And The Slow Ascention To Sanity Commences

Hey y'all! Sorry for the prolonged absence. After the medical debacle, I sorta lost my grip on sanity and have henceforth spent the last two weeks in an anxiety and stress-ridden state of panic which if discovered by the media might actually indicate that I should be studied. Last week I basically cried and curled up into a ball and decided that...you know what? 18 is a good, ripe age, and its totally okay if I die in the fetal position on my bed. Then I saw my therapist. He informed me, as kindly as possible, that this opinion wasn't really valid. Then I grew up.



I could probably say that literally, too...because this weekend was my birthday. In February I decided that I didn't want to make a big deal out of it. This failed. Somehow I managed to get my panic-ridden ass on a train to my friend JK's college. There, her and K and Sheryl threw a party for me. Really, they did! They bought me dinner and balloons and decorated and they even got a ColdStones cake! JK and I completed the fifth year of a Birthday Tradition we have and watched intense movies. I spent two and a half days hanging out with some of the coolest people I've ever met, walking in the amazing sunlight among anciently beautiful buildings and eating way more junkfood than should be legal. I even got to go thrift shopping, which is a secret passion of mine that rarely if ever gets exercised.



My actual birthday- which was Saturday- was almost completely uneventful. I took the train the rest of the way home, ate some delicious cupcakes that my mom made me, and took a four hour nap on my favorite couch with my cat laying next to me. My momma made me my favorite dinner, we watched Oprah (not a typical practice for me, but she was excited about a Justin Timberlake interview that she had DVR'd). Later I went to Wyoming's house to hang out with her and Dayton.



By Sunday I was starting to feel the panic of having to go back to college come back. I woke up at 7:45 with a panic attack. It passed, I went back to sleep, then went to Wyoming's. She threw me a party with plenty of Dew and a beautiful cake. Then we went mini golfing (slash bowling, hockey, pool, soccer).



So this past weekend was amazing. I was able to come back to school with a better and healthier sense of self and while I am far from perfect, I at least am able to take the occasionally deep breath and even relax, once in a blue moon!



I'll try to write more in the coming days, but really I'm just trying to hold it all together for the next six weeks until I can get home with grades good enough that I can transfer to my new college without drama.

Some things coming up in the next few weeks:
The birthday of my brother, whose gonna be 16. Woah!
A tour of a local Museum for a project. I <3 museums
NYC Picnic! Woot!

Boys

The pros of hanging out with guys:



- The movie choices are infinitely better



- No one cries when everyone hangs out.



- I don't feel the need to wear eyeliner to go out with them.



- They hold doors for you, like hardcore. Its adorable.



- You can poke, prod, pull their hair, kick, and tickle them all you want, just so long as Resident Evil V is on the TV screen and there's a remote control in their hands. (Depending on the group, this may also work with Halo, DBZ, or Kiera Knightly).



- Guys usually listen to great music, and sometimes, if you're really nice, they'll let you pick the tunes for the evening! (I am particularly blessed, because the guys I know actually let me play the occasional show tune).



- They tell each other when they smell. Seriously, how great is that?



- Free flow of sarcasm.

- When you mention some sort of change (like weight loss or a haircut) they'll often jump in and comment on said change, even if they probably had no idea or couldn't tell.

Granted, I may just be really, really lucky and know some really awesome guys! I've been lucky in that I've been able to hang out with almost everyone four or five times over break (illness aside).

Today

Illness aside, I'm trying to have a semi-normal Spring break. Its been kind of hard to do, because of various reasons, but I'm trying. Since I don't actually know whats wrong with me its sort of being taken on a day-by-day basis. Today I woke up not feeling so great, a sentiment which maintained itself all through the afternoon and clear into the nighttime. But I had a quadruple semi-birthday celebration tonight with some of my guy friends. It was basically an excuse to order some Chinese food and eat cake, which we took advantage of. Then we got bored and went to Walmart, because when you live in Jersey nothing is open on Sundays past nine, except for Walmart. So we squeezed into a car and drove over, and we spent an hour and a half wandering the shelves. Unfortunately I was kinda shaky because I drank an extraordinary amount of black coffee on an empty stomach this afternoon, and my ability to function was somewhat diminished. Eventually we left (me in a very dizzy, giggly form of exhaustion) and we all went our seperate ways around 11. But because I really can't tell if I'm gonna feel well enough to see other people during the week I ended up stumbling over to Wyoming's house and watching The Office with her and Dayton for a few hours. She gave me the best, nearly inappropriate birthday card which made me giggle. I love my Birthday, even though its not for another two weeks.

