Catfish

I'm not sure how many of you actually read this blog, but I'm sure that if you do, you must have read or heard something about me being food poisoned this weekend. The actual debate of whether it was food poisoning is still in the air, but I'm sticking with it. Yesterday, I went to a local restaurant (you can ask me the specifics later) that is frequented by people of all ages, though it can be said that they may benefit from having an "early bird" special. For some reason, when I was ordering, I chose to go with the baked Cajun catfish. I don't typically get the fish, especially if it's not fried, but something inclined me to order it. It may have been the desire to get a serving of fish oils, but I should have known that catfish is about the equivalent of a dog in nutritional value. The funny thing is I really just want a hamburger, so this whole ordeal could have been avoided.

So I ate the fish, thinking the whole time, this doesn't feel right. By "feel," I mean I wasn't sure if it had been completely cooked. I wasn't even that hungry to begin with, but for some reason I kept eating. After the meal I didn't think any more of it, cause I felt pretty okay, even after ingestion.

About three hours later, I started getting an odd bloated sensation in my gut. It wasn't like a gassy feeling, it was like it was full of something that was growing. I took an herbal digestive aid, and hoped for the best. Another hour passes, and I want to head to the gym so I can keep my schedule on track. Because I'm in to the sort of thing, I took a serving of a pre-workout supplement (again ask later for specifics. I don't want to get in trouble for trademark or anything due to criticism). Another mistake. The bloated feeling amplified and turned into massive stomach cramp. So here I am, trying to workout, doubled over in abdominal pain that comes and goes, so I have to wait about 2-3 minutes between sets.

I manage to finish, and then my friend Justin arrives at the gym because I suggested we could run together. We start our jog, and I'm thinking "If I can puke, maybe I'll feel better" knowing that I would be able to eat Thanksgiving leftovers later. We run maybe 1.3 miles, and my stomach contents are still intact. We make it back to my house, and we start pulling out the leftovers to be heated up. About now is when I feel that I could puke. I briskly walk to the bathroom and proceed to vomit. Vomit, however, would be an understatement (Justin overheard my expulsion and thought I was peeing, if that helps paint a picture). I wanted to be clear of whatever was setting camp in my stomach, but in the process of evacuation, I couldn't open my mouth side enough. Nor could I find a break in the action to take a breath of air.

So anyway, that happened, and then I ate leftovers, because, naturally, I felt better. Justin and I then left for a performance event held by the high school we graduated from. We were there maybe 20 minutes when I said I can't stay here any longer. He drove me, so we went back the house, and I laid on the couch in pain. My bodily functions had begun to fail, and found myself headed to the bathroom several times, until 9 o'clock when my stomach contents were, again, emptied. It wasn't my proudest moment, because when I get sick, I often black out or come close to fainting. So mid-process, I fell in the floor and have been working on cleaning the stains out of my clothes from last night.

So here I am, about 24 hours since eating the food, and I feel fine, other than a little taxes when walking around.

The reason that this may not be food poisoning is because my niece was sick a few evenings ago, and the incubation period would make since for me not to get sick until 3 days later. Also, I discovered that my brother had been violently ill all last night, after waking up before dawn. He's still out for the count at the moment, and he seems to have been hit harder than I did.

Regardless, I hate being sick.

Red Flannel

The past few days people have been calling me a lumberjack due to my love of all things flannel, or at least that pattern. I wore my traditional red/black/gray pattern the other day and got a few comments, and again today with what some call the "trendy" lumberjack with black and white. Now, I find this hilarious and, oddly enough, accurate. For me to be in college majoring in biology/neuroscience, the label of lumberjack should not be appealing. However, the thought of swinging an ax and being burly sounds like my kind of career. I guess I would have to move to Alaska or Canada to put that into action though. Eh, I like the cold so no big loss.

I've told people my list of potential professions, but haven't included this one. So I guess my list goes something like this:

Neurosurgeon
Neurologist
Chiropractor
Personal/Athletic Trainer
Lumberjack

Some big steps there in that ladder, but I still like looking at it.

My Tea Cup/Food Stockpile

This is kind of a funny observation that I was discussing with my roommate Chris yesterday. My tea cup (it actually says "tea" on its side) lies. This is no profound abstraction of what we drink and put into our bodies. It lies because I always have espresso in my tea cup. When you think about it, this goes against the whole "I'm a tea drinker" versus "I'm a coffee drinker" - two entirely different animals. I guess I'm bridging the gap between the two cultures.

So, food stockpile you ask? I went to the grocery store yesterday and probably spent more money than I should have (I now have $11.61 on my debit card). You know what I've realized? You can't stockpile food in a dorm! I tried to buy enough to get me through the week, and I'm sure I accomplished that. However, I noticed that immediately after buying my groceries, I was hungry. But I didn't want to eat what I just bought. I mean, I JUST purchased these and they have to last me longer than four days (for the record, I eat too much). It was like I interpreted my food as an investment, and by not giving it time to appreciate, I was losing money. I'm not worried about not having enough food (I've done well so far this year), I just felt weird about the whole thing.

Another little side note, most of us here at Belmont have experienced the Inverse-Freshman 15. I've lost five pounds so far, since being at school. I'm sure some would kill for this, but I find it disheartening. I worked hard to gain that weight! Others I have talked to have lost more and have been here for at least two years. Once people move off campus though, that weight seems to find them again.

I can probably relate my lack of weight gain to the fact that I don't eat "snack" food. Yesterday, I had my second slice of pizza so far this semester.

By the way, I forgot to mention that my birthday was last Monday. It was incredible. My pledge brothers (I'm pledging ATO) helped me organize a huge group dinner at a local restaurant. Not only that, but some of the active brothers I was able to contact showed. The whole evening meant a lot to me. Prior to the actual date of my birthday, I had been home for family gatherings. So I had about four days of birthday meals and wishes. This will probably be one birthday I will remember.

Already behind

I know I said I was going to shoot for once a week on the blog posting. That hasn't worked out too well, now has it? I feel like I'm super busy lately, though I catch myself goofing off or playing video games when I should be practicing some sort of musical instrument. I think that's been the hardest thing about being in a dorm. It is impossible to make myself play guitar, drums, or piano (my roommate has an electric piano, and I have my little Roland kit), and I can tell that I'm probably already starting the lose some of my talents and skills. I've been surrounded with science all semester. Don't get me wrong, it has been phenomenal, but I need an outlet now and then.

I hope that this blog can help rekindle my creative desires.

But back to the actual "blog" part of this.

I find it odd and increasingly arduous driving around here. Now, I love driving, and I love driving in the city. But when compared to small town driving (as is where I'm from), distances and times don't match up when driving here in Nashville. Back home, a twenty minute drive means about 18 miles distance to cover. Here, a twenty minute drive is more like 4 miles. It's fun to ponder, but it seems like an impossibility that only a wormhole can explain. Now is the time that I need my bicycle on campus with me.