Superman is too powerful to feel?

I was reading a comic book during my break today and I started thinking about Superman. Amongst a host of other things Superman is impervious. You shoot him with a gun, it bounces off him. You slap him in the face, you break your hand. A tank shells him with their round, the round blows up and Superman doesn't even move. In fact, only ONCE have I ever seen his costume get completely blown off in a comic. His super junk was covered with a cleverly placed waft of smoke, don't worry. I have seen many comics lately that show his costume getting torn or tattered a bit, so at least they have somewhat corrected that glaring mistake. I mean, even if your explanation is that it is a special Kryptonian material that is ALSO indestructible...how did Martha Kent, Clark Kent's adopted Earth mother, sew it into a costume? The needle would break. Perhaps Superman used a piece of his Kryptonian ship to form a needle and this is how she sewed the costume. Whatever, this isn't what I was thinking about...we can talk more about this later, I'm sure.

What I WAS thinking about was this: Superman hardly ever flinches unless it is a SUPER baddy hitting him or something. As I mentioned before, if you slap him...he doesn't budge. If you shoot him, he doesn't move. No tears. No wincing. No sign of pain what-so-ever. Based off of this, I think it is safe to say that Superman does not feel these things. Does this mean that Superman wouldn't feel a child tapping on his leg? Someone giving him a hug? A butt pinch? What about when he is roasted marshmallows and his hand gets too close to the fire? He doesn't feel it. This leaves Lois, his wife, in a unusual position. No matter what she does Superman will never feel her touch. She would have to literally give Superman a super-powered hug to get him to feel it.

How much pressure would it take to register that someone is touching Superman?

Just something I was thinking about today.

Time keeps on slipp'n...

I have been feeling like I am wasting time. I don't like my job and I have been wasting my life be working here. It isn't furthering me in any way at all. 3 years is much too long to have been sticking with something that isn't doing anything for me at all. I think it would be different if I had a family and needed to earn this money, but right now I am just using the money for nothing. Collecting crap. The hard part is finding another job. I have been trying for some time now and I have not been able to get a different job. While my job does bother me all the time, I am thankful that I have a job. I know that it is a tough time for a lot of people, so I do feel fortunate. I still have to complain though.

Friday the 13th

My favorite moment that involved a February 13th took place in middle school. I was going out with a girl named Nichole Behn. Nicole had strawberry-blond hair and she was as cute as could be. We would walk to class with each other, give each other notes, and that is pretty much it. I mean, it is middle school so what do you expect? I think the only thing we ever did outside of notes and classes was going to see Beauty and the Beast, but that is a story for a different day. (It is a good one.)

One of my favorite things about middle school (there weren't many) was gym class. In gym class we got to do pretty awesome things like go bowling, play pin soccer, and floor hockey. Another of my favorite things in gym class was happening on this particular February 13th: roller skating.

For a week or two, during the winter, we would come into the gym and find two large boxes with skates in them. The skates where tucked into the shelves inside these giant boxes on wheels and organized by size. We would scramble to put our skates on and then quickly get on the gym floor to start our circles around the wooden floor.

Just prior to that day, the 13th of February, I had gone to the drug store where my mom worked and picked out a small, white bear to give to Nichole for Valentine's Day. I had this bear in my room, waiting till two days had passed and could finally give a girl something for Valentine's Day on my own. In years passed we had been forced to make everyone in our class a Valentine out of construction paper and glitter and glue. Not this year though. This was 6th grade. We were adults and we could choose who we wanted to be our Valentine.

As I skated around the gym I thought of how I would present this fine bear to Nichole. Would I sneak up behind her and then put the bear in front of face like a game of "guess who"? Would I walk up to her with the fuzzy animal behind my back and then smile, say a Happy Valentine's Day something or other, and then show her the gift? Lots of planning needed to be done in the next 24 hours.

At just about that moment Kim Quame, who was Nichole's best friend at the time, skated up from behind me.

"Todd. Nichole doesn't want to go out with you anymore."

Then she skated away.

The gym teacher then blew his whistle, signalling it was time to go and get out shoes on before the bell rang. The floor slowly cleared off and the sounds of wheels on wooden planks got quieter and quieter. As the bell rang and everyone left, the sounds left in the gym were of one set of skates rolling lonely circles in the gym. Mine. I just skated and skated and cried and cried by myself. (keep in mind that I am laughing while I type this, so I hope you are laughing while reading. don't feel bad...this was middle school.) As soon as everyone was gone my teacher came over and asked what the matter was.

