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.

Ah, right. I’m a size 4 dress size, size 7 jeans, S-M shirt size, and shoe size 8.5-9. (I should probably note the sizes in the wish list…).

And think of it this way; if you’re the one getting these things, I won’t need to get them. And then, I can turn my funds towards other, more important things (though the dress and boots in the top three is SPECIFICALLY for a performance, and if it weren’t for the fact that I’m supposed to be in full costume when I audition in February for a show in April, I’d be buying them myself, later… and the bathing suit is for my Lifeguarding course in the spring…). But anyways I’ll update later. I should go psyche myself up to fail… I mean, take and pass the two exams tomorrow >.>

My 20th birthday was spent upstairs fucking around on Kimmie’s computer, and eating birthday pie (because I can’t stand the texture of cake). Presents couldn’t be afforded (though I got a candy bar from Kas, so I guess it’s something), though I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything; after all, Mom told me to not expect anything come Christmas, a month later.

I got paid on Wednesday (yesterday, technically), and half of it went to my credit card, a shirt, and some neccesities. On Friday, I hope to get a new pair of boots, but I’m not really expecting much there either because I have approximately $40 in my account, and unless the boots I saw were discounted further, I won’t be able to afford them, though I need a new pair.

I helped Mom with baking a couple of pies just now. Two pumpkin and an apple. I think I might be helping with the turkey, but I don’t know. I suppose I ought to be feeling that ol’ holiday cheer, like I do every year, but I just don’t feel anything.

… Check that. I feel completely and totally furious because I deleted the texts I sent myself and INTENDED to fucking save. It figures. I just don’t fucking care anymore.

Hopefully I’ll be in a better mood when I wake up in the morning.

I suppose the only good new that comes out of this post is I’m a year loser to death. Whoopie. I’d wish you a Happy Thanksgiving, but it wouldn’t be coming from the heart. So I’ll try to update tomorrow after the festivities are over. I just hope I won’t be feeling so shitty by then. In the meantime, I’m going to attempt to remember that fucking text I deleted (I can’t even begin to tell you how pissed off I am about that).

I just haven’t been able to get myself to do much of anything. Gotta love those crippling issues.

Anyway, I’m officially on the prowl for a therapist. Yea, I thought I was gonna be the only mentally healthy child of the Baker clan, but I’m suffering from a rather bad bout of depression, not to mention some crap I have to deal with to boot.

It’s not just the high school crap I went through that has been bothering me, I think. That’s a part of it for sure; ever since that Andy!drama back in high school, I can’t get myself to trust new people, even if they are very obviously trustworthy. Infant didn’t help much, Dale kind of didn’t either. It seems Dale only wants to hang out when he expects me to screw him. And so, I haven’t hung out with him in months. But there are some really cool people whom I talk to; like Alyce and Amanda, and Gabby and Kelly. But I can’t really open up like I’d want to. So they’re pseudo-friends as opposed to actual friends. I mean, how can two people be friends if one can’t trust the other? It’s the fundamental backbone of friendship — trust.

The second thing is issues with the family. At the moment, I’m currently not sure if I can divulge, so I won’t, but I guess the best way to put it is this family doesn’t feel like a family, and I suppose any hope of saving that is pretty much gone. We all live together, yes, but there’s no real connection. It just feels like we’re a bunch of people under the same roof, who just to happen to be related to each other. Well, minus Derek, but yea.

The holidays aren’t the same anymore. The only time we actually resemble a loving family would have to be Thanksgiving, and even then, the majority of the day is spent with the men room in their respective rooms on their computers, and Mom cooking Thanksgiving dinner, with the occasional assistance of Kimmie and I (though I plan to help her A LOT more come this year’s turkey day). Natalie is going to be spending her Thanksgiving with us — it’ll be her first ever REAL Thanksgiving meal, the poor child — so maybe it’ll make things a little more fun, but who’s to say?

