mychai's Diaryland Diary

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Should one punish family members or accept excuses?

So, I decided what I am going to do about my sister. It doesn't involve baseball bats or guys named "Shorty".

It does involve a guy named Phil. And yes, I mean the good Doctor Phil.

I think my sister has empathy issues. She can't seem to understand that her actions actually have emotional reactions on other people. My sister really takes things badly when someone screws her over, yet she doesn't seem to understand why people get upset when she does the screwing.

And, ew. This is my sister we are talking about. So, clear your dirty mind.

I saw on Dr. Phil one time a kid's parents were on talking about how bad he is and how he hits on dogs and pulls their ears and gets a good laugh out of it. Instead of Dr. Phil saying to wait a few years and he will start chuckling when he pulls on something else, the good doctor said that his empathy muscle needs to be strengthened.

So, instead of waiting for 10 years on the money my sister owes, I am going to try and strengthen her empathy muscle by offering her a writing assignment instead of paying me back the money. Thankfully, I can afford it. I wish I didn't have to afford it, but I can, so I will.

My sister's assignment is to write a ten-page (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10) essay with a time span starting when I first offered her the phone and ending when I receive her essay. She's going to write the essay from my point of view, as if it was me writing the story talking about how I was feeling.

Hopefully this way she will come to realize how bad it feels to have a family member really screw you over.

And since this is going to be an $800 essay, I told her I want it spell checked, edited, and printed on nice stationery. And I gave her a month to do it.

That's pretty freaking reasonable if you ask me. In effect, I am paying her $800 to learn a lesson in thinking of others' feelings when you scam them out of a lot of money.

The really funny thing? I have serious doubts that she will even do this.


Someone needs to call me up and remind me that I am not in the same body I was in ten years ago when I first took up rollerblading.

I went yesterday afternoon and decided I would work on going up and down ramps, jumping, and making fast turns.

I made a few successful runs up and down the ramps. I did a few turns. I went up the side of a ramp and, instead of coming back down backwards (I still haven't learned how to turn around at the apex of the ramp), I jumped off the side. It's the closest I've come to the X-Games so far.

I stopped to take a sip of water and take a breather and decided to take off my knee pads since I hadn't fallen yet. I almost took off my wrist pads, but talked myself out of doing so at the last minute.

Thirty seconds later, I went up the ramp and started going back down (backwards) when my break caught at the bottom of the ramp.

Boy, I flew!

I instinctively put my left arm behind me to catch my fall, but I otherwise slammed my back flat on the pavement. It made an impressive noise.

I also felt the tingle of my wrist having 190 lbs falling right on it.

I lay there for fifteen seconds to make sure I didn't break anything and that I could feel my toes. But I then got up and started skating again so I wouldn't look like a wuss in front of all of the twelve-year old kids skating circles around me.

I fell so hard on my wrist that my watch band hook thingie left a bloody imprint (and now a bruise). Had I not had the pads on, my poor wrist would have broken off.

I didn't feel it until late last night, (and a lot today) but my back sure didn't agree with me landing squarely on it. But my back could also be sore from all of the weird twisting and turning you have to do in order to jump onto and off ramps. But the cement surely didn't help.

Everyone keeps asking me today, "Well, did you have your helmet on?"

Like the helmet would have helped my back or my wrist.


The high today is in the 60s. I'm loving it!

I'm thinking about going up to Essen, Germany, this weekend. You know... to eat.

I was told earlier I need to explain that the word "essen" is German for the verb "to eat."

Har, har.

2:16 p.m. - Wednesday, Jun. 16, 2004

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