How I Know I'll Make A Good Mother.

Anyone out there who has ever spent two weeks in any sort of pain/discomfort combo understands that after awhile, the kindness stops. I mean really, it stops and threatens to never come back again. Because how can you expect me to be patient and smile when I'm considering the pros and cons of shooting a bullet right through my head? C'mon now!

So today I had my CT Scan. I went in, filled out a silly little survey and put on a mysterious paper gown with a friendly tone of voice. I even made jokes, because damnit, I was going to not make this difficult! I'm an adult, I was more than willing to suck it up and do my thing.

But I was waiting in a tiny coffin-sized room in a gown with the textile integrity of a dryer sheet while my mom stood outside when a wonderful woman named Sharon comes back with a nervous smile.

"I'm sorry, but there seems to be a problem. See, your doctor says that you could be pregnant, and so we can't run your scan until we can be sure that you're not."

A little side-note here, unless pregnancy is now an airborne disease, there is no possibility that I am pregnant. End of story. Of course, I have always had the irrational fear of being pregnant, like I would be the one person in the would who was A-sexual. But really, I'm just Bi-sexual and that's not even properly related to this story.

In a perfectly polite, composed, world I would have responded calmly "this isn't possible, my doctor is just being a complicated ass, would you like me to take a pregnancy test?" My actual response, however, went a little something like this:

"Are you kidding me? I'm not pregnant, I'm not even active! Why would I lie about something like that? My doctor is an idiot, he's an asshole, I AM NOT PREGNANT! Why would I get this test done if I were pregnant? WHO WOULD RADIATE A BABY!?!?"

Except add a few expletives and me saying over and over "I am DONE at my doctor's office. I am never going back to that hell-hole ever again, that fucking insufferable prick KNOWs I'm not pregnant, I told him four times! WHAT SORT OF PERSON WOULD BUT AN INFANT THROUGH RADIATION?!?"

And then I attempted to eat the wonderfully kind technician whose face had crumpled into panic briefly before resuming her nervous smile.

"I will be right back." She said quietly, "I'll see what I can do"

Apparently, my indigence paid off, because they believed me and I was allowed to lay on a freakishly long table while a giant donut machine groaned at me and radiated my insides. What a raving success.

Of course, between my virginity and my screaming about the horror of radiating unborn fetuses, there is an excellent chance that the treatment center thinks I may be Mormon.

Oh My Wisdom

I wrote this post an hour before I went to get my CT Scan yesterday. After reading the details of that particular adventure, it really shouldn't be surprising to anyone that these were my thoughts directly before the whole ordeal:



When I graduated I became, (lets face it), less bitchy. My friends are laughing now, 'cause they're all like... this is LESS bitchy? Please woman, be 'fo realz. But I AM 'fo realz. I was a total bitch in high school, up until the last few months. Then I Chilled.The.Fuck.Out. It was a glorious time, despite the strange looks I received every time I threw around the words "love" and "happy" and "forgiveness". I was on my way to motherfucking sainthood, and damnit it was good. I bought more shirts supporting activist causes, I started wishing people "happy birthday", and I even allowed myself to be hugged whenever anyone opened their arms. I became a hug whore. If there was a hug STD, I would have most certainly caught it and spread it around so far that it would have been a fucking Hugging STD epidemic, totally untraceable to me but would probably be guessed to originate inside of precious feral panda bears in China. 'Cause we haven't blamed China enough for things recently, and its just About Damn Time.

Anyway, with everything going on I've become a lot more cynical lately. Not towards people I know personally, of course... because part of that "less bitchy" thing was realizing that the people around me are probably the most fantastic, amazing people on this goddamn planet, and seriously...we need more people like that right now. And not towards God or Jesus or any other heavenly body, 'cause they're all really cool and I love them and they're looking out for me and I appreciate that, which I tell them 'cause Topher taught me how.

But I am noticing that the constant "give them a second chance" or "the intentions were good" or "give them the benefit of the doubt!" philosophy that I've been living under is silly. Some people are shits. They don't mean to be shits, maybe, and they aren't shits all the live-long-day... but there is definitive shittyness out there, and by ignoring that I am not accepting one of man's greatest feats. We can be cruel, terrible people and still sleep at night. I'm talking to you, Omar Al-Bashir... and your sidekick, my Doctor's office.

Excluded from these are my Friends, family, professors, roommate and her boyfriend, a wonderful woman named Wilma whose name may be given to my first born child (boy or girl), everyone my mother works with, and the people at the insurance company who despite the fact that they deal with illness and theft all day long still wished that I would feel better.

