why I hate food...

Few things make me happier than cooking good food or going out somewhere nice to eat with friends. However, once I have to actually eat the food, I'm not so happy.

Food makes me feel sick.

No matter what it is, I end up feeling nauseous after I eat. Drinking juices and water isn't as bad, but food and heavier drinks (like milk) leave me queasy. I've tried cutting things out of my diet to see if there are allergies at work, and so far nothing has made a difference.

Perhaps it's the stress manifesting itself in a different form. Wouldn't surprise me.

drop dead...

That awkward moment when one second you're singing "Come Thou Fount" and the next you're staring up at dozens of concerned faces over your head.

Yeah. I passed out in choir today. I'm not really sure what happened. No, I didn't lock my knees -- I've been singing since I was four-years-old, so I'm well aware of that no-no. As a matter of fact, I actually sat down for a whole five minutes due to a sudden headache before I hit the floor. I made it through maybe the first line and a half of the first verse after standing up...not entirely sure when I lost consciousness.

Thankfully, Amber caught me on my way down (according to reports from bystanders). Between her, Jason the EMT, and Jamie the Lifeguard, I was in pretty capable hands (har-har). Dad did drag me to the doctor, which I resent a little bit, and as usual, it was determined that nothing is wrong with me.

I'm probably just super stressed. Not to mention the stress has been amplified because I lost a whole afternoon and evening of homework time, and my first 12-page paper is due on Thursday at 1:30. It's the history paper that my professor said will be graded according to a higher standard than my classmates because I'm brilliant.

Well. I hope she likes disappointment, because the best I can do is much less than I had anticipated. Which is frustrating. I hate, hate, hate doing mediocre work.

School should die. It sure is killing me.

just got to write stuff down...

Every once in awhile, I feel so incredibly weak that I can't keep my head up. My limbs constantly shake, and I often can't control my fingers. It wouldn't be so bad if it didn't make it so difficult to type or hold a pencil.

I really love Oreos. That's a bad thing, because Oreos are not good for me at all, but they taste so magnificent! Lots of food that isn't good for me tastes good, and seeing as how I've gained ten pounds since I started dating Adam, I should probably stop eating crap food.

Although, Adam keeps telling me I've lost weight and that I "feel skinnier," which doesn't make sense to me because I'm the one who sees myself in the mirror every single day. 

It's frustrating to have gained weight. I see these super thin girls all of the time, and I just ache inside to look like them. But no matter how much I exercise or eat well, I don't change. In some ways, it breaks my heart. Seriously -- it might sound super shallow and vain, and it probably is -- I can't seem to get past it.

Speaking of food, I made awesome Parmesan crusted chicken last night with lemon-pepper green beans for a side. Super good. So good that I didn't feel guilty for eating it.

Can I just say how much I enjoy the TV show Psych? "I'd rather show with a bear." Ha, Lassie kills me.

Last night I had a dream that there was a war going on between different races of rabbits. They had machine guns that shot carrot bullets, and were fighting over who was going to rule the world. It was weird. As in, super weird. Rabbits wearing camo and leather jackets with helmets and aviators, equipped with cabbage mortar guns and carrot shooters. Weird.

I'm so tired. I have no energy.

Being afraid is no fun. I'm constantly waiting for the ball to drop and for my life to change. The fairy tale is going to end and life is going to go back to normal. And it'll hurt. It's so hard to not be sure.

I'm thinking that I need a new phone. The one that I have is dying -- I mean, it's been almost three years since I got it. First phone, only phone. Heck, it takes five minutes to turn on if I shut if off for a little while. Old, old phone.

Yesterday, I made a candy poster for Adam to congratulate him for his scholarship that he go. He was awarded a $5,500 a year scholarship from the National Science Foundation because he's got such a good GPA and is majoring in mathematics. He's a smarty pants. And he liked the poster. It was so fun to make it for him. And he liked it. Lots.

I just don't want to be sad anymore.

who's the fool...

On April 1st, I got an exceptionally sincere string of text messages from Adam regarding his spur of the moment decision to sign up for a teaching English excursion in China. Due to the heartfelt tone of the messages (i.e. "this is something I've wanted to do my whole life"), I decided it was best to not treat it as a joke, just in case I happened to crush his hopes and dreams. I hoped it was a joke -- it was April Fool's Day, after all -- but in the event that it wasn't, well. I didn't want to be the kind of girlfriend who says no to her man's dearest wishes.

