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.

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.

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…

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.

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.

To sum it up, summer felt like it was fast, but I did a lot more stuff than I usually did. There were ups and downs, and I suppose that’s normal with any period of time. I didn’t draw a graph this time around, but I think I can remember everything I did, ups and downs alike. Just don’t expect me to get the order of it right.

As soon as I was done with school last May, I went up to Waterloo (my little sister accompanied me as well). I worked there as medical staff at the AAU basketball tournament there. I learned there that Canadians are freakin’ awesome, and that as an athletic trainer, you really do have to expect anything. Case in point; a man walked up to me and asked me if I had butterfly stitches. He had “a cut” and he wanted it taken care of. Upon lifting up his shirt, I discovered not a cut but a knife wound. My supplies were limited, and I did what I could to cover it. I told the guy “Go to the ER!” The funny thing is, 30 seconds after he walked away, I went to go look for him and he had completely disappeared.

A few days later, I got in the car with Mom, originally intending to drive down to Poughkeepsie and drop her off at the train station. In the end, I decided to take her down to Rye Brook, to the Hilton where the Democratic State Committee’s meeting was taking place. While there, we had lunch. The chicken quesadillas were the best I’ve ever had, and the guacamole was pure heaven!

At the end of May, I was in my first major car accident. I already told the story in an earlier blog post, so I’m not going to repeat myself. One thing’s for sure; I hope to God it never happens again.

An almost major up: a friend had told me that he might pay me $700 to drive his daughter’s car down to New Mexico! I was looking forward to it; I planned out the route, and even took a week off from work to go. But in the end, I didn’t. The daughter found a friend up in NY who would take the car down for her. So I took a week off for nothing, and didn’t get to go to New Mexico. It was probably to biggest letdown for me this summer.

Neither U.S. nor Brazil won the World Cup. Against all heavenly odds, Spain did. Thinking about it ticks me off. I swear, their run should’ve ended at their loss to Portugal…

This year’s DCDC dinner was superb. I became a sushi lover because of that dinner. And the resort that we had the event at was amazing. Looking forward to it next year. And everyone was apparently blown away by my rendition of the National Anthem. It seems no one actually knew I could sing…

Towards the end of summer, I got to work as medical staff at the Empire State Games. I met a LOT of really cool peers, and made a bunch of friends. Although I originally intended to, I never did get to go clubbing. Hopefully, I’ll have another opportunity to. I don’t want to have spent $60 on clubbing dresses for nothing.

I got my hair dyed; you can see the pic on my Facebook. It came out nice, though originally it was supposed to be more blonde, like a golden brown. Unfortunately, the ends didn’t take — as you went towards the root, the color grew more obvious. The stylist in the end bleached it, and as a result my hair pulled red. It’s very irritating. I’m going to try one more thing next time I get my hair dyed, and if that doesn’t work, I’m just going to give up trying to get my dream color. In the meantime, I’ve been experimenting with John Frieda to see if the color enhancing technology really works. It does look cool though; the ends are darker than the roots, so it kind of looks like a fade to black kind of thing.

Just this past weekend, me and the Fam went over to Hershey Park. I didn’t get to go on a couple of rides I wished I could’ve gone on but that’s okay. I feel like next time we have an outing, we ought to do something that everyone will enjoy, since Mom and David aren’t too fond of roller coasters. But since this was probably the last time that the entire family will be collectively spending time together, I doubt this will ever happen again.

I officially hate my job. I’m convinced that the manager hates my guts and wants me to quit. At least, I REALLY wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case, because of all the shit she’s been pulling. The only reason why she hasn’t fired me is because she can’t; I’m a good worker. So instead, she seems to have resorted to trying to piss me off enough to make me quit. And trust me, if I had another job, I definitely would. And when I get a better job, I will. I don’t want to be there anymore than she wants me to be there.

And so, now I’m back here. Classes start tomorrow, for me in particular — 9am. I moved in yesterday. Already I want to go back home. I’ll have to admit though, this Garden apartment is really nice. This will probably be the best living quarter I’ll have lived in my entire career here. I’ll take pictures once we’re definitely unpacked and cleaned up — provide to you a virtual tour of my “crib.” For now, I’m more focused on my lack of eating capabilities, at least at the dining hall. Since the Financial Aid folks screwed me over yet again, I can’t get a meal plan until I pay them 20 grand. You know, you’d think I’d grow to expect this at the beginning of every year, considering this shit has happened every year since freshman year. In any event, I’m looking forward to my Fall break in a month and a half.

