I'm sick. And I'm scared. I've been having these intense stomach painsI’m sick. And I’m scared. I’ve been having these intense stomach pains for almost a week. When I tried explaining this to various adults the best I can come up with is that it’s like being stabbed in the gut. The pain comes swiftly, and is so sharp I either have to stop what I’m doing or double over with the force of it.
The trouble is the pain isn’t in any one place but all across my stomach. Aforementioned various adults have been asking me different questions. Do you hunch over when you walk, or do you walk straight? Does it hurt to touch the right side of your stomach? When you jump up and down does it hurt? The weirder the question the more it just freaks me out! My mom has been talking in terms of hospital visits or at least my pediatrician. But I’m so chill about being sick (cause I can’t go a season without getting ill) that I think it’s nothing. On the other hand the fact that everyone else seems to think it’s something is starting to damage my calm.
The other thing is I’ve been taking more random colored pills than an x-freak. Always over the counter stuff so it won’t hurt me if it doesn’t take care of the problem. Who knew pills came in fuchsia, fire engine red, and Tiffany blue? They’re pretty but they don’t seem to be doing anything. I mean some make me woozy and others just plain put me to sleep. But in terms of pain relief if any of them do anything it’s only temporary. And none of them can fully stop the pains. It’s only over the counter but still! Shouldn’t something stop this???
Hence I’m starting to panic a teence. Oh. Did I mention the throat pain? Yeah that’s nice too.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Friday, May 04, 2007
I'll Regret Posting This In the Morning
I haven’t written here in a long time. Not for lack of inspiration or anything. More like general laziness. I can’t say that’s all going to change because that would probably be a lie. Strike that it would be a lie.
I don’t want to turn this into some sort of “Dear Diary” thing. If I really wanted that kind of confessional I’d become Catholic or actually use the damn journal I have. No, what I think I will do is…okay so I don’t have a legitimate plan. Heartbreaking, I know. For right now the best I can come up with is a stream of consciousness rant that is slightly different from a frilly diary; it’s just a hop, skip, and a jump away from a diary but I think it’s the hop that makes it important.
I’m in one of my melancholy moods. No trigger that I can put my finger on (Wow I just realized how bad of a pun that was, and completely unintentional too). I mean school is boring. I’ve pretty much mentally checked-out already. As far as school is concerned my junior year is almost over. I don’t feel particularly inclined to savor it either. Yet, what I do want to savor are my senior friends. It always seems that I meet the best ones before they graduate. And then I feel this HUGE loss because I just met them and never got a chance to really know them when I could have had three more years with them. Lost opportunities and such.
What’s really got me down is my relationship or lack thereof to me more specific. See, I pretty much gave my heart away a while back. It was a terribly stupid thing to do since he was…oh there are so many good adjectives to describe him. Uncaring. Cocky. Selfish. Rude. Horrible. Wandering. And so much more. Point is it was a mistake. I read somewhere that teenagers fall in love, really in love, for the first time when they’re seventeen or eighteen. Well ring-a-ding-ding I just pulled that pile of crap from the Cracker Jack box. What I’m afraid of is that what I had with this guy was love, because that’s what my idiotic heart keeps telling me. And I had all these happy notions of love. Notions he decided to put his cigarette out in. I see him on rare occasions in the halls and it hurts. I don’t handle pain well.
So I keep dwelling on all of this. The pain, the heartache, the loss, and it just overwhelms me. It keeps building on itself and I just let it. Add a dash of self-loathing for the lot of it, and PRESTO, insta-melancholy mood. Yum.
I don’t want to turn this into some sort of “Dear Diary” thing. If I really wanted that kind of confessional I’d become Catholic or actually use the damn journal I have. No, what I think I will do is…okay so I don’t have a legitimate plan. Heartbreaking, I know. For right now the best I can come up with is a stream of consciousness rant that is slightly different from a frilly diary; it’s just a hop, skip, and a jump away from a diary but I think it’s the hop that makes it important.
I’m in one of my melancholy moods. No trigger that I can put my finger on (Wow I just realized how bad of a pun that was, and completely unintentional too). I mean school is boring. I’ve pretty much mentally checked-out already. As far as school is concerned my junior year is almost over. I don’t feel particularly inclined to savor it either. Yet, what I do want to savor are my senior friends. It always seems that I meet the best ones before they graduate. And then I feel this HUGE loss because I just met them and never got a chance to really know them when I could have had three more years with them. Lost opportunities and such.