Over the next couple of hours, however, I felt myself torn in two directions. It's a joke, I'd tell myself, Just a joke.

 But what if it ISN'T?

Joke.

Maybe not.

Joke. Adam wouldn't drop everything to go to CHINA, and in JULY.

But you KNOW the message said that he knows it'll push the wedding back to September (did I just tell you that there's going to be a wedding sometime this summer? Hm...), and...well? Joke?

Joke! He wouldn't do that.

He might.

NO! Because he wouldn't leave me to plan an entire wedding by myself. And he wouldn't leave before his brother and sister go on their missions. And he wouldn't miss being engaged. And...would he?

You don't know.

I DON'T KNOW!

And by then I was too sick to ask him about it, and so spent an evening throwing up and worrying that my future fiance would be running off to China and get back a week before our wedding -- which I don't want to have in September because of school, which he well knows.

Readers, you probably realized it was a joke long before I was completely sure of it. Joke it was -- he got me.

Note to self: NEVER worry about any giant, life-changing plans that people inform you of on April Fool's Day. Chances are, they're joking.

Thank goodness for that.

death looks good on me...

Actually, that's false. Death does not look good on me, and so I cannot wait for the day (hopefully tomorrow) that my skin is not pasty white, my eyes are not glazed and dilated, my lips are not a greyish blue color, and the circles of black beneath my lashes disappear.

Seriously. I don't think I've been this violently sick since I was a kid. Whatever this particular strain of stomach bug is, it's a doozy. Last night was the worst -- in the past when I've had a norovirus, I'll only empty my stomach three or four times over 24 hours. Not so with this bout -- 9 times in 8 hours. OUCH.

I am so done with this. Beyond looking like death, I've felt like dying, rather than going through this anymore. It's much, MUCH better at this point, but last night...wow. WOW. SO. FREAKING. SICK.

Poor Adam has it, too. And his sisters. And two of his brothers. And six of his cousins (so far). And his dad. And my roommate.

It's like the plague!

But really. I'm about ready to be done. Because, death does not look good on me (nor does it feel good) -- yet, I'm too exhausted to put on make-up to cover it up. Probably wouldn't make much of a difference, anyway.

Adam, however, disagrees with the "look like death" thing. Honestly, I never thought I'd find a man who would tell me I was beautiful when I, in my opinion, clearly look awful; who'd cuddle me up close to help me feel better; who'd kiss me despite my dry, dehydrated lips; who'd spend an entire afternoon watching Lord of the Rings on a cushion bed in the living room with me; who'd be so sweet and kind no matter how I look or feel.

I am the luckiest sick girl in the world.

Best sick day ever.

i may be a bit depressed...

Rather than sit at my desk and beat myself up for feeling depressed (because that always helps), I am now an objective observer.

Okay.

My stomach is in knots and I constantly fight throwing up. I think I'm nervous about something, that something being something I have yet to discover (or perhaps I haven't let myself examine in detail?).

Headaches are again a common occurrence, as is a sort of painful fatigue in the limbs, joints, and muscles of my body. The only routine change I can think of is adding yoga back into my life (never thought I'd miss that, but I do), but last semester it always made me feel better. I still feel better after completing a session.

Honestly, I'm always close to tears. I have to be super careful about not letting things set me off (like a song on the radio, a joking remark from a friend, coworker, family member, etc., a low score, among other things).

When I sleep, I have nightmares. When I don't sleep, well. That's no good for anyone.

This self-exam is leading to evaluating what I'm thinking about, or evaluating what I'm not letting myself admit that I'm thinking about. And so. I will now put it in writing and make it legitimate.

1. I am, without a doubt, absolutely terrified of getting married. Don't get me wrong, I. Love. Adam. So. Much. And I want to be with him forever. All of our talk, though, and the continual progression towards marriage is scaring me to death. Not all of the time, but more often than I let myself admit.
2. Spending money on a ring...ugh. That is probably the thing I worry about the most.
3. Neck and neck with that is planning a wedding without causing serious conflict between family members. Shoot me now. But at least my family likes Adam. That's one less thing to worry about.
4. Finals are in two weeks for me -- my classes don't have finals like the rest of the university does. I'm so behind, and this has been the hardest, worst semester academics-wise for me in my entire life.
5. Finding a place to live is going to be a nightmare -- and that's after going through the difficulty of moving back home in June when the House owners come back.

