: heyyy
Daniel: whuts up
Vanessa: nmu?
Daniel: nm
Vanessa: soooo whats up
Daniel: idk I just thnk we need to talk b 4 things get n e farther w us
Vanessa: oic ur breaking up w me
Daniel: no its not that
Vanessa: I dnt blame u I know y
Daniel: no stop its not that I <3 you
Vanessa: wut is it?
Daniel: idk if u can hndl it. it s big
Vanessa: idc I <3 u 2 wut is it
Daniel: k. in high school I made a mistake
Vanessa: u got a grl pregnt?
Daniel: no, not that
Vanessa: wut then Dan
Daniel: I have HIV
I also enjoyed reading “Thirteen Ways to Look at a Blackbird” so I have decided to write “Thirteen Ways to Look at a SUNY Cortland Student”
I
She is smart.
She is within the 10% of applicants accepted.
She is exclusive and high achieving.
II
She is a daughter,
a sister, a niece
and so many other things within a family.
III
She is a friend to many at home,
and a growing number at school.
She is a roommate.
IV
Studious
and self challenging,
she works hard.
V
A bookworm
at the library
night after night.
VI
Her life outside of the class is busy.
She is an athlete.
She is sporty and healthy.
VII
She can be seen eating at Neubig
surrounded by friends,
laughing and talking.
VIII
Sometimes she is there wearing
a red shirt and visor
as an ASC employee.
IX
Other times in sweatpants and a t shirt.
Sometimes she wears this to class
with messy hair after waking up.
X
On the weekends she can be seen
in a short skirt and tube top
in ten degree weather,
walking the streets.
XI
She is near unconsciousness
after drinking too much
and experimenting with drugs.
XII
Now she is laying in bed,
sleeping through class,
missing important assignments.
XIII
She is an ambassador
to SUNY Cortland
Monday, March 8, 2010
Monday, March 1, 2010
It'll Be Worth It... (First Draft Posted as "My First Time") (Edited May 1st)
In the winter of 2002 I went to Woods Valley Ski Area in Westernville, New York, to snowboard for the first time in my life. It was the perfect place to start this difficult process because it was a small hill, not intimidating mountain. It has an incredibly friendly atmosphere which also helps calm any nerves a beginner may have. This may be due to it being a family owned destination.
At this point in my life, many of my friends had already been snowboarding for two or three years, and I was interested in trying it myself. I had been skiing since I was three years old and I was intrigued by this new form of enjoying the downhill slopes in winter. In the past few years I had been skiing with my friend Andrew, who had already been snowboarding for two seasons. Today, he was going to be my instructor. We traveled the forty minutes from my house and when we arrived I rented a board from the chalet. After purchasing our passes, we headed out into the winter air.
From my previous eleven years of experience with these hills I knew we would be headed toward Easy Acres, the bunny hill, the easiest, most level trail available. I remember thinking this would not be as difficult as people had told me. Dependent on my knowledge of skiing, and my summers of skateboarding, I was looking forward to the day. I recalled the stories my friends had told when they learned how to snowboard, and the bruises they showed me to accompany their stories. I was planning on not being able to tell similar stories or show comparable bruises… I was wrong.
I boarded the chairlift with one foot strapped in, and the other free, to help me travel across flat land. “Wait a second,” my friend said “you’re facing the wrong way.” I am goofy footed; I prefer my right foot to lead, and my left to follow. The majority of people snowboard with a “regular” stance; I was one of the thirty percent of people who are more comfortable riding goofy. Now Andrew’s advice was going to be backward, and we would have to figure out how to do things in the opposite manner as he taught me.
The first run consisted of my riding down the hill twenty yards, then falling down in order to stop myself from careening out of control and injuring myself and others. I was having difficulty turning, stopping, and even standing up after falling. Andrew’s instructions were not very helpful. My spirits began to lift as another friend of ours, Jason, joined us on the hill. Unfortunately he was not goofy footed either, and my spirits sank again. He would be of little help to me.
After three more runs and over one hundred falls, I was feeling as though I was making progress. Andrew and Jason had become bored with my slow pace and frustrated with my inability to understand their poorly given instructions. They had decided they were tired of the bunny hill shortly after Jason’s arrival, and had crossed to a more advanced slope, leaving me to teach myself for the remainder of the day.
