Wednesday, December 1, 2010

The Holiday Season

Bleh, that last post was DE-PRESS-ING. I'm much better now. A little wary of my allergy drop treatment now, since it's pretty much putting my allergens in my system to help me build up a resistance.

Can I just say that I love this weather? And by "this weather" I mean cold, but not unbearably so, snowy, overcast, and the smell of winter. Maybe it's because I was born in the wintertime or maybe because it's the Holiday season, but this weather makes me unbelievably happy. I get to wear my winter boots, long socks, all my different cardigans and coats (I have a ridiculously large amount of them for some reason) and layer up. Drink hot choco and not look weird. I can frolic in the snow! And then I can reminisce about going home for Christmas and New Years and be with my loud, crazy, lovable family. I can snuggle with my puppies and my lone rabbit that's lived for more than 10 years already.

At the moment, I'm listening to this Christmas CD that my dear father put together years ago. When it comes to Christmas mixes, my ol' man is so good at it! He knows his Christmas music well. The mix CD includes classics from "White Christmas" and "Holiday Inn" and not so classic (but it is to our family) "Home Alone".

Some of my favorite traditions during this season are as follows:

-Not listening to Christmas music until AFTER Halloween. I seriously busted out the music the minute it was November 1st.

-The Christmas light competition our family has. And now we're doing variations on it, like lawn ornaments and the works.

-Getting the Christmas tree the weekend after Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, I'm never home for this anymore. Hopefully that'll change next year.

-Another thing I love and am missing now I'm at BYU is watching "Home Alone" and "White Christmas" Thanksgiving night. I'm watching those as soon as I get back home to Missouri.

-Watching other Christmas movies with my siblings at random times from Thanksgiving to Christmas day.

-Even though I am the one ALWAYS complaining about it, I really do love looking at Christmas lights and singing carols. But, you siblings of mine, have to understand that I complain because I'm the one that's ALWAYS sitting/laying on top of you all and it's very uncomfortable. For some reason, we still feel the need to pile into one or two cars and I am the one that has to suffer.

-The order we unwrap gifts. I'm always first!

-Making Christmas goodies. This tradition is one that I've noticed has suffered over the years. Anyone for making Christmas goodies with me? I will NOT participate in making Cherry Nut Cookies, though. BLEH. Or fudge.

-The Jerusalem dinner, mainly because I love eating grapes and hard-boiled eggs.

-Home-made wings on Christmas Eve and watching "Scrooge" down in our basement.

GAH. Can't it be Christmas break yet?! I have 7 finals to get through first...but break is so close I can almost taste it!

Speaking of finals, I gotta write up a paper now.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

What's Going to Happen?

[WARNING: Overly dramatic. Slightly if not completely depressing. This is a wallowing in self-pity kind of a post, so if you don't want to join in the pity party, don't read further]

I had another allergic reaction.

It came out of nowhere.

I did absolutely nothing to cause it.

I didn't eat corn.

I didn't eat oats or whatever grain I have a mild allergy to.

I didn't rub myself in pollen or cat dander.

I just woke up. Prepped myself for FTX (Field Training Exercise) and arrived at the ROTC building on time.

I didn't plan this as a way to get out of FTX.

I wanted to go. I was warm, ready, and almost excited to go to Camp Williams and rough it that weekend.

But that wasn't Fate's plan for me.

I will admit I cried a bit when I told the Cadre that I wasn't capable of going; that I had to go to the Emergency room. I was afraid of their disappointment. In what, exactly, I don't know.

I cried tears of shame. I couldn't believe I was in this situation and that I looked as pathetic as I did, nose running, face swelling, tears leaking from my eyes. It was pitiful. And I hated myself more at that time than at any time in my life.

If there is one thing I can't stand, it's not living up to my potential and seeing the disappointment on the faces of my leaders and mentors as I fail to reach that potential. And even though all the Cadre had nothing but fear and concern on their faces, I saw the disappointment in me. I could see my future self, my perfect self, the person who I'm striving to be look at me, this poor excuse for a person, and shake their head, as if I had control over my physical ailments.

