Rushed writing

Because I'm tired of writing blogs about how I'm sick (I think I'm getting better), I thought I'd post this rush write from my work writing group. The topic was, as you'll soon figure out, "a fear." I also want to note that I exagerated about Emily. . . I've seen that girl put away more food than most guys can. And that statement will all make sense after you read this.

Every time I enter the Marriot Center I have the same vision—me tumbling down the full length of cement steps, crashing at the bottom in a pitiful heap, and breaking my nose. Actually, I have this fear when I approach any flight of stairs, the Marriott Center is just the most dramatic. And I’m never worried about breaking a leg or an arm—which would be death for me—just my nose. I can picture this wide gash across my face, a dent breaking the surface where the bridge of my nose begins. It makes me feel vulnerable and a little foolish. The best part is that I’m not what you would call a clumsy person most of the time. I mean, I have my moments, but I’ve only slipped on icy steps and tripped up steps, never actually tumbled down a flight of stairs. But, and I hate to dwell on this, but maybe it’s cathartic, is that the right word, and maybe I’ll be able to sit closer to the front during Devotionals now, I still see myself, watch my back roll over and over, my head bouncing off the steps. Even when I’m falling asleep I’ll suddenly feel that I’m falling—not asleep, literally falling—and I jerk in bed to catch myself. Which freaks my roommate out. Granted, freaking Emily out isn’t that difficult. All it takes is a large hamburger and shake and the girl feels queasy. Katie next door is even easier—she hates the sight, smell, sound, etc. of teeth-brushing, which makes no sense. How does she maintain her personal hygiene?

So fears. Check. My other fear is not being able to communicate. I spend all my time writing or exclaiming or diatribing (good verbage) or just plain old talking. I like talking and I like listening and I like communicating ideas. Which is why, in a very roundabout way, I’ve never traveled to a non-English speaking country, unless you count Wales, which you can’t because more people speak English than Welsh.