Okay, FINE, the world is still a wonderful place, with caring people and only a few assholes. But seriously, those few sure as hell ruin it for the rest of us sometimes, don't they?

Rover?

Because of whatever Kidney issue I may or may not be having (how about a major hand in the air for mystery illnesses!) my doctor prescribed me some death capsules pain meds.

That would have been great, except for one of the side effects:
Kidney Failure.

Sorta seems like they're kicking a dog while its down, don't you think?

Moral Dilemna

Haruka is now too fat to get onto the ledge where her food is kept. I have two options:

1. Move her sleeping hutch closer to the ledge so she can use it as a step and achieve nourishment.

2. Keep everything as it is and use the promise of food as encouragement for good work ethic without laziness.

Decisions, decisions.

P.S. To silence all you animal cruelty activists out there, I moved the hutch closer for now, and will come up with a hammie weight-loss/anti-lazy solution for the future.

Note: I had to come home from college early to get CT Scans 'cause I have a mystery illness that could be one of about five things, ranging from painful to not-so-serious to oh-my-god-I-could die. The doctor thinks its kidney stones. We'll see. With my tendency towards luck and always having some sort of medical complication, I'll probably have either organ failure, cancer, or something completely new never before seen by man. At least the pain meds finally started to work today. I'll keep people posted, which is easier to do now that I've stopped breaking down into hysterics every ten minutes, 'cause I'm good like that.

All I have to say, is that God for Mommies, Daddies, and really awesome Roommates who will stay up until 1 a.m. looking up medications and diseases and hugging crying, sobbing messes who are unable to utter intelligible phrases outside of "whaaaaa."

Apparently, I am 18 going on 2. But more about these things later.

The World's Watchful Eyes Revisited

Almost a month ago I wrote a post about the issue in Darfur as humanitarians worldwide waited to hear if Omar Al-Bashir would be indited by the International Criminal Court (ICC). A week or so ago, March 4 was whispered as the do-or-die date. The day came, Bashir was indited, and panic has ensued.

When I wrote a month ago, I said this:

"The issue is that if Bashir is arrested, the backlash on the people of Darfur, the UN Peacekeepers (the few that were actually deployed), and Journalists could be severe. The restricted green cards that are allowing international aid workers into the country could be revoked, which would send Amnesty, Save Darfur, and countless other agencies packing and would leave the people defenseless."

Thursday morning, this is exactly what happened. While Bashir has not been arrested (the ICC has no law-keeping force, its up to the Sudanese government to give Bashir up) Aid agencies are pleading with the Sudanese government to let them stay, but the entire system is tied into the Genocide. The Sudanese government has been protecting two other individuals who were charged for the Genocide, and the support they are showing for President Bashir is solid. By charging these criminals, the ICC may have sealed the fate of the people in Darfur, and the odds of Bashir being handed over to the ICC's jurisdiction are slim.

The victory is that the process of justice for the people of Darfur (and more recently Chad and C.A.R.) has begun, giving hope to the people who have been living with this hell and those who have done what they can to offer those people support. But it isn't a success. Millions of people now stand to be further abused because of the ICC's decision. The few who were able to help are no longer in a position to be able to do so. This ruling is a curse disguised as a blessing, an unfortunate realization that justice means little when brought against suffering. This arrest will not protect the women being raped in the refugee camps, it will not give the children water or hold families together. The sentence of suffering felt by the people of Darfur has been extended under the guise of progress. Yes, this means that the horrors in Sudan and Chad and the Central African Republic will be scruitinized under a even more direct beam of international light, but at what cost?

This makes the sentence hard to celebrate.

Health Code Friendly

The Contents of my Refrigerator (1.5 cubic feet)

Pre- Cleaning
1 Quart of Milk (Expiration Date- Feb 11th)
1 Half Gallon of Milk (Expiration Date- Feb 15th)
2 half-eaten Yogurts
3 mixed berry Yogurts (Expiration Dates- Jan 29, Feb 7, Feb 11)
3 vanilla Yogurts (Expiration Date- April 2)*
1 Loaf of bread, mostly frozen, may be moldy (not yet determined)
1/2 a Tomato, frozen due to proximity to Freezer
1 slice of week old Pizza
1 container of rice, frozen due to proximity to Freezer
1 6 oz Container of Mayonnaise
Garlic Clove

Post- Cleaning
3 Vanilla Yogurts
1/2 Tomato (Out of guilt, it won't ever be eaten)
1 6 oz Container of Mayonnaise
Garlic Clove
2 Water Bottles

There really is no excuse.

* The unexpired Yogurts were stacked on top of the expired ones.