Andrew and Jason found me inside several hours later, drinking hot chocolate and eating mozzarella sticks with french fries. It was time to go home and I had come in early to rest my legs. My muscles were incredibly sore, but the burn I felt in my thighs was nothing compared to the pain I could feel on my tail bone, hips, palms of my hands, knees, elbows and shoulders. The bruises were forming already. I could also feel a bump forming on the back of my head from a particularly nasty fall when I had caught my heel edge. They apologized for leaving me, but I knew their instructions would have been of no help. I was glad they enjoyed their day at Woods Valley so someone would be able to tell a good story when we were picked up in a few minutes.
I returned my rented equipment and rode home, thankful for the cushioned seats of my mom’s minivan. I knew I would be no different from the other people describing their first day snowboarding, and wondered if my bruises would be as bad as the others I had seen. When would I return to the hill to attempt this supposedly “fun” activity? Would my tail bone, hips, palms of my hands, knees, elbows and shoulders still be purple, or fading to yellow green? Either way, I knew I would be returning to conquer this task of learning to snowboard no matter how much abuse my body took from the snow. I was a good skiier, but snowboarding held so many new and exciting adventures. I would be able to go into the “Board Park” to hit jumps and grind rails. I would be able to use new terms like “jib” and “butter” (no not the kind used in cooking). I would be able to do the same things my friends did instead of being the only uncool kid on skis.
As we pulled into my driveway Andrew asked if I wanted to go back tomorrow. My bruises would still be black and blue, not yet completely developed, before I would be adding to them. I would have less than a day to prepare myself for more self inflicted abuse, but it would be worth it.
At this point in my life, many of my friends had already been snowboarding for two or three years, and I was interested in trying it myself. I had been skiing since I was three years old and I was intrigued by this new form of enjoying the downhill slopes in winter. In the past few years I had been skiing with my friend Andrew, who had already been snowboarding for two seasons. Today, he was going to be my instructor. We traveled the forty minutes from my house and when we arrived I rented a board from the chalet. After purchasing our passes, we headed out into the winter air.
From my previous eleven years of experience with these hills I knew we would be headed toward Easy Acres, the bunny hill, the easiest, most level trail available. I remember thinking this would not be as difficult as people had told me. Dependent on my knowledge of skiing, and my summers of skateboarding, I was looking forward to the day. I recalled the stories my friends had told when they learned how to snowboard, and the bruises they showed me to accompany their stories. I was planning on not being able to tell similar stories or show comparable bruises… I was wrong.
I boarded the chairlift with one foot strapped in, and the other free, to help me travel across flat land. “Wait a second,” my friend said “you’re facing the wrong way.” I am goofy footed; I prefer my right foot to lead, and my left to follow. The majority of people snowboard with a “regular” stance; I was one of the thirty percent of people who are more comfortable riding goofy. Now Andrew’s advice was going to be backward, and we would have to figure out how to do things in the opposite manner as he taught me.
The first run consisted of my riding down the hill twenty yards, then falling down in order to stop myself from careening out of control and injuring myself and others. I was having difficulty turning, stopping, and even standing up after falling. Andrew’s instructions were not very helpful. My spirits began to lift as another friend of ours, Jason, joined us on the hill. Unfortunately he was not goofy footed either, and my spirits sank again. He would be of little help to me.
After three more runs and over one hundred falls, I was feeling as though I was making progress. Andrew and Jason had become bored with my slow pace and frustrated with my inability to understand their poorly given instructions. They had decided they were tired of the bunny hill shortly after Jason’s arrival, and had crossed to a more advanced slope, leaving me to teach myself for the remainder of the day.
Andrew and Jason found me inside several hours later, drinking hot chocolate and eating mozzarella sticks with french fries. It was time to go home and I had come in early to rest my legs. My muscles were incredibly sore, but the burn I felt in my thighs was nothing compared to the pain I could feel on my tail bone, hips, palms of my hands, knees, elbows and shoulders. The bruises were forming already. I could also feel a bump forming on the back of my head from a particularly nasty fall when I had caught my heel edge. They apologized for leaving me, but I knew their instructions would have been of no help. I was glad they enjoyed their day at Woods Valley so someone would be able to tell a good story when we were picked up in a few minutes.
