So, since I generally stop blogging when I'm feeling emo, and I've been encouraged not to do so, I have created another blog that will be all about those emo days. The link is in my menu on the left and it will include all my emo rants, poems, songs, etc. If you are into emo, then you can pop over there every once in a while to get your dose-- and if you're not then you can just pretend like my emo blog doesn't exist and just hang out at this one. The current feature on my emo blog is a lament-ish sort of poem. If you visit, then I hope you enjoy!
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Random Thoughts-- And Roommates Pt 3 of 6
Random Thoughts:
*Right now, my seven favorite people in the world are the people who came to help me move yesterday. I am all moved and my old apartment is already completely cleaned and ready to go. I suppose that the one person who offered to come but was unable due to circumstances beyond his control can be included, therefore making it my EIGHT favorite people in the world.
*My dad and my brother are the most dependable men that I know. I owe them a fabulous Mexican dinner and some beer.
*I can see cows from my kitchen window.
*Bowling left-handed is challenging. It's helping me learn to laugh at myself a lot more. (I know that I already laugh at myself a lot-- but usually only with friends, not strangers.)
*Earlier, I was watching TV and there was a commercial on about one of those expensive programs that is supposed to prevent identity theft. It's good to know that our most important identity, the one of "Child of God," cannot be stolen from us.
____________________________________________________________________
Roommates Part 3 - My ex-best friend's sister and my brother's girlfriend
After the special experience I was treated to my second year in the dorms, I decided it was time to move on to greener pastures. Then I realized that I am in Nevada, and therefore the pastures are BROWN. While the dorms were not the most pleasant living experience, they were still a vast improvement over living with my parents. So during the seconds semester of my las year in the dorms, I started looking for roommates to share an apartment with. Conveniently, my brother's girlfriend (also known as my current sister-in-law) decided that she wanted to move into an apartment around the same time. To keep it affordable, we decided that we should find a third roommate and get a three bedroom apartment. The third roommate wound up being my ex-best friend's sister who was the same as as my brother and his girlfriend, and who'd had a crazy crush on my brother since they were about 12, though she would never admit it.
To make it clear, the ex-best friend wasn't an ex-best friend because of anything bad that happened. She just moved away for college and we drifted a part. She was actually quite a good friend for most of high school. She was the friend I went to church with occasionally. The trouble was, both her and her sister, who would become my roommate, were raised in a rather legalistic Christian home and were not really allowed any sort of freedoms. So when my friend went off to college, she rebelled and became a bit of a wild child for a few year. These were the same few years when I was beginning to find myself and my identity as a Christian-- We drifted apart because we were headed in different directions.
I have to admit that when I found out that her sister was looking to move out of their parents' house, I was excited for several reasons-- The first was that I had hoped that it would bring me closer to my friend again. The second was that I had hoped that she wouldn't feel the need to rebel against her parents if she had moved out of the house and was living with someone she felt comfortable to be herself around; afterall, she had known me for about eleven years by this point. And the third was that I thought that maybe if her and I went to church together, we could get my brother's girlfriend to go with us, too.
As I'm sure you can guess, I was overly optomistic. By the time we all moved into the apartment in May of 2002, she had already rebelled, though I didn't know it yet. It turned out that she was dating a guy several years older than her and after a few weeks, we basically acquired a fourth roommate. Her boyfriend started spending the night most nights. She never warned us when he was going to be there, she never asked if it was okay and she let him eat all of our food. At first, my now SIL and I tried to include her when we made plans for dinner or nights in, or whatever, but she always turned us down. Then her boyfriend would show up and they would lock themselves in her room. There were several problems with this plan:
1) He was practically living with us, but was not paying rent.
2) He would oversleep, then try to rush to take a shower in our home, where he was not paying rent, or utilities, and would wind up making my SIL late, even though she had woken up in what should have been plenty of time to get ready.
3) She asked me to lie to her parents if I happened to see them at church. That if they asked I should tell them that she was not sleeping with her boyfriend and that he didn't stay the night. I made it clear that I would not lie for her, but fortunately her parents never asked me anything.
4) There were three shows that my SIL and I watched together every week at the same time every week. And every time the other roommate's boyfriend would be playing video games and would get pissy with us when we asked him to let us watch the show, and then even more pissy when we suggested that if he paid rent then he would have the right to decide what the living room TV was to be used for.
Who would have ever thought that it would be more awkward to have her boyfriend stay the night than to have my brother stay once a week?
Fortunately, we had only signed a 6 month lease, and when that 6 months was up, the third roommate decided to leave (sigh of relief) stating that she just didn't feel welcome because we didn't include her in anything and because we didn't like her boyfriend (aka the leach). Good riddance!
*Right now, my seven favorite people in the world are the people who came to help me move yesterday. I am all moved and my old apartment is already completely cleaned and ready to go. I suppose that the one person who offered to come but was unable due to circumstances beyond his control can be included, therefore making it my EIGHT favorite people in the world.
*My dad and my brother are the most dependable men that I know. I owe them a fabulous Mexican dinner and some beer.
*I can see cows from my kitchen window.
*Bowling left-handed is challenging. It's helping me learn to laugh at myself a lot more. (I know that I already laugh at myself a lot-- but usually only with friends, not strangers.)
*Earlier, I was watching TV and there was a commercial on about one of those expensive programs that is supposed to prevent identity theft. It's good to know that our most important identity, the one of "Child of God," cannot be stolen from us.
____________________________________________________________________
Roommates Part 3 - My ex-best friend's sister and my brother's girlfriend
After the special experience I was treated to my second year in the dorms, I decided it was time to move on to greener pastures. Then I realized that I am in Nevada, and therefore the pastures are BROWN. While the dorms were not the most pleasant living experience, they were still a vast improvement over living with my parents. So during the seconds semester of my las year in the dorms, I started looking for roommates to share an apartment with. Conveniently, my brother's girlfriend (also known as my current sister-in-law) decided that she wanted to move into an apartment around the same time. To keep it affordable, we decided that we should find a third roommate and get a three bedroom apartment. The third roommate wound up being my ex-best friend's sister who was the same as as my brother and his girlfriend, and who'd had a crazy crush on my brother since they were about 12, though she would never admit it.
To make it clear, the ex-best friend wasn't an ex-best friend because of anything bad that happened. She just moved away for college and we drifted a part. She was actually quite a good friend for most of high school. She was the friend I went to church with occasionally. The trouble was, both her and her sister, who would become my roommate, were raised in a rather legalistic Christian home and were not really allowed any sort of freedoms. So when my friend went off to college, she rebelled and became a bit of a wild child for a few year. These were the same few years when I was beginning to find myself and my identity as a Christian-- We drifted apart because we were headed in different directions.
I have to admit that when I found out that her sister was looking to move out of their parents' house, I was excited for several reasons-- The first was that I had hoped that it would bring me closer to my friend again. The second was that I had hoped that she wouldn't feel the need to rebel against her parents if she had moved out of the house and was living with someone she felt comfortable to be herself around; afterall, she had known me for about eleven years by this point. And the third was that I thought that maybe if her and I went to church together, we could get my brother's girlfriend to go with us, too.
