Open Question: My heart beat is not steady at all?
then go back to it’s quick beat.
All I know is that my father had thyroid disease, an overactive thyroid.
I am a VERY hyper person but can get tired and fall asleep right after a wrestling contest.
I’m extremely strong and find it impossible to gain weight, in fact in the past 2 years I may have lost a few pounds. I have zero fat on my body almost.. like it’s incredible..
I was told this thyroid thing doens’t happen til later in life usually
I’m only 21
Other than that physically I have had lyme disease twice in the past.
My legs are extremely weak.. if I work out for a week or two they’ll be stronger than most people’s and I’m faster than anyone I know.. I worked out once for one month and put on 10lbs of muscle
but as soon as I don’t do anything for even one week… my entire body will lose it’s gains
I don’t think this has to do with it but I’m just giving all the info I can
I have no idea what happened to the first part of my question hold on let me edit it
ok so it’s a steady bump bump bump bump
but every 20-30 seconds it slows considerably and goes bump….bump….. bump…. bump
for a few times then goes back to normal

Sun, 29 Aug 2010 06:33:45 GMT
Open Question: What do you think of this essay so far? (It’s not finished.)?
Looking for grammar help, and suggestions on how to make it better and what to cut. Any help or opinions are appreciated.
When I was born in Galveston, Texas, I came into a tight-knit west-end community filled with gossip and tales constantly passing from mouth to mouth.
My first memory is not visual, but rather auditory: sitting in the darkness of my room I could hear the roar of the ocean, the murmur of adult lips, then the boom of their laughter. This memory speaks volumes to the years I spent on the Island. Anyone who grows up in such a community knows that there are stories lingering in their back pockets, ready to be told at the drop of the hat, and they understand that this is in some ways necessary for survival; Stories change hand like money; to receive you must give one of your own. Whether it is for the entertainment of a stranger or for the ears of close friends, these stories provide the cement for a connection. They bond us together through their carefully chosen words, their honesty, or their heart. However, today I am not going to tell one of my many tales from the island, even if they are filled with happiness, sorrow, pain and hope. Even if they might be more entertaining, more emotionally satisfying, or more humorous. I am going to tell you how I came to leave my home, and how every day I am drifting further and further apart from my original reality and way of life.
For the first time in my life everything was perfect, and that made life delicate. If one silly child decided to come and pluck a single thread, the existence would recoil into it?s self, forming a tangle of silk that would slowly drift towards the ground placing the spider in another reality, where even the grass was taller than itself. That was my life at the start of sophomore year at Ball High School. All the pieces fit, and suddenly there was nothing to fix. Life was enjoyable. Yet, there was a nervous tension, almost as if something might go wrong at any moment. No, had to go wrong at any moment.
The news stations spun with a flurry of hurricane forecasts. Newscasters and meteorologists were seemingly jubilant about those spinning white swirls that looked like a smear of white paint on a blue canvas, slapped onto our crackling screens. Year after year we were slaves to those screens. But that year, we were tired of worrying. It seemed as if autumn was in full swing, and the summer?s sun burnt tourist had crawled backed to their suburban homes to apply ointment to their raw skin, and to settle back into work and school. Finally, we had the beaches to ourselves. It was our time to play. We ignored the ominous camera crews stationed on the sea wall, with their all seeing eyes atop poles that swayed with harsh ocean breezes, admonishing us for our confidence. And when the time came to finally decide whether this seaside community should leave, the city?s collective conscious forced our mayor to tell us to shelter in place, in mockery of that swirling white splatter on the radar. As if we were saying, ?We?ve seen stronger than you, we?re veterans at this game. Go mess with Florida?
No not a college essay. It’s an essay for an english class. And yes, Ike.

Sat, 28 Aug 2010 23:05:21 GMT

Open Question: I?m going to die here. I?m serious. What do I do?

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do u ever feel your heart flutter like a really hard beat?

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Open Question: I went to the doctor the other day and he told me that my son who is 5 months old has a heart murmur, ?