I returned my rented equipment and rode home, thankful for the cushioned seats of my mom’s minivan. I knew I would be no different from the other people describing their first day snowboarding, and wondered if my bruises would be as bad as the others I had seen. When would I return to the hill to attempt this supposedly “fun” activity? Would my tail bone, hips, palms of my hands, knees, elbows and shoulders still be purple, or fading to yellow green? Either way, I knew I would be returning to conquer this task of learning to snowboard no matter how much abuse my body took from the snow. I was a good skiier, but snowboarding held so many new and exciting adventures. I would be able to go into the “Board Park” to hit jumps and grind rails. I would be able to use new terms like “jib” and “butter” (no not the kind used in cooking). I would be able to do the same things my friends did instead of being the only uncool kid on skis.
As we pulled into my driveway Andrew asked if I wanted to go back tomorrow. My bruises would still be black and blue, not yet completely developed, before I would be adding to them. I would have less than a day to prepare myself for more self inflicted abuse, but it would be worth it.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Hot Breath (Edited May 1st)
It was a summer’s day like any other in the year of 1997. The sun was shining and a persistent heat was invading the lungs, mouth, and nostrils of anyone outside. Among these adventurous types were myself, a short and fast nine year old, and my neighbor, Jimmy, who was a year younger and a foot shorter. Jimmy was an only child, so he was familiar with getting everything and anything he wanted. This was precisely the reason we were playing home run derby. If the decision were up to me, we would be in the pool.
As James spouted off some incredibly over the top introduction of himself as his favorite baseball player: “And now! from Pequannock, New Jersey!! the best player of all time!!! Derek Jeter!!!!” I sighed in a hot sweaty movement: “sigh.”
I threw the pitch slightly on the left side of the plate, Jimmy didn’t swing. He threw the ball back, and I tossed the ball to him a second time. Once again, no swing. This continued another time before Jimmy decided he liked the pitch I had delivered and he swung. The bat connected with the ball half heartedly and slowly rolled toward a tree. I hadn’t expected any great show of athleticism, and I was not surprised. After Jimmy struck out on the next pitch, I approached home plate. My strategy was simple. Swing at every pitch and get this game over with as soon as possible.
As Jimmy threw the first pitch I wound up and hit the ball much farther than he had. The ball sailed past his property line and bounced on the neighbor’s lawn. As I rounded third base I realized Jimmy was not retrieving the ball which was now rolling down the street. Once again, because of him being incredibly spoiled, he refused to get the ball, even though, as mandated by the rules, it was his responsibility to do so. Once again, in an over the top fashion, Jimmy threw a temper tantrum. In order to avoid a complete meltdown I decided to get the ball.
I slowly walked down the street, thoroughly enjoying my time away from Jimmy. As I stooped to pick up the ball I heard someone’s car keys jingling as they came out of the house. I looked sideways with my head remaining close to the ground and saw our neighbor’s Springer Spaniel bounding its way toward me from its back yard prison. This dog, Scooby, remains locked up in his small fenced in area everyday… except for today. With his new freedom he could do any number of things. Unfortunately he decided to charge directly at me with his floppy ears dangling at his sides, his tail swinging back and forth, and his sharp teeth dripping with saliva.
Completely forgetting about the ball in my hand I stood up immediately and yelled at the top of my lungs. Scooby was running full speed toward me and the distance was closing quickly. My fight or flight senses kicked in, and I ran for it. My brain wasn’t working correctly and I ran in a circle, still yelling as loud as I could. Scooby was close behind me and even on this warm day I could feel his hot breath on my ankles as I ran, terrified for my life. As I rounded turn three for the second time I saw my savior: a row of shrubbery lining the property line of two houses. I took my chance and dove over the hedges. Unfortunately in my panic I had forgotten about the jagged rocks on the other side of the greenery. In my adrenaline fueled escape I jumped much higher than needed and I landed harshly on my hands and knees un-followed by the menace. As I peered up I saw Scooby lose interest in the pursuit, now that his prey was out of reach, and become interested in something else.
As he trotted away, I stood up and brushed myself off to notice Jimmy cowering in fear inside his house. His eyes were just above the metal strip dividing the lower half of the door, which was made of glass, and the top half which was made of a metal mesh. As I picked up the ball I had flung from my hand as the chase began, Jimmy exited his sanctuary with his hands still shaking. I walked over to his house and flipped the ball to him: “We should have gone swimming.”
As James spouted off some incredibly over the top introduction of himself as his favorite baseball player: “And now! from Pequannock, New Jersey!! the best player of all time!!! Derek Jeter!!!!” I sighed in a hot sweaty movement: “sigh.”