As I'm sure you can guess, I was overly optomistic. By the time we all moved into the apartment in May of 2002, she had already rebelled, though I didn't know it yet. It turned out that she was dating a guy several years older than her and after a few weeks, we basically acquired a fourth roommate. Her boyfriend started spending the night most nights. She never warned us when he was going to be there, she never asked if it was okay and she let him eat all of our food. At first, my now SIL and I tried to include her when we made plans for dinner or nights in, or whatever, but she always turned us down. Then her boyfriend would show up and they would lock themselves in her room. There were several problems with this plan:
1) He was practically living with us, but was not paying rent.
2) He would oversleep, then try to rush to take a shower in our home, where he was not paying rent, or utilities, and would wind up making my SIL late, even though she had woken up in what should have been plenty of time to get ready.
3) She asked me to lie to her parents if I happened to see them at church. That if they asked I should tell them that she was not sleeping with her boyfriend and that he didn't stay the night. I made it clear that I would not lie for her, but fortunately her parents never asked me anything.
4) There were three shows that my SIL and I watched together every week at the same time every week. And every time the other roommate's boyfriend would be playing video games and would get pissy with us when we asked him to let us watch the show, and then even more pissy when we suggested that if he paid rent then he would have the right to decide what the living room TV was to be used for.
Who would have ever thought that it would be more awkward to have her boyfriend stay the night than to have my brother stay once a week?
Fortunately, we had only signed a 6 month lease, and when that 6 months was up, the third roommate decided to leave (sigh of relief) stating that she just didn't feel welcome because we didn't include her in anything and because we didn't like her boyfriend (aka the leach). Good riddance!
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
The Dorms Part II (Post 2 of 6)
Fall of 2001
I returned to the dorms for a second year in the fall semester of 2001. I remained in the same room because my friend T and I had decided we wanted to continue living in the same suite. We didn't really know anyone else that we wanted to live with, so we decided to just wait and see who we wound up with. This may not have been the best idea. This was my first experience with Christian roommates, and I am quite sad to say that it was not a good one.
I had started attending Intervarsity Christian Fellowship during the previous school year and had met quite a few new people. Four of those new people wound up being my new roommates, and they were all best friends to boot. This would not have been so bad had it not been for the fact that this was the year I was working graveyard at the Evil K and they were VERY loud best friends. But of course that was not the worst of it. I was used to not getting much sleep-- that's what college is all about. There were several other quirks that made this an interesting year-- though nothing quite as umm... let's just say special, as the previous year.
For example-- all four of these girls were from Las Vegas. To them it was cold when the temperature got down to 80 degrees. They started wearing sweaters in early September. And that was their choice to make-- but they also started turning on the heat and setting it to 70 degrees around the same time. Since I was trying to sleep as much as I could during the day because I worked at night, we developed a heater war. I would turn it off in the morning when I laid down to go to sleep so that I wouldn't melt, and I would wake up a few hours later covered in sweat because it had been turned back on. And there's more:
As you may have inferred from the previous post, my best friend at the time was a male. If you have known me long enough and well enough, you may even know who the male is. This is only relevant because he was also a part of the Intervarsity group that I was a part of and therefore all of my new roommates also knew who he was and had an opinion about our friendship. They had decided amongst themselves to create a set of rules regarding how they felt they needed to behave around males, and they claimed that this list of rules were the way that all Christian girls (I say girls and not women because they were 19...) should live. The rules, as best as I can remember, were as follows:
1) Girls shall not spend time alone with a guy at any time.
2) Girls should not be in mixed company (ie, guys and girls together; same place, same time) after midnight
3) Girls should only have friends who are girls.
Needless to say, I broke each of these rules-- I did not feel that it was inappropriate for a single girl and a single guy to hang out together in public, nor did I feel it was inappropriate to be in mixed company after a certain hour. For this, I was never really accepted among them and was constantly being "confronted" (because that's what people did in Intervarsity) with claims that they were "concerned" with the choices I was making. What this really means is that I received numerous lectures about the dangers of having a male best friend-- primarily that even Christian guys could not be trusted to control their urges, and the fact that I trusted my best friend implicitely was somehow an indication that I was not right with God.
Now, you would think that a group of girls who were so anti-guy would be above the drama of celebrity gossip... Not so. These girls were obsessed with celebrity gossip-- who was dating who, who was having a baby and who was the daddy. Apparently, it was okay for them because they weren't Christians. Why a group of Christian girls who were deadset against relationships would condone the glamorization of celebrities' rocky romances is beyond me. It didn't really bother me most of the time.
But there was just one time when it went a little bit far. I came home one afternoon after class and I found the four of them in the living room with a box of tissues, all of them crying. I got worried. Had somebody died? Was somebody sick? Was it somebody I knew also? I waited a minute and then I asked what was wrong. A couple of them blew their noses, rather dramatically, before one of the girls opened her mouth and sobbed, "Justin and Brittany broke up," which was followed by some more nose blowing. (Keep in mind that this was back when Justin Timberlake was a boy-bander dating Brittany Spears who was likely just as trashy then as she is now...) This rather unimportant and predictable event elicited almost as severe of a reaction as what these girls had on September 11, which we all experienced together that year. How can anybody feel that this was an appropriate reaction? How does the end of the relationship between "Justin and Brittany" affect us? And that was pretty much how the whole school year went. Between the lectures about my "inappropriate friendship" and the overdramatization of the impact of celebrity relationships on our everyday lives, the noise, the heat, I was quite relieved when the school year was over.
I returned to the dorms for a second year in the fall semester of 2001. I remained in the same room because my friend T and I had decided we wanted to continue living in the same suite. We didn't really know anyone else that we wanted to live with, so we decided to just wait and see who we wound up with. This may not have been the best idea. This was my first experience with Christian roommates, and I am quite sad to say that it was not a good one.
I had started attending Intervarsity Christian Fellowship during the previous school year and had met quite a few new people. Four of those new people wound up being my new roommates, and they were all best friends to boot. This would not have been so bad had it not been for the fact that this was the year I was working graveyard at the Evil K and they were VERY loud best friends. But of course that was not the worst of it. I was used to not getting much sleep-- that's what college is all about. There were several other quirks that made this an interesting year-- though nothing quite as umm... let's just say special, as the previous year.
For example-- all four of these girls were from Las Vegas. To them it was cold when the temperature got down to 80 degrees. They started wearing sweaters in early September. And that was their choice to make-- but they also started turning on the heat and setting it to 70 degrees around the same time. Since I was trying to sleep as much as I could during the day because I worked at night, we developed a heater war. I would turn it off in the morning when I laid down to go to sleep so that I wouldn't melt, and I would wake up a few hours later covered in sweat because it had been turned back on. And there's more:
As you may have inferred from the previous post, my best friend at the time was a male. If you have known me long enough and well enough, you may even know who the male is. This is only relevant because he was also a part of the Intervarsity group that I was a part of and therefore all of my new roommates also knew who he was and had an opinion about our friendship. They had decided amongst themselves to create a set of rules regarding how they felt they needed to behave around males, and they claimed that this list of rules were the way that all Christian girls (I say girls and not women because they were 19...) should live. The rules, as best as I can remember, were as follows:
1) Girls shall not spend time alone with a guy at any time.
