All About G

I sure hope so.

In any event, I decided that, before I completely forget all these non-concrete plans I have, I’d list them here, and that way, I’d NEVER forget about them :3 So, without further ado…

Firstly, before anything, I absolutely have to take the GRE’s. Preferably before August, when the test changes, and apparently becomes more of a pain in the ass. I took a passing glance at the price; $160.

Paying for torture. Oh what fun.

Another thing I absolutely want to and almost need to get is a new Ipod. I sold the last one I had to my sister. Unfortunately, that one inexplicably disappeared. Of course, that means someone stole it, but unfortunately, without any solid evidence, I can’t beat the crap out of my prime suspect.

I have a few places in mind I’d like to travel to. Not nearly as amazing as you would expect, like Miami or Cancun. Besides touring Salisbury University something before I apply, I really want to head on down to NJ. My biffy, Kristen, is turning 21 in July. Couple that with the fact that she’s a crazier partier than I am, and the fact that she doesn’t live too far from the Jersey shore, and the birthday weekend is going to pure non-stop epic raging the whole time. And I would LOVE IT.

Something I’m trying to keep in mind is the probability that Mom, Kimmie, Ricky and I will be moving out to Sherburne, hopefully. That means I may have to go job hunting. I’ve been contemplating what occupation would get me the maximum profit; so my top choices would be lifeguarding (because of the insane hours, but at least it’s in the sun), waitresses and bartending (bartending moreso, but both would be specifically for the tips).

Other things I’d like to do, but probably not be able to afford, would be to get the two tattoos I want, and the three final ear piercings (upper helix, rook and conch) I want. The two tattoos are relatively simply: on my left side, on the side of my ribs, I’d like to get two pink cherry blossoms, with or without petals (probably with). Underneath it would be the phrase “Carpe Diem,” and it would be dedicated to my awesome mom and sister. The other tattoo would be an anklet tattoo around my right ankle; yet another Latin phrase — “Ad aspera per astra” (pardon my spelling) — which means “through difficulty to the stairs”, but I might switch it around to “to the stars through difficulty”. It might just stay the way it is, since everyone I’ve asked likes that one better anyway, but just to make sure prior to actually getting it, I’ll have a poll on Facebook or something. You have been warned. That tattoo, btw, I dedicated to myself, as a reminder of what I’ve been through, what I’m going through, what I’ll go through, and how no matter what I’ll end up a better person. Think of it as my symbol of strength.

Ah right… before I forget, and I almost did, I think I’ll try an internship at my PCP’s office in Sidney. I just have to jump through a bunch of hoops first. But it will look good on the resume, so I can’t complain too much (I just need to actually get in TOUCH with the folks first…)

Alrighty, I think that’s more or less the really important stuff. I’ve forgotten or failed to mention a couple things, like hopefully taking Kimmie to Great Adventure, but if it doesn’t happen this summer it will DEFINITELY happen next summer, before I go to grad school. And now that it’s 1am, I’m gonna stop writing about this and get my collective self out of here OMG I ALMOST FORGET ONE THING!!!

Warrior Dash. I’m not even gonna attempt to explain the awesomeness of it. Just check it out here and revel in the epicness of this thing.

Comments (0) May 25 2011

And craziness doesn’t even describe it.

If I told you Saturday was probably the best and worst night of last week at the same time, would it make any sense to you?

I’ll start with the good first: Saturday was Senior game for my men’s lacrosse team, in which we won with a good score of 16-3. Overall, everyone played a great game, and I was just happy for the seniors that they celebrated one of their last home games with a great win, and a conference win at that.

After the game, A few of the players were telling us ATS’ “Yea come down to Castaways! We’re celebrating! Come down!” For those of you who are unaware, Castaways is a bar here in Ithaca that’s popular for playing live music.

So me, the once-anti-social, afraid of life girl, now found myself driving down to this bar. At first I was just mingling, not really having much to say. I was kind of annoyed that I’m flat broke and couldn’t afford to drink. Luckily, one of the coaches bought me a drink. So I took advantage and got a Long Island, knowing those get me tipsy, and more outgoing, rather quickly.

After my first drink, it got a bit easier to chat with folks, so I did just that. Someone else offered to buy me another drink, and I asked for a second Long Island.

Things are pretty good at this point. I’m not drunk, but I nicely tipsy at this point and enjoying myself. Oh, right, remember that guy I was telling you about in my last blog post? Well, he and I were flirting a bit more obviously, which was all very fun. He bought me my third drink, and this time I decided to get a schnapps and sprite.