I threw the pitch slightly on the left side of the plate, Jimmy didn’t swing. He threw the ball back, and I tossed the ball to him a second time. Once again, no swing. This continued another time before Jimmy decided he liked the pitch I had delivered and he swung. The bat connected with the ball half heartedly and slowly rolled toward a tree. I hadn’t expected any great show of athleticism, and I was not surprised. After Jimmy struck out on the next pitch, I approached home plate. My strategy was simple. Swing at every pitch and get this game over with as soon as possible.
As Jimmy threw the first pitch I wound up and hit the ball much farther than he had. The ball sailed past his property line and bounced on the neighbor’s lawn. As I rounded third base I realized Jimmy was not retrieving the ball which was now rolling down the street. Once again, because of him being incredibly spoiled, he refused to get the ball, even though, as mandated by the rules, it was his responsibility to do so. Once again, in an over the top fashion, Jimmy threw a temper tantrum. In order to avoid a complete meltdown I decided to get the ball.
I slowly walked down the street, thoroughly enjoying my time away from Jimmy. As I stooped to pick up the ball I heard someone’s car keys jingling as they came out of the house. I looked sideways with my head remaining close to the ground and saw our neighbor’s Springer Spaniel bounding its way toward me from its back yard prison. This dog, Scooby, remains locked up in his small fenced in area everyday… except for today. With his new freedom he could do any number of things. Unfortunately he decided to charge directly at me with his floppy ears dangling at his sides, his tail swinging back and forth, and his sharp teeth dripping with saliva.
Completely forgetting about the ball in my hand I stood up immediately and yelled at the top of my lungs. Scooby was running full speed toward me and the distance was closing quickly. My fight or flight senses kicked in, and I ran for it. My brain wasn’t working correctly and I ran in a circle, still yelling as loud as I could. Scooby was close behind me and even on this warm day I could feel his hot breath on my ankles as I ran, terrified for my life. As I rounded turn three for the second time I saw my savior: a row of shrubbery lining the property line of two houses. I took my chance and dove over the hedges. Unfortunately in my panic I had forgotten about the jagged rocks on the other side of the greenery. In my adrenaline fueled escape I jumped much higher than needed and I landed harshly on my hands and knees un-followed by the menace. As I peered up I saw Scooby lose interest in the pursuit, now that his prey was out of reach, and become interested in something else.
As he trotted away, I stood up and brushed myself off to notice Jimmy cowering in fear inside his house. His eyes were just above the metal strip dividing the lower half of the door, which was made of glass, and the top half which was made of a metal mesh. As I picked up the ball I had flung from my hand as the chase began, Jimmy exited his sanctuary with his hands still shaking. I walked over to his house and flipped the ball to him: “We should have gone swimming.”
Monday, February 15, 2010
Seven Bars (Edited May 1st)
What’s up my name is André
I’m the “corporate guy” in this squad.
You can bet when I graduate
I'mma get a job.
I pronounce my Es and Rs
‘Cause I’m an English Major.
Next time I show up for class
I'mma wear a blazer.
I’ve brought my teaching skills
All over the world,
Like this winter in Thailand,
When visiting My Girl.
President of the Ping Pong Club,
Yeah my skills are nice.
I played in some tournaments
and I’ve even won twice.
I’m not ‘Lil Wayne,
I don’t push twenty fours
I’m not Mistah F.A.B.,
I don’t ride with open doors.
You can see me in my whip
It’s nice with all black trim.
I’ll be sittin’ on twenties
‘Cause I won’t ride teenage rims.
I’ll be scrapin’ in the U
Yeah I’m from the 315
All the haters will be hatin’
When they see me passin’ by.
I’m the “corporate guy” in this squad.
You can bet when I graduate
I'mma get a job.
I pronounce my Es and Rs
‘Cause I’m an English Major.
Next time I show up for class
I'mma wear a blazer.
I’ve brought my teaching skills
All over the world,
Like this winter in Thailand,
When visiting My Girl.
President of the Ping Pong Club,
Yeah my skills are nice.
I played in some tournaments
and I’ve even won twice.
I’m not ‘Lil Wayne,
I don’t push twenty fours
I’m not Mistah F.A.B.,
I don’t ride with open doors.
You can see me in my whip
It’s nice with all black trim.
I’ll be sittin’ on twenties
‘Cause I won’t ride teenage rims.
