Podcast Overload?

Earlier I did a search on the Internet asking the simple question “How many podcasts are there?” It then told me that a related search was “How many pokemon are there.” I could make a joke about catching them all, but that seems obvious.

However … There are so many friggin podcasts out there, how do you know which ones to listen to?

Podcasting, in essence, is a lot like a John Hughes movie. There are a multitude of categories, but often you overlook a really good opportunity because you judge the podcast by the stereotype you perceive. Joe Rogan’s a comedian, but maybe you balk from his podcast because you think he may be a total bro. Nerdist is three comedians, but maybe you shy away from it because you think that the entire content will be so… well… nerdy… you shy away from the Subscribe button. Neil Degrasse Tyson does Star Talk, and maybe you don’t listen to it because you worry he’ll talk science in a way you don’t understand.

Yep. I have about fourteen friends online that all have podcasts (maybe more). While I have listened to all of them, some of them I fail to return to. Instead I do my friendly duty of downloading the episode and let it sit.

It’s gotten to the point where I have ended up also doing that to podcasts that are popular. It’s not that I don’t want to hear them, it’s just that there are so many of them downloading into my computer on a weekly basis I fail to have the time to listen. After awhile I look at the podcast section of my iTunes and feel terrible. Little blue dots decorate the page and an unhelpful and anxiety-inducing grey circle with white numbers tells me that I am currently sitting on 1493 unlistened to podcasts.

While it’s not something that should worry me, it does. Because every podcast I subscribe to I have enjoyed at some point or another. Yes, there are episodes of each one that fail to keep my attention, but I know that I like the hosts enough to give it a change. Then I realize that many of the popular podcasts that I listen to have episodes dropping multiple times during the week.

There are days that I don’t even touch my computer at home. I’m busy editing things, or playing video games, or marathoning Twin Peaks on Netflix. But when I’m at work, I’m in an office where no one else is there to entertain me. A lot of my work is data entry, so it doesn’t require my full attention.

… as I reread this, I have realized that this was probably a shitty way to let you all know that I have a podcast and that there are some podcasts that you might not know…

Here are the podcasts that I have on my iPhone right now. (and since I’m writing them, I think I’ll pull these mini reviews and add to their iTunes rating). I cannot get a link to the iTunes pages (because my phone doesn’t like that and instead just pulls up the show).
Here’s how you subscribe:
1. Open iTunes
2. in the left navigational bar, click on the bar labeled “Store”
3. In the search bar on the top right, type in the name of the podcast and click the magnifying glass
4. Of the returned results, look for the podcast.
5. Under/Next to it there is the option to “Subscribe Free”
6. Click on that. Podcasts will download into the section of your iTunes Library (left navigational bar) that says… wait for it… PODCASTS.
7. Listen to it.
* This is all incredibly simple and once you get the hang of it, you’ll be searching for new podcasts.

A Pointless Endeavor – the first episode of a new podcast (that went live today) by my buddy Chris (Coleman. You know. That guy that flew to Boston for a Chris Hardwick show that left with several dozen new friends.) and two of his friends. I haven’t actually listened to it yet, but I’ve heard a few clips and they made me pee. And I feel happy when I pee. So… Feel happy. Pee. I mean… listen.
Website Link

Sketchy – a podcast with three of my friends that I made during the nerd weekend in Boston. I might be a guest in the not so distant future… Ryan, Matt and Rich tackle a different cartoon each week (be it a movie or a TV series). They watch it prior to recording and talk about it. One of my favorite episodes so far was the one where they spoke about “Rock-a-doodle” and adopted one of the most hysterical vocal inflections completely out of the blue.
Website Link

Ten Minute Podcast – Will Sasso, Chris D’Elia and Brian Callum get together and talk for ten minutes. It is amazing how funny ten minutes can actually be.
Website Link

TOFOP – Wil Anderson and Charlie Clausen chat about time travel, Batman, and prison rape… Two out of three ain’t bad. It’s always funny when one decides to act out scenarios (not prison rape) or when they crack each other up.
Website Link

Walking the Room – Dave Anthony and Greg Behrendt walk into a closet. Nope… Not a joke (although the dimensions of Greg’s closet rival that of a $1500/mo apartment in NYC). What then happens is good-natured filth. When I listen to the banter between them, I am reminded of the way my friends and I talk. There can always be something funny about the macabre, that dickhead at work, the neighbors that have intentionally loud sex… that and more is brought into the closet and it makes me so happy that every Monday I have it to listen to.
Website Link

