Things I can do with one arm part 2

Hello happy campers! Yes, I'm back with more things I can do with one arm! I know you are all dying for an update on the health and strength status of my body. I know you are all wondering what I have in store for you! So what can I NOW do with one hand after a three weeks of being in a cast? Let's see...

GO ON CAMP.
I still managed to attend a week long camp which involved lots of lifting (with one hand) and getting wet (with a purple, scented plastic bag on my arm). It was really difficult but I got through the whole week somehow.

SEW TOGETHER KNITTED SQUARES TO MAKE A BLANKET.
On camp, the JFS were given three huge bags of squares to sew together (4x4) to make blankets for poor babies in India. I managed to make two because I am a compassionate person, obviously.


WORK ON EXPRESS REGISTERS.
That's right people, Renji is moving up in the world of Safeway and can now work not only on self serve, but also on the 12 items or less register (with one hand). Customers thought I was a bit slow but I thought I was doing a fairly good job with only half of my appropriate bagging limbs working.

FEED THE DOG.
My dog is on a special diet of kangaroo meat because the vet thinks she is allergic to some of her food. Kangaroo mince is gross and sticky and hard to get out of a bag with one hand. Her antihistamine tablets are also hard to put into little kangaroo treats so she wont notice them, but you know what? I did it! She ate those damn pills and her kangaroo meat looked delicious (to her) in her bowl. She still loves me!


COOK PASTA.
Ok, I can't really COOK pasta, but dad left the sauce in a pot and I put the boiling water in another pot and added some pasta and waited for it to not be hard and fragile so it could be eaten by my family. I think that was an ok effort in helping around the house. It was the most delicious pasta EVER! (But not really because it was just ragout instead of something super interesting, although I love ragout)

MAKE A SANDWICH.
I was at work today and I needed to eat some lunch, so I bought a roll, some Dodoni fetta (only the best), and some salami. I then discovered that cutting a roll in half with one hand is incredibly difficult but after much struggling I managed to cut it in half to fill it with the deliciousness that I had prepared for it. It took ages but it was definitely worth the struggle because it was an amazing roll/sandwich.

So I apologise for the lack of any interesting stuff that I can do with one arm; I didn't really try anything that dramatic or difficult because my arm hurts. This time however, I will set myself a challenge for next week that I will make a report on (whether success of failure) in my next blog along with any other little victories I have over my heavy, dead arm. This week's challenge: clean my room. Cleaning my room is not a big deal for me as usually it is spotless and everything is in its correct place (nothing is homeless), but with a broken arm it is incredibly hard to clean. At the moment it is littered with my luggage from camp, my luggage from Sydney, my dirty laundry, my clean laundry, and just things that were too hard to put away. With my recovering arm I think I can do it this week! Stay tuned for the report on this challenge, accompanied by entertaining photos no doubt. Thanks for reading.
-Renji

Things I can do with one arm

Hi there kids of Blogville! I have a rather funny story to tell you involving rollerblades and a broken arm... Well that's the whole story really (damn I wanted it to sound more interesting on paper). I, the invincible Lieutenant Renji, am facing a minor setback of a snapped radius that was pushed towards my elbow and had to be yanked into place by a doctor; anaesthetic you ask? Lieutenant Renji has no need for numbness, a person so tough can withstand the pain of bones moving inside them! Anyway, after a week and a half of difficulty with general things in life I have learned to do a few things with one arm and I have decided that everyone wants to hear about my great achievements as I discover little by little the boring, everyday things that I am able to do while covered in plaster.

Use the computer.

My typing skills were already so great that I was able to type with one hand on the first try, which was as soon as I got home from the hospital so I could Facebook all my friends to see who would be first to shotgun writing "milpool" on the cast.

Write a blog.

Evidently I am able to write a blog.

Fold clothes.

At first it was incredibly hard to clean my room and put away my clothes, but with the help of my teeth and a bed I am able to manoeuvre a tshirt into a perfectly folded position only to find that I am unable to put it back into its proper colour coordinated spot because I cant lift up the other shirts while holding the folded one. Soon I will learn to satisfy my OCD. PURPLE DOESN'T GO NEXT TO RED!

Open bottles.

That's right folks, with the combined power of my thighs and my right hand I can open a bottle from the fridge and pour myself a refreshing drink! Simply delicious.

Play UNO.

This involves teeth and some clever card placement. I am yet to play it completely without the help of someone else but I will get there; my sister is sick of taking cards out of my mouth that lead to her UNO demise!

Take photos.

Well I actually did this with the hand on my broken arm (obviously since my other arm is not in it) and it really hurt, but I am committed to the blog!

That's all for now, stay tuned for more things I can do with one arm, brought to you as I discover them myself. I'm sure they will get more impressive... well I hope. Thanks for reading.

-Renji

WISH (I) WERE (THERE)

Good evening everybody.