To all my freshman friends; good luck! Steal tons of fruit from the dining hall. It helps!

It started out as what was supposed to be a fun joyride around the southern tier of NY. My little sister and I were in the back seat; she was passenger’s side, I was driver’s. My two friends Brian and Joey were in front, and Brian was driving.

We had taken the backroads to Oneonta; the whole way there I would warn him about dangerous curves and times when he’d want to slow down. We were going pretty fast, between 60 and 70 most of the time. Luckily, I know those roads like the back of my hand. But I don’t blame Bhoff, I mean, I love driving fast too. It’s fun. We were just unlucky that night.

We decided that it would be fun to drive to Delhi from Oneonta, and then take the backroads to Sidney from there via a route that Derek and Mom had taught me. I had driven it a couple of times, and while I didn’t know those roads as well as I knew others, I knew it’d be a fun drive.

We drove up over the hill on route 28 just outside of the city. Brian had just passed a car and was still going pretty fast. I think he was coasting down to speed (I do that ALL the time, seriously. Easier on the brakes). I don’t remember saying it, but Kimmie told me later that I had said “You should probably slow down.” The music, Guns N’ Roses, was blaring though. We were enjoying ourselves, even if we had to scream at the top of our lungs just to hear each other. A car was coming up the other way, and didn’t turn down their high beams as they drove by. It blinded me and I assume Brian too, at the very least, because I didn’t see the sign that warned us of the curve up ahead. When my vision cleared, the first thing I saw were the yellow arrow signs usually associated with sharp turns, and it was about that point that I knew that something awful was going to happen.

On the way down the hill, 28 has a relatively sharp left turn as route 357 splits off and bears right. If I had to guess the speed at which that sign probably says, I’d have to say it probably recommended to take the speed at anywhere between 35 and 45 mph. I can usually get my dad’s car around any curve at approximately 15 mph over the speed listed on the sign. We could’ve gotten around that curve at 50, 55mph maybe even 60 if the recommended speed was 45. I think we hit that curve at speeds closer to 70.

The rear end spun out and around as we entered the turn. I think it actually took Brian by surprise, the way his hands jerked on the steering wheel. I don’t blame him; I saw that turn at the last minute as well. The instant we were off the road, I started to scream. I couldn’t stop screaming. I grabbed hold of Brian’s seat in front of me and braced myself for what I expected to be a very painful end. And the whole time I was just screaming Brian’s name, over and over. Perhaps a small part of me inwardly thought I could somehow channel my energy through to him and give him the power to stop the car. A bit naive of me, if I do say so myself.

We plowed through a road sign, flew off the ground over the slight incline, careered across the road that merged with 28, and slammed into a tree. I’m sure we hit it at speeds anywhere between 50 and 65. Initially, the car was moving sideways. I’m sure that we probably would have started rolling if Brian hadn’t kept his cool as well as he did. And I don’t know how he managed to more or less straighten us out, but he did, and while it resulted in us hitting the tree on the driver’s side, I’m positive that he saved our lives.

I screamed as the car buckled around me. I watched as the tree came through Brian’s door, shattering the glass and smashing the metal. I screamed as debris hit my face and shoulders. The entire side of the car we were on gave way inward. Brian’s seat came back and rammed against me, wedging my foot underneath. I couldn’t budge it. I thought in that instant, that I was going to crushed by hot, twisted metal, that I was going to die right then and there. My sister immediately came to mind; I knew she was right there next to me, and I could only think of the fact that I had invited her to come along and she could be dying right here with me.

We all jerked as the car came to an abrupt stop. I remember half-shrieking “Brian?!” I was instantly concerned about Brian, as I had watched him slam into the steering wheel. His head lolled about slightly for a few seconds before he managed to slur “Is everyone okay?” I went to move, but my foot was stuck. The smell was terrifying, and smoke was coming up from the engine. And I couldn’t move. I had to get out of the car and I couldn’t move. Brian made to move his seat back but I screamed “Don’t move the seat Brian, I can’t move my foot! I can’t move my foot! Oh my God, I can’t move!”

Kimmie was there, asking me about my foot. I pushed her away, not wanting her to stay in the wreckage any longer than necessary. I half-snapped in reply, “It’s stuck!” In a rush of adrenaline, I wrenched my foot out, abandoning my sandals in the process. I didn’t realize it until later, but that sandal probably saved my foot from seriously being crushed.