Aaaaaand finally… Well… I have a podcast now. The second episode went up today. I have started a podcast called “Memoirs of a Gamer”. It may sound misleading, but it is not just about video games and tabletop roleplaying games. As of right now I have seven episodes total (5 scheduled for the next five Mondays) and they cover the following topics – Volleyball, Apples to Apples, Red Dead Redemption, Drinking Games, and D&D (specifically about a character someone has played and his experience also as a Dungeon Master)
Because I actually emailed the link to myself, the iTunes link is http://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/memoirs-of-a-gamer/id510427325
Here’s the Website Link

Unfortunately, because I’m saving money for my move this summer, I can’t actually afford a logo for it. There WILL be one, but I just need some money first (and podcasting doesn’t pay)

My Brain is Buffering

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Oh Moriarty, you clever bastard.

Yesterday was a rotten day.

I assume it felt like everything was piling up due to the fact that I had returned to work on Monday and was incredibly frustrated with what I came back to.

There was just something about yesterday that got to me. Maybe everything about yesterday got to me, I don’t know. What I do know is that I spent 4.5 hours in a noise reduction headset watching the latest reincarnation of Sherlock.

There is something about clever writing and intriguing plots and amazing twists that does wonders for bringing me out of a funk. It is ultimately one of my modes of escapism.

I don’t really have much more to say about yesterday as it’s still causing me discomfort today. I had words with several people regarding a myriad of issues, I returned to a metric buttload of snark at work (and not the cheeky adorable snark that I get from Benedict Cumberbatch), and I wanted to spend away my troubles by online shopping.

I didn’t. Instead, I nursed a half a beer (instead of giving myself something easy for me to drink in massive quantities – like scotch) and went to bed.

I wish I had something more to write about, but I am feeling uninspired. Feel free to leave a comment about what you’d like me to rant/discuss/story-tell and I will hopefully be back to my demented self very soon.

I have to tell you about my weekend (Special Podcast Recap)

Starfish Circus: Brooklyn (taken from my seat)

My weekend was so much fun it would make your mother cry… But not MY mother. She’s already heard the whole thing (nothing left out too. that’s how we roll.)

To give you an idea how epic this special podcast blog is… It’s forty-something minutes long.

I try to tackle the following events:
Thursday – Jonathan Coulton and They Might Be Giants
Friday – The Reining Monarchs
Saturday – Manhattan and Starfish Circus: Brooklyn

Play

Rejected.

re·ject

tr.v. re·ject·edre·ject·ingre·jects

1 a : to refuse to accept, consider, submit to, take for some purpose, or use <rejected the suggestion> <reject a manuscript>b : to refuse to hear, receive, or admit : rebuff, repel<parents who reject their children>c : to refuse as lover or spouse

2 obsolete : to cast off

3: throw back, repulse

4: to spew out

5: to subject to immunological rejection

(cited from Merriam-Webster)

 

During the latest episode of Walking the Room (#93), Greg Behrendt shares a story about finding a possible publisher for his memoir. He is assured that he will have an offer in very little time and he was soaring and showering “golden awesome” (as Gryphons do) on the world. He then gets the call. THE call. The publisher passed on his proposal.

I don’t exactly know how he felt, but after receiving several dozen rejection letters I can explain how I felt when they happened.

When I received the first rejection letter, it was like someone had taken a hearty dump on my soul then decided to break up the pieces with a meat tenderizer. It was as if my inner asshole was shouting “I fucking told you that you weren’t good enough.” Instinctively, I wanted to hurt myself. I went through my brain rolodex (my noggin hasn’t been upgraded to digital) with all of the possibilities – booze, meds, cutting, popping open a jar of cookie butter to devour, and angry hate sex came to mind.

When I’m not talking out loud or singing, that shit is going on in my head. My inner soundtrack queued up a steady playlist of depressing music. I remember that my vision actually blurred because I had stopped breathing for a moment and my body was screaming for me to focus on oxygen.

It all sounds melodramatic, but you all know the tired expression about feeling a pit in your stomach? When it’s happening it feels like a fucking chasm.

People react to rejection differently. Sometimes they say “fuck you” and keep going. Sometimes they think “well that was totally not worth my time” and just file it away in their Things to Furiously Masturbate to With Tearlube folder (everyone has one of those… right?). I eventually have a tendency to power down. I don’t want to do a damn thing. I don’t look for someone to share my problems with and that is incredibly stupid on my part.

