iHelp

I feel like I'm blogging earlier right now, even though I'm clearly not. If anything, I'm doing it around the same time as I always start to write/post a blog, but because it's SATURDAY it feels so much earlier, even though my day has already been busy. I've been volunteering once and a half today. ONCE AND A HALF.

I know you're all dying for an explanation, and what kind of BEDA-doer would I be if I didn't tell you about my Volunteering 1.5?

1. I'm in Key Club. Yes, Key Club, and no, not just because it would look good on college applications, though I'd be a liar if I didn't say that wasn't a nice benefit. In tenth grade, my friend David insisted that my friend Shannon and I join Key Club. His brother made him do it, I think, and what friends would we be if we didn't go to this random key-making club to keep him sane?

No friends at all, that's what.

So we started. It was run by about four seniors, and maybe like two of their friends were in their club. And then we would go, and, just picture it. Seniors + sophomores with short attention spans and the feeling of a hostage situation = nothing really productive. So we pretty much spend the first year doing what they told us (and, really, all I can remember is bell ringing and helping out at the special olympics). Then the second year came, and OH NO. The president, treasurer, vice president, and secretary were NO MORE. Because they were gone. Because they GRADUATED. (Just like I'll be doing in a mere 84 days.) So we had NO ONE except ourselves, really, and were left to RUN A CLUB.

Miraculously, we did not blow up the school. Pretty much, we rang bells at Christmas time to raise money again. Cleaned the city. Cleaned the Kiwanis Camp. Normal Key Club stuff. To be honest, I think what we talked about the most was OMG!DCON, which was the annual Key Club convention where all the Key Clubbers go and party for a weekend in a hotel.

Oh yeah.

So I'm in Key Club, which means that the first half of my day four of BEDA was spent helping out in my school's gym at an Autism Walk where we raised money for... autism. I worked the game booth with some friends, and they had the COOLEST and MOST RANDOM prizes ever.

Squirt guns. Yes. Those Chinese fans. Yes. Random bear key chains. Yes. Vibrating gorilla key chain. Yes. Dinosaur head on a stick with a button that makes it's jaw move so it can go OM NOM. Yes.

From nine in the morning until about eleven thirty, I wore an extremely bright green shirt, played with squirt guns, and helped manage the ring toss table. Thus, volunteer Part 1.

.5 My mom is a member of the Elk's Club, so I'm commonly kidnapped and forced to help out there, too, when needed. Which isn't that often, and they need me. So it's a... willing kidnapping, if you will. Today was an Easter party for little kids so that they could get these cool Easter baskets and go on an egg hunt and everything, and I assumed my help would be needed.

I went there, but my help wasn't exactly needed. I count this as a point five, because I could have just as easily gone to get ice cream after The Walk.

I don't know if it should count as a .5, because I sat there with my mom the whole time, occasionally chasing my rampaging and disaster-causing sister, being the most cliche teenager ever, texting a couple friends and reading. In order to not completely fill the stereotype, I refrained from pulling out my mp3 player.

Tonight is the night I'm passing out programs/being Usher at my school's musical, The Wiz, which could possibly replace my .5 that may or may not count. I'm excited. We've got these awesome shirts, and even though mine's much too big, I'm in love with it. It's extremely comfortable. I want to keep it away from all of my other shirts in fear that they'll get jealous and starch it or something, which would be VERY BAD.

You want to know another thing that's VERY BAD?

Today's random informational About Me question.

What's the worst injury you've every had?
Assuming that head injuries beat out stitches, I'm going to have to go with the time I got the "mild concussion" snowboarding, which is going to make me sound quite pathetic. Maybe later I'll do a "What's the second worst injury you've ever had?" BEDA, just for kicks and giggles, though it involved no kicking OR giggling.

I think it was two years ago, I absolutely begged my dad for a snowboard because "everybody is snowboarding" (yes, I was one of those kids) and "this will pay for itself" so it wouldn't make sense for me "to rent one, because I'm going to be going so often!"

Right.

My dad, being all sport-loving and athletic was thrilled that I wanted to do something that involved movement outside of my house. (AKA, not sitting inside reading/watching movies/etc). So what did he do? He BOUGHT ME A SNOWBOARD.

Oh, boy, it was pretty and shiny, and I didn't want to get it dirty by actually using it. However, that's what a snowboard was for. It was staring at me in my room going "Usseeee meeeeeee." I've learned not to ignore the random seemingly inanimate objects that demand things of me.

I used it once. That was fun! It was powder, fluffy, and safe. My friend Monica taught me how to stop. We didn't leave the Bunny Hill.

In fact, I never left the Bunny Hill. Yes, you're right, I got my concussion ON THE BUNNY HILL. For the record, it was extremely cold, therefore extremely icy that day, and not the most ideal snowboarding conditions. I just remember going, going, going, pretty much bombing the hill, hitting ice, trying to stop, turning COMPLETELY AROUND, losing balance, and falling. On my head. On the ice. That isn't powder, and has no resemblance of physical characteristics that could compare it to powder.

The result: my very first concussion.

It freaked me out. It hurt, but I thought it was just another head bang, so we went into the lodge, I took Advil, and we sat in there for a couple hours. Which, incidentally, was enough time for the Advil to wear off. Shannon and I went back up the ski lift, back to the bunny hill to go down some more. I got off easily (that was my favorite part), and started to go down the hill.

And then everything had started to spin.

I had fallen, and Shannon stopped a little way down from me. So I sat up, looked at her, and said, "Hey, Shannon. When you lie down and then sit back up, does the sky spin?"

Being Shannon, and my good friend, she hopped over (or whatever, she got near me), lied down, and then sat up really fast. "No."

I blinked. "Oh, crap."

Deciding that the SAFEST way to fix this, I took my snowboard off, and WALKED DOWN THE BUNNY HILL, which is apparently something extremely embarrassing, but at that point, I didn't care one bit. This little kid slid up next to me and was like, "Why are you walking? You're supposed to SNOWBOARD, hence being on the hill. Could you not make it down? Do you suck that much?"

He might not have actually said hence, but seeing as I was in the middle of MY FIRST CONCUSSION, I think I should get a free card.

I blinked at him. I was already dizzy and absolutely DID NOT NEED this little ten year old telling me that I sucked. I knew I did, clearly, or I wouldn't have gotten the concussion on the Bunny Hill in the first place. But I didn't need HIM telling me that.

"I hit my head," I said bluntly and made to make my way completely down the hill.

"How?"

Really? Did he REALLY just ask that?

"Snowboarding." I was in no mood to be sarcastic or witty. Though I wish I was. Or that I could have, I don't know, strapped him on the ski lift for all eternity.

He looked at me like I was completely INSANE and walked away, so I made my way down the hill, called my mom, and sat at the bottom while my friends finished up. Then Shannon fell out of her snowboard, and it came down close to me, my mom came, we went to the emergency room (because I'm a wuss), I was diagnosed with a "mild concussion," and I went home to sleep.

Though I must say, the time spent at the hospital for a head injury was much less than the time spent for stitches.

That was my worst injury, and an extremely long story. Sorry. :p

Now I've got to get ready for The Wiz.

Slaters, BEDA-doers.