i haven't been this tired since...

Yesterday.

Good grief.

You know, there are a lot things I can get used to. I can (and have) gotten used to headaches. I manage them -- even when my head really hurts, I push it aside as much as I can. I'm pretty used to nausea and dizziness at this point, too. I can manage it. I deal. No worries.

But man. I don't know if I'll ever get used to being tired. You'd think that overcoming that would be the easiest. No way, Jose. I keep going because I have to, but my mind is so foggy and everything takes longer than it should.

Can't think.

It's just been a struggle this week. A good week, because a lot of good things have happened at school and work. But a struggle, too. My whole body drags, and my mind isn't far behind. Sometimes, I have to sleep, instead of getting things done.

Crazy how exhausting school is.

new girl...

I'm noticing a pattern in my life. Every school semester, I end up starting a new job of some sort. This next semester will be no different.

Meet the newest workflow technician for BYU's Special Collections department in the Harold B. Lee Library.

Hi. Pleased to meet you, too.

Two hours of training over the past two days, and I've already seen some pretty cool stuff.

Like...

all of Jimmy Stewart's papers/photographs/etc. And his typewriter.

Like...

a sheet of war bonds from the Confederate States of America valued at over $10,000 (my supervisor ran across those as he was looking for other documents to display -- yeah, the bonds are now locked in the vault -- good luck getting in there).

Like...

the pencil case from Hitler's desk. And a piece of the desk to go with it (or so we were told).

Like...

government appointment certificates signed by Ulysses S. Grant (also in the vault).

Never have I been this excited to be the new kid on the block. I get to work with my childhood friend, Brittan, and the other two people I've met so far seem really great. Abe, another student, is friendly and charming. Jeffrey, my supervisor, is funny and intelligent, and he doesn't mind all of my questions.

Now to get through the mind-numbing training videos so I can start the actual work. I still can't believe it -- a job in my field. Finally. So stoked.

don't want, can't have...

I don't want to write any more papers (especially dumb ones that are just busy work).
I don't want to read any more textbooks.
I don't want to get up early anymore.
I don't want to tutor papers anymore.
I don't want to go to school anymore.

I want to write poetry.
I want to read real books.
I want to get up when my body is done sleeping.
I want to not tutor.
I want to learn -- really learn.

And I really want to have time to paint my nails.

That would be grand.

should have been an English major...

Remember that 12 page paper?

Done.

In 4 hours.

WIN.

And I actually feel that it's pretty decent for the most part. There are a couple of places that need some polishing, but seeing as the final product isn't due until December 13th (a complete draft is needed for full credit during the in class work shopping), I have some time to spruce it up (like a Christmas tree -- yep, it's almost midnight).

Now to take it to school tomorrow and have it peer reviewed. Which means that after I get the 100% grade for bringing it in and having another student look at it, I will promptly disregard all of his/her remarks and take it to the Writing Center for a coworker to look at instead.

Anthropology students struggle at peer reviews. Just saying.

oops...

I have a 12 page paper to write. 

By tomorrow at 4 p.m.

...

Yeeeeeah, I got nothing done over the break. 

Ready...GO.

now you say...

I sit on my wobbly old stool at grandma's kitchen table, eating my pecan pie in a plastic bowl with a plastic spoon. Grandma doesn't like to wash dishes anymore, so she always has plastic on hand. Not very environmentally friendly, but it saves me the job of cleaning up after everyone, so I'm not complaining.

Very few thoughts run through my head. My mind is focused on the pie in the bowl. I eye which sections have the most cinnamon coated nuts, cutting around those bits to save them for last. You can't eat pecan pie from tip to crust -- you've gotta save the best parts and eat them slowly.

A voice cuts through my contemplation, and I look up to see grandma sitting across from me. I don't know how long she's been talking, and I feel a little bad for not paying better attention. Eating pecan pie is a serious business. It requires a lot of concentration -- clearly I was doing a good job.

I listen to her talk for a few minutes, about Christmas angels made out of dish towels and what she's going to do with all of the cards she gets every year from family members. I smile and nod as I listen, slowly spooning pie across my lips.

Grandma stops talking and studies me for a few seconds. I put my spoon down and look back at her across the table, waiting for her to continue.

"You are very quiet," she says.

I almost fall off of my stool. My bowl hits the tabletop with a soft thump. Pecan pie is now the last thing on my mind as I race to find a reply, but before I can think of anything, I feel my head nodding in agreement.

"Why?" grandma asks.

Again, my body acts before I can speak -- I shrug.

"Hm," grandma huffs, pursing her lips.

