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!

I’m feeling a bit better since that emo episode not too long ago. Mom, bless her soul, gave me some valuable insight. I swear, I think SHE should be my psychiatrist. But I have a lot of work to do, basically. But enough of that, let’s move on with some cooler shit.

So I just got done almost packing (I’m going to pack this laptop of mine and my flatiron tomorrow morning) for my trip tomorrow to Buffalo. And I’m pretty sure no one really knows what I’m talking about so I’ll abridge it for you.

Basically, From the 20th to the 25th, I’ll be working as volunteer medical staff (love being an AT student) at the Empire State Games, up in Buffalo. I’m going to definitely take the opportunity to do some REAL clubbing, and perhaps I’ll even be able to check out the Falls before I go back. But I’m really looking forward to this trip. And I’ll be going to bed shortly after I finish this post though I doubt I’m gonna get any sleep…

One thing I’m going to try and do is record the almost-week-long trip with my phone and post it on Youtube. That way, it’ll be almost as if you were right there with me! Yea, not really, I know… yes it was really cheesy sounding. But what better way to talk about my trip than to show it? Besides that, it’s an experiment with my phone to see just how good the quality of the video is. My old EnV 3 had really good pics, but the video quality was *horrible*. I’m crossing my fingers with my new EnV Touch.

Anyway, I really should get going to bed. I have a long day ahead of me, and it’ll only get dangerous if I fall asleep behind the wheel. I’ll try and tell you how it goes as it goes!

I hate a lot of things. I’m not sure if you’d know it or not. Maybe you could tell. Who knows.

I hate it when my little brother talks and talks and talks in an attempt to try and impress me, but in reality, he’s bragging about nothing important.

I hate it when my sister is a complete bitch to our brothers even when they didn’t do anything wrong. I hate it when she takes her anger against her dad and takes it out on them. I hate how, when I bring this up to her, she snarls at me instead of trying to change her behavior.

I hate how Dad thinks that, now that Derek’s been kicked out, our family is back to normal, and how he’s oblivious to the fact that that’s not the case. I hate how he continuously treats me like I’m an incompetent 12-year-old. I hate how, when something happens, Dad’s quick to blame everyone else, but will never take the blame himself. I hate how he’s always acting like my sister and brothers as purposefully doing things to make his life miserable.

I hated how Kasedy used to expect me to do everything for her without asking anything in return. I hated how she wouldn’t allow me to get mad at her, and blame me if it happened.

I hated how Eva, out of spite one day, ruined any chance I had at being with a crush I had back in the 8th grade, just because she “didn’t like me much at the time.”

I hated how Andy manipulated everyone into thinking I was the bad guy in every situation, just because I didn’t want to go out with him.

Most of all, I hate myself for being too cowardly to say these things aloud.

I hate how, no matter what I do, I still look like I should be Kimmie’s age. I hate that I have to put a ton of effort into my looks. I hate how I’ll break down into hysterical fits and burst into tears if I don’t understand a concept in math or science. I hate it when I always think that there’s nothing that can be done when I know that if I stopped to think about it, I’d find a solution. I hate how, when I was still in high school, I always stuck by the friends I had, even if some of those friends treated me awful, because I thought I wasn’t worthy of being anyone else’s friend. I hate how I can’t talk to new people very well because I feel like they won’t like me.

But more than anything, I hate how I still don’t trust the people who I’m supposed to trust. I hate the fact that my insecurities lead me to assume that if anything is done by anybody, it’s because they don’t like me. I hate how I can’t even trust my best friend enough to take his word to heart. I hate how I didn’t even realize this myself until last night.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t I get past the past?! There was betrayal, but I thought I’ve moved on. I’ve had my share of bad friends, but he hasn’t done a thing to date that said to me he was a bad friend. And yet, I still assumed! I always assume like this! And it’s on of the things I hate the most! Because it’s precisely what Dad does, and I HATE IT!! At the rate I’ve been going, my friends didn’t hate me before, but they will in time. I’m awful. And I don’t know what to do.

It’s killing me, because I know what I did hurt him. I keep telling myself I won’t turn out like Dad, and HERE I AM DOING EXACTLY WHAT HE DOES!!! And I did the one thing that pushes my buttons. It’s the one reason why I get into fights with Dad nearly all the time. Because he blames someone, or he assumes they’re doing something to him when they’re NOT. AND I’M DOING THE EXACT SAME THING. I can’t even think anything other than I’m just like him, and I have the same qualities that Dad has; the qualities that led me to nearly despise him. I’m a pathetic, horrible person. And I don’t know what to do.

I’m so sorry for what I’ve done. You have every right to be furious with me. I know I deserve it.

Sorry.

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.

I don’t know if you would ever guess looking at me, but when it comes down to my skills, I’m not confident at all. Playing in high school, I was told I was good, but I was also told that I wasn’t good enough. I don’t think the people who talked to me realized what they were saying when they said it, but the message came across as clear: “You did good, but that girl over better is even better.”