My first instinct is to laugh. My first reaction to tragedy and pain is to laugh. When it finally sinks in I have to slide under the covers, go fetal, and stare at my desk. Everything happens internally. Even though my physical reaction is to do nothing, my brain spends all of that time berating me. If I had telekinesis, I would have destroyed everything around me.

But after that wore off, I went about my life. I did what I needed to do to ensure that I had a roof over my head and nourishment in my belly. Then the second rejection letter arrived. Lather, rinse and repeat. There were a good two weeks where my emotional roller coaster had essentially fallen so far off of the rails it has skidded into a nearby playground, exploded, and there were hypothetical people threatening to sue.

You would think that a girl who had so much experience as a child would react better to something like this. But here is the difference – when I was being rejected in my youth it was all surface. This hurt so much because I had put myself out there about something that I LOVED to do. I loved telling stories. I loved thinking about characters and situations and trying to explain things that I didn’t even understand myself. Writing was my safety net.

To be told that my safety net wasn’t useful was a pain that was so intense I wanted to hide. But… Wait… My place to hide wasn’t good enough (according to people that probably hadn’t even read my proposal)?

I vowed that I would never write fiction again. I didn’t ever want to experience it again.

After making that vow, I just blogged. I vented about my anger about things. When a character popped in my head I mentally eviscerated it. It took awhile for me to realize that was why I had become so miserable. My brain was so full of ideas, my subconscious would try to flesh out stories during dreams. Unfortunately, my imagination is fucked up so I would wake up in the middle of the night terrified and wouldn’t sleep.

For a total of five weeks, I averaged about seven hours of sleep each week. I became a husk of a person. My reaction to rejection became ME.

Then one day I laughed. Actual, full bodied shaking laughter that brought tears to my eyes not from sadness but from pure mirth. It had been so long since the last time I had laughed.

What was it that made me laugh? A rejection letter.

For weeks I spent my life not living. Not doing what I loved. I slipped into the mundane and wanted to cry every day because I didn’t want my life to just be that. I don’t think anyone ever aspired to be mediocre at best, but that was what I had become.

As I wiped the delighted tears from my eyes, I succumbed to the seduction of the keyboard. My fingers danced like they knew every letter that needed to be expelled from my body. As I continued to type I let out a sigh and looked up at the clock. I had written for three hours.

It was a triumph. But most important of all? I was EXHAUSTED. I slept uninterrupted for seven hours. I got up in the morning, stretched, kissed the top of my slumbering laptop and hopped in the shower. I went to work and my palms itched. I wanted to write again.

During my lunch breaks I have taken to opening up a word document and writing that one story for an hour.

I have 48 pages.

I have realized that the only thing that has been constant in my life is rejection. Originally, I thought that was bad. Now I think “at least it’s not herpes”.

Get Glue Let Me Down (and other nonsensical things that happen in my head)

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This past weekend was chock full of sauce (of the awesome variety) and I’m currently powering through with a minimal amount of sleep, but it’s been awhile since I’ve done an update (that is not of the “click here linky link” variety). I’d apologize for the picture, but I was angry that Get Glue wouldn’t let me add that since that is indeed what I am thinking of.

Friday was fun. I got to hang out with the Record Club crew for a lovely dinner.

Saturday I got up and went to my parents house to do an enormous amount of laundry (because I was going there and figured I could save $8). Mom and I hung out for a little bit and watched the Seven Year Itch. My aunt had come up to do some paperwork so she joined us when she had finished. My brother arrived and we had a lovely dinner and conversation.

During it, my father made a comment that was mildly apologetic for our dinner conversation. We may have been talking about computer networking, embalming, farts, marijuana or all of the above. I honestly don’t remember. The conversations go quickly, like we’ve got an hour to get rid of $100 in a penny machine at a casino.

That’s the way all of our family dinners have been for as long as I could remember. We were never censored with media and we were always encouraged to ask questions, so our conversations can pass many boundaries, but that’s why I still go to family dinners. No matter what people say, there is an incredibly selfish part of conversation.

If you’re not interested, you are further in your head than you are when you’re by yourself. My family keeps me on my toes. I dig that.

Saturday night I got to meet up with some friends from home and we played board games and carried on conversations and such. I had a fantastic time with them. I forget (often) that human interaction is essential to keeping sane. Even skyping with a friend that is so far away is human interaction, but a computer won’t hug you back and if it does that means it has arms (which also means you should never hug it because it will break your spine).