She's not happy with my response. My brain is still slow and wanting to get back to the pie. I grasp for anything that will be satisfactory to her, and I hear my voice say, "I just don't have a lot to say. I listen more than I talk."

Grandma just looks at me. Apologetically, I shrug again and quietly say, "I like to listen."

She nods and leaves the table, returning to her genealogy program that is open on her computer screen. I breathe a sigh of relief and pick up my plastic bowl of pecan pie.

I never thought anyone would ever tell me that I'm quiet, I think at the pie, But is it bad if I don't have much to say? Receiving no response from the nuts in the bottom of the bowl, I scoop them out and eat them one by one, savoring the rich, dark, nutty taste and finding security in the fact that pie never talks back.

dirty is just dirt with a "y" on the end...

Yesterday my family and I began the four hour drive to my grandparents' house in northeastern Utah, the majestic Flaming Gorge. No, they don't actually live at the reservoir, but they live a few miles away, in a little (tiny) community called Flaming Gorge Pines. They're about an hour north of Vernal, if that helps you orient yourself. Not very many people know about the Pines.

Due to an unhappy accident, the people who we asked to take care of the dogs at my parents' house didn't get a house key that works. And so, 2 hours after we'd arrived in the Pines, my dad and I volunteered to make the four hour trip back down to Orem to save the puppies.

While we were driving home, I mentioned some things that have been on my mind in an off-hand, nonchalant sort of way -- mostly about that one guy we call Aries and all of the trouble I've been having. Dad didn't say much, just told me that I shouldn't worry about another guy being like that because I learned and I won't let anyone treat me badly again. Then we got on the subject of other people's problems again, and I stopped talking, listening for the next two hours.

This morning on our way back up to the Pines (which only took 3 hours and 15 minutes this time), dad brought Aries up. Just out of nowhere, he started talking about the whole thing and then told me that maybe the only way I can get over it is by talking about it, "from start to finish, talk it through."

I nodded and went back to looking out the window. Dad touched my shoulder and said, "You can talk right now, if you'd like."

My whole self shut down. Really, I was overcome with a feeling of utter shame and embarrassment. All thoughts flew from my brain and I had no words. I almost felt like I was five-years-old again, caught covered from head to toe in black, sticky mud -- a dirty little child. But mud is fun, until you get in trouble. Aries wasn't fun. And even though things weren't entirely my fault, and nothing really bad happened, being asked about it by my dad was horrible.

I don't know why. Usually I can tell my dad everything, and it doesn't matter. Maybe because lately most people tell me not to talk about it, and I've gotten so used to just pretending that it doesn't bother me.

I don't know what to say. I don't know how to talk about this -- I don't even want to go through it from "start to finish."

Once again, as soon as someone asks me to tell them things, is willing to let me just talk, I have nothing to say. After this morning, I almost never want to discuss it again.

I don't like feeling so bad. Especially when things weren't completely my fault.

doubt...

My mind has been full of big, frightening, unwanted thoughts. Questions have arisen that I've never allowed myself to dwell on before, and for a few days I've wrestled with answers that alternately make me laugh or terrify me (because I have nothing else to think about right now).

While reading my Democracy in America book by Alexis de Tocqueville (which was supposed to be completed last Friday -- hey, it's a big book), I ran across something that made me feel angry, silly, and relieved, but also more uncertain. Here Tocqueville quotes Pascal, French philosopher:

"To make a mistake by thinking the Christian religion is true is not a very great loss, but how unfortunate to make the mistake of believing it is false!"

Interesting thought, which somehow still doesn't satisfy the questions that have slipped their way into my head.

i love kids...

It's been a little over a month since I had the chance to babysit Cade and Corrine.

Wow.

I MISSED THEM.

Seriously. There are few things as wonderful as standing on a front porch and hearing little voices crying, "SHE'S HERE, SHE'S HERE!" before they've even opened the door. Then, little hands reaching up and taking hold of your sweater, pulling you inside. Words tumble across little lips, a rush of bubbling, babbling happiness, completely unintelligible, yet filling you with joy.

It is hard to feel lonely or insignificant when in the company of children. Children are honest (even when they lie, they're usually honest about it), and in nothing are they more honest than in their love.

my sisters sing better than your sisters...

These are my sisters.

Amanda is the one on the left. Meghan is the one on the right.

And you know what?

I bet they sing way better than your sisters do.

Here they are as Cinderella and the Fairy Godmother in their school play Cinderella.

Beautiful, aren't they? (and I SO want their dresses. both of them.)