Huh. No wonder I feel sick -- never have I faced such huge changes in my life.

Boo. I don't like feeling sad and worried and sick. And I really, really don't like crying. Nor do I have the time to do so.

waiting...

As some of you know, I haven't had the best health for the past two years or so. For a few months, I was improving, and I was excited to get back into "normal" life. However, things have taken a bit of a turn and are gradually worsening.

I admit that frustration and hopelessness start setting in at times. I haven't missed so much school since I was a sophomore in high school. I've never had this many sick days at work (thank heavens my supervisor is understanding and offers his help wherever he can). While I've always been aware of financial difficulties, I've never before felt so pinched. And I've never, ever felt so tired, never. Not only that, but my dad's getting worse as well -- though he won't admit it.

Is it ironic to anyone else that now, at possibly one of the hardest times in my life, I'm happier than I've ever been? Listing out the worries on my mind somehow brings a smile to my face. Yes, I'm physically uncomfortable most of the time, and I worry about losing my dad, but inside, I feel at peace. Every time I start worrying and the concerns press on my mind, I'm able to sit back and think about how good my life really is.

For example. Though I've missed a lot of school, I'm keeping up and am still getting good grades. My work supervisor is incredibly helpful. Money is a serious concern, but it keeps working out every time I really need something. I'm sleeping more frequently than I have in years. And dad is still here, and always happy to spend time with me.

After the third doctor's appointment this month, they finally decided that it's time to start looking for the problem, rather than treating the symptoms. I'll get the test results in a few days -- I'm hoping things will be okay. And they will be -- everything has been working out so far. I don't see why it won't continue to do so.

Waiting, waiting, waiting. For so many things -- although, the wait time for me and Adam continually shortens. So excited.

exams don't wait for life...

This semester is probably the most frustrating I've ever had in my entire life.

Yes, I have a lot more homework than  usual, but that's not what is stressful. I actually feel like I've got a handle on the Game of College. It's basically a study in selective listening. Listen for what the professors are looking for, and then spoon feed it back to them, repeating their own words in essays and exams to make them feel awesome (accuse me of being a suck up and I will wholeheartedly and unabashedly agree with you). Keeps them happy and gets me good grades. Easy as that. Bam.

No, what's stressing me out is that life happens so frequently that I can't stay caught up. Readings get put off in favor of sleep because I can't comprehend what I'm reading. Studying gets pushed aside because people are more important than grades. Classes get skipped because I literally can't get out of bed. Essays and papers are written at the very last minute because stuff just happens.

But school isn't going to slow down so that you can focus on cleaning up the mess suddenly dumped in front of you.

For example. I have another large, ridiculous exam tomorrow morning (at 7:45am, no less). Have I studied for it? Well, if you count doing all of the class readings throughout the semester and attending as many lectures as possible (health problems -- they rock), then yes. I've studied. But if you count actually preparing for the exam?

Nope. 

Once again, life keeps getting in the way. 

Time to hit the books in a big way. Peace out, Girl Scout.

don't do drugs...

One year ago, the family practitioner at the clinic handed me a prescription and said, "This is for you to use only when necessary." I read the information on the paper and didn't understand most of it (nor could I read it -- doctor handwriting). After dropping it off at the pharmacy and waiting for an hour, I received a white bag with a little bottle inside of it. When I pulled the bottle out and read the label, I was surprised to see that the pills were none other than the prescription pain medication Lortab.

In the past  year, I have only used the Lortab twice. Both times were when I honestly could not function due to the pain I was experiencing. There have been times when I was tempted to use it because my body hurt so much, but I was always able to tell myself, "It could be worse, you know. It's not really necessary at the moment."

That's what I kept telling myself yesterday, from the moment I awoke at 6am due to the pain radiating through my whole body. As the day progressed and after taking as much Ibuprofen as I could without poisoning myself, I couldn't take it anymore. 

Honestly, I don't remember much of what happened yesterday. I vaguely recall agreeing to go swimming with a friend next Monday morning on Labor Day -- at least, I think that I did. And I also vaguely remember my sister coming over to have lunch with me. And I vaguely remember someone walking on the roof of my house (they were speaking Spanish, so I think they were the roofers the complex owners hired to patch holes in the tiles). Other than that I only remember feeling like I had television static in my brain and snowflakes in front of my eyes. 

