Monday, August 19, 2013

I Was in Fight Club

Ahh, grace. In the style of Webster, grace is defined by simple elegance or refinement of movement. Whenever i think of grace, I always think of ballet, or Audrey Hepburn, and of course, Justin Timberlake's 90s frosted tip hairstyle.

Also, whenever I think of grace, I think about how it is a most distant mystery, as I am a true antonym of this word. For most of my life, it's looked like I was in Fight Club.

Forget about any underlying sexual themes of the movie, I'm talking about the actual fighting. Blood, bruises, scratches, our pets heads are falling off!

Okay, so no to the pets heads thing. However, I have been described as clumsy. And although it hurts in my heart, it hurts more when you run into a concrete pillar.

Some may blame my lack of concentration when walking, or moving in general. My mind is usually going in so many directions, and definitely not One Direction, because I think those girls are douche bags. I've decided to weave my personal tale of tragedy through many short stories, like the Brothers Grimm, or while I toss a handful of sand into the fire like on Are You Afraid of the Dark.

There was a time when I was in high school. Our school gymnasium was equipped with a running track, held sturdy by four unmoving, concrete pillars on each side. As I departed from band class one afternoon, I was having a conversation with a friend. Apparently, it was interesting and therefore decided to take over all of my attention span, because, as I'm walking and intently looking at the person next to me, WHAM! Sideburn first into the concrete pillar.

The most recent situation was a little more brutal. I was leaving the workplace and texting feverishly, probably about politics or something smart and definitely not about ordering Thai food. As I simultaneously walked with my head buried in my phone, I ran into a cactus. Not only did it leave scratches, but a fallen soldier in the shape of my shirt took a hit and was left for dead.

Cactus Injury, 2013    Photo By: Nick Titus

Have you ever had one of those oversized chairs that comes complete with an ottoman? Super comfortable right? Well, that doesn't mean it's not harmless. I rammed my thigh into it. I don't even know how it was possible, but it happened.

Thigh-Chair Injury, 2013    Photo By: Selfie

The worst part about my clumsiness are the stranger bruises that show up randomly. I'm not sure where the softball size bruise on my kidney came from, but I can only manage another possible fight club scenario with an inanimate object. I run into doors, door knobs, walls, or the shin busting dishwasher to name a few.

Mystery Bruises,  2013   Photo By: Troll under my desk

Most would assume that alcohol would take precedence over these mysterious bruises, but that's not always the case. I feel alcohol would make more sense, but because it's not a factor, I sometimes wonder if I'm being beaten in my sleep.

If you're not surprised to hear, I often hurt myself doing something stupid. As an inside joke, I folded my arms and put my elbows through the sleeves of a sweatshirt. I was doing some stupid kick when my ankle gave out and I completely collapsed. The video is attached for your reference.

Hopefully, you attain more grace than I.

Thanks for soundin' down.


catechism ( /ˈkætəkɪzəm/Ancient Greekκατηχισμός from kata = "down" + echein = "to sound", literally "to sound down" (into the ears), is a summary or exposition of doctrine, traditionally used inChristian religious teaching from New Testament times to the present.[1] Catechisms are doctrinal manuals often in the form of questions followed by answers to be memorized, a format that has been used in non-religious or secular contexts as well