Please, do forgive me for my current blogger's block. It has been treacherous and has caused me much distress. However, I refuse to write without a purpose...without a passion. Without my flowing creativity in the mind, no writing will come, and I shall never force it. I don't want it to be unenjoyable, you know?
But today, something hilarious happened. I believe, if you wish to be enlightened with some diabetic humor, you should read on.
My day was, well, crazy. It kind of seemed things haven't been flowing smoothly lately, and I seem to keep getting busier and busier. But now, this evening, it was time for one of my favorite classes--Music fundamentals for the classroom teacher. Despite the test that I was about to take, I was still ready to enter this interesting classroom filled with maracas, bongos, and my beloved tambourines. It's just fun.
So I walk in, go to the second row, and take a seat in the second chair back. Normally, I sit in the first, but it was test day, and I wasn't feeling quite as confident, so I decided to express my confidence level by where I sat. I sat down, grabbed a pencil from my backpack, and mentally prepared myself for this test I was just about to dominate...hopefully.
The next thing I knew, my teacher was explaining that we needed to get partners for a huge project coming up. Great. Fun fact, I'm rather quiet and shy when I don't know anyone. I know, unbelievable right? Wrong. This hugely dominating voice isn't always...loud. And by shy, I mean I rarely talk in class. Unless I have to. It's really strange, but for me sit in the front row is a HUGE boundary leap. This explains my slump to the second row. Anyway, I immediately started freaking out regarding a...PARTNER. This required socialization. Who in the heck was going to be my partner? The brunette with cool socks right next to me? Or possibly the blonde that is usually my shoulder partner? Sheesh. Stress to the max.
My instructor then asks the most beautiful question that I've ever heard, "Who in hear doesn't have an idea of who their partner will be?" Boom shaka laka. I slyly looked around, and waited for someone to raise their hand. At the first sight of a hand above the head, my arm went flailing. I wasn't going to let someone take that one and only available partner. Success. I was the proud owner of a new, shiny partner. Just kidding, she wasn't shiny...but she was a partner. So, what is the next step in this newly forming partnership you may ask?
Information exchange. This is where it starts to get funny...so hold out. There is a point to this story.
We exchange folders, so we can write our names in each others...blah blah blah, I know. Be patient. She hands me hers as I'm reaching in my backpack for a pen. I was semi-hurrying, so she didn't have to stress herself holding that folder out. I didn't want her to think I was oblivious or incompetent by not grabbing what she was so politely giving me. I grabbed the first thing my hand found and ripped the lid off.
Oh snap. I looked down at the pen-like object in my hand. Yes, it was a pen...an insulin pen.
So there I was, exposed needle in hand, and I got that look that could make any person feel awkward. Not just from my new partner, but from everyone around me. The "I don't know what that is, but it's lookin' pretty sketch" look. What do I do?
Shove the lid back on as quickly as possible. Congratulations, partner! You have a creepy partner who finds humor in showing off their needles. sheesh. Insulin stinks...literally.
Really, it didn't hurt me too badly in regards to pride. I actually laughed about it...through the entire test (which only took 12 minutes, so it wasn't a big deal). Randomly. Hysterically. Awkwardly. Awesomely. And this was also creepy-like. No one understands this life that I live. This is what I came up with: a life equation.
An awkward person + an awesome disease = blatant comedy.
Well, that's all.
Keep your needles capped in public,
The Lone Woolf
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