Usually when I've taken Lortab, it puts me to sleep for 12 to 14 hours. This time I didn't feel particularly tired. It was weird. It's weird today, too. I'm feeling a bit hungover. Granted, I've never actually been hungover so I don't really know what it's like, but this is just bizarre. My head is still fuzzy, my stomach hurts, and I have to focus really hard on whatever I'm doing or I cannot figure out what's going on. Not to mention driving was a terrifying experience. Hey, you do what you gotta do. Good thing it was only a 2 minute drive to work and 2 minutes back. I didn't go grocery shopping, so I was mostly smart.

The pain hasn't gone away, either. The Lortab numbed everything very well for about three hours yesterday, but then it stopped working. Fuzzy brain and seizing muscles were not pleasant. Still isn't pleasant! 

Dad told me not to take the Lortab again for awhile because "that stuff can be very addicting." To which I reply, are you serious? Why on earth would anyone want to feel like that all the time? It's absolutely miserable! It's been over 24 hours since I first took the pill and I still feel awful. It boggles my mind that anyone would voluntarily seek out a drug that makes one so very...fuzzy (it's really the only word that I can think of that describes the way this feels).

I'd be a terrible drug addict. I get very tired of the side effects and never want to take the stuff again. It helped for a little while -- it was so great to not hurt for a few hours. I'm kind of rethinking the necessity of the pain killer though. I'd almost rather deal with the pain than take the drug. The after effects suck.

As a side note, I feel so anxious all of the sudden. Really insecure and kind of freaking out, but I don't know why. Actually, it's almost funny -- the wind is blowing and whistling around my house, and I keep jumping at noises and stuff (like that's new?). Alternately jittery and sluggish. 

Don't do drugs. They screw you up. Even if they appear necessary, I'm thinking that my original philosophy is the better way to go: whenever possible, do not take pills. Medication doesn't solve your problems!

bedridden...

Have you ever thought about the word "bedridden?" There's the word "bed," obviously, and then "ridden." If you look at them separately, it seems like the whole word should mean "rid of bed."

Because I was curious, I looked up the actual definition of the word "ridden" and found that there is no connection to "rid of" at all. It's more like this: full of, overwhelmed by, past tense of the verb "to ride." You get the idea.

So now I wonder, am I full of the bed, or is the bed full of me?

Duh. I know the answer to that, promise. In any case, I'm stuck in bed again. I got up and started getting ready for New Student Orientation this morning (which is what I've been doing all week), but found myself getting progressively worse. The four Ibuprofen I'd taken an hour before I actually got out of bed weren't doing much. After fixing everything up with the other two group leaders and making sure things were taken care of for the day, I went back to bed and have been here ever since.

It's not so bad when I'm not moving. Once I start walking around and doing stuff, good grief. Not sure what is going on in there! This body of mine has got some issues for sure.

Bedridden. I almost wish it meant "rid of bed." Being in bed is boring! Or as Parker says, "Bed is merely a place one goes to waste time."

Really, though. I have so much to do. The house is a disaster (or at least it is according to me and my outrageous need to keep things spotless -- to others it looks just fine), I don't know where any of my classrooms at school are, I need to pick up my paycheck and go grocery shopping, I don't have a backpack (the one I've used since third grade is long past retirement) or any school supplies, my housing waiver isn't finished and I don't have a printer at my place to get it ready, I'm totally ditching my NSO students, GAH!

The other thing is that worrying makes the pain worse. I just need to stop worrying and rest. Oh, and by the way. I just got off the phone with the receptionist at the doctor's office. My appointment is in two weeks. First time ever scheduling a doctor's appointment for myself. I made one for Hannah last week at the clinic, but never one for me.

Growing up, people. And now back to bed. Peace.

no more cookies...

Never, ever, ever eat an entire package of Chips Ahoy! Reese's Chocolate Chip cookies by yourself in one afternoon. It is a terrible idea. Do not do it.

I think I'm done with cookies for awhile.

in a right state...

So get this. Today I am actually hungry. Do you have any idea how rare that is? Some of you do, but for those that don't, it's rare.

I was all excited to eat breakfast this morning. I thought of possibilities while getting ready for work. Visions of cinnamon toast crunch (mmm), eggs, bagels with cream cheese, peaches, and other tasties floated through my head. With these ideas in mind, I reached for my toothbrush, applied the paste, and began brushing my teeth. Then it happened. I almost threw up.