But I don't have control. I can't anticipate anything that will happen.

It may sound stupid, but right now, after the fact and even during the reaction, I wasn't fearing for my life. I know that the swelling can constrict my airway and I could suffocate to death. But I never fear for my life. I never really have. Allergies can be controlled and stopped. At that time and at this very moment, I fear for my future. I am afraid that I won't be able to do the things I want to do. I'm afraid of the changes that will have to occur to accommodate to these new developments.

Change is hard. Change is frightening. I don't want to change the plans I have for myself. Especially for something so trivial and STUPID as allergies.

There has to be a reason why I have them. Like in the movie "Signs", there has to be some extraordinary purpose to my allergies. Maybe I'll get attacked by aliens made primarily of corn, tree pollen, and cat dander and then I'll start swelling and the snot from my nose will be the only weapon against these strange extra-terrestrials. I highly doubt that...but there has to be a reason, right?

That's my prayer for today: to fully understand why I would be given this problem, this ailment, this plan-changer at such a late point in my life. I've always had minor runny nose allergies, but never until this year have I had life-risking time-to-go-to-the-ER kind of allergies. Why now? Why ever? WHY?

I'm scared. I hate having to carry an epi-pen with me. I hate having to watch what I eat. I hate having to try all sorts of treatments to prevent future attacks. I hate not knowing if this will change my future.

But mostly, I wish I weren't so disappointed in myself for things I can't control.

Monday, November 8, 2010

Quick Update

Yikes. What a crazy couple of weeks. And it's not going to get any easier until after the semester is over. The load will lighten slightly once I get to Thanksgiving break, but until then I've got endless tasks ahead.

And since I'm currently listening to my California Guitar Trio holiday Christmas station on Pandora, I have a few Christmas memories running through my head:

I remember waking up or leaving my room when the whole house was dark and seeing the tree. The initial tree with its lights and ornaments was gorgeous! But then my eyes would wander to the top of the Christmas tree and I'd see that angel staring down at me with its arms outstretch and slightly protruding forward as if she were reaching for me to kill me. I was never a fan of the angel that we'd use time and time again. I know it's an heirloom of some sort, but as a kid (especially in a dark house) it would scare me to the point that I'd have to run by the tree to get to the kitchen to snitch a cookie or two. Or I'd be too terrified to even go to the kitchen. So I guess, mom and dad, your endeavors to stop me from eating food after 9pm worked after all. But now I'm scarred for life. (Family: do we still use this angel? Or has it finally been given away to some other poor, unfortunate family?)


I remember that one year I won the pickle gift. And to all you siblings, it was ONLY that one time. Unlike some of you who think I get it every year because I'm the youngest and complain or something, I have only one once. Or was it twice? Hm. But when I did win, it was AWESOME. Booyah.


The year I got my Easy Bake Oven (no, this wasn't last year...I wish.) was the year that grandma and grandpa Jess were here to celebrate it with us. And I remember making tiny chocolate chip cookies and sharing some with grandpa Jess. This is one of my more fond memories of the only grandfather (and I wasn't even blood related to him) I ever actually knew.

P.S. I kinda want an Easy Bake Oven for Christmas this year...


I remember riding 4-wheelers when we would get Christmas trees from the Odels (is that how you spell their name?). And one year, I think someone put on too much gas when I was riding behind them and I toppled off, doing a sort of flip in the air and onto the ground. But I don't remember getting hurt. Just a little muddy. But I also remember speeding up and down the road with the 4-wheelers. And all the coal that would be around the tree area.

Hm. I should probably stop there. I would LOVE to continue but I have my Doctrine & Covenants class in half an hour and I was supposed to be reading the articles for my Political Science essay due tomorrow. Yay procrastination!

I guess I challenge all of you other bloggers to also post some random Christmas or Holiday memories to start getting festive. And those of you who are like "the Holidays shouldn't be starting yet!" I say this: once Halloween is over, any Christmas stuff and decorations are FAIR GAME. The stores do it, why not me?