Was it to try and motivate me (I’m a highly competitive person) to work harder? That might have been their intentions. Unfortunately, while I’m competitive, my self-esteem is terrible, so if someone tells me I’m not good enough, then it comes across as “You’ll never be good enough.”

I’m not trying to single him out, but Dad did that a lot. I don’t think he knows that he was even doing it (he tends to be oblivious to absolutely everything). But hearing him critique my gameplay, and then turn around and talk about how Mike Guerriere was “amazing,” (And yes, Mike is/was(?) an amazing player, probably one of the best in our region. I wouldn’t be surprised if he made it as far as the National Team) really ground it into my skull that my skill level had reached a plateau and that I couldn’t climb any higher.

What knocked me down and out were tryouts my freshman year at IC. I didn’t make the first cuts, and it was so disheartening for me; it just solidified my belief that I’d never be good enough. I wasn’t fast enough, my footwork wasn’t accurate enough, my leg wasn’t strong enough, I wasn’t good enough.

It was when Kristen talked to me that I thought “Well, maybe I am good enough after all.”

It was just a Friday AT hour in the training room, and Kristen and I were talking about soccer. She had nearly made the varsity team herself, but was cut after injuring her ankle. And I’ve seen her play. Hell, I’ve played against her. I played her team in the championship intramural game last block, when I sustained my concussion. She’s an amazing player. And we were just talking about soccer and missing it, and she then suggested that the two of us work hard over the summer and then try out in the fall.

At first I was resistant. Why bother, knowing that I surely wouldn’t make it? And I let her know that I probably wouldn’t make it. That I felt like, ever since the cut, the varsity team was on an unreachable level.

And then she had told me “I’ve seen a lot of people play, in intramurals and stuff. And I really think you could make it.”

Coming from a peer in the sport, especially one who was as good of a player as she was, gave me that spark of hope.

So I went to see Coach. I told her about the mistakes I had made, and how I missed playing and how I wanted to try again. She didn’t turn me down whatsoever. Instead, she told me “Come up to practice Friday at 6.”

And I did. And I was amazed with myself. I’m behind a little with skills since it’s been a really long time that I’ve played on that kind of level, but I held my own. I did good. And Coach agreed with me. She had let me know that I was a little behind, but I had very good speed (I’ve always been fast on the green — I was known as the deer/gazelle, when I played in high school). And she was very encouraging that once I got back into the swing of things, I’d be on that kind of level. And she invited me to go back again, tomorrow morning at 8am.

I don’t think I’ve ever been as happy as I am now. And I’m going to go to bed now, before it gets too late. I gotta get my rest (at least some) so I can manage to get up early.

In the meantime, I’m going to bed thankful that Kristen talked me into trying again. If she hadn’t, I’d still be miserably living in my room, wishing I could be as good as them, instead of knowing that I’ve got the potential, and that I will be as good as them, if not better.

So thanks a ton, Kristen. I don’t think I could ever thank you enough.

Sad, I know. Soccer’s my opium. Well, that’s a bit extreme. But when I’m feeling down and when I’m at my lowest point, the only thing that’ll get me back on my feet is soccer.

And I miss it. More so than I can express in words. The last legitimate season I ever played on was my senior year in high school on the varsity team (I don’t count the U19 club season. I wasn’t exactly what you’d called wanted on the team). Co-captain, honorable MAC All-star mentions, and the best season I’ve ever played. SGS had never gone to Sectional Finals before, and it was an honor to have played in the game. At the same time, that moment, those last few seconds in the game, were probably the most heart-breaking. And I knew, after they scored the second goal, that it was all over.

I wasn’t the same for a while after that. Call me a fanatic, but I was insanely depressed after ending my career. But I didn’t want to give it up.

When I came to IC, one of the first things I did was get checked out for competitive play. And then, I tried out for the varsity soccer team. There I made probably one of the biggest, stupidest mistakes I’ve ever made in my entire life. And I still berate myself for it. Maybe instead of playing my favorite position as forward, I should’ve tried out for my best position, defense. What’s horrible is that, every time I’ve played since then, I’ve always played back! And I’m really good at playing back! Why the hell did I only notice this recently?!

I still play, but only on intramural teams. And it’s fun, but it’s not that same. And that desire to play is what’s led me to email Coach Quigg. And it’s leading me to go talk to her about trying out again next year. And it’s leading me to go outside more and move around more in preparation for working out over the summer.

It’s now or never. And at this point, there’s not turning back. I’ll get on that team. Or at the very least, I will try my damnedest.

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!

Our assignment for Spanish that I didn’t have any idea about was to read an article in our reader. It’s actually an opinion article about the events of 9/11. I didn’t actually read it, but I had a strange kind of epiphany.

