Proud to be laconic [Friday, Jun. 25, 2004, 9:20 am]
It's always cool when my grandparents come up for a visit. I think it's been a year since we saw them last. So we had some good visiting time yesterday. But I won't go into all the day-logging business because I'm sure I'll be doing enough of that next entry.
So I'll talk about sneezing instead. I've been doing a lot of it, so I'm wondering if I may be allergic to something. Cats? Dust? Pollen? It could be any of those, so I guess there's no way to tell for sure. It seems I'm always congested somehow. Thank God for tissues.
I wish I didn't have such a loud sneeze though. I seriously envy these girls that can manage to suppress them so much that you can barely hear them. It's so lady-like. When I sneeze, people turn around and look. I wish they'd do that when I talked. I seriously think I sneeze louder than I talk. Isn't that sad?
I guess I can't help having a quiet voice. If God made me that way, then that's the way he wanted me to be. People often comment on how I "never say anything". Actually, I do try occasionally. Sometimes I just can't find the words.
That's one thing I hate about having conversations with people - I try to keep up my end of it, but when things go quiet, I often have trouble thinking of something to fill the gap of silence with. A few minutes later, I usually can. But when a nice question or comment would be most appropriate, I'm blank.
Maybe that's why I like writing so much more than talking. No one's sitting there waiting for me to say something. I can just sit in my chair and stare at the ceiling, or get up and walk around, or play with my hair, or fidget all I want. I don't have to look anyone in the eye, except for my computer screen. My screen is so patient. And when I come back to type, I'm right where I was before - it's as if no time has gone by.
And...tomorrow is graduation. I don't have to worry about anything. I will, I'm sure, but it'll be pointless. As long as I bring my gatorade (which has become my medicine by now), I'll be fine.
"Sometimes He calms the storm, with a whisper, "Peace, be still." He can settle any sea, but it doesn't mean He will. Sometimes He holds us close, and lets the wind and waves go wild. Sometimes he calms the storm, and other times He calms His child."
Vitality - Tuesday, Aug. 11, 2009