Christmas might be a little better if they existed in our household. Ever since, oh, I don’t know… when I was 15 or 16, we stopped being able to afford Christmases. For Christ’s sake, we couldn’t even get a tree. Last year we were able to, and that’s only because I was paying for it out of my pocket. It was present to the fam. I might do it again this year because it’s just so depressing without one. The presents last year weren’t from the family; it was a special giveaway thing from Kimmie’s school. So I have the feeling that this year, there will be no tree (unless I get one), there will be no decorating (because I can never seem to get people to help me with decorating around the house — it’s like if there isn’t a tree, then they don’t even care), probably no presents from the parents, I don’t know if I’ll be able to afford presents for the parents, and, as usual, no real family together time.

It’s insanely heartbreaking to watch this happen that way it has. I think that’s the major part of this whole thing. When Millie died, it just triggered the depression, but I have a lot of stuff to get out.

Now if only I could just find an actual therapist.

I haven’t heard any good things about the counselors at the Health center, and well, I wasn’t expecting much, considering one doctor was convinced my once-fractured and still-dislocated coccyx was a cyst (I got x-rays, even though it’s dangerous for my baby making parts, just for the sake of PROVING I WAS RIGHT), and that another doctor thought my deformed clavicle was an overuse injury caused by playing volleyball once a week (turns out there WAS a hairline fracture, like I suspected way back when I first had it, as opposed to a plastic deformation. Hairline fracture makes more sense too). My Personal Essay professor, who frustrates the hell out of me at times, recommended one Susan Compton, who just so happens to not take my GHI insurance. Wonderful. But she told me she’d reach out to colleagues to find someone for me and get back to me. I’m supposed to be expecting a phone call from her today, so *crosses fingers* hope for the best.

… Well that was a lot of depressing stuff. Um, I suppose the only good I can think of is that I’m generally passing my classes, save for one, maybe 2. Though I think in biomechanics I have a C, and I can probably get that up.

Oh, If you haven’t yet, go read the Judgment Day post and review; comments are still open!

Download audio file (10122009.mp3)

And you probably want to know exactly what I’m throwing fits about on my body. I can fit in 2-4’s, I have an exotic look, I could be a model, the tattoos look nice, my hair is gorgeously healthy, etc, etc, etc. Well truth be told, with my legs, I probably couldn’t be a model. Anyway, I want to fix my legs.

I have cellulite and stretch marks, yes, stretch marks on my hamstrings and thighs respectively. And I want to get rid of them. I’m looking into that, and I’m already gonna start working on changing my diet a bit. I plan to cut back on simple sugars/carbs and eat more grains/ veggies and fruits. Chicken salads and yogurt with granola/flax seed will probably encompass the majority of what I eat. Also I’m going to cut way back on the soda and drink more water and milk. Mom’s going to send me FIRM DVD’s as an early birthday present, or something like that. So I’ll be able to work out. I’m going to take other tips and incorporate those in… hopefully I’ll get the money to afford the lotion/oil I’m probably going to get. I was also told that vitamin-e oil, and other things that would encourage circulation in the area would help get rid of stretch marks. I’m hoping to completely eliminate my cellulite, and fade my stretch marks a LOT, if not completely. Hopefully this process will tone up and possibly thin my legs a little so that my body’s more of an equal proportion. I hate the fact that my breasts are so ridiculously small compared to my much fuller hips and backside. If I could make them grow, I would, just a little. I’d like for them to be a healthy B-cup so that my bras will actually fit. I don’t have a real hourglass figure, it’s more of a pear shape. Besides that, I’m hoping that my shaping up my legs, they’ll thin to the point where I won’t have to buy at least a new pair of pants once a year, because I wear out the inner thighs of my jeans within a year after buying them. it’s freakin’ ridiculous. But once I fix my legs, then at least my body will be as close to perfect as I can get it.

So for now, it’s more of a physical thing than frugality. Not that it matters. Mom, you won’t have to worry about me “spending all my money” since it’s fucking non-existent. There you go. No worries about me blowing everything when I have nothing to blow. I won’t be able to blow my paychecks on what I need forget what I want! Tada! Problem solved! Congrats to me!

I’m going to go be alone. Not that it’s all that hard to do considering I have no life here.