They sing prettier than they look. And that's some pretty good singing.

Love them. Even when they do that ^^.

finally figured it out...

For the past couple of days I've been feeling awful. Awful because I don't feel anything. And I don't understand it.

I've thought about it, and I think I know one of the reasons why I don't feel anything, and why I feel awful about it.

Because when I feel something, and I try to talk about it with certain people, I get shut down.

Because when I express my feelings and thoughts, my problems "could be worse." They "aren't as bad as what happened to me yesterday." My feelings and thoughts are "lacking perspective," "missing the point."

Because when I try and ask for help, I'm "doing really well already."

Stop it.

Stop ignoring me.

Stop comparing my problems to yours or to other people's.

Stop disregarding the fact that there are things in my life that are painful, things that break and re-break my heart, things that I feel I have lost.

Stop treating me like I don't matter. Because I matter just as much as you do.

Stop telling me that you'll be there for me and then yelling at me, ignoring me, or belittling me when I come to you.

Just stop it.

Take me seriously. It's the least that you can do. Honestly, it's not like I ask for much -- it's not like I ask for anything. Ever.

Maybe all of this is selfish. And it kind of is. You know what, though? I spend so much of my time worrying about other people and helping them, so much so that my own issues, my homework, my life, gets neglected. Why? Because I care. I make time.

But really. I am doing the best that I can. My heart is broken. I am broken right now. And I'm doing the best I know how to fix it.

When are you going to realize that?

lately...

...thinking...

...I'm beginning to learn what it means to study the scriptures, and let me tell you, it's quite fascinating what you can learn -- so many thoughts and ideas bouncing around
...why do I so often want to go back to the person who caused me so much grief -- or do I even want to go back
...funny how often others pressure me to take care of things that are no longer my problem, and the people doing the pressuring aren't even interested in helping out
...people are hypocritical -- it bugs me how often I, too, fall into that
...snow would be so much more fun if I had a guy friend to chuck snowballs at and then run for my life -- missing Jordan a lot this weekend
...I hate money because I don't have any

...doing...

...migraines, anybody? whatever you do, don't get them
...dishes by hand -- the dishwasher is broken and I don't know how to fix it, but I actually like doing the dishes now
...started watching Big Bang Theory and I'll admit that I really like it, even though I shouldn't
...consistently behind in my homework, no matter how hard I try to keep up
...wishing. lots of wishing
...sleeping -- are you shocked, because I have been
...spent time with my best girl Kayla, whom I haven't played with in months -- Cafe Rio, gas station hot chocolate (which never ceases to be grand), quoting YouTube videos, fixing car wind shield wipers, watching Once Upon a Time, talking about boys and college and dreams, you name it
...oh, my wind shield wiper broke while I was on the freeway yesterday afternoon during the blizzard -- that was fun
...trying not to fret about the future, because I can't control a lot of what happens

...feeling...

...headaches -- a lot
...unable to talk to anyone about anything that's going on in my life because 1) people don't want to listen, 2) people are too busy to listen, 3) people scold me for how I feel/think/act, 4) people use what I tell them to get back at me later on, 5) I'm afraid to ask the people who would listen because they're busy and I often end up having nothing to say
...excited for Christmas time -- the one time of year things feel right, even if they're not
...lonely and isolated, which may have been an unintentional choice on my part
...mad at people who are careless with physical affection -- if I hadn't ever been cuddled, I wouldn't miss it (and I wouldn't miss you as much, either)
...tired and scared -- maybe paranoid
...overwhelmed and short on time -- what I wouldn't give for college professors to realize that every class has homework, and a lot of it, not just theirs
...fat. yes, fat

i'm so...

I don't even know.

Sad?
Tired?
Excited?
Stressed?
Angry?
Bored?
Silly?
Lonely?
Annoyed?
Anxious?
Hyper?

It's as though the second I start to get worked up about something (whether in an upset or an excited way), it all just stops mid-work up and my self goes, "Shhhh. You're not [insert emotion]. You're fine. And don't bother trying to talk about anything -- after all, you know that you have nothing to say."

I can't cry.
I can't sleep.
I can't eat.
I can't talk.
I can't think.

Like not being able to feel anything.

you know those times when...