So I’m drunk at this point. We were all planning on going to Kilpatrick’s, another bar in town, and I guess first we were going to pregame (if you can pregame when already drunk) at one of the lax houses. So we did that, then went to Kilpatrick’s. I had a bit more (a bit?) more to drink, and was, for the most part, trashed when we all moved from Kilpatrick’s to the Ale House. And I suppose I was too drunk at this point because I had only done so much as go to the bathroom when one of the bouncers kicked me out of the bar.

So I can’t even see straight by now, let alone walk straight, and I drunkenly decide “Well, I guess I’ll walk home.” I kind of feel a little bad because I just left and didn’t let ANYONE know. At this point, my phone was somewhere in Castaway’s because I did the cool thing and left it there, along with my car. I’m still not entirely sure how I actually made it to the entrance of campus. But I came across a friend, who observed that I was “really drunk.” Bless his heart, he helped me up onto campus, with me rambling jumbled words the whole way, and helped me up to my Garden, where I burst into tears and cried and rambled for something like an hour.

Oh, why did I cry? Well I suppose this would be a good time to mention the worst part of it.

So, remember that guy I was telling you about in my last blog post? Yea, well, I met his girlfriend.

… Yup. The guy I was FINALLY flirting and being flirted with, the SAME night I start doing so, I find out that, even if he was interested, it’s not like anything’s ever gonna come out of it since he HAS A GIRLFRIEND.

And for a little while I was wondering if she was making it up because I had seen no indication of my crush being taken. Up until that point everything came across to me as single. And then she made it obvious that he was taken by putting some cutesy bf/gf photos on Facebook.

So I burst into tears upon arriving home and I was probably drunkenly sobbing about how “every time I start to like a guy this happens,” and how I was just overthinking everything like I always do,” and so on and so forth. I then proceeded to attempt and fail at toasting a bagel (it was black when I pulled it out), stick it in the fridge anyway, and then pass out in my bed after typing up a super trashed Facebook status:

Figures. I was amazingly wrong. Got kicked out of a bar b/c I was too drunk. My car’s at Castaways, idk where my phone is, and I’m surprised I’m made it back to my apt. Best never ever. FML.

And then the next day, I walked the hour to Castaway’s to get my car.

Yup, crazy weekend. ‘Nuff said.

Comments (0) Apr 25 2011

I feel a need to write in this, but honestly, I’m not entirely sure what to say.

Truthfully, I’ve thought of a ton of cool and interesting subjects, but I was so lazy, I never went about writing in them, and eventually, I either forgot about them or they lose relevancy in the here and now. For example, I was gonna write about Jay Cutler and those shenanigans, but then I completely didn’t. And now it’s almost April and that news is long past.

In any event, I think I’ll discuss what’s currently going on, but I will be as vague as possible, because I don’t want to compromise my position (haha, it sounds like I’m on a secret mission or something).

So, there’s this guy. And I think he might be interested in me. At least, I think there’s a possibility; I notice him looking at me a good deal (and he catches me looking right back). So, he might be interested. Or, I might be doing what I usually do and am simply over-thinking things. Maybe he’s looking at me because I have an obvious wedgie or something, I dunno.

Anyway, we keep looking at each other. And in the meantime, we don’t talk much. And I can’t bring myself to talk to him. It’s ANNOYING. I couldn’t even say “Hi, how’s it going?” the other day, and it’s just like AUGH! GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF! THIS ISN’T THE 9TH GRADE! THIS IS COLLEGE. YOU’RE AN ADULT, OMFG.

So, I told myself this morning, I’ll make of point of at LEAST saying hi to him when I see him. I don’t necessarily have to create conversation, but maybe saying hi would be a good start, right? This is all so terribly frustrating. Guys, you think girls are complicated? Well YOU are impossible to read. I can never tell what’s going through a guy’s mind. Thus, I get super paranoid, like “Is he just looking in my direction because there’s something he notices around me, or is he just zoning out? Is he looking at me? Is he checking me out? Oh my god is my hair okay? Do I look presentable?”

And etc., etc., etc.

In any event, I’m going to try and cease this nonsensical freaking out. Maybe then I’ll be able to get something DONE. You would think that with age comes a lesser chance of acting like a retarded teenager, but I guess not…

Comments (1) Mar 30 2011

Among other things, I figured I’d leave you an update.

To explain the title to this post, I believe I have post-nasal drip. And it really sucks. Choir was brutal because I’ve been coughing so much I lost my voice and can’t hit the high notes I usually have no problem hitting.

I’m doing much better in band than when I first started out. Oh, I didn’t tell you? Yea, I joined the All-Campus Band. Never been in a band before. You should’ve heard me the first rehearsal: it was BRUTAL.

I finally have a car, thanks to my wonderful cousin Damion.

Truthfully, I’m not as excited about writing this as I was before. Things aren’t so amazing right now. I’ll tell you all more when the time comes. I think, in the meantime, I’m gonna end this post.