Through the sobs, he somehow figured out what was going on and said, "Todd. You're in 6th grade. You've got a LOOOOT of time left in find a girl."

I'm not sure what happened to that white bear that I had bought for Nichole on the 12th of February, I do know that I probably saved it for a long time in hopes of giving it to her someday so that she would know just what she missed out on all those years ago. I also know that when we went out again in 7th grade, I didn't give it to her then.

It's a good thing too. She moved away in the middle of the year while we going out. To a different state. Without telling me. But that is another story for another day.

Hey...at least it wasn't a Friday, the 13th of February. I probably would have slipped on my tears while skating and broken my leg.

todd

Feelings

I feel better today. Finally I can say that I feel on the road to recovery. My throat isn't quite as sore as it has been and I feel like I have a bit more energy, which is good. Also, my butt doesn't hurt from the shot. If I ever get strep again, I think I will get the shot again. It seemed to work so much quicker, so in the end...it was worth it. (yes, pun intended)

This morning I was walking out to my car and I slipped on some ice. It was the perfect fall. Didn't hurt too badly, so laughed when my papers flew straight up in the air. I was just like a movie fall. The only thing that still hurts is my left knee which I am sure won't last for long.

There are some friends that I am missing.

Encyclopedia. Where are you? We never hang out.
Red. Why does the Big G have to suck so much? We need to get together soon.
Snails. Why don't you ever leave your parent's house? You and I need to talk.
Thanos. How is school going? I miss playing fun games with you and I haven't skated enough since you left.
Sweet Timmy C. School makes you busy but why don't you call me?
Little Lady L. New job makes you happy and I need to hear about it. Sunday chat time?
K-Dog. I always miss you. Darn Iowa for being so far from Minnesota.
Kev-N-Tea. I like your blog, but I miss talking with you and hanging out.

Those are just a few.

We open our show at the Minneapolis Pinter Festival. My talented roomie wrote and directed a piece that I am in, so if you are reading this and want to see a show, you should probably check it out. It is a pretty interesting night of events.

Ouch.

For the past four to five days I have been sick. Thursday I left work early and I had a fever. Friday felt crappy still, so I stayed home from work but by the evening I was feeling a bit better. Friday night I stayed in a hotel room with my parents and didn't sleep well at all because of the whistling/snoring that happens in my parent's noses. Saturday I felt a bit better, but could tell I for sure had a sore throat. Saturday evening was super tired but still felt OK. Sunday...oh Sunday I felt really crappy. Monday, same deal, so I made an appointment to see the doctor on Tuesday.

My original appointment was at 4:30pm because it is about 5 blocks from my house. However, my supervisor came to me and asked if I could possibly move that appointment to an earlier time. I called and there was one available at 1:30pm. This was fine except now I have to drive to work for 25 minutes in traffic, drive to the doctor for 25 minutes in traffic, drive back to work for 25 minutes in traffic, and then drive home for 25 minutes in traffic. Obviously my original plan was better, but that means nothing to my stuper-visor. Anyway, I leave for the doctor at 1:00pm and they poke and prod me, checking me for mono, strep throat, and probably a bevy of other diseases I don't even know exist. Long story short, I have strep throat. Yippee. The doctor was impressed with my blood pressure (as they always are) and how quickly I bled, so that was a plus, but then she asked me if I wanted to take pills or do a one time shot. I asked, "Which will make me better faster?" "The shot." Shot it is.

The nurse comes in and I start rolling up my sleeve as she explains to me how much this will hurt and how big and thick this needle is and how the medicine is really thick so it will take a bit longer than a normal shot. This thrills me to no end because I really don't like shots at all at all. Then she looks up and sees me rolling up my sleeve and says, "Oh. No. You will need to stand up." I am pretty sure she smirked right then, but I am not sure because my head went down immediately and I said, "Wow. Guess I didn't know what I was getting into, huh?" "Nope."

I roll my sleeve down and reluctantly stand up. I pull my pants a little bit down and realize that I am, as always, wearing two pairs of pants and my underwear. I tense up as I start to wonder if she thinks this is weird, ESPECIALLY when I remember that I am wearing pants covered in superheroes.