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Things To Ponder

These are some of the things me and my roommate, Janica, talk about in the wee hours of the night or just when they crop up (Some of these things won't be that funny to you...but believe me, they're funny when they're discussed):

-What Hogwarts house would that person be in if they were sorted?
-What kind of sounds does Darth Vader make through his mask when he's going through a particularly rough bowel movement?
-What does Voldemort dream about at night?
-Why doesn't that black light bulb work in our bathroom?
-Why is it only older men notice painted nails and comment on them?
-"BAHHHHHHH!" (Only those who've seen the lovely Man Goat know this reference)
-Why was Pink in the song "Lady Marmalade"?
-Why is it certain people can't get our door to work even though they use it daily?
-What is it about Virgos that makes them so attractive to Janica?
-"Oh...that was 90% gravity."

Can I just say that I'm really blessed to have a roommate who is as awesome and random as I am? I haven't had any real problems with her (knock on wood) and it's awesome that we can laugh at each other for doing stupid things or saying stupid stuff.

Anyways, a REAL blog post is on the way. I just need to finish my Media Arts application, which is coming along nicely if not really slowly. It needs to be complete and turned in by the 8th of November. HOLY CRAP. My future will be determined by the end of the semester. So scary!

By the way, I've sorted everyone in the area around me. There are 3 Ravenclaws, 5 Gryffindors, two Hufflepuffs and (not including me) one other Slytherin. Wait. Nevermind. She's Hufflepuff because I just caught a bit of her phone conversation (she's talking about confusing the ingredients and messing up a cake. Something only a Hufflepuff would do).

Sorry. I'll stop wasting time.
And finish with these pictures of all my bruises on my legs after a particularly high speed (but AWESOME) Leadership Lab.

The bruises are gone. Except for the Air-soft pellet wounds (the red circular bruises) Those are still kinda there. They may be there permanently, who knows? Anyways.

Thats it.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

"I want"

My sister Emily made a similar list and now I'm inspired to write an "I Want" list. So here goes:

a tripod for my camcorder.
a frequent diner discount at Sonic and Jimmy Johns.
Great Harvest bread to be a little cheaper so I can justify buying it all the time.
a B on my next Political Science test.
peace of mind.
to know that I'll get into my major or if I don't, I'll still have a future.
to be able to run 2 miles in under 16 minutes.
to be in an orchestra. Or a band.
to have more hours in the day to do what pleases me as well as what needs to be done.
speak fluently in any language.
have the courage to ask out that guy.
go back in time and be able to film my entire existence so I have the memories on camera.
A vacation to somewhere new. Doesn't matter where.
To spend hours in the canyons during this fall season.
attend my classes but not have to do homework.
take as many dance classes as I can.
become proficient in Irish dance. Or Bollywood.
watch all the films in the world.
or maybe just all the documentaries.
own every single Hans Zimmer soundtrack.
go to a rock concert once a week.
not have TONS of money, but like the manna in the Old Testament, have it be replenishing to my needs.
become best friends with certain people.
own all the seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Dawson's Creek (yes, Dawson's Creek. Don't hate)
be best friends with Allie Brosh, the creator of Hyperbole and a Half.
a mac computer of some sort, whether it be desktop or laptop.
Final Cut Pro software.
to meet JK Rowling and Stephen King.
see into the future 5 years and see where I am in my life i.e. if I'm married or if I'm somewhere else. That way, I'll know what to start focusing on and what to make my priority.

I think I'll stop there. I could keep going.

What's your list?

Here's a random picture. Just for fun.

This is me and Janica, the new roommate, at the Phoenix concert. If you don't know who Phoenix is, get acquainted! They're AMAZING. And French.

P.S. I freaking love Irish dancing.

Sunday, September 19, 2010


I finally have the ability to put pictures onto my computer! YEAH! So here...are my botched bangs.

If you look closely, the side is IMMENSELY shorter than the rest of them. So...I stopped. And I left it like that for a day.

Then I got impatient, took the same janky scissors and cut the rest of them a little longer than the chunk I started off with. So here is THAT result.
They didn't look too bad that day...I think this was 24 hours after the initial choppage. But It was still ridiculously short and I was so angry that I had done such a thing.