What’s really got me down is my relationship or lack thereof to me more specific. See, I pretty much gave my heart away a while back. It was a terribly stupid thing to do since he was…oh there are so many good adjectives to describe him. Uncaring. Cocky. Selfish. Rude. Horrible. Wandering. And so much more. Point is it was a mistake. I read somewhere that teenagers fall in love, really in love, for the first time when they’re seventeen or eighteen. Well ring-a-ding-ding I just pulled that pile of crap from the Cracker Jack box. What I’m afraid of is that what I had with this guy was love, because that’s what my idiotic heart keeps telling me. And I had all these happy notions of love. Notions he decided to put his cigarette out in. I see him on rare occasions in the halls and it hurts. I don’t handle pain well.
So I keep dwelling on all of this. The pain, the heartache, the loss, and it just overwhelms me. It keeps building on itself and I just let it. Add a dash of self-loathing for the lot of it, and PRESTO, insta-melancholy mood. Yum.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Chivalry and All That Jazz
Chivalry a’int dead; it’s just on life support. And I’m sitting here staring at this white knight, trying to decide weather or not I want to pull the plug. How did the white knight end up on life support you may ask? Well I couldn’t say for sure but if I had to take a guess, I’d say he was: bludgeoned by a wife beater; attacked by a drug addict (‘cause he tried to do the right thing by taking away the addict’s crack); shot by a completely unrelated drive-by shooting; and, kneed in the balls by a rampant feminist. But that’s just a guess.
Still, every once in awhile chivalry rears its handsome head. And it totally freaks me out! More from shock than disparagement, but still. I mean the man is supposed to be in a coma here, not pop up and open the door for me. It’s just completely unexpected. Yet, still pleasant. Like the other day, at school, some guy I don’t even know opened the door for me. Not a knock me over with a feather moment or anything, just enough to put a chagrined smile on my face. Another time one of my guy-friends took my hand in a gentlemanly way and kissed my knuckles. I had to seriously fight the urge to check his temperature. But the most recent cavalcade of chivalry in my life is my mother’s boyfriend. Overall, I approve of him; he’s nice. He’s total old school about some things though. Like, he pulls out our chairs and seats us at even the most casual of dinners, and he stands whenever either my mom or I stand up when we’re eating. The first time that happened I froze like the freakin deer in the headlights because I didn’t realize what he was doing. It’s nice and sweet from the daughter perspective, but I know if a boyfriend of mine did that I’d probably freak out.
Thing is, I was raised in a feminist house. So I’ve got this little voice in my head caterwauling about all the things I should do for myself. Like the last time a date offered to pay I couldn’t wrap my brain around the concept of someone else paying for me. It just seemed unfair. On one hand it’s a great gesture, but on the other I feel really awkward and almost greedy. And I’ve never understood the whole walking each other to class thing. This lack of understanding doesn’t come from a feminist place though; it’s just me being a nerd. When I go to school my focus is most often class, and the whole idea of meandering through the halls with your honey, only to stop outside the classroom and linger through the bell thereby making the other person late as well, just boggles me. Of course that could also be my obsession with being on time kicking in again, but whatever. I mean, it’s sweet and sort of charming to see but I couldn’t put myself in a similar picture. But other than that, I like the idea of chivalry. So I end up telling the little feminist voice to shut up. Besides, the white knight’s kinda cute. It would be a total waste to pull the plug on that.
Still, every once in awhile chivalry rears its handsome head. And it totally freaks me out! More from shock than disparagement, but still. I mean the man is supposed to be in a coma here, not pop up and open the door for me. It’s just completely unexpected. Yet, still pleasant. Like the other day, at school, some guy I don’t even know opened the door for me. Not a knock me over with a feather moment or anything, just enough to put a chagrined smile on my face. Another time one of my guy-friends took my hand in a gentlemanly way and kissed my knuckles. I had to seriously fight the urge to check his temperature. But the most recent cavalcade of chivalry in my life is my mother’s boyfriend. Overall, I approve of him; he’s nice. He’s total old school about some things though. Like, he pulls out our chairs and seats us at even the most casual of dinners, and he stands whenever either my mom or I stand up when we’re eating. The first time that happened I froze like the freakin deer in the headlights because I didn’t realize what he was doing. It’s nice and sweet from the daughter perspective, but I know if a boyfriend of mine did that I’d probably freak out.