I got home and slept well. I got up, showered and made an impromptu trip to Boston to visit Matt, Ryan and Richard. You may remember them from my posts about my trip to Boston last April for the Nerdist weekend. This is my first trip to Boston since then so I was really happy to make it. Of course, I have a tendency of leaving there late when I visit with them (because I really don’t want to go) so I didn’t get home until 1:30 in the morning.

Totally worth it. Completely worth it.

How was your weekend?

Two Parter Blog: 1. Amazon Hates Connecticut. 2. Link link link link

I’ve been worrying about moving and now that I’ve completely changed my plan money has been on my brain. I’ve decided that I’m going to get rid of as much as I can here and then just get some IKEA stuff when I get there. So I thought about it and decided “hey, amazon has this associates program where they cut you a percentage for a referral”. I got excited and tried to sign up for it when I got this lovely notice:

Balls.

So not only did I wait too long to do that, I cannot take part in it because I live in Connecticut. Well… You know what?

If you’d like to toss a couple sheckles my way I have an amazon gift card wishlist and you can always paypal a few dollars my way (to the email “cranialspasm @ gmail . com”. Every little bit helps!

 

(By the way, I feel like a complete asshole for posting this. I don’t like asking for things. It’s a stupid pride issue.)

 

Anyways, here’s a list of a few things I have done recently away from this site (just in case you didn’t know).

Podcasts
As always, I’m on Lions, Dragons & Wolves. This past episode was about humor and what makes us laugh. So (of course) TK decided to tell us exactly why nothing is funny. If you have never listened to the podcast before, I would suggest not starting with this one. I’d suggest 008 LDW Autumncast: Invade Poland (because I get assigned the coolest Muppet totem ever).

I connected with Seth Wright (my buddy that has a podcast Tales from the Attic) via Skype one weekend. We chatted for close to two hours (which is so weird for me as I don’t talk for that long typically) and as we chatted he invited me to record a segment for episode 46 of his podcast. It was a bunch of fun and I’m hoping that I get to do it again!

Other Blogs!
Nerds in Babeland – About a month ago I wrote a post about a card game called Dominion that my family is currently obsessed with (and that I will probably buy AFTER I move so I don’t end up having packing issues). For a list of all of my posts, here’s my contributor feed.

Record Club – Record Club is actually hosted through my website, but it’s a different feed. You should definitely check it out though! An album is chosen and the record clubbers listen at work and write up reviews. Because the back catalog was so huge, my reviews haven’t started yet but I have put a lot of work into the site and I think you’d enjoy the opinions from the funny people in the Record Club.

Youtube
I have been playing my ukulele a lot and I WROTE AN ORIGINAL SONG! I also covered Eddie Money, recorded two Beatles songs around Valentines Day, and revisited one of  the first songs I learned a few years ago (MGMT Redux FTW!).

Things I’m Loving At the Moment
So many friends of mine have started podcasting now (and I’m contemplating starting one myself because these assholes haven’t invited me to be on theirs…) Two that have made me giggle are:
Midseason Replacements – In this podcast, they pick a random episode from a random show and then they proceed to make fun of it for an hour. It’s been pretty damn funny because the episodes are only about 22 minutes and these guys play off of each other so well. Also? They had me at Hot Sundae.
*TANGENT* I originally wanted to find the original “Go For It” music video, but I could just find a shaky handed Android taping of a TBS rebroadcast of the episode. Then… I found this…

So yeah, that has nothing to do with the Tuxedo Man Children (who have a hysterical blog to boot), but you should completely subscribe to their iTunes feed!

The Bloggess – Jenny Lawson has finished her book and recorded her audio book, and now she has taken to creating taxidermied memes on her website. I actually joined in on the fun.

Toggle the Switch – An Australian and an American decide to do a podcast. What results is a bunch of talk about poop. I mean… Laugh-because-you’re-a-little-uncomfortable-about-the-conversation style talk about poop. These two amazing people are friends of mine that I met through a podcast (Walking the Room) and decided to do their own podcast.

Ten Minute Podcast – Chris D’Elia, Will Sasso, and Brian Callum give you exactly what the title promises. Ten minutes. I listened to it for the first time at work and laughed so hard I was asked to go outside to calm down. Subscribe. It’s hysterical. Also? Kinda crushing on Chris D’Elia now (in a “this dude is funny as shit” type of way).

A Couple of Cunts in the Countryside – A newer Youtube channel from two guys in the UK. It cracks me up.