So yeah. Those are the bangs. They've grown out since then. Actually, they don't look half bad. I just have to over-grow them so that when I trim them again the short chunk can be at a normal length...

And one of me and my roommate at the Utah State Fair with a frozen banana. Those who get the reference of the frozen banana (which is most of you, family of mine) should call me and we can talk Arrested Development for hours on end.

Monday, September 13, 2010

Goals and Plans for the Semester

Here are some things me and my roommate, Janica, are hoping will happen in the near future. And just for fun, I'm gonna put some fake things in there and it will be up to you to pick out what are the actual goals/plans and what aren't. YAAAAAAAaaaaAAYYyyY!

1. Get spray tans and look like the people from "Jersey Shore"
2.Create a Wizard Rock Rap group with an accordian and auto-tune
3. Buy a sugar glider and name it "Frederick"
4. Get fat on a diet of Little Caeser's pizza and Dr.Pepper.
5. Slowly turn all of our other roommates on each other and watch as they kill one another.
6. Film a reality show in our apartment.
7. Join the Sci-Fi and Fantasy club at BYU just so we can meet fellow nerds
8. Put on a puppet show from our porch for people that walk by.
9. Go running every day.
10. Keep one of our roommates from moving out because of her amazingly large TV
11. Become Death Eaters.
12. Take over the world.

Anyone that can correctly guess ALL of the correct answers will be given the title of "Most successful stalker of Kirsten and Janica" and I will then put a restraint on how close you're allowed to us.

That is all.

P.S. I was gonna post about my butchered bangs but my computer isn't recognizing my camera as a legit devise that carries photos. So I think I need to give my computer to a doctor and have them remove any remaining virus...ugh. Such a nuisance.

Friday, September 3, 2010


Like most of my other posts, this has been revised/erased/changed many times. In fact, I don't think I want to write about what I was originally going to write about. So nyeh.

I'm tired. My mind is tired, my body is tired, my emotions are tired. These past two weeks of moving, adjusting and schooling has really worn me out. Tonight, I was out with a few friends and they were really looking for a good time and seeking out parties. Sure, I wanted to join them and have fun, but something inside of me was protesting. Eventually, after a couple of hours, I just decided to listen to myself and call it quits.

More often than I'd like to admit, this voice is usually the voice of hermit-ness. Despite my somewhat outgoing nature, I really don't like being around people for an extended period of time. With the exception of one or two people. But if it's a group, meaning 3+, I start getting these thoughts of causing some ridiculous scene and shutting myself in some room so that people think I'm psycho and leave me alone. Rarely do I actually do this, but it still crosses my mind.

But tonight, it was different. I wanted to be around people. I really did. But I just...couldn't. I could tell my less-than-warm demeanor was dampening the mood and the idea of meeting new people and being politely pleasant was too much for me. I wanted familiarity, but unfortunately, the people around me wanted change. Wanted something new. And I do too. Just not tonight. Not now. I can't handle it. This is all so new already that I'm about to explode.

I've met so many people in the last two weeks, they're all a blur. There are a million Taylors, Bryces, Kaylas, Brighams, and Elizabeths, and I just can't keep them straight. And they're ALL. THE. SAME. They're nice, yes, but...ugh. I've yet to meet someone REALLY unique this semester. Granted, it is the beginning, but I don't have high hopes.

Except for one guy.

I guess I shouldn't count him out. But my acquaintance with him is still so fresh that bringing him up and talking about him in depth in this post would seem creepy. And over-eager. So I'll play it cool and hope that maybe this refreshing person will make more than one appearance in my life.

So this post really didn't have a point.

Except to vent.

and write.

And postpone an early bedtime, because going to bed early on a Friday night just seems a little lame. Especially in Provo.

I promise there will be something better tomorrow. Or in the near future. I should stop promising things.

Maybe I'll post about my butchered bangs. Maybe that's why I hate meeting new people right now. They probably see me as an "Amelie" impersonator, except not French and definitely not nearly as adorable.