I get the sense that I haven't been pulling my weight around here lately what with less posts and a failure to show up at all blog related functions. So this is my post. It is not a very well constructed post. It is not a very well written post. It's mine.

Like always the end of the year always seems to be a crescendo of weirdness. Just weirdness. Weird in that you do, see and think things you normally wouldn't. I don't know if this is the same for anyone else but I get really weirded out by the last couple of weeks of a year.

Yeah. I don't know where I'm going with this. I haven't thought this through at all, so I apologise, but this will be more like reading the frantic notes I've scrawled in my life's margins...

Well, I thought after Christmas that I was really getting sick of my house. Too many things. Too many gifts, too many photos... too many dreams and too many worries. Too much of the past and future, none of the present. I could say something annoying like you can only get self realisation out of pockets of occurrent experience or something, but that wouldn't be true. It wasn't something I'd thought about. I decided I'd pack a bag and head out for a week. Because what was the alternative? What was the worst that could happen?

I'm already rereading this post. Trying to think where I want to steer it. Away from some rocks, towards a light... maybe give up and run it aground here. I'm thinking, maybe this is why nobody ever wants the truth. Because it's nothing. It's definite. It's the truth, there's no way around it. It's like the cuckoo's egg hatching and pushing the others out of the nest. When you get the truth you don't get anything else... just this bigger, uglier, hungrier mouth to feed.

Well, I did some things. That's what I did. I spent time with some people, said goodbye, made my way to my next destination, rinse. repeat. rinse. repeat. It's boring. Like doing the dishes.

Boring.
Simple.
Nice.

I suppose I liked the travelling. I like train rides. Not many people talk on a train, and when they do it's pretty black and white. One hand is the people travelling in a group who send out where they're going and for what little reasoning and the ones who bridge the gap and talk to other travellers about the places they've been. I like conversations. More other people's than my own.

I read this in a monotone in my head. I'm starting to question whether or not I want to keep typing. Now I know the little pieces I'm saying. I think I'm starting to see the picture they'll make when I fit them together. But I'm still hesitant. This is inside my head. This is probably not where it belongs. It might not be understood properly... or worse, it might not even want to be understood. Scenarios float up from murky depths to the surface of my mind. Now I see separate thoughts... how do I say it?... separated from the rest. To mingle with the thoughts of others. I could be judged... I don't care much about that. I could be similar though. These could be the inner workings of someone else. If so, why do I type mine out? Am I allowed to do that? Is it right? What justifies my... hmmm... I don't think this is sadness, or happiness... it's not really expressive, it's just vague. Well, why do I type this when noone else will? What makes me special? I don't know how to say it any better...

On one of the trains I caught I sat opposite a girl in goth makeup. This was at the onset of a four hour trip, shortly before this my MP3 player died... and if I remember I'd been wanting all day to listen to one song. Astronomy Domine, by Pink Floyd. I wanted to hear the first verse specifically.

Lime and limpid green
a second scene,
A fight between the blue
you once knew.
Floating down the sound resounds
Around the icy waters underground
Jupiter and Saturn
Oberon Miranda and Titania
Neptune Titan
Stars can frighten

I like the alliteration, I like the names and I like the image it makes in your head. Well, I wasn't afforded this liberty and it would be days before I'd hear the song again. I knew to entertain myself I'd be reliant on sketching, writing, reading, looking out the window and succinct glances at other travellers. The goth girl's story was already writing itself in my head...

It was a crude translation.

I saw a desire to fit in.
Three phone conversations in ten minutes later I saw the desire was met in her. Desires go when they're attained.

I saw a precisely constructed caricature of alienation and moroseness.
The fact that she was having unrestrained fits of laughter a podcast she listened to made me see no fear of happiness.

I liked being wrong.

I also liked seeing the young couple who boarded wearing peacock feathers in their hats and the old cowboy guy they traded travelling stories with.

I hate this post now. I hate it because I don't even know what it's saying. Right now there is no fleeting glimpse of something. It's just words. They aren't making me think anything, I'm not attached to them, they don't make me feel good.

The simplicity of travelling is brilliant. You only carry what you know is your life with you. Everything you find you get attached to. Everything that isn't worthwhile either remains where you came from or at your destination. It's freedom. You don't have all the good things at your fingertips, of course, but you can't find a luggage rack for what's really tied to your neck. In a way, past and future lay themselves out clearly for you to really look at.

I want to end this now. I don't want to write anymore. I can't think. I can't do it. I don't know what I'm saying. No, now I do know what I'm trying to say, and how I'm trying to write it. But the last piece can't be written down. Can't be written down yet. The last piece is up to whoever reads this. I'm sorry if it's cryptic and annoying, there's no ulterior motive behind it. It just came out and put itself together. Don't be intimidated. You're not intimidated by stupidity, why be intimidated by something else uninspired and unplanned?

Right now things are just happening. All cause and effect crumbles in this overlap of years

'It was me, waiting for me'

Tongs away... to the last piece of post... hehe