Not a great feeling. I skipped breakfast, deciding I'd drink some water to try and help the naseau go away. As I made my way back home from a ca-razy shift at the writing center (4 tutorials right in a row, all opinion editorials -- the door opened and we got slammed with freshmen writing students), I pictured things I could make for lunch. Leftover pasta, or a salad, or tuna fish, or something. But each potential meal brought a bad taste to my mouth and a sick feeling in my stomach. I gave it a whirl when I got home, tasting just a granola bar. No go.

Come to think of it, this has actually happened quite frequently throughout the past few months. I'll be hungry, or somewhat hungry, but the mere thought of food makes me gag. It's particularly bad in the morning. Perhaps it's a good thing that I swiped the Coke Zero that I bought but left at my parents' house. After all, I did pay for it, so...I just took it back.

And before anyone gets any funny ideas...no. I am not pregnant -- that would be impossible. Just sayin'.

whoa...

For having been caught by a rather flooring cold (because I didn't catch that thing -- there is no way I would ever voluntarily reach out and grab any bug, let alone one as disgusting as this one), I've gotten a lot done this weekend:

...I've cleaned my room so well that you can see almost the entire floor
...almost all of my clothes are put neatly into the closet (minus the ones that need to be ironed)
...I've boxed up the winter clothes (which I find I might need because it's actually been rather cold)
...I finished my FAFSA application
...written an outline for my 251 project
...started up a skeleton blog site for aforementioned project
...written three papers for my internship
...compiled a couple of different music lists of various genres for workouts
...I planned workouts (!!!)
...began working on a budget for The Move
...selected cupcake recipes to practice before I take them to the writing center to share
...went to the library and braved the deathly still fifth floor to find research materials for the project

So yes, I've been productive. I've been motivated and I've made progress. And after all of that...I only have one question:

WHY am I suddenly in tears?!
I don't get it. See, it's one of those times where I feel so very sad, but I don't understand why. I can't explain it, so I can't talk about it. I write things out (a friend told me I'm very good at writing what I'm thinking) and there's no connection. It's just this dumb feeling that has no logical explanation.

Well. That's that. I'm going to make cupcakes. Maybe. This project kinda takes precedence...

nausea...

There are some topics that raise feelings of nausea in me. It's the real psychological deal: dizziness, blurry vision, headaches, and the uncomfortable twisting of my insides. Topics like getting shots (ugh), entrance exams, spinning rides at carnivals, looking for work -- those are a few that are on the list. One, however, is the mother of all nausea-makers. That topic is marriage.

It comes up all the time in my life these days. My sisters talk about it. My parents talk about it. My friends talk about it. My professors talk about it. Mostly it's my sisters and parents. Meghan and Amanda have detailed lists of what they want in a husband -- they even have specific boys that they've got their eyes on (and are quietly waiting for while these boys go on missions). My parents have specific boys that they like, and often praise these boys in front of me. In every family council or meeting in which we discuss future events and expenses, mom and dad look at me and say casually, "Now, we also need to remember that somebody could get engaged in the next year." Shortly after, the list is again discussed in detail, and I sit there feeling small and awkward and preparing myself for a dash out of the room in case my stomach decides it can't handle things anymore.

First off: I have nothing against marriage. I think it's a wonderful, amazing, good thing. I'm not ragging on the institution itself. For most people, it's great! But only great at the right time, in the right place, with the right people, by the right authority. Today, tomorrow, and at least through next week (if not longer), it's not right for me.

Where I am in my life, the discussion of marriage only arouses feelings of horror, terror, and nausea. Even right now, it just makes me feel like I do after I've been driving for a long time: sick.

I don't like feeling pressured to marry. I don't like having lists of names passed under my nose for examination, especially when I can see that the names on the lists would be good choices, though ones hopelessly out of my reach.

Perhaps there are people who think I'm being silly and ridiculous. That could be the case. I am being honest when I say that marriage, as wonderful as it is for other people, is not wonderful for me at the present time. I mean, heck. There aren't even any potentials in my life! Honestly, I don't want any potentials right now. I just want to be as I am. I actually like this single me (yes, it's true, even if some of you don't believe me). Right now it feels most important that I focus on the things that I can control, like my schooling and employment. Sure, I'll go out with a guy if he asks me. Until then, though, I won't be looking for potentials. Some things are better left alone. After all, it's often been said that love finds you when you least expect it. And I am okay with that, particularly if it means I won't feel sick. Or as sick...you never know, right?

spoke too soon...