...you sit at your computer for hours with the intention of starting a paper/essay/research project, but you end up staring at the screen because you can't seem to get started?
...you lay in bed for hours with the blankets over your head while you cry because no matter how tired you are, you can't fall asleep?
...you park yourself on the couch and enter the woman's version of the "nothing box," which is when you're thinking about so many things that it becomes absolutely unintelligible, the thoughts so disconnected it's as though they're not even happening?
...you look at your bank statement and feel utter shock course through you as you see how little money you have left, and can't seem to remember what you spent it all on?
...you wish you could talk to someone, but every time you try, no one listens because they start talking about how hard their own lives are or lecturing you on what you should do, should have done, or aren't doing enough of?
...you look at your calendar and want to stow away on a plane to Australia, where no one can find you and make you face your responsibilities?
...you wonder if there's any point to anything that you're doing anymore?

Pretty sure most people have those times. We'll get through them -- one day at a time. Just keep trying.

triggers...

On Thursday the doctor diagnosed me with chronic migraines and added a new rash of medications to my short list of drugs (now it's a medium list). He also told me that I should track any headaches that occur so we can find triggers, then eliminate or work with those things so that the migraines don't occur as frequently.

Day 2 of My Headache Journal has begun, and so far I've pinpointed a couple of things that bring on the headaches.

1. Anger, irritation or frustration (I guess talking out my frustrations in a raised voice while showering when no one is home isn't an option anymore)

2. Reading for extended periods of time

3. Laying on my left side, which is the side of my head that usually begins hurting first

Day 2 has also brought about some alterations for dealing with these triggers that I've noticed.

1. When angry, irritated, or frustrated, leave the situation, stop talking, or take a nap -- basically things I should do anyway. Or just not get mad at stupid stuff. Which is what I should do regardless of the threat of a migraine.

2. Read for half an hour, and then take a ten minute break (I won't lie and say ten minutes is the average -- those ten minute breaks often turn into half hour to forty-five minute excuse making escapades where I do everything I can think of which will keep me too busy for my homework).

3. Laying on my right side instead of my left (duh). I have also found that sleeping with my teddy bear lessens the pain. I'm not sure why that helps, but it does (and I don't mind it, either -- having an excuse to cuddle a toy is fine by me).

I am also happy to report that the doctor prescribed taking aspirin with sugar free Coke for managing headaches that do occur. Don't be surprised if you see me on campus with a bottle of the stuff -- I have no fear anymore as to what people may think of me drinking a caffeinated beverage. Take that, Dining Services. I'll just bring my own soda with me.

So far I'm able to manage the current headache I have a little better, now that I know how (even though it's lasted for over a week, roller coaster-ing in severity). I'm not sure how preventing future headaches will work out yet, especially because this one won't go away -- we'll wait and see how these new medications take hold. And if they don't, well. Back to the drawing board we'll go.

I'm sure my insurance company loves me right now.

"there's an app for that..."

It's an average day in your typical doctor's office. People are coming and going, some walking in looking sick, others walking out looking sicker. Each one has had their turn with the iDoctor -- and I don't mean the doctor who checks your eyes.

What's an iDoctor, you ask?

Well! An iDoctor is much like an electronic device, similar to an iPad, iPod, or iPhone. No, he or she isn't a robot or droid, or even a cyborg (heaven forbid the medical field takes that route), but they have a similar function: providing you with applications -- or pills -- for anything and everything you can imagine.

Stomach ache?

There's a pill for that.

Head pounding and throbbing incessantly?

There's a pill for that, too.

What about emotional or mental disorders?

Oh, sure. There are several pills for those -- which one would you like? How about trying one out to see if you like it? If it's not a good match you can cancel and try a new one.

See, like an iPad, iPod, or iPhone, the iDoctor has an easy solution for any problem you may have. That solution comes in all different shapes, sizes, colors, and functions, each in a different bottle with a different label. So simple! iDoctor gives you a pill, sends you on your way, and you're set to go! Whether curing boredom or curing a cold, the iDoctor can find any "app" you desire with the touch of a button -- he or she checks the proper "app" from the list and it's on its way, where it will arrive for your use in less than two hours after you swipe your plastic money card at the "app store," or in this case, your neighborhood pharmacy. AND -- you get refills.

Yep. No matter what you have, there's a pill for that.

Huzzah.

Although I may have outsmarted the iDoctor -- I don't think he has anything that can cure smart-aleck.

October top 10...

1. Who You Are -- Jessie J
2. Home -- Philip Phillips
3. Skyfall -- Adele
4. Miss Me -- Andy Grammer
5. Too Close -- Alex Clare
6. Cryin' on a Suitcase -- Casey James
7. Between the Raindrops -- Lifehouse ft. Natasha Bedingfield
8. Blown Away -- Carrie Underwood
9. Wide Awake -- Katy Perry
10. Faithfully -- Journey