Comments (0) Mar 03 2011

So this past week was quite the adventure, a.k.a. the worst experience of my entire life.

It started out innocently enough. Sunday evening, I had a nagging pain in my coccyx. For those of you non-health-affiliates, the coccyx is the tailbone. Anyway, I had a nagging pain in my coccyx. I didn’t think much of it, because the pain felt like the pain I get when I sometimes plop hard on it, at least enough to bruise it. So I brushed it off.

Monday came and went, and it was around Tuesday that I noticed something was wrong. The pain wasn’t getting better. In fact, it was getting worse… much worse. In the shower, I decided to do my usual awesome assessment. I discovered a lump (omg TUMOR?!?!) and hurt like hell with even the lightest of touches. I began to wonder if I didn’t just bruise it and instead shattered it.

I tried a lot of different things throughout Wednesday. I couldn’t walk without a limp. Just moving hurt. Just standing there hurt. And I had no idea what it was that was causing me so much increasing pain. I tried looking in the mirror. I even tried to take a pic. Yea. Totally failed.

Wednesday night I finally decided that I needed to get it looked at because chances were that I would be in too much pain to move if I waited an extra day. And that’s how I found myself lying on my side and cursing the fact that even that hurt, in a room, in the ER.

I spent the following 20-ish minutes (at least) listening to the kid next to me and his grandmother and father. The kid wanted to go walk around and stuff, and the adults were trying to nicely convince him that he would be better off staying in bed. I wondered to myself if they were that nice to him behind closed doors.

Anyway after waiting for what felt like an eternity (with friend, Drew, who came to keep me company and whom I’m very pissed at for the time being), the doctor, Debra, came in. She asked me some questions, I answered them, and then she took a look. She hadn’t even been poking around for two seconds when she said “Yep. You have a cyst.”

So I asked her “Well, can you take it out?”

And she explained to me that she needed to drain it and that it’d be painful. I didn’t give two fucks, so I then asked “Can you take care of it?”

And so she did. (She moved me into a private room for this, btw)

My advice to you? Don’t ever get a cyst.

So, she had me strip the bottom half of my being and lie prone on the bed. There were some absorbing pads beneath me. And she was nice enough to give me a heated blanket. It was SO WARM! I want one for Christmas.

So what felt like another 30 minutes later, which was spent listening to the surgical tables being rolled over to right on the other side of the curtain, and wondering if I was going to regret what I was getting myself into (Drew, by this point, had been sent off to the waiting room by the doctor). And then, she came in with the table, with all sorts of tools and whatnot.

At that point, I was thinking to myself “… oh shit.”

So she was explaining what she was going to do, and it reassured me somewhat. It didn’t sound that bad… right?

WRONG.

I learned the cold, harsh truth when she stuck the long ass needle in (to inject some “numbing agents” underneath the cyst). And I’m assuming it wouldn’t be that painful if it wasn’t infected. I’ve given blood with longer, thicker needles, and that didn’t hurt ANYWHERE as bad. I started half-yelling (though with my face stuffed in the pillow that they so graciously gave me, it sound more like I was death-moaning), and half-assed bit down. But, I’m proud to say, my eyes didn’t water at all. Hell yea, I’m not as wimpy as I thought I was.

So according to Debra, I “have good timing” apparently. Originally, she was worried that the cyst wasn’t “fluctuant” if that word even exists… basically ready to drain. She discovered REAL fast that it was ready to drain, when, as she stuck the needle in, pus and other generally disgusting crap spurted out. I didn’t see it, but I sure as hell FELT it when it ran down my leg. IT WAS GROSS!

And that wasn’t even the worst of it. Debra then grabbed a scalpel, since the “numbing agent” was in effect, and cut a slit into the cyst. That wasn’t too painful. But when she took the “numbing agent” and stuck it INTO THE CYST, that felt amazing let me tell you.

After that, she began to squeeze the cyst to push as much of the crap as she could out. And after that, she packed the cyst with gauze. That also hurt more than anything. And I thought I couldn’t walk before? Ha! I was perfectly mobile before I got the damn thing drained.

Anyway, she gave me a shit ton of drugs to nuke my body with. Two different kinds of antibiotics (3x and 4x a day, respectively), and a painkiller (that makes me nauseous as hell). And they sent me on my way.

Since then, I’ve been getting repacked daily at the Health Center. It’s never a pleasant experience, but I noticed as the day go by, the pain is lessening. Which is good. I don’t want to have to deal with this anymore than necessary. And the folks taking care of me have been telling me that I’ve been healing really well too, which is good.

And if I get a relapse, someone shoot me.

Comments (0) Sep 19 2010