Battling Rage

Let’s face it. Some days are worse than others. Today I have found that it has taken every ounce of my being to not tear into someone at the slightest provocation.

In my past, I would have moments where I would be tempted to lash out and would gladly give into it. I reveled in influencing someone else with my negativity. I was that real life troll that would love seeing the reaction of hurt on someone’s face and then I would consider it a challenge to make everything okay again. However, the people that don’t have to love you shouldn’t have to put up with that.

BUT… I really want to do that today. My brain is telling me to tap into my über bitch and unleash all of this pent up rage. It’ll be healthier if you do, my anger-goblin has been whispering in my ear. Making someone feel bad will probably prevent you from getting cancer.

My inner goblin monologue is stupid. But I believe that it is motivated by primitive instincts. I think that’s the part of the brain where it’s located. Also, it’s a goblin so it’s adorable and illustrated by Brian Froud and brought to life by Henson studios.

It’s been awhile since I have really been as angry about nothing as I am at this moment. The slightest provocation would be horrible right now. Logically I don’t want to make anyone cry because of something I’ve said. But instinctively I really want to tell someone something incredibly hurtful about their personality and make them suffer like I feel like I am right now.

Instead, I am trying to distract my brain by online shopping. The best part about it is that I just add a bunch of things to wish lists because I’m moving and really don’t want to pay more money to move a bunch of shit that hasn’t made me happy. So even though my fury is encouraging me to BUY BUY BUY, I at least have a bit of logic controlling my trigger finger on the mouse.

It is a bit boring populating a hypothetical domicle though so I might switch to google imaging “cats in hats” or spend a few hours trying to find something to take my mind off of it. Maybe some stupid video game that doesn’t require thought because intelli-Ali is MIA right now.

How do you deal with the rage-goblin inside you? Do you stab the homeless? Do you tickle the elderly? Do you have shout time inside your car during your morning commute (and do the people in your carpool cry?)? Do you listen to a bunch of podcasts where people will rant about things that will make you feel better? Do you watch countless youtube videos of kittens filmed in Japan (because somehow Japanese kittens are TOTALLY cuter)?

Leave a message in the comments!

When advertisements fail and generalization are hysterical… There is… Record Club

Admittedly, this is making light of the dark, but who doesn’t have a morbid sense of humor?

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Josh: This is one of the sh!ttiest ads I’ve ever seen. WTF?

Paul: Haha.
Obituaries, February 23, 2012
FATHER, 1945-2012
FATHER was a really wonderful person. FATHER was well liked in his community. FATHER touched so many lives and worked very hard at the GENERIC FOOD PRODUCTS FACTORY, owned by OWNER BOSS. OWNER BOSS remarked upon hearing of FATHER’S passing, “FATHER was very proficient at making the GENERIC FOOD PRODUCTS.” When he retired, FATHER spent his days playing PARLOR GAMES and LEISURE SPORTS, which he enjoyed greatly. FATHER is survived by MOTHER, DAUGHTER, SON, DAUGHTER, DAUGHTER and BROWN DOG. Services will be held at FUNERAL HOME.

Marissa: Hahahahahahhahah
by MOTHER, DAUGHTER, SON, DAUGHTER and DAUGHTER are all SAD. BROWN DOG is still looking for his bone. He doesn’t know it was buried with FATHER

Paul: GRUMPY GRUDGE HOLDING NEIGHBOR could not care less about FATHER’S death

Seth: Is this guy related to LOCAL MAN who is always in the news?

Marissa: Oh man, don’t talk about LOCAL MAN…him and FATHER did NOT get along at all. Father once tried to sell MOTORIZED SNOW REMOVAL EQUIPMENT to LOCAL MAN and LOCAL MAN never used PAPER MONEY to compensate. It was a mess

Paul: Yes, which led to ATTEMPTED HOMICIDE with SHOVEL

Seth: Fix’d
Yes, which led to CRIME with WEAPON

Childhood Memories: When I Needed a Tauntaun

Whenever there was something introduced to my spongy brain that emotion deemed hazardous, I would shove my nose in a book or a movie. I would color. I would build something. I would pretend to be a dragon in the backyard. THAT was where I sussed out a lot of my pain. Luckily I had kids my own age that were just as creative as I was and we would have epic fanciful adventures.
In the winter, we would pile snow into massive mountains to climb. Our mini Caradhras would entertain us until someone else brought a new tool and it magically changed. We were then tasked to break through the Deeping Wall of Helm’s Deep. Winter was spent doing snow related things, what with being raised in a New England town. Sledding, snowball fights and shoveling were a definite part of every child’s routine.