I’ll be scrapin’ in the U
Yeah I’m from the 315
All the haters will be hatin’
When they see me passin’ by.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
An Abomination (Edited May 1st)
André Short: Contributing Writer
Cortland-
As a resident on campus, I always enjoy seeing a group of prospective students and their families touring SUNY Cortland. The young, wide eyed teens traversing through campus remind all of us of our visit. And doing this in the winter, braving the elements, gives these high school seniors more credit. On these tours, it is the job of a current SUNY Cortland student to show those on the tour (students and parents alike) our “beautiful” campus. Yet, I wonder if they are seeing everything on the campus tour that I am as a current student?
As a tour guide, Cortland students are instructed to paint a picture of beauty on our campus. They are able to do this; however, if the people being escorted around are the slightest bit observant, they will notice our campus is not exactly what is being presented.
I would be slightly embarrassed to be leading one of these tours -and I am very embarrassed- to think they may notice a few of the eyesores in between the stops they make on the tour.
Upon returning to campus around the end of January, I had noticed the L.E.D. display board outside of Corey Union was still wishing us “Happy Holidays.” Christmas was over a month ago, Hanukkah was even further away. After this message had scrolled away a message for those touring our campus appeared. “Welcome Familys” was now shining bright. Doesn’t that thing have a spell checker? What kind of message is being sent to the tour groups as they read this? Higher education doesn’t immediately come to mind.
Each day I walk along Neubig Road I notice blue tape lining the way, no matter what side I am on. This tape is left over from August twenty-first, move in day. It was placed there to help incoming students move their belongings into their new dormitories. It has been almost six complete months since we needed this tape; why does it remain in its place serving no purpose? Perhaps the Resident Assistants in the surrounding buildings forgot about it. Perhaps they were hoping the snow plows would clear it away as the first snow fell. Perhaps they were looking farther into the future, trying to “Go Green” and reuse this tape next August. Unfortunately the entire student body and perhaps even the admissions office are suffering from this indolence.
I have consciously walked past the tape each day for the past seventeen weeks. How many other students have done the same thing? I have decided to not take it upon myself to peel this tape away from the sidewalk in order to conduct a social experiment. Unfortunately, the subjects of this experiment, the students at SUNY Cortland, are failing miserably. Will anyone take it upon themselves to clean up this mess? It is already very evident that the parties responsible for it have moved on. Perhaps now, after this article has been published, someone on this campus of over four thousand students will take it upon themselves to clean up this eyesore. They will do this not only for themselves, but their fellow students, and the potential future students of our school as well.
Cortland-
As a resident on campus, I always enjoy seeing a group of prospective students and their families touring SUNY Cortland. The young, wide eyed teens traversing through campus remind all of us of our visit. And doing this in the winter, braving the elements, gives these high school seniors more credit. On these tours, it is the job of a current SUNY Cortland student to show those on the tour (students and parents alike) our “beautiful” campus. Yet, I wonder if they are seeing everything on the campus tour that I am as a current student?
As a tour guide, Cortland students are instructed to paint a picture of beauty on our campus. They are able to do this; however, if the people being escorted around are the slightest bit observant, they will notice our campus is not exactly what is being presented.
I would be slightly embarrassed to be leading one of these tours -and I am very embarrassed- to think they may notice a few of the eyesores in between the stops they make on the tour.
Upon returning to campus around the end of January, I had noticed the L.E.D. display board outside of Corey Union was still wishing us “Happy Holidays.” Christmas was over a month ago, Hanukkah was even further away. After this message had scrolled away a message for those touring our campus appeared. “Welcome Familys” was now shining bright. Doesn’t that thing have a spell checker? What kind of message is being sent to the tour groups as they read this? Higher education doesn’t immediately come to mind.
Each day I walk along Neubig Road I notice blue tape lining the way, no matter what side I am on. This tape is left over from August twenty-first, move in day. It was placed there to help incoming students move their belongings into their new dormitories. It has been almost six complete months since we needed this tape; why does it remain in its place serving no purpose? Perhaps the Resident Assistants in the surrounding buildings forgot about it. Perhaps they were hoping the snow plows would clear it away as the first snow fell. Perhaps they were looking farther into the future, trying to “Go Green” and reuse this tape next August. Unfortunately the entire student body and perhaps even the admissions office are suffering from this indolence.
I have consciously walked past the tape each day for the past seventeen weeks. How many other students have done the same thing? I have decided to not take it upon myself to peel this tape away from the sidewalk in order to conduct a social experiment. Unfortunately, the subjects of this experiment, the students at SUNY Cortland, are failing miserably. Will anyone take it upon themselves to clean up this mess? It is already very evident that the parties responsible for it have moved on. Perhaps now, after this article has been published, someone on this campus of over four thousand students will take it upon themselves to clean up this eyesore. They will do this not only for themselves, but their fellow students, and the potential future students of our school as well.