Thing is, I was raised in a feminist house. So I’ve got this little voice in my head caterwauling about all the things I should do for myself. Like the last time a date offered to pay I couldn’t wrap my brain around the concept of someone else paying for me. It just seemed unfair. On one hand it’s a great gesture, but on the other I feel really awkward and almost greedy. And I’ve never understood the whole walking each other to class thing. This lack of understanding doesn’t come from a feminist place though; it’s just me being a nerd. When I go to school my focus is most often class, and the whole idea of meandering through the halls with your honey, only to stop outside the classroom and linger through the bell thereby making the other person late as well, just boggles me. Of course that could also be my obsession with being on time kicking in again, but whatever. I mean, it’s sweet and sort of charming to see but I couldn’t put myself in a similar picture. But other than that, I like the idea of chivalry. So I end up telling the little feminist voice to shut up. Besides, the white knight’s kinda cute. It would be a total waste to pull the plug on that.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Pieces, Pieces, Pieces
I am broken
And I can’t fix it
I shattered into pieces on the floor
And I’ve been picking them up
Trying to put it all back together again,
Which is hard because I wasn’t fully formed to begin with.
I have been putting the pieces in one big space
Like a million piece puzzle on a board.
One board for one puzzle—that’s how it goes.
But the puzzle never gets finished because there’s always a gap.
Too many pieces.
It’s like that for me too.
I have got a hole where the pieces I can’t find are supposed to go.
I’ve tried filling it with everything I can think of.
Clothesmoneymusicmoviesboysfriendssarcasmpictureslaughterdancing
Won’t fit.
But I really want it to.
I want to be whole again
Or at least some semblance of it.
God, why won’t any of it fit?
And I can’t fix it
I shattered into pieces on the floor
And I’ve been picking them up
Trying to put it all back together again,
Which is hard because I wasn’t fully formed to begin with.
I have been putting the pieces in one big space
Like a million piece puzzle on a board.
One board for one puzzle—that’s how it goes.
But the puzzle never gets finished because there’s always a gap.
Too many pieces.
It’s like that for me too.
I have got a hole where the pieces I can’t find are supposed to go.
I’ve tried filling it with everything I can think of.
Clothesmoneymusicmoviesboysfriendssarcasmpictureslaughterdancing
Won’t fit.
But I really want it to.
I want to be whole again
Or at least some semblance of it.
God, why won’t any of it fit?
Saturday, December 16, 2006
But I've Already Got My Two Front Teeth
I’m going through a phase where I’m listing everything. Or at least that’s what it looks like based on my last two blogs. I’m still in the midst of said phase so here would be this week’s list—My Christmas List if money (or reality) wasn’t a problem. Once again, no order.
1. A new iPod: one of the little buggers with a screen. Right now I have a shuffle, which is the size of my index finger. And if you know my hand size this is saying something. Plus the shuffle holds absolutely nothing.
2. A Mini Cooper: the exact opposite of my iPod complaints. I like the tiny car. It’s me sized. And in this day and age, the smaller the car the better the gas mileage. Which would be perfect. Oh, and I’d get it in some unusual color. And then I’d get barreled over by a SUV, but that’s life.
3. Shopping spree at Bebe: I always see the window displays for this store and I want it all. So then I go in there and pass out in a dead faint over the price tags on these clothes! It’s ridiculous how much these clothes cost! But they’re soooooooo pretty.
4. World Peace: Here’s where that reality bit comes into play—cause it ain’t gunna happen anytime soon. What brought this on is I’ve seen a couple of friends come home for the holidays on leave, and it just kills me to think of them going over to Iraq or Afghanistan. It just makes my chest hurt. Like a few weeks ago I saw my next-door neighbor come home in cameo and I freaked out—he had just joined the army. And shortly thereafter I found out my cousin wants to join the Air Force. I told him if he gets hurt I’d kill him. Perfect logic, I know. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothing but respect for the men and women in any branch of the armed forces, but I just don’t want my friends and family getting hurt.
