So we all have that one special skill that we rely on heavily. For some people it might be the super amazing skill of being able to write three essays simultaneously, wearing short shorts on super cold days, being able to run in high heels, or being able to be able to name all the pho restaurants downtown. For me, it’s my super fast walking prowess.

I walk really fast, and by fast I mean fast. I have yet to meet someone who can keep up with me, and people have to literally half jog when they walk beside me. This comes in handy when I have a million places to be at in one day on campus since I just zoom in and out of buildings, across fields, hills, trees, squirrels, mountains – so you can imagine how I rely on this odd skill of mine a lot. But then something tragic happened.

I got sick.

Suddenly, I couldn’t move, and walking anywhere was the most terrible thing I could think of doing. The first day I had the flu, I figured it was just exhaustion from having to write one essay after the other. The second day I had the flu was my birthday, and I was determined not to be bedridden, so I forced myself to walk everywhere until I was sick to my stomach that evening. Then, on the third day, I was almost bedridden (but still managed to go to class, dedication right there).

It was like the world was suddenly moving in a hazy and blurry slow motion where I felt the need to constantly sleep. This is the closest I’ve ever been to being like a sloth (contrary to feeling).

This entire experience has taught me to empathize with slow walkers. Jokes. It made me realize not to take my ability to walk for granted.

Actually, having the flu gave me some really wacky/philosophical/thoughtful dreams:

1) I dreamt I was on a cloud writing poetry.
Why? I have no idea. I hate poetry, but ever since Hannah gave me a poetry book I’ve been giving it another shot so maybe this is why. But this whole writing on a cloud business has too much of Blake, in my opinion.

2) I contemplated the difference between completion and perfection in my sleep.
This was probably my conscience reminding me that my last essay was crap. What’s the difference between complete and perfection anyway? If it’s complete, does it have to be perfect? Why do we have to be perfect?

3) I dreamt about tricking a kid.
In my dream I thought of the most brilliant way of tricking this one kid into finishing his work, which I then used in real life and it WORKED. Who would have thought.

So that’s it about this stupid flu that stole my birthday and temporarily turned me sloth like which has now evolved into a massive cold, but I’ll take a cold over having the flu any day of the week. At least with the cold I can still walk fast.