Monday, February 1, 2010
The Attack (Edited May 1st)
I ascended the stairs to my room to search for a semi-important piece of paper. I was filling out paperwork for a W-2 form to work in a local schools district, and needed to provide a copy of my drivers’ license and social security card. It was a lazy Sunday evening and the sunlight was filtering into my room through the tree branches and my window. I wasn’t thinking of the hidden danger as I began to locate this paper.
I located the photocopy after a few minutes of searching; however, I had created a slight mess of things in the process. I had to clean things up before returning to the forms. It was at this time I could have noticed the menacing threats that would soon be attacking me. Unfortunately I was no longer focused on the beauty of the strained sunlight, my only ally trying to warn me. As I turned pages over and shifted things on my desk, thousands of tiny warriors were deployed to attack me. Had I looked up at this moment I would have seen the beautiful, yet menacing dust particles looming dangerously in the shining sun. I had no idea, but a war was being fought, and I was losing.
I calmly and unknowingly continued to organize and arrange my room. As I finished one area, I moved on to another to organize and sort more dust covered items. Due to my lack of constant upkeep of this duty, I was able to keep at this task for over thirty minutes. The entire time, my nose was fighting a losing battle.
As I left my room with the important documentation in my hand, I felt a sense of pride, knowing I had cleaned my room (a task that would not be done again for another week or two). I walked back down the stairs to return to the paperwork that I had placed on the kitchen table. I added the photocopy to the two other papers, folded them, and placed them in the envelope.
I had forgotten to grab a return address label from my room, so I dashed up the stairs once more, in a hurry to complete this simple task. Suddenly, a violent sneeze erupted! My nose began to tingle afterward. This was odd... My seasonal allergies only pertain to spring and fall, not winter. My nose would not be tingling if this were a normal sneeze. I rounded the corner in the hall way and entered my room. It was then that I saw them: the countless tiny dust particles floating in my room. The same dust particles that were silently attacking my nose as I was organizing and cleaning just seconds earlier.
I knew I was in for a rough night. Even after I took my allergy medication, the sneezes kept coming. I had no choice but to wait for the dust to give up. I had lost this battle, but the Zyrtek I had just taken was going to win the war.
I located the photocopy after a few minutes of searching; however, I had created a slight mess of things in the process. I had to clean things up before returning to the forms. It was at this time I could have noticed the menacing threats that would soon be attacking me. Unfortunately I was no longer focused on the beauty of the strained sunlight, my only ally trying to warn me. As I turned pages over and shifted things on my desk, thousands of tiny warriors were deployed to attack me. Had I looked up at this moment I would have seen the beautiful, yet menacing dust particles looming dangerously in the shining sun. I had no idea, but a war was being fought, and I was losing.
I calmly and unknowingly continued to organize and arrange my room. As I finished one area, I moved on to another to organize and sort more dust covered items. Due to my lack of constant upkeep of this duty, I was able to keep at this task for over thirty minutes. The entire time, my nose was fighting a losing battle.
As I left my room with the important documentation in my hand, I felt a sense of pride, knowing I had cleaned my room (a task that would not be done again for another week or two). I walked back down the stairs to return to the paperwork that I had placed on the kitchen table. I added the photocopy to the two other papers, folded them, and placed them in the envelope.
I had forgotten to grab a return address label from my room, so I dashed up the stairs once more, in a hurry to complete this simple task. Suddenly, a violent sneeze erupted! My nose began to tingle afterward. This was odd... My seasonal allergies only pertain to spring and fall, not winter. My nose would not be tingling if this were a normal sneeze. I rounded the corner in the hall way and entered my room. It was then that I saw them: the countless tiny dust particles floating in my room. The same dust particles that were silently attacking my nose as I was organizing and cleaning just seconds earlier.
I knew I was in for a rough night. Even after I took my allergy medication, the sneezes kept coming. I had no choice but to wait for the dust to give up. I had lost this battle, but the Zyrtek I had just taken was going to win the war.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
New Blog! Sorry for the Confusion
I've started a new blog on Blogger / Blog Spot because I did not like the functionality (or lack of) of Word Press. Ssorry for the confusion and welcome again!
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