2) Girls should not be in mixed company (ie, guys and girls together; same place, same time) after midnight
3) Girls should only have friends who are girls.
Needless to say, I broke each of these rules-- I did not feel that it was inappropriate for a single girl and a single guy to hang out together in public, nor did I feel it was inappropriate to be in mixed company after a certain hour. For this, I was never really accepted among them and was constantly being "confronted" (because that's what people did in Intervarsity) with claims that they were "concerned" with the choices I was making. What this really means is that I received numerous lectures about the dangers of having a male best friend-- primarily that even Christian guys could not be trusted to control their urges, and the fact that I trusted my best friend implicitely was somehow an indication that I was not right with God.
Now, you would think that a group of girls who were so anti-guy would be above the drama of celebrity gossip... Not so. These girls were obsessed with celebrity gossip-- who was dating who, who was having a baby and who was the daddy. Apparently, it was okay for them because they weren't Christians. Why a group of Christian girls who were deadset against relationships would condone the glamorization of celebrities' rocky romances is beyond me. It didn't really bother me most of the time.
But there was just one time when it went a little bit far. I came home one afternoon after class and I found the four of them in the living room with a box of tissues, all of them crying. I got worried. Had somebody died? Was somebody sick? Was it somebody I knew also? I waited a minute and then I asked what was wrong. A couple of them blew their noses, rather dramatically, before one of the girls opened her mouth and sobbed, "Justin and Brittany broke up," which was followed by some more nose blowing. (Keep in mind that this was back when Justin Timberlake was a boy-bander dating Brittany Spears who was likely just as trashy then as she is now...) This rather unimportant and predictable event elicited almost as severe of a reaction as what these girls had on September 11, which we all experienced together that year. How can anybody feel that this was an appropriate reaction? How does the end of the relationship between "Justin and Brittany" affect us? And that was pretty much how the whole school year went. Between the lectures about my "inappropriate friendship" and the overdramatization of the impact of celebrity relationships on our everyday lives, the noise, the heat, I was quite relieved when the school year was over.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
After a Monthlong Delay...
I am proud to present my series on roommates as promised before my life momentarily imploded. Reconstruction has begun, and I am now ready to write these stories, which I hope will be entertaining if nothing else. The series will be six parts and will only include the most entertaining roommate stories. These stories are really about my crazy roommates--not the roommates I enjoyed my time with. I will be changing the names just because that's what writers do when they write about real people. :) I hope ya'll enjoy the series, and I hope they are worth the wait. Just as a teaser, the six parts will be as follows:
1) The Dorms, Part I
2) The Dorms, Part II
3) My Ex-Best Friend's Little Sister and My Brother's Girlfriend
4) The Time In Between
5) The Extremist
6) The Faux-Vegan and the Gamer (Or 4 Evil K-er's in One House?!!!)
The Dorms Part I
In the fall of 2000, I did something quite out of the ordinary and moved into the dorms for my first senior year of college. It had originally been my mom's suggestion, but somehow I became really excited about it. I moved into Canada Hall in August of 2000. My roommate was to be a Japanese student, which I had hoped would be an interesting experience. When I arrived on the day we were able to move in, my suite was already completely occupied. The living room was already set up, the kitchen shelves were all full, the bathroom counter had things piled all around and on my first day I was already feeling shut out. It turns out that I was moving into a suite with 4 Japanese students and a student athlete who had already been there for the whole summer together.
After about a week, I had a small space on the very top shelf and a drawer in the kitchen, a part of a shelf in the bathroom and of course my half of a bedroom. I also had three Japanese suitemates who were extremely shy but talked to me a bit, a Japanese roommate who wasn't shy, but who didn't talk to me and a student athlete suitemate who spent almost no time in the suite. I don't even remember my roommate's name, but I do know that she was a biology major. She was planning on going to med school because it was what her parents wanted, and she was dating a black man because it was what her parents didn't want. This much I got from the shy suitemates during our limited conversations. I'm also not sure whether she actually ever finished college because she was quite the party animal.
Unfortunately, there was nothing terribly noteworthy about these suitemates, and I was not making any friends. So when a space opened up in my friend's suite across the hall for the next semester, I jumped at the chance to make the move. I would not be roommates with my friend-- neither of us wanted to jeopardize our friendship in that way-- but I would at least have a friendly face in my suite. Plus I'd met a couple of her suitemates and they also seemed nice enough. It was looking like the spring semester was going to be MUCH better.
Fall semester drug on and on, and finally it was December and my new suitemates had told me that I could start moving my things in before it was time to go home for Christmas break. We set a date and I prepped myself for the move across the hall. Come moving day, they had cleared two full shelves for my food in the kitchen, plus one smaller shelf for my dishes and a drawer for my silverware and other similar things. My room was supposed to be ready for me to move in. My future roommate had been told that she needed to gather her things and get them all on her side of the room so that I could move in but when I opened up my room, I discovered that she had made no attempt to prepare for my arrival. Her clothes were strewn all over my side of the room and there was a blanket covering some boxes on the bed that would soon be mine. My friend came in and helped me toss her clothes over to her side of the room. She stepped out after that was done, and I proceed to remove the things from the bed. I picked up the blanket and before I could toss it across the room, I realized what was in the boxes on the bed. It was her umm... let's just say her personal pleasure toys. I was startled and disgusted all at once. I didn't know what to do. So I covered up the boxes with the blanket, wrapped it all the way around and tossed the whole package across the room and onto her bed. And then I considered burning the mattress, but I figured I would probably be charged for it, so I just settled for flipping it over.
I wish I could tell you that was my only encounter with her personal pleasure toys, but unfortunately it was not. We would meet again soon, during the spring semester, in a much less subtle way. I know that this first encounter was not at all subtle, and yet, it gets worse.
When we all returned for the spring semester, I almost never saw my new roommate. The suitemates said she spent a lot of time at her boyfriend's house in Carson. What they didn't tell me, was what she did with her boyfriend when she stayed at home in the dorms. So about four weeks into the semester, I came home late one night after hanging out with my best friend and my roommate was already asleep. I left the lights off and went to my computer and was instant messaging with my best friend (yes, I know I had just left him, but we were bored college students awake at 2am with nothing better to do) while I was working on an assignment for the next day. I heard my roommate's phone ring and I heard her answer. I expected it to be quite brief since she had been sleeping, but then I heard her start moaning. I continued my instant message conversation, thinking that maybe she'd just been yawning because she was tired. But then I heard a buzzing noise and the moaning proceeded to get louder and louder, until it became screaming. I called my best friend on the phone thinking that maybe she just didn't realize I was awake and that if she heard me talking, she would be embarrassed and stop. But instead, I wound up giving my best friend a sneak peek of what was happening in my suite, because she just proceeded to get louder and the buzzing persisted. I decided to go back to my best friend's room for a little while and left the room just as she was saying, "And now I am touching..."
The next day, she started up a conversation with me, as though nothing abnormal had occurred. I played nice, all the while just wanting to hurl as I tried to block out the buzzing sound.
