Dislocated shoulders and stretched tendons

So for some reason I've been thinking a lot about dislocating my shoulder. I first dislocated it my senior year in high school when I played football. I still remember how much it hurt and I knew as soon as it happened that something was wrong even though all the coaches told me it was probably just a stinger. Well once we got my pads off, we found that it was in fact out of place, so one of the coaches popped it back into place, and it felt SO good. One of the best feelings ever. Now, I wouldn't recommend going out and dislocating your shoulder just so that you can feel good when it's back in, but it is a great feeling.

This reminds me: why in the world do some people subject themselves to pain just so that they can feel good when it's over? Doesn't that seem rather counterproductive? If the only thing that feels good is having the pain end, why have the pain in the first place? I'm perfectly comfortable as I am. I don't need someone inflicting pain on me to make me more comfortable.

My dad used to do this to me all the time. He would start stretching the tendon in my shoulder, which really hurts, but would make me sit still and wait until he stopped. He would then say, "See, doesn't that feel good?" My reply would always be, "Only because you stopped!". So I'm not a big fan of inflicting pain on oneself in order to feel good. I actually use my dislocated shoulder story a lot when defending my point of view. "It feels really good to have your shoulder put back after it's been dislocated, do you want me to dislocate it for you real quick?"

Stupid.

Well, maybe this post was a little morbid, and maybe it was weird that I've been thinking about this lately, but hey, I needed something to write about.

The haunted floor of the capitol

So, I just realized that it has been a while since I last put anything up on here, so I figured I would post this lovely little story concerning my time at the capitol a couple weeks back.

My good friend and I decided to visit the capitol one day and we got to do all sorts of neat things that perhaps an ordinary visitor wouldn't be able to do. (Like go into the governor's office, go down to the floor where the big light board is and even see some pretty special bathrooms. (We got to do all this because I'm pretty sure I had some sort of connection to someone that worked there.;) (Wow, am I allowed to put brackets inside of brackets? Well it works for math so it should work for writing the English language as well.))) Well anyways, at the end of our time there, we ventured up to the fourteenth floor where you can look out the windows and see all of Lincoln. But it wasn't until we were on the way down that the adventure began. We wanted to know what was on a normal floor of the capitol, so we pushed the button for the seventh floor. As the door opened, all we could see was a corner, so we had to get out in order to see what was there. Well we got out and the door closed behind us and we peered around the corner to see a huge room that had a few desks at the front and then was just filled with shelves used for storing huge boxes of stuff. It wasn't a particularly fantastic sight to see, so we decided we'd be on our way.

Well we pushed the button to go down, but when the elevator got there, it opened only about five inches and then closed and went off to some other floor. We just thought that this was some sort of mistake, but when it came back, it did the exact same thing. After one more run at the elevator (we even tried to hold it open when it got there, but that didn't work out so well), we figured that the floor we were on had to be haunted or something. We figured that whoever got off the elevator obviously wouldn't be able to get back on, so when they ventured out into the big room to try to find a way down, they would be killed once they were spotted and put in a box and put away for storage (there were a lot of boxes, so that means there have been a lot of unfortunate souls that have been lost to that floor). We knew that there was another elevator across the room from us, so we had to try and get there without being seen or else our fate would have been the same as all of those who went before us. THANKFULLY the floor was carpeted, with a thick carpet at that; so it was easy to walk without making much noise. We knew we had to be as silent as possible, so we started our slow walk across the room. We were literally within ten feet of one woman who had our back to us, but we were quiet enough that she didn't even turn around. Well we made it to the other side without being seen and desperately hoped that the elevator worked. When the elevator got there, we both ran inside as quickly as possible so that it wouldn't close on us and doom us altogether. That elevator worked just fine, but we had certainly gotten a scare from the other elevator on that floor. So next time you are at the capitol, beware of that seventh floor. If you test your luck, you may just never return.