Ouch.

I attend school at Pepperdine University, which is notorious for its many stairs. Seriously, Google "Pepperdine stairs", you'll see. Just as my campus is known for its stairs, so have I made a name for myself by falling down them. At least once a semester. Thankfully, I have mastered the art of falling backward and bracing myself to avoid a full head-on tumbling down. My tailbone is perhaps not as thankful for this technique as my head. I thought I was going to avoid it this spring, but a little tiny staircase of four caught me off guard. My foot slipped out from under me, and down I went. Since my school is also known for its extremely friendly and caring student body, a few people stopped to see if I was okay, and not one of them giggled at all. I shrugged it off and got up, but now... ouch. My whole left side just feels out of whack.

I've been pondering this all day. I am kind of clumsy. I run into things a lot. People say ouch on my behalf far more often than I do, because I bang my various extremities into walls on such a regular basis that I barely notice it anymore. I have pretty constant bruises on my shins. Plus the whole not-good-with-stairs thing. My husband actually makes it a point to walk in front of me when we go down stairs together, just in case I start to fall. He's big, he'll catch me (or at least that's the theory.) But why am I clumsy? Other people don't fall down stairs twice a year! I took dance from ages 4 through 17, aren't I supposed to be graceful? I have terrible vision, and although I wear contacts to correct it, I sometimes wonder if that isn't somehow a cause of my klutzitude. Or maybe I'm just fishing for excuses here.

I wonder if God might have compensated me for this in some way I have yet to discover: "Michelle will always have greeny-purple elbows, but she makes a mean pot roast" or something along those lines. I'll be sure to update if I figure that one out.

(3/8/07 ETA:
I went ice skating for about two hours on Saturday. I didn't fall once, and I began to think that I might not be as clumsy as I previously thought. Half an hour later, my humility was restored when I had the audacity to step off a curb. I like to think I was just decorating my knees for Easter. If eggs get to be pretty pastel colors, why not my legs?)

Soulmates

For those who don't speak math, this says: For all x in P, there exists a unique y in P, such that x plus y equals love, where P is the set of all people. In other words, everyone has a soulmate.

Forget French and Italian, I say Math is the true romance language. And people from every culture speak it.