Fortunately, that was the last time I saw her. Apparently she moved to Carson to be with her boyfriend, ditching her student housing contract and leaving me with a room to myself. I didn't find out about this until two weeks later when I came home after a weekend at my parents' house to find all of her things cleared out of the room. And by all of her things I mean everything that buzzed or hummed was gone, but she did leave me an unopened bottle of Kahlua, so I guess the experience wasn't all bad.
1) The Dorms, Part I
2) The Dorms, Part II
3) My Ex-Best Friend's Little Sister and My Brother's Girlfriend
4) The Time In Between
5) The Extremist
6) The Faux-Vegan and the Gamer (Or 4 Evil K-er's in One House?!!!)
The Dorms Part I
In the fall of 2000, I did something quite out of the ordinary and moved into the dorms for my first senior year of college. It had originally been my mom's suggestion, but somehow I became really excited about it. I moved into Canada Hall in August of 2000. My roommate was to be a Japanese student, which I had hoped would be an interesting experience. When I arrived on the day we were able to move in, my suite was already completely occupied. The living room was already set up, the kitchen shelves were all full, the bathroom counter had things piled all around and on my first day I was already feeling shut out. It turns out that I was moving into a suite with 4 Japanese students and a student athlete who had already been there for the whole summer together.
After about a week, I had a small space on the very top shelf and a drawer in the kitchen, a part of a shelf in the bathroom and of course my half of a bedroom. I also had three Japanese suitemates who were extremely shy but talked to me a bit, a Japanese roommate who wasn't shy, but who didn't talk to me and a student athlete suitemate who spent almost no time in the suite. I don't even remember my roommate's name, but I do know that she was a biology major. She was planning on going to med school because it was what her parents wanted, and she was dating a black man because it was what her parents didn't want. This much I got from the shy suitemates during our limited conversations. I'm also not sure whether she actually ever finished college because she was quite the party animal.
Unfortunately, there was nothing terribly noteworthy about these suitemates, and I was not making any friends. So when a space opened up in my friend's suite across the hall for the next semester, I jumped at the chance to make the move. I would not be roommates with my friend-- neither of us wanted to jeopardize our friendship in that way-- but I would at least have a friendly face in my suite. Plus I'd met a couple of her suitemates and they also seemed nice enough. It was looking like the spring semester was going to be MUCH better.
Fall semester drug on and on, and finally it was December and my new suitemates had told me that I could start moving my things in before it was time to go home for Christmas break. We set a date and I prepped myself for the move across the hall. Come moving day, they had cleared two full shelves for my food in the kitchen, plus one smaller shelf for my dishes and a drawer for my silverware and other similar things. My room was supposed to be ready for me to move in. My future roommate had been told that she needed to gather her things and get them all on her side of the room so that I could move in but when I opened up my room, I discovered that she had made no attempt to prepare for my arrival. Her clothes were strewn all over my side of the room and there was a blanket covering some boxes on the bed that would soon be mine. My friend came in and helped me toss her clothes over to her side of the room. She stepped out after that was done, and I proceed to remove the things from the bed. I picked up the blanket and before I could toss it across the room, I realized what was in the boxes on the bed. It was her umm... let's just say her personal pleasure toys. I was startled and disgusted all at once. I didn't know what to do. So I covered up the boxes with the blanket, wrapped it all the way around and tossed the whole package across the room and onto her bed. And then I considered burning the mattress, but I figured I would probably be charged for it, so I just settled for flipping it over.
I wish I could tell you that was my only encounter with her personal pleasure toys, but unfortunately it was not. We would meet again soon, during the spring semester, in a much less subtle way. I know that this first encounter was not at all subtle, and yet, it gets worse.
When we all returned for the spring semester, I almost never saw my new roommate. The suitemates said she spent a lot of time at her boyfriend's house in Carson. What they didn't tell me, was what she did with her boyfriend when she stayed at home in the dorms. So about four weeks into the semester, I came home late one night after hanging out with my best friend and my roommate was already asleep. I left the lights off and went to my computer and was instant messaging with my best friend (yes, I know I had just left him, but we were bored college students awake at 2am with nothing better to do) while I was working on an assignment for the next day. I heard my roommate's phone ring and I heard her answer. I expected it to be quite brief since she had been sleeping, but then I heard her start moaning. I continued my instant message conversation, thinking that maybe she'd just been yawning because she was tired. But then I heard a buzzing noise and the moaning proceeded to get louder and louder, until it became screaming. I called my best friend on the phone thinking that maybe she just didn't realize I was awake and that if she heard me talking, she would be embarrassed and stop. But instead, I wound up giving my best friend a sneak peek of what was happening in my suite, because she just proceeded to get louder and the buzzing persisted. I decided to go back to my best friend's room for a little while and left the room just as she was saying, "And now I am touching..."
The next day, she started up a conversation with me, as though nothing abnormal had occurred. I played nice, all the while just wanting to hurl as I tried to block out the buzzing sound.
Fortunately, that was the last time I saw her. Apparently she moved to Carson to be with her boyfriend, ditching her student housing contract and leaving me with a room to myself. I didn't find out about this until two weeks later when I came home after a weekend at my parents' house to find all of her things cleared out of the room. And by all of her things I mean everything that buzzed or hummed was gone, but she did leave me an unopened bottle of Kahlua, so I guess the experience wasn't all bad.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Breaking Free from Unforgiveness
Over the last few weeks, I have started several posts about the fabulous "Growing Up" series-- particularly about the need to break away from the ways of our families. I have found several unhealthy ways of living that are passed down through my family, such as secrecy, shame and self-sufficiency (that was actually the title of one of my prospective posts). But today I realized the one that is the most crippling, and the one that I drew the line on several years ago--unforgiveness and holding a grudge. That's not to say that I am always perfect at forgiving, in fact FAR from it, but unforgiveness is the biggest thing that I have drawn the line on and said "NOT IN MY HOUSE."
I have talked about my family and their lack of communication skills on my blog before. This was a major roadblock in my life for a very long time. I used to keep everything hidden, to myself-- but my tongue was let free almost immediately when I accepted Jesus' gift. The unforgiveness was a harder one to deal with. My whole life, my mother had used her unforgiveness as a punishment. She would scream at us so that we knew that she was mad, and then she would punish us with the silent treatment until we caved and apologized, whether we were guilty or not. And my dad stood by and went along with it, but when she was not around, he let it be known that he didn't agree with her ways. I, on the other hand, was always the vocal one, always making it clear when I thought something was not right, always trying to get what was fair and right, even if it was somebody else that my mother was angry with. As I'm sure you can imagine, this meant I got more than my fair share of unforgiveness. And I eventually always caved and apologized for whatever I had not done wrong. Actually, simply apologizing was never enough-- it was actually more like grovelling.