Mmkay. I'm done.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

The Saga at Raintree

It's early (actually it's not, but who cares anyways) and my titles always suck so please just glance at the atrociousness that is the title, grimace a bit, and then move on.

Thank you.

So, yeah. I'm living at Raintree this school year. Before I even set foot in the place, I was so darn excited to be living someplace that wasn't Freshman housing or ridiculously expensive. I was so sure that Raintree was the best deal ever and that I had somehow snagged it before anyone else. Even after talking to my sister Emily, who lived at Raintree a couple of years when she was going to BYU, I was so sure that there would be no problems at all.

Upon arriving at Raintree, I was still blindly optimistic. I had spent the morning cramming mine and my friend's cars full of my stuff located at my Grandma's house and had driven the 20 minutes it takes to get to Provo, parked my car, got out, sneezed probably (I'll stop being specific now), and went to the check-in, ready to get my code to my apartment and move into my new, amazing life at Raintree.

It went smoothly at first. I told them my name and they told me that I did, indeed, have a place to live. Not that I was worried. They gave me the booklet with all the rules and stuff I don't care about and sent me down to a man at the corner of the table. I go there. Give him a piece of paper I signed. He mispronounces my name but quickly corrects himself, and then asks if I want a parking permit. The following conversation ensues...

Guy at Table: Do you have a car and would you like a parking permit.

Me: I think so.

Guy at Table: You think you have a car? Or you think you would like a parking permit.

Me: Well, I maybe want the permit.

Guy at Table: But you have a car...

Me: Oh, YES! I mean, yes, I do.

Guy at Table: With the permit, it'll be $378.39

Me: Uh...well, I don't want the permit then. (I was stupidly thinking that was the price of the permit. I didn't want to fork over money, so I wisely said I didn't want one)

Guy at Table: Well, you'll need one by Wednesday.

Me: Okay, I'll have the money then.

Guy at Table: *punches some numbers into his calculator thing* Without the permit, it's $348 dollars.

Me: Uh...

Guy at Table: Is there an issue?

Me: Well, I don't have...the...

Guy at Table: You need the money before you can move in.

Me: Well, I paid $400 in April--

Guy at Table: That was for a deposit and this month's rent

Me: *confused* Ohhhhkay, well, I don't have the money right now--

Guy at Table: Well, when you do have the money, you can come back and we'll finish this. But I can't let you into your apartment without the money.

Me: *about to breakdown* okay. Uh, I'll be back I guess.

And I left. I tried calling my mom about a hundred times (It was more like 6, but for hyperbole's sake...) and she didn't answer. I was panicking. I needed money and I didn't have it and that meant I couldn't live anywhere! (that's not entirely true either. Worst case scenario was that I would live with my Grandma, which is actually a pretty sweet deal...) But then I remembered my reserve line credit that I had at my bank. I would use that for now until I got my loans and all would be alright.

Long story short (TOO LATE), I shifted some funds online and then went back about 45 minutes after I left and embarrassingly gave the guy my card, he swiped and it was all good. I could move on down to the lady with my apartment code.

From that point, it was a whole different mess of moving in and realizing I didn't have a lot of room for all my stuff and having to take things back...that'll be for a different day since this is getting long enough.

Moral of the story: There's always money in the banana stand.

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Operation Relocation

After my 4-month stint in the homeland, I am finally back in good ol' Utah. There will be many things I will miss, though, so here is a list of things I'll miss and things I won't miss about Missouri in the coming months.

I'll miss...
-Family (I guess...)
-Sparky's ice cream
-Downtown Columbia
-All the pets (i.e. Coco, Sadie, Howard, Eunice...)
-Local restaurants
-Green everywhere
-Cookies made by my dad
-Our grand piano
-The nature trail/tennis courts
-St.Louis trips
-The Ragtag theatre
-The public library
-The well-equipped kitchen
-All the nursery kids I would play with every Sunday
-Wentworth Miller guy at the Student Rec Center
-Everyone at Bob Evans, even the people I didn't talk to.