We climbed out of the car; Brian sat on the trunk (more or less intact, considering the condition of the rest of the vehicle) with blood covering his arm. There was already a couple (married, I assume) at the side of the road, making sure we were okay and calling 9-1-1 (which is good, because I had no service). I went back periodically to check on Brian, who was apologizing over and over and saying how he screwed up and that he was so sorry. I told him to just not think about it; that we’re all alive. EMS arrived and took over, sending me off to get checked. In retrospect, I should’ve provided neck stabilization until they arrived, but I wasn’t thinking about anything other than calming him down. We were questioned about the situation. I think I retold the story like, 50 times in the span of 5 minutes. The state trooper took my license. I haven’t seen it since (that bastard).

The EMS people took Joey, Kimmie and I by ambulance over to Fox. Brian had been back-boarded and transported ahead of us. The EMS crew were very lighthearted and nice and it helped to brighten the mood a little. I’m only amazed at how they can maintain such a cheerful demeanor considering the kinds of things they have to deal with on a day-by-day basis.

At the hospital, my hand, clavicle and shoulder were x-rayed. Nothing was broken, to my surprise (well, not the thumb because I already knew it was sprained). They gave me a sling and a splint for my thumb and sent me off. No offense, but the ER doctor was kind of an ass. Mike, the receptionist that Kimmie had told me about when her throat was bleeding after her surgery, was around, and he was pretty awesome in the few seconds that we interacted. Yes, he looks like he should be in Green Day’s band.

I plan on following up with Dr. Wiesner (an orthopedic) and Dr. Aaronson (a dentist… one of my teeth was knocked out of place and it HURTS). I sprained my right thumb, and SOMETHING happened to my left clavicle, I’m sure. One of my teeth, like I said, is out of place. Scrapes and bruises here and there, and a very sore neck are the only injuries besides those three.

The ride home was terrifying. Mom drove slower than she usually does, and I was pressed as far back against my seat as I could get. My shoulders were so tense, I could feel the knots forming.

Since then, I keep replaying the crash over and over in my head. Sucks that I couldn’t just close my eyes so I didn’t have to watch it happen. My mind prevented me from doing so, as if I could somehow see what was coming and dodge whatever came my way. If I don’t actively stop myself from thinking about it, the images come back as strong as ever.

I don’t think we’ve ever been as lucky as we were last night. I feel like if we had hit that any different, I wouldn’t be sitting here typing this blog post. All I know is, I’m just extremely thankful that we’re all alive and okay.

So I discovered just how much of a life I really don’t have. Other than the trip to Oneonta to get the tattoo the Saturday after I returned, and the hair cut I got the Thursday before I had to come back to school, I spent all day, every day, pretty much either wandering aimlessly around the house whining about how there wasn’t anything to do, watching movies on my computer, or sitting on the couch and staring off into space. Oh, right! There were like, three afternoons in which Kimmie, Natalie, and I went to the park to have fun at the playground. And at least the weather outside was gorgeous. But still. I had no where to go, and pretty much no one to hang out with outside of my family, and Nat.

The weekend of my return to campus, Kimmie stayed at her boyfriend’s house Friday and Saturday night. She went straight to his house from school. So Friday, I spent the afternoon and evening at Nat’s house, playing Soul Caliber IV until midnight. And I spent all day Saturday watching Jackie Chan movies. It’s such a fail. And I hadn’t thought about it until I got done watching the fourth Jackie Chan movie, but I realized “holy crap, I have no life.”

Have I really stooped to that kind of level? I rag on Ricky all the time because he lives on World of Warcraft like it’s what keeps him alive every day (and seriously, his online gaming addiction is a problem. I might stage an intervention). And as I rag on him, I’m lounging around my house doing nothing? It just SCREAMS hypocrisy, and I hate it. I hate not having anything to do. And I hate not having anywhere to go. I hate how everyone I used to talk to is gone. And even the people I don’t talk to, just the people I see, they’re leaving too. It’s like Sidney’s becoming a ghost town. And it really sucks. I’m going to die of boredom, that’s for sure.

I’m hoping to get a job working at the pool over the summer. Maybe being out like that daily might help? I have no idea.