I drew the line on this about four years ago, not realizing at the time what a difference it would make. It was about a week before Thanksgiving and I was at my parents' house for a visit. My mom was making dinner and she went to the sink to fill up a pot and found that there were dirty dishes from the night before in the sink. At this point, she began to scream at my dad, berate my dad, rant at my dad, etc about how lazy he was and how if she hadn't married him her life would be so much easier and so on. This had been going on for weeks before this, every time I came over, my mom would ruin my ability to enjoy my time with them by flying off the handle on my dad. I'd had enough-- and I will admit right now, this was FAR from my finest moment--I stepped in for my dad, since he never stood up for myself... Only it came out totally wrong and I asked my mother, "If you are so f---ing miserable, why don't you divorce him." Now let me make it clear-- this was a very poor attempt to make my mother realize that she was being overdramatic and that dirty dishes in the sink were not cause for divorce. I am fully aware that what I said was wrong. And I immediately apologized. However, my mom would have none of it. She turned her wrath on me. But it wasn't the suggestion of divorce that had made her angry as I would have thought, it was the fact that I used the f word in her house. I am aware that this was not a good thing to say, and I have only let it slip a handful of times when I was EXTREMELY angry as an adult. I apologized again, quite sincerely, crying of course, as is my nature, but still she would not even take a break from her yelling. And this is the important part-- I am, and was immediately, fully aware that what I said was wrong. And I made my attempts to seek forgiveness. My mom told me to give my house key to my dad and get out. I did as requested and went home. For a couple of days I was miserable. I made my attempts to apologize, to seek forgiveness, and I fully understand my mother being angry for what I said, but she was not open to hear my apologies-- she hung up the phone each time I called for the first couple of days. And then she told my sister-in-law (though then she was just my brother's girlfriend) that she was having Thanksgiving dinner at her house and that I probably wouldn't be coming since I still hadn't apologized. At this point, I decided to break the pattern. I had made my apologies, several times and I was not going to grovel this time. I had said all I could possibly say, and there was nothing left for me to do. So I just let the situation be. I made my own plans with friends for Thanksgiving. After all, being miserable wasn't going to make my mother speak to me, and holding a grudge against her for holding a grudge against me wasn't going to do anything but make me unhappy. So for the first and only time in my life, I had Thanksgiving separate from my family. And I enjoyed myself.
Several days later, my mother apparently realized that I was not going to grovel this time and she sent me an instant message. We talked that way for several minutes and then she called me. She talked as though we hadn't fought-- I had let it go several days before, and since she was ready to let go, we were back on track. Since then, I have made it clear that I will not tolerate the dad-bashing, and I have also made it clear to my father that I will not tolerate mom-bashing. It is their relationship and I should not be expected to pick sides. They still do it, but I remind them that I don't have to come to see them if they are going to put my in that sort of situation. Additionally, as my communication skills have improved, both of my parents have come to communicate better with me. This doesn't mean that my mom doesn't occasionally fly off the handle, but I don't really fight back anymore. If she wants to be miserable and angry, that is her choice, but that is not something I want for myself. If only they could extend this improved communication into their relationship with one another. They both need it, especially my mother, but they just continue in their old ways.
I wish I could say that the effect of this unforgiveness in my family is only emotional, but there is definitely a physical aspect as well. My mom has a slew of health issues and most recently has discovered that she has rheumatoid arthritis-- this is important because it is aggravated by stress. I have noticed that when she hurts the most is when she is angry at my father for some thing he has done or not done that he was supposed to know on his own that he should do. If I could, I would explain to her that by getting angry with him for every single unintentional slight, the only thing she is accomplishing is causing herself pain, both physically and emotionally.
So the train stops here-- I am not willing to cause myself pain by holding a grudge.
Finito
I have talked about my family and their lack of communication skills on my blog before. This was a major roadblock in my life for a very long time. I used to keep everything hidden, to myself-- but my tongue was let free almost immediately when I accepted Jesus' gift. The unforgiveness was a harder one to deal with. My whole life, my mother had used her unforgiveness as a punishment. She would scream at us so that we knew that she was mad, and then she would punish us with the silent treatment until we caved and apologized, whether we were guilty or not. And my dad stood by and went along with it, but when she was not around, he let it be known that he didn't agree with her ways. I, on the other hand, was always the vocal one, always making it clear when I thought something was not right, always trying to get what was fair and right, even if it was somebody else that my mother was angry with. As I'm sure you can imagine, this meant I got more than my fair share of unforgiveness. And I eventually always caved and apologized for whatever I had not done wrong. Actually, simply apologizing was never enough-- it was actually more like grovelling.
I drew the line on this about four years ago, not realizing at the time what a difference it would make. It was about a week before Thanksgiving and I was at my parents' house for a visit. My mom was making dinner and she went to the sink to fill up a pot and found that there were dirty dishes from the night before in the sink. At this point, she began to scream at my dad, berate my dad, rant at my dad, etc about how lazy he was and how if she hadn't married him her life would be so much easier and so on. This had been going on for weeks before this, every time I came over, my mom would ruin my ability to enjoy my time with them by flying off the handle on my dad. I'd had enough-- and I will admit right now, this was FAR from my finest moment--I stepped in for my dad, since he never stood up for myself... Only it came out totally wrong and I asked my mother, "If you are so f---ing miserable, why don't you divorce him." Now let me make it clear-- this was a very poor attempt to make my mother realize that she was being overdramatic and that dirty dishes in the sink were not cause for divorce. I am fully aware that what I said was wrong. And I immediately apologized. However, my mom would have none of it. She turned her wrath on me. But it wasn't the suggestion of divorce that had made her angry as I would have thought, it was the fact that I used the f word in her house. I am aware that this was not a good thing to say, and I have only let it slip a handful of times when I was EXTREMELY angry as an adult. I apologized again, quite sincerely, crying of course, as is my nature, but still she would not even take a break from her yelling. And this is the important part-- I am, and was immediately, fully aware that what I said was wrong. And I made my attempts to seek forgiveness. My mom told me to give my house key to my dad and get out. I did as requested and went home. For a couple of days I was miserable. I made my attempts to apologize, to seek forgiveness, and I fully understand my mother being angry for what I said, but she was not open to hear my apologies-- she hung up the phone each time I called for the first couple of days. And then she told my sister-in-law (though then she was just my brother's girlfriend) that she was having Thanksgiving dinner at her house and that I probably wouldn't be coming since I still hadn't apologized. At this point, I decided to break the pattern. I had made my apologies, several times and I was not going to grovel this time. I had said all I could possibly say, and there was nothing left for me to do. So I just let the situation be. I made my own plans with friends for Thanksgiving. After all, being miserable wasn't going to make my mother speak to me, and holding a grudge against her for holding a grudge against me wasn't going to do anything but make me unhappy. So for the first and only time in my life, I had Thanksgiving separate from my family. And I enjoyed myself.
Several days later, my mother apparently realized that I was not going to grovel this time and she sent me an instant message. We talked that way for several minutes and then she called me. She talked as though we hadn't fought-- I had let it go several days before, and since she was ready to let go, we were back on track. Since then, I have made it clear that I will not tolerate the dad-bashing, and I have also made it clear to my father that I will not tolerate mom-bashing. It is their relationship and I should not be expected to pick sides. They still do it, but I remind them that I don't have to come to see them if they are going to put my in that sort of situation. Additionally, as my communication skills have improved, both of my parents have come to communicate better with me. This doesn't mean that my mom doesn't occasionally fly off the handle, but I don't really fight back anymore. If she wants to be miserable and angry, that is her choice, but that is not something I want for myself. If only they could extend this improved communication into their relationship with one another. They both need it, especially my mother, but they just continue in their old ways.