A classmate of mine, Stephanie, had summarized the article for those of us who forgot, and informed us that the writer thought that tightened security wasn’t going to stop any attacks from occurring.

I don’t know exactly how that got my particular train of thought going, and maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about — I’m no psychologist, nor am I some secret agent behavioral analyst — but I suddenly got to wondering… do terrorists even consider the long-term effects of their actions when they plan and carry out their actions?

Let’s use 9/11 for example (since it was what I was thinking about in the first place). So, the terrorists hijacked 4 jets, two of which hit the World Trade Centers. One smashes into the Pentagon, and the last one crashes in a field in PA. So, the immediate effect was the biggest loss of life in a single terrorist attack. People across the nation (and even perhaps the world) were fearful and doubtful of the government’s ability to protect them from harm.

As a result of 9/11, President Bush declared the War on Terror. Now, let’s go back over exactly how Bush went about fighting that war. He did some stuff in Afghanistan, but then changed his route completely and attacked Iraq instead. Now, over the years we’ve been overseas, and I don’t know if it was just me, but it seemed like Bush was so bent on invading Iraq that he seemed to not pay much of any attention to what was going on at the home front. Anyways, towards the end of his final term, the economy went down the shitter, and let me tell you, the war didn’t help it one bit.

Now the globe is amidst an economic crisis and everyone’s struggling. I wonder, did the terrorists ever see something like this happening? Like, the economic meltdown, and the fact that a crap ton of Americans are all fighting with each other (don’t believe me? Go to Youtube and just read the comments on a political video. ‘Nuff said)? And how there are people out there that are totally anti-government right now (I’m referring to the psychotic Tea Party movement)? It’s like, the 19 hijackers did WAY more damage than they expected. Or do they ever think that far ahead? All I know is, currently, there’s a lot of effed up stuff going on right now, and I sort of feel like it all started when the WTC’s went down.

Ah, right, it’s time for a brief topic change. I said this on Facebook already. I’m glad that the health care reform legislation got through the House and is about to be made official. However, I feel like too much time has been spent on this major battle (and maybe if the stupid Republicans weren’t being 10 year olds about it, the reform would’ve been done months ago and that would’ve allowed Obama to TAKE CARE OF THE PEOPLE!!!) and that for now, health care needs to be set aside. The people want economic recovery; new jobs, lowered unemployment rates (well that was redundant)… deflation would be nice too. President Obama, I hope the next thing on your agenda is “kick the economy’s ass back into gear.” We really need it.

Oh, one MORE thing. To the Tea Party-tards that are acting like raving lunatics because they’re being brainwashed by the right-wing, anti-Obama, propaganda media-bitch bullshit… will you SHUT THE FUCK UP!?!?! LOOK AT YOURSELVES!!! You are coming across as the LOWEST OF THE LOW of the U.S. for fuck’s sake!!! How dare you accuse Obama of being a Nazi, and how dare you insult the Representatives so horrifically (I’m referring to your racial and homophobic slurs, you bastards!)! They’re not doing this to destroy our lives! Are you so blinded by the Fox news bullshit to not see how much we, as a nation, needed this!?! I ought to find each and every one of you, and beat you to a pulp! You’re pissed because Obama’s “not doing anything”? Well maybe if you all STFU and GOT THE FUCK OUT OF HIS WAY, OBAMA WOULD BE ABLE TO DO THE STUFF HE PROMISED TO DO, YOU FUCKING HALF-WITTED RETARDS! OH MY FUCKING GOD!!! SOMETIMES I WONDER HOW WE, as a country, GOT THIS FAR!!!!!

*ahem* Anyways. That took me all day to write. I’m gonna go do other things now. I’ll tell you how my break (or lack therof) went another time, most likely tomorrow.

By the way, if, by some chance, you’ll never hear from me again, then the feds read this blog post and figured I knew too much or something, and took me away to do whatever feds do to people that they take away >.>

Anyway, it’s about 7 days, give a few hours, since I sustained my concussion. My follow-up for my concussion says I still have a concussion. Dr. Getzin recommend mental and physical rest, of course, and advised me to push back my midterms thank God; I was worried about that. I had taken my Bioethics midterm last Thursday and I couldn’t finish it . He said “no exercise”, which I knew and had already been doing with frustration (I hate not playing soccer). I still get headaches, and they worsen when I have to really concentrate on something. The sunlight hurts too, and not just my head but my eyes. Sleeping does help and I should do more of that, but since I’m going home in a couple of days, and since I don’t have a life outside of the house and Nat’s place, I think sleep won’t be an issue.

… Crap. I shouldn’t have stopped typing this to pull up a song… now I can’t remember what I was gonna write. Yea, my short-term memory has improved, but it’s not back to the way it was. Um… yea. Since I don’t remember what else I was going to say, I guess I’m done with this blog post =/