I WON'T miss...
-How warm the water was at Oakland Pool
-Waking up for work so gosh darn early
-Creepy Co-worker
-Driving my car up Blue Ridge hill
-Being paranoid of deer crossing the road
-Serving horrible tippers
-Hearing mom's students making "music"
-The finches waking me up to their loud ruckus
-Sadie peeing by my door at least once a week (I never told you, mom...)
-Sleeping in the cleaning closet at work (true story. Took an hour nap in there on accident once)
-More humidity
-Seeing people I don't want to see at various businesses and making awkward small talk

There are probably lost more to each list, I'm just tired and not looking forward to moving into my apartment this week. It's not that I don't want to, it's just the process of moving boxes and unloading them and getting settled...could I just skip all that and just exist in the place already?!

Yeah. This post is boring. But I don't care. I don't care about any of you. That's a lie. I do. I care. I'm just tired. And I puked this morning. Disgusting, huh? Too much information about my life? DEAL WITH IT.

I'll stop now.

Friday, August 13, 2010

My laptop is sick

Yesterday, at around 1:52 in the afternoon, I was surfing the web via StumbleUpon on my lovely year-old laptop. Then, Google Chrome, my browser of choice, decided that it couldn't go on any further with the stumbling (or so I thought at first) and died. This frequently happens with Chrome nowadays so I just assumed that it was one of those PMS moments for the browser and tried opening Chrome again.

No go. It died the minute I opened it.

It was then that I noticed a little window pop-up that looked rather alarming, like it had something of importance typed upon it's pixel'd surface. So I read it. It told me that "chrome.exe" was infected and if I wanted to download an anti-virus software NOW! (The "NOW" wasn't in caps on the initial pop-up. That's just how I read the word in general). Intrigued by what this pop-up had to offer, I clicked "Yes" and it took me to Internet Explorer (my least favorite of all the Browsers) and to a website selling software.

I didn't want to waste my precious money on software when I had more than enough anti-virus stuff already, so I closed out of it and decided that Chrome was being all moody and I was going to try Safari. I tried opening Safari and it was killed immediately by the insistent pop-up. Annoyed at this point, I tried opening my Symantec anti-virus system to see if I really did have an infected computer. But that was killed. I tried opening another thing (at this point, I was just clicking programs and whatnot so I don't remember exactly what I opened)...

And it was killed too!

Don't you just love how italics make things so dramatic? I said it dramatically in my head, so I guess it fits.

So, with all these programs being killed off and this supposed "Anti-Virus" program trying to get me to buy it's stuff, I deducted that I had a virus. But I couldn't get online to prove that I was right. So, yesterday, after accepting defeat that I wouldn't be able to get online or do ANYTHING, shut my computer at 4:03 pm and got onto my parents' more high-tech computer to do research.

Sure enough, there was a "Security Suite" malware that gets into your system and shuts off all other anti-virus programs so that it can't be deleted and gets into your other programs and shuts them down, claiming under false pretenses that it is "infected" with a virus. And there are ways of getting rid of this malware, and I've yet to try them out.

Long story short, it's awful. I hate that I can't do anything on my laptop and that I have to dig deep to find the motivation to actually get rid of this stupid thing. *sigh* Better do it quick, I leave in a week as of today.

On a different note, I LOVE StumbleUpon. And yesterday, now having all this free-time since I wasn't surfing the web, I made these delicious cookies I found using SU. They're called Ice Cream Chocolate Chip Cookies and they're found at this delightfully delicious-looking website:

 Look how GOOD those look! These cookies were some of the best-tasting cookies I've ever had, not to mention the cookie dough was so creamy and good...YUM! I used French Vanilla ice cream and it was very successful. I kinda wanna try it with something like Butter Pecan, just to see how it turns out. Maybe next time.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Sleep? At night? Who DOES that?


Not literally, I'm not an undercover detective. Or a kitchen appliance.

But I am super hyper. Well, not super hyper like I'm bouncing off the walls or anything. No. Its more like a dull and quiet hyperactivity in which I have a strange urge to do really spontaneous and possibly dangerous things like infiltrate the den of a mother bear or built a fort in a tree at this time of night. And what's worse, I now have a camcorder to record all of my stupid endeavors.