I wish I could say that the effect of this unforgiveness in my family is only emotional, but there is definitely a physical aspect as well. My mom has a slew of health issues and most recently has discovered that she has rheumatoid arthritis-- this is important because it is aggravated by stress. I have noticed that when she hurts the most is when she is angry at my father for some thing he has done or not done that he was supposed to know on his own that he should do. If I could, I would explain to her that by getting angry with him for every single unintentional slight, the only thing she is accomplishing is causing herself pain, both physically and emotionally.
So the train stops here-- I am not willing to cause myself pain by holding a grudge.
Finito
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Processing the Emo
Things are starting to catch up with me. I don't like not doing things I would normally do the way I would normally do them. I don't like feeling inept and I don't like needing help. Yes, I know this is an issue and yes I am working on it, but I don't like it. I don't like asking for time off from work in small amounts twice a week. It makes me feel like a nuisance. And I feel like an idiot. I feel like there should have been something I could have done to prevent myself from tripping on my pajama pants and making a mess of my life at the moment. My head knows that it could not be prevented, that it was just one of those freak things that could happen to anyone. But the enemy is telling me that I screwed up big time. That I've made a mess, dug a hole that's going to be hard to get out of. I feel like I'm not getting better fast enough, even though I'm still within the time line that was given to me. I just want this whole thing to be done, and yet is nowhere near being done-- I have at least two and a half more weeks of therapy left, depending on how things go, and we are just starting the grip/strengthening on Thursday of this week, depending on how I feel. Mostly my pride is hurt. It's stupid, I know, but that is the reality of the situation. I'm tired of laughing it off and I'm tired of the pajama jokes and it's probably just because I'm cranky right now, but that's part of the emo that I'm feeling right now.
I have 18 days before I move and I am freaking out. I am being quite bad in that I am not trusting that I will be taken care of. I'm kicking and screaming and trying to hold onto the control that I'm simultaneously trying to let go of. Ugh. What is the matter with me? Why is it so difficult for me to accept that the people who truly love me are genuine in their desire to help? I have a genuine desire to help those I love, so why should I expect it to be any different on the flip side? How did I get this stubborn and controlling? I think it is a bad habit picked up from my family, and the hardest one by far to move past--particularly as a single individual. My head knows all of this and my heart is trying to get in line with my head.
I am physically and mentally drained. I need to stop worrying, because all it is doing is making me more tired. I don't know why I'm telling ya'll this, except that maybe seeing it in writing will make it easier for me to do.
At any rate, it is time for bed. Tomorrow is another day, a better day. :)
I have 18 days before I move and I am freaking out. I am being quite bad in that I am not trusting that I will be taken care of. I'm kicking and screaming and trying to hold onto the control that I'm simultaneously trying to let go of. Ugh. What is the matter with me? Why is it so difficult for me to accept that the people who truly love me are genuine in their desire to help? I have a genuine desire to help those I love, so why should I expect it to be any different on the flip side? How did I get this stubborn and controlling? I think it is a bad habit picked up from my family, and the hardest one by far to move past--particularly as a single individual. My head knows all of this and my heart is trying to get in line with my head.
I am physically and mentally drained. I need to stop worrying, because all it is doing is making me more tired. I don't know why I'm telling ya'll this, except that maybe seeing it in writing will make it easier for me to do.
At any rate, it is time for bed. Tomorrow is another day, a better day. :)
Monday, September 29, 2008
The little things
*My elbow dimple is starting to come back, and it's barely yellow now-- almost back to its pasty off-white color. Yay!
*I started my physical therapy today. It was pretty crappy, but not as bad as I thought, which I guess is good. We are working on getting comfortable with the full range of movement right now. My next appointment is Thursday and I will only have to request 15 minutes off from work. I'm sure the scheduling lady will love that one. :)
*I ate sushi left handed today. It was quite entertaining. The kind man at the sushi place gave me the chopsticks like the kids use that are kind of like big tweezers...
*Right now I am watching Dancing with the Stars. It is almost time for Mr. Tasty, I mean Rocco.
*This week I am hoping to start the series on my roommates of the past that I had promised. I had intended to start that a few weeks ago before the whole moving/elbow/everything going wrong fiasco. I'll probably get to that about Thursday-ish.
*Two more contests I'm intending to enter this year. The first is the Writer's Digest Short Short Fiction contest, with a December 9 deadline and the second is the Glamour magazine essay contest with a December 31 deadline. Mainly, this is about setting goals and meeting them.
*Another thing I am (being forced to) work on is asking for and accepting help. I am quite stubborn and do not like handing over control. I like to know exactly when and how things are going to get done and I'm having to let go of that for this move because I cannot do everything. I have to just have faith that things will be okay and everything will get done. I have to be patient with myself which is also not something that I am good at. I tend to expect much more of myself than I would of any other person that I know. Me and my darned unrealistic expectations... :P
*I am looking forward to moving and going jogging in the park across the street from my new apartment. Because the industrial jungle on the path I follow here at this apartment does nothing to motivate me to keep on pushing--Not that I've been going out for the last few weeks anyhow, but still... I am also looking forward to the indoor hot tub at my new apartment complex. And good, non-Starbucks coffee within walking distance.
*The fortune cookie that I ate this evening (they gave me three with my Chinese food on Friday-it was the only part of the order that didn't make me sick...) said "The hard times will begin to fade. Joy will take their place."
*Happy Monday!
*I started my physical therapy today. It was pretty crappy, but not as bad as I thought, which I guess is good. We are working on getting comfortable with the full range of movement right now. My next appointment is Thursday and I will only have to request 15 minutes off from work. I'm sure the scheduling lady will love that one. :)
*I ate sushi left handed today. It was quite entertaining. The kind man at the sushi place gave me the chopsticks like the kids use that are kind of like big tweezers...
*Right now I am watching Dancing with the Stars. It is almost time for Mr. Tasty, I mean Rocco.
*This week I am hoping to start the series on my roommates of the past that I had promised. I had intended to start that a few weeks ago before the whole moving/elbow/everything going wrong fiasco. I'll probably get to that about Thursday-ish.
*Two more contests I'm intending to enter this year. The first is the Writer's Digest Short Short Fiction contest, with a December 9 deadline and the second is the Glamour magazine essay contest with a December 31 deadline. Mainly, this is about setting goals and meeting them.
*Another thing I am (being forced to) work on is asking for and accepting help. I am quite stubborn and do not like handing over control. I like to know exactly when and how things are going to get done and I'm having to let go of that for this move because I cannot do everything. I have to just have faith that things will be okay and everything will get done. I have to be patient with myself which is also not something that I am good at. I tend to expect much more of myself than I would of any other person that I know. Me and my darned unrealistic expectations... :P
*I am looking forward to moving and going jogging in the park across the street from my new apartment. Because the industrial jungle on the path I follow here at this apartment does nothing to motivate me to keep on pushing--Not that I've been going out for the last few weeks anyhow, but still... I am also looking forward to the indoor hot tub at my new apartment complex. And good, non-Starbucks coffee within walking distance.