May I just say that I hate missing school? You get behind, you miss quizzes, you have attendance points docked, you're stuck at home by yourself all day, and if the dog pees on the floor when you were asleep it's your fault because you weren't paying attention. Not that she did that, but if she had.

I especially hate missing school when it's because I can't walk from pain. How do you explain that to a professor? "Dear Professor so and so, I missed your class and the quiz due to a sudden illness that occurs frequently but the doctors don't know what is causing it so...yeah. Sorry."

That's the really frustrating thing about this, not being able to explain it.

And so I'm in my room in bed with Misty at my feet, Molly outside because she won't come inside no matter how hard I try, and a giant smartwater bottle next to me with a picture of a crab inside of it (not very smart, smartwater people: the kind of crab you put on the label does not live in freshwater). I have letters to write, homework to do, a party to finish planning, errands to run if I can, laundry in the washer, and all I've done is watch episodes of "Once Upon a Time". Ann showed me the first couple of episodes and now I'm wondering if this is how a fish feels after it's taken the bait...

what starts like a scary tale...

Nobody wants to be stuck in bed on their birthday. At least nobody that I know. Perhaps I cursed myself when I posted that I was soon to be a nobody due to the whole no longer a teen, not quite an adult line I included. And since I'm a nobody, that sentence can now be read as "Nobody WANTS to be stuck in bed on her birthday!!"

What was wrong? Oh, you know. The usual. There's been no progress whatsoever, and let me tell ya, the pain has been wonderful. If you don't catch my over-the-Internet sarcasm, I'll point it out to you. That was very sarcastic. So the day started out with me, my dogs, and my laptop in my bed as I studied and tried to keep up with all of the birthday wishes on my Facebook page. I got online and saw how many notifications I had and my first thought was, "What the crap? It's like it's my birthda...oh. Right." My phone was off the hook all day, too. That also made me feel really special.

Those birthday wishes made a huge difference in my day. It was SO. GREAT. to see how many people took the time to say hello. It made me feel a lot better, and it wasn't quite so lonely down there in my room writing essays. Then my visiting teacher brought over a giant rice crispy treat covered in chocolate frosting with sprinkles and a candle. Also made me feel super good, because she took the time to make me a birthday treat. And THEN Ann came over with Iron Man. Never seen it before...want to see it again. Brianna, get your homework done! :)

And then after that? Cafe Rio birthday dinner with Ann and the fam while we watched Silverado. I've been wanting to do that since I first saw the movie last year (I resisted it strongly whenever my family would watch it because I hate Westerns and they usually give me nightmares...but I can watch Iron Man no problem? I think I've grown up a little...). It was so great! I think I like Emmett the best of the four leading men. Jake drives me crazy. He is so very ADHD that he makes me nervous. Mal is awesome too, and Paden is a sweetheart, but something about Emmett just gets me. He's definitely someone I'd want on my side. All of them are, really. Jake just needs to stay at a safe distance from me until the shooting starts. Then he can come play.

And then? The Raddatzes came over to sing to me!! It was so great to see all of the kids again, and to see Brother and Sister Raddatz. They brought me a giant, and I mean GIANT birthday cake shaped like a cupcake. It was huge. I was so excited that I forgot to take a picture of it; I started slicing it and handing it out to people before I got my camera. Oops. It is a very, very good cake. I'm excited to have more today, haha! And they gave me a beautiful set of pearl bracelets. That meant so much to me; pearls have a lot of meaning between us. And I got to get hugs from Amy and Mandy and Makay, and I got to talk to Jason and Morgan for a little while, and Kyle gave me a big hug, and Brother and Sister Raddatz gave me hugs and talked to me for awhile and I just love them.

So. What started like a scary tale ended like a fairytale, and life couldn't possibly better be! Now I'm going to take more meds and go to class. Ciao!

"The Help"...

