The meatballs weren't so good.

After getting out of philosophy, I walked into the science building, as I always do, and happened upon a group of people who were standing and kneeling around a girl who had fainted on the stairs. Her name was Annie, and she is a sophomore. She had apparently just been diagnosed with hypoglycemia after fainting at work over the weekend. I wanted to help, but the other people around her seemed to have things taken care of. When I heard her mother mention it was recently diagnosed, I jumped in, and talked to her mother about some things she can do to make sure it doesn't happen again, since I also have hypoglycemia (or so the doctors tell me) or some other condition in which I feel really weak and it is magically cured by consuming something with sugars inside. The mother seemed to be happy for the advice, and I stuck around as the fire department and EMTs arrived to help her, just in case I could do anything. After they brought her into the ambulance to be transported to the hospital, I gave Annie's mother my name and number, and said that if her daughter wanted someone to talk to about it, and felt comfortable talking to me, she could give me a call.

I'd like to think I did the right thing in this situation.

Am I Missing?

Today, I realized that I don't know where my Alphonse mug is. And this makes me really sad.