In my head however, the sled was my spaceship. Even though it felt like I was going down, I was going up with great speed and breaking through the atmosphere to float along the universe.

We used to always go to the same sledding spot. It was a hill relatively close to home, but mom would drive the van out and sit and wait, listening to music and reading. My brother and I would meet with our friends and run up the hill and careen down at lightning speeds, trusting gravity.

 

Imagine our surprise one day when we found that there was a frozen pond at the base of our hill. After stepping on it and hearing it slightly crack, someone confirmed that it was frozen completely. As an adult I realize how incredibly stupid that reasoning is. There needed to be something less dense underneath it in order for the cracking to even occur. At nine? It was perfect logic. Plus it meant I could still go sledding.

Blissfully ignorant to that concept, we all rushed up the hill, snow tubes and sleds in hand. I remember having this heavy plastic inner tube for pools that my parents had us double for sledding. It was solid purple on the bottom half and the top half was white with purple accented lines. The handles were thick and not wide enough to accept both my hand and my mitten when holding on to it. So I took off the mittens.

As any child figures out after their first time sledding, I knew that if you get a running start you go faster. I ran as fast as I could before hopping unto the donut shaped propulsion device. The moments down the hill can only be described as pure exhilaration laced with joy. You have very little to do with control and you have to accept that to truly enjoy yourself.

I enjoyed the hell out of it… Until I hit the pond at the bottom. I had seen several kids just slide completely over it. Apparently, the introduction of a chubby girl on an inner tube resulted in me reaching a dead stop at the very bottom of the hill. I couldn’t get out of the donut as I was wrapped up in forty-seven snowsuits.

The sound of cracking ice is terrifying, even if you know that it’s not that deep. Your brain knows exactly what is going to happen before it does and it goes through several different scenarios to send a bunch of fear through every inch of your body. You tense and brace for impact.

I assumed that I would be flung from my inner tube. I expected to be flung from my inner tube. What my brain failed to expect was that the pond was deeper than I anticipated. My tube cracked the ice, my weight shifted to one side, and I capsized. My face hit the frozen ground and the icy, dirty water kept me from passing out. I pushed myself out of the water and inhaled a bunch of chilled air.

Everyone shouted from above, asking if I was okay. I nodded and shook them off as I was coughed and sputtered. I had every intention of going again until I realized that lifting my arms was difficult and I was starting to feel really tired. So I started the trudge back to the van and realized that my head was starting to feel crunchy.

 

I pulled off my hat and winced as stands of my hair were frozen to it. I removed my gloves as they were so saturated they weren’t keeping me warm at all. I imagined that I was Luke Skywalker on Hoth, struggling to make it until Han rode in on a Tauntaun. Even though I spent a lot of time in my own little fantasy world, I knew that Harrison Ford was NOWHERE near me and I definitely needed to get to the van.

 

When it was finally in view I started screaming for my mom, but saw that she was engrossed in a book and most likely had music playing in the background. She’s also deaf in her left ear, so instead I thought about how warm it would be when I finally got there. It was so cold I was terrified that I would be walking and accidentally step on and shatter a toe. Yes, it most likely wouldn’t have happened. My head has a tendency of playing things out in grand fashion.

 

I finally got to the door and tried opening the side door and my fingers just stopped cooperating with me. Mr. Press was in the car next to us and jumped out and assessed the issue. He yanked my coat over my head and pulled the door open and shouted for my mom’s jacket. My mother practically vaulted over the seat and started stripping me out of my clothing. I was so cold and so tired I didn’t care that I was getting naked in front of my friend’s father.

 

I was burritoed up in my mom’s jacket and thrown into the passenger side and all vents were redirected to me. My mom asked Fred to drop my brother off when they were done and then sped back home.

 

You know those moments in movies where they try to speed up the parts of the story that are inconsequential but they show you that time has progressed? I’m referring to the “fade to black and then fade in to a new moment” effect. That was pretty much what was happening every time I closed my eyes.

 

My lids would droop and then I would open them and I was being held under a warm shower. I’d blink and then I was putting on pajamas. I’d blink and then I opened my eyes and I was sleeping on the side of my parents waterbed where the heater was and my mother informed me she had turned it to the max and I should just rest. She and my dad then woke me up every few hours.

 

Looking back, I’m pretty sure it could have been a lot worse.