G'd Third Tat

Well anyway, besides not having anything to do, I did get my third tattoo. And I did get a haircut, but I don’t have a picture yet so you’ll never know what it looks like muhahahaha! The tat hurt more than the other two, and of course that’s not a surprise, considering this one was over my cervical spine.

Why did I get this one? Well, as you can see, it’s a scorpion. And, if you haven’t already figured out by now, I’m a Scorpio, through and through (I find that hilarious, because I was born on the very last day of Scorpio and everything too). Anyways, I hadn’t thought about getting my star sign on my own.

What happened was, originally, I was going to get this tattoo with Kasedy, who was going to get a tattoo representing her star sign, Taurus, once she turned 18. It was going to be a matching tat thing; something that best friends do. Natalie and Kimmie were going to get their star signs in the upper shoulder region as well, so we could all match.

That was the original plan. That was also determined before this happened. I decided, however, that just because I wasn’t getting it with Kasedy didn’t mean I didn’t have to get it at all. Besides that, Kimmie and Natalie were still getting theirs as well (at least, that I know of). So this tattoo is a tad more symbolic to me than just “I’m a Scorpio,” and “my sister and friend are getting matching star sign tats.” It’s also a statement. It says “Hey, Kasedy. Fuck you. I don’t need you anymore, and here’s how I’m proving it. See this here? The thing that we were going to get together? Well I got it alone. You’re not needed in my life anymore.”

Anyways, so I messed up a bit in terms of moving money about, I’m glad I got this tattoo in the end. It’s very pretty, and everyone that’s seen it likes it, so it’s good Plus I know I’ll never regret getting this tat. If I did, I’d regret being a Scorpio, and we all know THAT’S never going to happen.

So that’s the summary of my spring break. Hopefully, next year’s will be a bit better. And that’s hoping that Sidney doesn’t become a ghost town by then.

EDIT: Well, I’m quite the stupid one. And senile… Anyway, turns out, I *did* have a good pic in my computer of me with me haircut, as you now see. I had completely failed to remember that I kept the pic I sent a couple of my friends on my phone. I sent it to my email, and well, here we are now. Hope you like it!

Yea. I went there.

I love you Kimmie~

To put it simply, it started out very well, and then proceeded to get worse over the course of the few weeks I’ve been home.

Here, I made a graph to illustrate my point better:

… >.>

… Look, It was Microsoft Paint. At least the words are legible, damnit.

Anyway, I’ll go over what’s happened and whatnot:

Christmas was good, for the most part. We got a tree, decorated it and the house, stuffed our stockings for a change, and had a… well. I’d like to say we had a “decent” dinner, but yea. A certain someone was in a pissy mood and took it out on me. I got a gift card worth $85 to Rue 21. Kimmie did as well so that weekend we went shopping. I got a few really cute tops so that majorly satisfied me (I also got a couple of new pairs of jeans from JCP. Ahhh~ I love that store).

New Year’s probably would’ve ended better if Ricky isn’t such a stupid airheaded douchbag. I had forfeited my part of the game we were playing in because his inability to shut the fuck up pissed me off, and I went to bed promptly after. I couldn’t even get a buzz! It sucked.

Originally, my New Year’s resolution was to “buy a car by then end of the year”. It’s changed. Now it’s “get my ass down to El Paso to visit Steve.” At first glance I bet you assumed the reason why I’m going out of my way to fly down and visit is because I like him or something. Well, that isn’t all that important of a reason. He’s my best friend, and someone I can trust. That’s one reason. The other reason is, I need to get the hell away from here.

This house in which I come back to from school shelters me, and the people that have raised me continue to keep me fed, clothed, and healthy. But this house, this place that’s supposed to be my home, doesn’t feel like a home to me anymore. And no, it has absolutely nothing to do with “getting ready to leave the nest” bullcrap. Before I came back for break, I couldn’t wait to get out of there. I wanted to be back with my family, back “home”. Now, there is no feeling of home to me. I can’t explain it. What I can say is that I was stuck here for a little over a month; I had no friends to go to, really. There was volleyball every Thursday, and Jess and Steph and Kas rarely. But it wasn’t the same. When I’m not here, however, I’m at school. I haven’t had a chance to get away. And I need to get away, because I don’t want to leave my family yet (although they aren’t even starting to feel like a family at this point either), and I know I’m not ready to be on my own.

This post took me a little over three hours to write. I just finished the brunt of packing. I’m going to bed.