There is a green, purple, black bruise the size of a jalapeño on my foot. It looks ugly, but it feels so much better than it did on Saturday. I can walk with a little less swagger, and I can go up stairs without wincing. I am pretty sure my foot is fine, but Ohio bullied me into going to health services anyway.
"What do you want?" Asked the woman behind the glass. She seemed very New York, as in she went straight to the point and didn't waste time smiling or asking me where I was from. She wasn't rude, she was focused.
"Well, um... I twisted my ankle on Friday and... ah, it hurt a lot at the time.... but now it feels better and I guess I - ah - want to make sure it's ok... and that I... didn't... break... anything."
"We're closed. Do you want an appointment tomorrow?"
"Ah... no, I'm sure my foot is fine..."
So now I am getting my foot checked out tomorrow. I secretly hope that something more serious happens to me in the next 14 hours so that I don't look like a wimp when I come in with a foot that has completely healed. I am walking under trees hoping that one will fall on me. Then my appointment will be justified, and the New Yorkers won't judge me.
Classy Work Study Moment of the Day: The office phone rang just as I took a bite of my sandwich for lunch. I looked at the phone in panic, then up at my supervisor, thinking I was going to be fired, but she saw my predicament and picked up the phone for me. I chewed, swallowed, and thanked her.
Classy Spanish Moment of the Day: We had to pair up and write a dialogue between a hypnotist and a patient talking about their first love in Spanish. My partner had a great idea. "Let's write it so that the patient's love is... a dog." We wrote a dialogue about how the patient witnessed his love get hit by a car.
"Pero, no estoy llorando."
But I am not crying.
"Porque tenemos nueve hijas."
Because the dog and I have nine daughters.
I have an Oral History assignment due on Wednesday. The goal: to conduct an hour-long interview with someone who has a job that fascinates you.
I had the e-mail address of the writer/blogger/orgy-coordinator I met at The Moth last week, so I e-mailed him asked him if he would like to be interviewed. He said yes. And today, I called him, and I learned his life story.
I spent an hour in my room talking to him on a borrowed phone, taking notes and shooing away my roommates when they came over to see what I was up to. I scribbled furiously. This man was a seasoned storyteller, and I had to focus on writing notes because I couldn't record the conversation.
We started with the basics, his childhood, his family, and then we moved on to how he met a woman through his sex blog, and how they eventually fell in love. He told story after story and I struggled to keep up, trying to keep in mind tips my Oral History teacher gave me.
"When you are asking for stories, start with 'Tell me about...' and let them take over." Said my teacher.
"Tell me about your marriage." I asked.
"Well, on our first date we had a threesome."
By far the best opening to a story I have heard in a while.
It was really eye opening, and I am hoping my professor will enjoy it. He told us that America needs the "locker room stories" and I think I have helped fulfill this need.
I finished the interview and I felt mighty accomplished. I feel like my journey to become a writer is getting a very strong start. I am going to celebrate with some dinner.
Tonight or tomorrow I will make sense of the notes I took and type up his profile.
I'll keep you posted.