I love to watch movies. It's an escape for a couple of hours, a time to relax and expend less brain power than I would being asleep. Or so it feels at times. Getting wrapped up in a story, meeting new characters, visiting places I've never been (and may never go, especially if it's Valhalla or Hogwarts or Naboo). It takes my mind off of things. Like tonight, exhausted and sick (again). My mom had to watch a movie for one of her classes at the college. At 10:00 she came down to tell me good night, but then she told me to grab my shoes and come along.

We went to see "The Help", a movie about African American women who worked as maids in the homes of Caucasian families. Talk about a roller coaster. Half the time I was on the edge of my seat anticipating some horrible disaster (which happened, but wasn't graphic like I was expecting it to be...), and the other half I was either silently fuming or slightly smiling.

People are so interesting. How they start out as children, who generally speaking are neither spiteful or vindictive. It's fascinating to think about, why people end up the way they are in their teens or 20's or 60's. How they get there, why they get there. Truly fascinating.

I love doing stuff with my mom late at night. It's pretty much the only time we ever get to do anything, with her being so busy with school. It's fun for it to be just the two of us. That doesn't happen very much, and I'm realizing that this will probably be the case a lot in the future. So thanks, mom, for letting me help you do your homework. Let's do it again sometime. :)

ducks...

Yesterday I rediscovered the joy of feeding ducks. They're such funny creatures. I wish that I'd thought to take my camera! It wasn't planned to go feed the ducks though, at least not for me. I'd decided to be adventurous and leave the house for an hour or so with a friend to go see a movie, but that plan ended when some other friends invited both of us to go with them to the park. It made me feel really good that they wanted me to come, even though I could only watch. I know I probably wasn't much fun to be around (my body was pretty upset with me for leaving the bed), and they wanted me around anyway.

It was great to be with Jason, Morgan, and Ruthie again. Morgan was in town for the afternoon, and Ruthie got back from England about a week ago. The girls are leaving this weekend for school again, so it was really nice to spend some time with them before they both head out for the semester. And Jason is quite the gentleman. I give him a hard time, and I think I tease him too much. Well...one more thing to change. :)

Ducks are weird. They're quite fascinating, you know, all feathered and web footed, floating on the water above all the weeds and grasses. Sometimes they're pretty mean to each other. They group together and gang up on one or two smaller or weaker ducks, or ducks of another color (there was a group of about 6 white ducks that only like white ducks. Jason and Morgan call them the Duck KKK). Kind of like people, in a way--we all want the same things, to be included and secure and have our needs taken care of, but we chase others away from our "groups". Not all people do that, but some.

And there I go, turning an outing to throw bread crumbs at ducks into a comparison on the social habits of human beings.

bored silly...

I am so bored. Really. Why am I bored? Because I can't DO anything. After two crazy weeks of vacation and Education Week (which, may I say, was amazing), I am back to being stuck in bed or on the couch, or at least sitting down.

This is hard. It's really, really hard! The only thing that keeps me from throwing my hands up in frustration is the promise that I'll be well. I know what is happening to me (ish) and I know why and I know it will end--but I don't know WHEN it will end.

In the mean time, I'm bored. School is back in session, and I am the only one in my family not going this semester. My sisters are gone, mom is getting ready to start school on Monday, dad is at work. It's lonely, being sick! Thank goodness for my little dog. She's quite the cuddly fluff ball, let me tell ya. And there is something to look forward to: LDC starts on Monday! If I can get out of bed to attend...*sigh*.

What do you do when you're bored and can't get to a library? Thoughts? Suggestions? Come visit me? ;)

It could be worse. I'm actually really lucky, you know. Having the knowledge that it will get better gives me such hope, and it's keeping me going. Having my family helps, too--they're so helpful and they make it a lot easier. Sometimes it's the boredom that's the worst.

LDC starts in less than a week. Happiness. :)

it could happen to you...

"I don't know what my body's doing--I just live in it."

-Erin Haskell

So you know how you hear stories about things that go wrong with people's health? Usually the reactions are along the lines of--out loud--"Oh, dear, that's awful. I'm so sorry!" And then inside, sometimes you think Jeez, I'm so glad that's not me or sometimes, That'll never happen to me.

Well, I'm feeling kind of like that quote above right now. I don't know what my body is doing, but it sure doesn't feel very good. I finally went to the doctor today. I very much dislike going to the doctor. Dislike. However, after the last few days a blood test or exam looked a lot less painful than whatever is going on.

Now I've got some meds to see if they'll help. I really hope they do. If they don't, well. Let's just say it won't be fun.