5. That gun from Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy: the one where if you shoot someone they see your side of things. I know about a dozen people I would love to use that on.
6. Trip to U.K.: I want to see it all. It’s my dream trip—Scotland, Ireland, and England. I’ve always wanted to go. And when I say trip, I mean at least a week in each country. If the opportunity ever comes up, you’ll probably hear me screaming in joy, even if you happen to be in China.
7. A crown: Like Buckingham palace quality jewels. I’d just display that sucker and be like, “Oh, yeah, that’s my crown”. Okay so I’d wear it every once in awhile. I bet you’re wondering if I’m kidding.
8. Return to Italy and France: I’ve already been, but as my greedy list shows, I want more. I would spend a week in the Louvre alone. And I’d visit little cafes. And I could stroll as leisurely as I wanted. Oh God, and I’d return to Pompeii and walk the whole thing. And visit Venice before the darn thing sinks. And live off bread and chocolate. Ahhh bliss.
9. Have money in the bank: you know just so I’d be secure for life. So I guess as far as a gift goes, a winning lottery ticket would qualify.
10. Tickets to the PBR: All of them. All the events across the U.S. For those of you not in the know, the PBR stands for Proffesional Bull Riders. They come to St. Louis in February, and Mom and I always go. But I’d like to tour with it—keep up with who’s winning, and visit all the cities. The final competition is in Vegas, and that would be fun. This is probably one of my more random wishes.
There is no way I’m getting any of this for Christmas but it’s fun to say, “I wish…”
1. A new iPod: one of the little buggers with a screen. Right now I have a shuffle, which is the size of my index finger. And if you know my hand size this is saying something. Plus the shuffle holds absolutely nothing.
2. A Mini Cooper: the exact opposite of my iPod complaints. I like the tiny car. It’s me sized. And in this day and age, the smaller the car the better the gas mileage. Which would be perfect. Oh, and I’d get it in some unusual color. And then I’d get barreled over by a SUV, but that’s life.
3. Shopping spree at Bebe: I always see the window displays for this store and I want it all. So then I go in there and pass out in a dead faint over the price tags on these clothes! It’s ridiculous how much these clothes cost! But they’re soooooooo pretty.
4. World Peace: Here’s where that reality bit comes into play—cause it ain’t gunna happen anytime soon. What brought this on is I’ve seen a couple of friends come home for the holidays on leave, and it just kills me to think of them going over to Iraq or Afghanistan. It just makes my chest hurt. Like a few weeks ago I saw my next-door neighbor come home in cameo and I freaked out—he had just joined the army. And shortly thereafter I found out my cousin wants to join the Air Force. I told him if he gets hurt I’d kill him. Perfect logic, I know. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothing but respect for the men and women in any branch of the armed forces, but I just don’t want my friends and family getting hurt.
5. That gun from Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy: the one where if you shoot someone they see your side of things. I know about a dozen people I would love to use that on.
6. Trip to U.K.: I want to see it all. It’s my dream trip—Scotland, Ireland, and England. I’ve always wanted to go. And when I say trip, I mean at least a week in each country. If the opportunity ever comes up, you’ll probably hear me screaming in joy, even if you happen to be in China.
7. A crown: Like Buckingham palace quality jewels. I’d just display that sucker and be like, “Oh, yeah, that’s my crown”. Okay so I’d wear it every once in awhile. I bet you’re wondering if I’m kidding.
8. Return to Italy and France: I’ve already been, but as my greedy list shows, I want more. I would spend a week in the Louvre alone. And I’d visit little cafes. And I could stroll as leisurely as I wanted. Oh God, and I’d return to Pompeii and walk the whole thing. And visit Venice before the darn thing sinks. And live off bread and chocolate. Ahhh bliss.
9. Have money in the bank: you know just so I’d be secure for life. So I guess as far as a gift goes, a winning lottery ticket would qualify.
10. Tickets to the PBR: All of them. All the events across the U.S. For those of you not in the know, the PBR stands for Proffesional Bull Riders. They come to St. Louis in February, and Mom and I always go. But I’d like to tour with it—keep up with who’s winning, and visit all the cities. The final competition is in Vegas, and that would be fun. This is probably one of my more random wishes.
There is no way I’m getting any of this for Christmas but it’s fun to say, “I wish…”
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