While I was in the hospital from my car accident I had no appetite. At least not for the food the hospital was serving up. I wouldn't eat and lost so much weight. Richard called me from home and said whatever you want to eat I will bring to you. I thought about it for a second. I wanted a grilled cheese sandwich. He laughed thinking I was joking. He said that it would be cold by the time he got to the hospital. But he said he would make it work. Within the hour he came walking through my hospital room door with a camper stove, a propane tank, a lighter, a frying pan, a spatula, bread, cheese and butter. He said if you want a grilled cheese sandwich then you're going to have a grilled cheese sandwich. It was the best grilled cheese sandwich I have ever had. He could have blown up the hospital but that was a risk he was willing to take just to get me to eat something.
I realized then how amazing my BIG little brother is and what he is willing to do for me and with me. For example...
Richard has always been a sport acting as my last minute date to special events. It works out for both of us really because he is great arm candy and looks good in a suit, and these events are a lot of fun to attend. Not to mention all the celebrity schmoozing he gets to do.
Having an interest in Criminal Justice I have always wanted to be a good shot no matter what type of arsenal I was holding. So you could imagine my excitement to go trap shooting. A sport that requires perfect aim and how heavy this shot gun was I was hoping just to shoot the round in any direction north. I yelled “PULL!” and pulled the trigger. I underestimated the kickback this gun has. The blast was so powerful for my small frame that I thought my shoulder was broken. Not wanting to show the men present that I was too dainty for the task I swallowed down the pain and casually asked if there was some sort of shoulder pad to help keep the bottom of the gun steady. They bought that reason and strapped one on. Feeling confident I reloaded and was ready for the next shot. “PULL!” I fired again. For some reason the second shot seemed more powerful this time around because after I fired the round I felt my body tip backwards in my wheelchair and I let out a scream. Thank goodness one of the gentlemen near by saw this happening and he leaped in my direction. He caught me just in time before I was going to hit the ground. All the while I remained holding onto the shot gun. He threw me back up from my backrest with such force that I lost control of the shot gun and the nozzle hit the concrete. Apparently that sound made everyone stop in their tracks because that’s a big no, no I learned. “Sorry” I said with an innocent smile hoping that would grant me forgiveness. I prepared for the next shot. “PULL!” I fired again and to the surprise of everyone there including myself I split the clay pigeon. I reloaded the shells again quickly wanting to keep up some momentum. “PULL!” Bang! I made contact again with the clay pigeon. After getting four in a row and then a miss I thought I would quit while I was ahead.
As part of my General Education classes at school I had to take an art class. The class is called "Basic Drawing" so in all honesty I thought "How hard could it really be?" I thought drawing would be a fun skill to learn and quite frankly I thought it would be an easy A. I have no drawing experience but I have some, and by some I mean very little, art experience. For example, I took a ceramics class in high school and oil painting classes from my next door neighbor when I was very young.
The first day of my basic drawing class my teacher told the class straight up "If you try really hard and your work is good you will most likely get a B." Just a B!!! This is basic drawing!!! I have had a 4.0 up until now and I was nervous that this art class, of all the classes I will take, was going to threaten that. Our first day of drawing didn't do much to change that feeling of mine. I had no idea what I was doing and I felt so phony having all these professional drawing tools that I got at the fancy art store. I thought that if I at least looked the part I would magically create a masterpiece. I am not going to sugar coat it but I was horrible. These art tools did nothing but clean out my wallet. I would see these amazing drawings by my classmates and I was embarrassed by the way my drawing compared to theirs. I was determined to get an A in this class. I began sitting next to those in class that knew what they were doing. I observed their technique, asked questions, took the constructive criticism and most importantly practiced, practiced, practiced. I can't get carried away and say that my practice made perfect because after all this was only basic drawing. However, I can say that I got an A in the class. As my teacher would say, let the art speak for itself. The first half of the semester was pretty rough but the second part of the semester there was a miraculous improvement.
The first half of the semester is over and I am sweating it reaching for that A. We then learned how to shade and things started to turn around for me.