The air can be heavy to breathe sometimes. Such is the case when you have bronchitis. There's nothing much you can do about it -- it just sticks to the back of your throat and goes down like oil. Yes, I know how oil goes down. You figure it out after attempting to spit fire for the circus. The Ringling Brothers only come once a year, and it's not like they accept résumés, after all.
What makes bronchitis bearable during the height of physical awkwardness (eighth grade) is the week straight of scrambled eggs and milk shakes. Both were my favorite food/drinks at the time, and any doctor will tell you that a full week of ingestion is dangerously unhealthy. The national representative of dairy products, Egg Man (coincidently the Japanese name for Dr. Robotnik of Sonic fame), would call any doctor a liar and challenge him to a fight. And like Sonic, I'm sure the fight would involve a blue hedgehog and a giant lava-spewing robot in Marble Zone. Of course, the doctor has no chance without at least 50 rings and a couple of chaos emeralds.
I really need to get rid of my Genesis.
Anyway, despite the health warning, my mom wanted me to be happy. She knew I hated middle school, knew I hated being ill all the time and knew I despised mid-day soaps (but loved Soap Opera Digest). So when she got home after a long day of teaching preschoolers, she'd fire up the blender and crack some eggs. Granted, the eggs and milkshakes may have been the reason I was four-feet-tall and weighed 140 pounds. Well, I blame puberty. A mother's love knows best, and she knew what would make me feel better.
Mom goes to great lengths to make me happy even when I'm not sick. Yes, I was a rather sickly child, but in those few chances between new illnesses, Mom would always be there to make those overcast days a little brighter. There would always be a scrambled egg sandwich waiting for me after the worst days of insipid bullies and rejected romantic advances. Heck, I'm writing this from home now, and there's an egg sandwich waiting for me. And yes, there was a malevolent but attractive she-bully involved. I asked her out, and she gave me a wedgie. Two hours later, I'm at home eating scrambled eggs on rye.
Now, I know at this point many of you are thinking I'm a momma's boy. I have a joke for you guys. Unfortunately, I can't write it, because Mom says if I have nothing nice to say I shouldn't say it at all. So you guys get off the hook ... this time.
Call me what you will, I love my mother. She's the kind of gal who, on my birthday, will not only research exactly what kind of headphones I want (I'm a bit of an audiophile, and comparatively speaking, researching headphones for her would be about as fun as me going to Bed, Bath & Beyond to research pillow frills), but will coordinate with my friends to arrange a surprise birthday party. Big surprise, the she-bully made it. And she even gave me a present! Another wedgie, topped off with a wet-willy. But you can't blame my mom for that one, and hey, half an hour later, I'm drinking a milkshake, chomping on an egg sandwich and everybody's happy.
Every time there's a care package sitting outside my apartment door, I know I can expect a little bit of care and whole lot of love. To quantify a bit, two things are in every package: peanut butter cookies and boxers. There is no happier feeling than eating homemade cookies in my Monopoly "Get Out of Jail Free" boxers. If you think there is, it probably involves some crazy hallucinogenic drugs and better Monopoly boxers. But those boxers simply can't exist. I know, because I get boxers with every care package. And I have seen them all.
Bully and boxers aside, you've probably figured out I'm trying to make a point. When I wanted to spit fire for the circus, Mom told me to grow up. But when I told her I wanted to be an astronomer, she told me to reach for the stars. And when I changed my mind and began to consider international relations, she kindly asked that I make the world a little more peaceful -- "But really Josh, you ought to stop fighting with your brothers first."
In the path of Life (
Read More
Holding onto every grain in the hourglass
By Mai Hukuoka | 8 hours agoNow that I’m back at school, I have made it my mission to take note of the sneaky passage of time.
Students brave the cold for a whirlwind sorority rush
By Mia Tan | 2 days agoStudents recount a mix of emotions from rush, with some disappointed after dropping from the recruitment process and others ecstatic to join Greek life.
Top 10 ways to avoid burnout this semester
By Sam Saks | 3 days agoAs you settle into this semester, try implementing these 10 tactics to take care of yourself and wave goodbye to burnout.
