...except for me and my monkey! "Everything we see hides another thing. We always want to see what is hidden by what we see." -Rene Magritte

Friday, March 04, 2005

Ow, my knee

Yesterday at lunch as I was sitting down, I hit my left knee against the leg of another chair, and it popped my knee cap out of joint. I quickly popped it back in, but it hurt like hell for awhile. I was able to walk all right when I got up about twenty minutes later to get more tea, but later, as I was walking to Game Theory, I kept getting these sharp, sudden jolts of pain to the inside of my knee. Now, it's more of a dull ache, but it still kind of hurts. Please pity me. Thank you.

But I can't feel too bad for myself when I look at pictures like these. I checked her blog last night right before I went to bed, and got so squicked out that my arms felt all wiggly and antsy and I had to keep checking them to make sure I didn't have GIANT BRUISES. So that's about reason #428 that I could never be an intravenous drug user.

In non-pain-related news, last night I went downtown for First Thursday. It was only the third time I've ever been: I actually went with some friends of my host when I was a prospective student back in the golden days of spring 2003, and then in September of 2003, right after we arrived on campus, Clay, Amanda, and Sarah Hill and I tried to go downtown but we never made it to the Pearl District because we didn't know our way around. In any case, it was great being downtown on such an nice evening with so many other people, all ducking into the little boutiques and galleries and drinking wine and coffee and listening to the street musicians. At one of the galleries I ran into Julia, this girl from my Judaism class. What's funny is that we also ran into each other and ended up sitting together at Crónicas, the Ecuadorian movie at the Portland International Film Festival, which ended last week. I guess we both like to do the artsy fartsy cultural stuff downtown, which is awesome. What would be great is if we ran into each other at the Oregon Symphony in April, too.

Edited Saturday to add: My parents are in town for the weekend, and when I told my dad about popping my knee out, he asked if I cried. I didn't, but I kind of felt like it, because it hurt, and I am a wimp with a low pain tolerance. I reminded Dad of the time a few years ago when I was leaning forward on a chair so that only two of its legs were on the ground and I fell and hit my forehead on the dining room table at home. That time, I did cry--more out of shock than anything, in my defense--and Dad and Andy fell down on the floor laughing at me. When I reminded Dad of that story this morning, he laughed for about five minutes. In retrospect, it was kind of funny. Andy still makes fun of me for it on a pretty regular basis.