*The fortune cookie that I ate this evening (they gave me three with my Chinese food on Friday-it was the only part of the order that didn't make me sick...) said "The hard times will begin to fade. Joy will take their place."
*Happy Monday!
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Elbow-gate 2008
So I just got home from having my Jolly Green Giant appendage removed, and I have to say, doctors irritate the crap out of me. Last week, they told me that they did not see anything on the x-ray but they were treating it as a radial head fracture based on the symptoms, type of accident and lack of being better. They said that with that type of fracture, it is commonly not seen on early x-rays and sometimes not seen at all if it's small and they just treat based on the symptoms. Today they say no fracture after all, but a moderate to severe sprain which apparently works out worse for me because apparently elbow sprains are not at all common and it takes an especially talented person to do such a thing. Apparently elbow fractures are more common than sprains and that's why they go there first. (Click on the links above to see the items I found online supporting what they told me... Okay, so I'm too anal for my own good...) Then, just a couple of minutes later-- the fracture could be there, but it would heal more quickly than the sprain... Make up your minds already!!!
So, now the Jolly Green Giant appendage is gone and replaced with ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. I thought I would be happy to be free of the thing, but honestly, it feels worse to have no support-- except of course the happy little sling from the ER that the PA told me to use-- is it normal to be nervous about being liberated? Because I'm terrified! I guess that freedom can always lead to fear...
So my physical therapy starts on Monday and I am on lifting restriction for 6-8 weeks. No lifting, pushing, pulling, turning-- just bending and straightening exercises along with rotations. Oh yeah, and apparently it's best not to drive because this can result in lifting, pushing, pulling and turning, even if you try to avoid it. And to quote the PA that I saw today-- "And no lifting means no lifting. Not even so much as an empty coffee cup." Hmm... I wonder how I'm going to pack those empty coffee cups. He he he... Apparently this is to be re-evaluated in 1 month, which happens to be the day before I move. This should be interesting. But the PT will work with me to start lifting and all the other normal movements... I'm considering attempting to re-establish my average for bowling left-handed...
On the positive side, the left-handed diet seems to be working out pretty well. I'm down 9 lbs in two weeks... It's amazing how much less you feel like eating when eating is such hard work. Ha ha ha! I wonder if a fork also falls under the lifting restriction. Maybe an empty fork is okay, but a full fork-- don't even think about it. Okay, so now I'm just being a little bit silly. I need to in order to stay sane!
If you are reading this, please pray for peace for me. This is too much stuff happening all at once and I just need to keep on pushing along. I was actually feeling mostly calm until after my appointment. I think the reality of the no lifting and its effects on moving are beginning to sink in. I'm doing my best to take it one day at a time. And one coffee mug at a time... :)
So, now the Jolly Green Giant appendage is gone and replaced with ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. I thought I would be happy to be free of the thing, but honestly, it feels worse to have no support-- except of course the happy little sling from the ER that the PA told me to use-- is it normal to be nervous about being liberated? Because I'm terrified! I guess that freedom can always lead to fear...
So my physical therapy starts on Monday and I am on lifting restriction for 6-8 weeks. No lifting, pushing, pulling, turning-- just bending and straightening exercises along with rotations. Oh yeah, and apparently it's best not to drive because this can result in lifting, pushing, pulling and turning, even if you try to avoid it. And to quote the PA that I saw today-- "And no lifting means no lifting. Not even so much as an empty coffee cup." Hmm... I wonder how I'm going to pack those empty coffee cups. He he he... Apparently this is to be re-evaluated in 1 month, which happens to be the day before I move. This should be interesting. But the PT will work with me to start lifting and all the other normal movements... I'm considering attempting to re-establish my average for bowling left-handed...
On the positive side, the left-handed diet seems to be working out pretty well. I'm down 9 lbs in two weeks... It's amazing how much less you feel like eating when eating is such hard work. Ha ha ha! I wonder if a fork also falls under the lifting restriction. Maybe an empty fork is okay, but a full fork-- don't even think about it. Okay, so now I'm just being a little bit silly. I need to in order to stay sane!
If you are reading this, please pray for peace for me. This is too much stuff happening all at once and I just need to keep on pushing along. I was actually feeling mostly calm until after my appointment. I think the reality of the no lifting and its effects on moving are beginning to sink in. I'm doing my best to take it one day at a time. And one coffee mug at a time... :)
Monday, September 22, 2008
Some random things...
* I am currently reading a book written by Hugh Laurie (yes, as in House) in 1996. Who knew that Hugh Laurie wrote a spoof spy novel? I found it on the buy two get one free table (which I, of course, frequent) and I had to buy it.
* I am happy that I can watch House tomorrow rather than taping it. Because usually it's on at the same time as the Dancing with the Stars results show, but since it starts earlier this season... HOORAY for Lazy Tuesday!
* And on Lazy Tuesday there will be far too much hotness for me to handle. This may be highly inappropriate but in addition to a couple of the pros, there is also one particularly tasty celebrity. Tasty because he's a cook-- and he's sizzling hot. He he he... enough cooking jokes. Then there's House. I think I'm drooling already just thinking about tomorrow's television viewing. Wednesday it will be back to reading.
* Ugh. Moving stresses me out. Moving when I'm not fully functional-- Ay caramba! My goal is to call somebody every time the stress makes me feel like eating something unhealthy. I've been quite good lately, though mostly only because things are not agreeing with me anymore and I'm trying to figure out what items cause problems and which are okay.
* And following that previous thought, what's up with that? All of a sudden after I turned 28 my body has started rebelling against me in every way possible. I guess now that I'm 29 I need to work harder to fix that.
* I don't want to wait until January to find out about the essay contest. I don't know why I care because the odds that I will win are probably in the negative numbers, but for some reason I have this tiny glimmer of hope floating around inside of my head. And I know that now matter what happens, I've done something good because I actually followed through on that goal.
* I have decided that I think that all people should be taught to be ambidextrous from the time they are small children. It would make life a lot easier.
* I am not a clumsy person. Following my recent incident, people have made many jokes about my clumsiness and for some reason it really bugs me even though I know I'm not clumsy. Yes, I had a singular clumsy moment, but that is not my nature. I generally don't drop things, trip over things or lose my balance. I have never done ANYTHING like that before and will hopefully never do anything like that again. I have no idea why I'm so touchy about that, but every time somebody makes a clumsy joke, it makes me cranky. Maybe because I've been trying so hard to laugh off the fact that I was ungraceful enough to catch my toe in my opposite leg pajama pants that it's made it seem like the kind of thing that happens to me all of the time--even though it doesn't.
* My co-workers make me happy. On the claims side of the building, everyone is so much more easy going and nobody really hates their job. Also, they're not so much girly-girls with all the gossip and cattiness that was predominant on the customer service side. Most of the claims women are the low maintenance and quirky types. Still almost all women, but much easier to get along with women. Very pleasant. At least there's no stress in that part of my life.
* As much crazy stuff that's going on with me recently, I am actually quite happy. I suppose being loved by people around you can do that. I feel like recently I've stopped focusing so much on the love that I don't have (romantic love) and more on the love I do (God's love, family love, love of friends). Hopefully I can keep on with this, because it feels pretty darn good.