"Don't tense up, it will hurt more," says the nurse.

If there is one thing that will make me tense up more it is to tell me that it will hurt more. It also didn't help that the shot, the actual needle filled with juices was sitting right in front of my face. She was right, it was thick.

"Okay. Put your weight on your other leg," says the nurse and she tries to grab some of my butt to pinch in order to give me a shot in the fat or skin rather than right in the muscle. Of course, this makes me more tense since I can't say that has EVER happened to me before.

"Are you ready?"

"I suppose."

"Here we go."

Deep breath in as I feel the needle. Then slowly...veeeerrry slowly...the medicine enters my body. This is my least favorite part of shots. It's not the needle itself, it is the feeling of that liquid going into my body. In this case, my butt.

"How ya doing?" she asks.

"Alright, I guess," I raspily answer.

Finally, after what seems like a full minute of liquid injections into my glut (as the pros say) she is finished.

I pull all my pants up and limp out to my car. I drive back down to work. I walk in the door. One of my co-workers asks what I have. "Strep throat," I reply feeling justified in my absence because I have something that is actually considered a sickness and not just a mental health day excuse.

"Oh!" she exclaims. "You shouldn't be here, you are contagious!" It is true. I am supposed to stay away from people for 24 after I get the shot because I have a cloud of sickness around me like some sort of horrible representation of the Peanut's Pig Pen.

"I can go home if you want," I reply with a little bit of annoyance in my voice. After all, my supervisor and told me to switch my appointment because they really needed me to come back and do work at the end of the day.

My co-worker doesn't respond to this, but instead sits down, so I do the same. I start working on something for about five minutes, realizing slowly but surely how much my butt is hurting as I sit in this chair, when my supervisor comes over.

"Go home."

"Really?"

"Yeah, get some rest. Go home".

......

I had just driven an extra hour for this person. I had readjusted my life to be a 'team player' at work. I had come back to work per HER request because they really needed me. And now, after all that, she is telling me to go home. Had I not been so pissed I probably would have made an argument to stay, but I am just not caring anymore.

Now, remember how I said I am supposed to stay away from people for 24 hours? Well, I called this morning before leaving for work and asked if I was supposed to be staying away for the full 24 hours (meaning come in at 1:00pm). Nope, come in now.

I don't understand this at all. What I DO understand is that the only difference I feel in my body after all of this....my butt really, really hurts.

Welcome back...

Well, first off, it has been awhile since I have written anything here. The number one reason for this is because two people were laid off in my department and I volunteered to do all of their work. So far, that has been going well, but there are still times (right now) where I have nothing to do. The other reason I haven't written anything in awhile is because, well, I just haven't had much to say. I have thought much about what to write but nothing comes to mind. I think my creative juices are running low. I blame the economy.

Here are some things that I should tell you about.

I have a beard. It is going on medium to large in the Todd beard scale. I still don't think it is as big as the beard I grew when I was playing Shylock, but it is getting there. I think the main thing that it unusual about my beard is that I have not trimmed my moustache. This is an experiment to see what I would look like if I were lost in the wilderness. Speaking of being lost in the wilderness, I had a dream the other night that I was locked out of my house and I couldn't get anywhere else. My choice in the dream was to burrow under the pile of leaves that is covered with a pile of snow in our backyard. This probably wasn't the best choice because I imagine it would be very wet under there. Warm, but wet. Don't be wet in the cold. You will die. Don't sweat, don't fall in a river, don't pee your pants. Just don't get wet. Anyway, I woke up and was fine in real life, so it doesn't matter. I didn't wet my bed, that's the important part.

Candy. It is delicious. I like it a lot, but I have been thinking about the amount of candy I eat. There is a lot of candy at the office and I am bored, so that means I eat a lot of candy. I decided to not eat any candy at work because I remembered that, as a kid, I didn't eat much candy and I was alright with that. When I DID get candy it was pretty awesome, so I think I want to get back to that in my life. Plus I am almost 30 and I can tell my metabolism is slowing down because I am getting a bit of a belly...which is weird for me. I suppose I should start doing some more exercises other than just hockey but I have just never been able to get excited about that.

There was one other thing that I wanted to write here, but I sure can't remember what it was. Perhaps if you remind me, I will write about it. Yes, I suppose that this is my 'sneaky' way of asking for a prompt, but you may like what comes out of it.

~t