I'm a fan of big words. The more syllables
a word has, the more I like it. I'm known in some circles of friends as being
a guy that can take a simple statement and turn it into something complex.
So when I went to use big words to describe a fence at a softball field Sunday,
it scared me when nothing came out of my mouth.
I tried to speak several times. I saw what I wanted to say floating in my
head, but each time I opened my mouth only silence and frustration followed.
Finally, I gave up and was able to speak using simple words without a problem...
left to wonder what short-circuited in my brain to prevent my mind and my
mouth from working together.
* * * * *
Mondays are bowling days for Jonathan, Nate
and I. We make every effort to head down to the local alley for some
Lebowski-style fun. This Monday, we sat down at lane 4 and started rolling.
The only thing was... when I looked down at the score sheet to score the
first frame, I completely drew a blank.
It'd only been a week since I had scored a game of bowling, yet I looked
down at the sheet like I'd never seen anything like it before. I got nervous.
I broke a sweat, even. For the life of me, I didn't know what to write down.
I looked over at another lane's score sheet, but their scoring system didn't
make sense and, besides, their handwriting was too lousy to read well.
I finally broke down and asked Jonathan to score the frame. I left the lane
to find one of the alley's "how to" guides to scoring. Of course, it only
took one look at the guide before I made like a Celion Dion song and "it
all came back to me now."
I returned to our lane to lament about my recent cerebral misfortune and
to try to figure out what on Earth was wrong with me. I found no answers,
but I did bowl a 124 -- almost twice my pitiful average.
* * * * *
So what is it that's misfiring in my brain?
Why do I feel like I'm walking around in some sort of a cloud. Zoe suggests
that it's the full moon. Amanda suggests that it could be the sudden change
in weather here. I'm leaning towards a simple case of insanity. Well, either
that or a tumor. If it's the latter, my only request is that it be a really
cool tumor... You know, I could make like John Travolta in "Phenomenon" and
do cool tricks with my mind. If you've gotta die early, that would be one
helluva way to go out, eh? |