* What, you expected me to keep coming up with random things? No way! It's time for bed!
* I am happy that I can watch House tomorrow rather than taping it. Because usually it's on at the same time as the Dancing with the Stars results show, but since it starts earlier this season... HOORAY for Lazy Tuesday!
* And on Lazy Tuesday there will be far too much hotness for me to handle. This may be highly inappropriate but in addition to a couple of the pros, there is also one particularly tasty celebrity. Tasty because he's a cook-- and he's sizzling hot. He he he... enough cooking jokes. Then there's House. I think I'm drooling already just thinking about tomorrow's television viewing. Wednesday it will be back to reading.
* Ugh. Moving stresses me out. Moving when I'm not fully functional-- Ay caramba! My goal is to call somebody every time the stress makes me feel like eating something unhealthy. I've been quite good lately, though mostly only because things are not agreeing with me anymore and I'm trying to figure out what items cause problems and which are okay.
* And following that previous thought, what's up with that? All of a sudden after I turned 28 my body has started rebelling against me in every way possible. I guess now that I'm 29 I need to work harder to fix that.
* I don't want to wait until January to find out about the essay contest. I don't know why I care because the odds that I will win are probably in the negative numbers, but for some reason I have this tiny glimmer of hope floating around inside of my head. And I know that now matter what happens, I've done something good because I actually followed through on that goal.
* I have decided that I think that all people should be taught to be ambidextrous from the time they are small children. It would make life a lot easier.
* I am not a clumsy person. Following my recent incident, people have made many jokes about my clumsiness and for some reason it really bugs me even though I know I'm not clumsy. Yes, I had a singular clumsy moment, but that is not my nature. I generally don't drop things, trip over things or lose my balance. I have never done ANYTHING like that before and will hopefully never do anything like that again. I have no idea why I'm so touchy about that, but every time somebody makes a clumsy joke, it makes me cranky. Maybe because I've been trying so hard to laugh off the fact that I was ungraceful enough to catch my toe in my opposite leg pajama pants that it's made it seem like the kind of thing that happens to me all of the time--even though it doesn't.
* My co-workers make me happy. On the claims side of the building, everyone is so much more easy going and nobody really hates their job. Also, they're not so much girly-girls with all the gossip and cattiness that was predominant on the customer service side. Most of the claims women are the low maintenance and quirky types. Still almost all women, but much easier to get along with women. Very pleasant. At least there's no stress in that part of my life.
* As much crazy stuff that's going on with me recently, I am actually quite happy. I suppose being loved by people around you can do that. I feel like recently I've stopped focusing so much on the love that I don't have (romantic love) and more on the love I do (God's love, family love, love of friends). Hopefully I can keep on with this, because it feels pretty darn good.
* What, you expected me to keep coming up with random things? No way! It's time for bed!
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
I may be stubborn, but I am not left-handed
So, as many of ya'll know, I had a minor incident last week resulting in what is more than likely a fractured elbow. Apparently with this type of elbow injury, which is caused by falling and landing on outstretched arms, essentially jamming the elbow, a fracture is rarely detected on the initial x-ray, and therefore additional x-rays have to be done at a later time if mobility has not significantly improved in about a week. So tomorrow, I will go to the orthopedic clinic for my additional x-rays and more thorough examination. If they are as gentle as the x-ray technician at the hospital, I'm imagining this will be something akin to torture.
Now you may be wondering about the extraordinarily talented thing I may have done to injure myself in such a way, and I have to tell you, the kids at church (and perhaps one adult!) were very helpful in coming up with some stories that are FAR more exciting than the reality.
1) I was skydiving.
2) I was wrestling an alligator in Florida.
3) I fell off of a building.
4) Rollerderby
The reality is that my toe caught in the opposite leg of my pajama pants and I kind of flew, landing on my outstretched arms, primarily the right, and ended up on the floor. That is the best description I can give as it happened so incredibly fast that there was no thought involved until I was already on the floor. I can tell you, however, that it was my black thermal Tinkerbell pajama pants that caused the fall. Is that enough detail for you?
I thought I just had a sore muscle from catching myself on the floor, but as the evening went on it was apparent this was not the case. I was going to try suck it up and see how I felt on Thursday, but when I laid down to go to sleep, all those little moves that you don't realize that you're making were killer. So my dad came and picked me up and I officially checked in for my first ever ER visit at 12:02 am on Thursday. It went fairly quickly and I was home by 1:30 am with my arm wrapped up to look like a limb of the Michelin Man.
Since Thursday, it has become apparent to anyone who didn't previously know, that I am too darn stubborn for my own good. Some of my friends as well as my parents have at moments, become irritated by my refusal to allow them to help me. I just like taking care of myself-- even when I was a child, when I was sick I would still get up and get my own juice or crackers or 7-up. It's just the way I am. Even though I am not a lefty, I'm doing my best to function like one because life does not get put on hold because I was so incredibly ungraceful that I tripped over the pajamas I was wearing. It may earn me a lifetime ride pass for the short bus, but that's about it.
Well, that's all for now. Think good thoughts for me tomorrow when I go to see the orthopedic specialist-- hopefully they'll put me in something smaller and easier to manage. Ironically enough, right as I was typing that, there was a Michelin commercial on TV featuring the Michelin Man. He he he he he!
Now you may be wondering about the extraordinarily talented thing I may have done to injure myself in such a way, and I have to tell you, the kids at church (and perhaps one adult!) were very helpful in coming up with some stories that are FAR more exciting than the reality.
1) I was skydiving.
2) I was wrestling an alligator in Florida.
3) I fell off of a building.
4) Rollerderby
The reality is that my toe caught in the opposite leg of my pajama pants and I kind of flew, landing on my outstretched arms, primarily the right, and ended up on the floor. That is the best description I can give as it happened so incredibly fast that there was no thought involved until I was already on the floor. I can tell you, however, that it was my black thermal Tinkerbell pajama pants that caused the fall. Is that enough detail for you?
I thought I just had a sore muscle from catching myself on the floor, but as the evening went on it was apparent this was not the case. I was going to try suck it up and see how I felt on Thursday, but when I laid down to go to sleep, all those little moves that you don't realize that you're making were killer. So my dad came and picked me up and I officially checked in for my first ever ER visit at 12:02 am on Thursday. It went fairly quickly and I was home by 1:30 am with my arm wrapped up to look like a limb of the Michelin Man.
Since Thursday, it has become apparent to anyone who didn't previously know, that I am too darn stubborn for my own good. Some of my friends as well as my parents have at moments, become irritated by my refusal to allow them to help me. I just like taking care of myself-- even when I was a child, when I was sick I would still get up and get my own juice or crackers or 7-up. It's just the way I am. Even though I am not a lefty, I'm doing my best to function like one because life does not get put on hold because I was so incredibly ungraceful that I tripped over the pajamas I was wearing. It may earn me a lifetime ride pass for the short bus, but that's about it.
Well, that's all for now. Think good thoughts for me tomorrow when I go to see the orthopedic specialist-- hopefully they'll put me in something smaller and easier to manage. Ironically enough, right as I was typing that, there was a Michelin commercial on TV featuring the Michelin Man. He he he he he!
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