I currently have stored inside my camcorders amazing 80GB hard-drive THREE videos in which you see me acting stupid. The first I think is just me making faces and doing my velociraptor impression (or it could be an impression of the aliens from "Signs" since they wail from time to time when they're not doing their freaky clicky noises). The second is when I decide to act on my absurd impulses to go exploring at 11 pm (not even 20 minutes ago, might I add) and then hunt for Alfred the cat, who turned out to be easy to hunt since he was sleeping on the couch. And then the last video is me being stupid again and making more faces and laughing at how stupid I am late at night.

I think I also say a few times that I'm not under the influence of any substance. And to solidify that argument, I state that I go to BYU. That's convincing, right? And that may or may not have been sarcastic.

But I will write, for the record, that I am completely clean of anything except maybe a few anti-histamines and no-bake cookies. Seriously. I'm too poor to purchase anything that would have such an amusing effect on me. And also, I have no desire to ingest/sniff/shoot up (NEVER!!!!) anything that would make me do worse things than what I do without those. Seriously, I don't need help. I'm crazy as it is. These videos are proof.

And you're probably wanting to see these videos, huh? You're all CURIOUS as to what exactly I do at night...well, you can't see them! HA! Mainly because the shame that I'm as stupid as I am right now is too much to bear and secondly it takes a gajillion years (give or take a few million) to upload videos onto blogger. So blame blogger of the entertainment you *almost* had.

My intentions, though, never were leaning in that direction. I'm pretty sure I'm going to delete the videos once I review them in the morning. My impulsive attitude right now is telling me to cut and edit them and create a rather bizarre video that I would send to potential employers. Why employers? I don't know. My rational side is telling me that's the stupidest idea ever since they would definitely NOT hire you. But my ridiculous side is telling me that it would be hilarious to see their reaction, assuming I would be in the presence of said employer(s) as they watch the video.

There really isn't a point to this. As I always threaten, I may delete this post. I'm so bored though that I'm continuing to type.


No. It was the house settling. Or dad snoring. Dang.

Actually, nevermind. Dad is up. Must have low blood sugar. Should I scare him as he exits his room? Sounds like fun...but I don't want to induce a heart attack. I would feel awful.

I was going to blog about work (because that's SOOOOO interesting) but I'm too hyper to concentrate on work. Nor do I care enough this late at night. Tomorrow at 10:13am I'll probably care. But not at 11:16pm.

Okay, I'm stopping here. Primarily because I just realized that I lack the fame that Allie Brosh has and her amazing blog, Hyperbole and a Half (This blog contains swearing. You have been warned). And so I can't get away with this kind of blogging and have it be deemed hilarious. All five of you dedicated readers (Hi family!) are probably annoyed that you wasted your time reading this. Be annoyed! You have to love me anyways, since I'm sealed to you for time and all eternity, you ungrateful family of mine.

Seriously, I need to stop now. I'm trying to pick fights with family members I can't even physically see. But I know you're there...oh yes, I can feel you judging me.

/End Hyper Rant

P.S. It WAS thunder! And dad got up to give Trissey tranquilizers to calm her down. Think they're human-safe?

Saturday, July 31, 2010

The Words of Kishkirsti

My friend, Tim, is currently serving a mission in Chicago, Illinois, but is presently located in good ol' Wisconsin. I say this because instead of writing regular letters to each other, Tim has decided that he wants to write epistles and would like people to write epistles in return. So he is known as Timancum (a derivative of the Book of Mormon name, Tiancum), and I am known as Kishkirsti (the derivative of a known villain in the Book of Mormon, Kishkumen. I'm not a villain, exactly, but it's the most similar to my name...). Anyways, I've recieved two epistles and I'm going to type up the most recent one:

1st Timancum 3:1-10

1) And it came to pass that I, Timancum, son of Kenneth, did find free time in this twenty and sixth day of the seventh month of the second year of the reign of Obama, and have many joyous stories to share with his beloved sister in God, Kishkirsti.
2) Behold, I have been carried away in a van to the land of Beloit in the state of Wisconsin. yea, the Lord prevaileth much here. My companion is Elder Barker and he beith a large and mighty man in the Lord. He hath taught me many things regarding the salvation of souls, for behold the worth of souls is great in the sight of God.
3) Yea, it bringeth much joy unto my soul that the corn did not cause thee to sleep the great slumber in the early days of thine mortal life. For behold, the power of God worketh many miracles in the land of our inheritance.
(NOTE: I'm gonna skip some verses for personal reasons. It's nothing TOO personal, but it's something either only I will understand or it's really boring...)
5)And it came to pass that I, Timancum, did purchase a Nerf gun of exceedingly curious workmanship with my senine of silver. Behold it bringeth much fun and recreation to our great and spacious apartment. The lazer pointer worketh not for it hath no batteries, but they have proven useless in days gone by.
6) Yea verily, verily I say unto you that our mighty foes, the Jehovah's Witnessites worketh much fear into the hearts of men. Yea, many do fear and avoideth us for they know not the Mormons. Our newest tactic as we find those to teach us to include, 'Have no fear, for we are not of Jehovah's Witness. Be of good cheer, and listen to our words.' Now the tactic worketh rarely in these lands, but it doth relieve the people of the fear of the Jehovah's Witnessites.
7)Yea, pizza is most delicious to me and it delighteth my soul greatly. It competeth not with the Phillysalem Cheese Steak, but I have been raised with the knowledge sufficient to worketh them up from scratch. But behold, my heart doth sorrow much because of my static weight, for it changeth not according to my intake.
9) And before I do close mine epistle, I bid thee to further avoid corn, for it is easier to avoid corn than to resist it. Yea verily, verily I say unto you it is of little nourishment for the belly despite its alsum[sic] flavor. (NOTE: He didn't misspell Awesome by accident. He spells it that way because he finds it humorous. There's a longer back story, but getting into that would take forever. Anyways, I use it too from time to time since I find it funny...)
10)And now I, Timancum, do wish Kishkirsti a fond and short farewell until thine next epistle. Beith thou excellent to each other.

Elder Timancum Knight

Anyways, this won't be funny to anyone besides LDS folk. Sorry to you secular people that so happen to stumble upon my unfortunate blog. Join the church and you'll understand...or read the Book of Mormon! YEAH! (I had to try...right?)

I'm working on a good response and am getting better at writing epistles without too much thought. I'm also trying to incorporate some of the vocabulary in my speech to help me further. If I'm gonna be writing these for two years, I better start getting used to it.

P.S. Bangs are doing well. Thanks for asking.

P.P.S. I will eventually upload one of my short films to my blog...when I muster up the patience.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Take 3!

This is the third time this week after my initial "Tired" post that I've tried blogging. First try was that night. It failed because it lacked direction. Second try was last night. I lacked focus because there was too much on the TV. Sad huh? Also I was a bit too hyper for the first bit and then I crashed HARD for the second, so it was random and then surprisingly melancholy with a bit of cynicism.

So here I go again.

I've been reminiscing about my childhood a lot lately and how simple it used to be. Also, how strange my particular childhood was. Though maybe not too strange. Let me enlighten all of you on a few of my childhood memories. I'll try and make them short.

1. I remember in Elementary school, particularly 2nd grade, that having a sprained ankle was the new fashion. It all started with my best friend, Laura. She broke her foot somehow and had to have a cast and crutches. HOW COOL IS THAT?!?>!!1 At least, that's what I thought. And every other girl in my 2nd grade class. Then we all started getting injured during recess. Or should I say "injured". The other Laura, my other best friend, got a sprained ankle after jumping off our jungle gym, which stood at a staggering 5 feet but still managed to do the deed. She was rushed to the nurses' office by the teacher on duty and was taken home. She came to school the next day with an ACE bandage wrapped around her foot, and she was so proud. Then it snowballed. All the other girls started wearing ACE bandages and taking turns on Laura #1's crutches and saying that they needed them too. I was the last in line. But I eventually took an ACE bandage from my parents closet and wrapped it around my ankle. Since I was the last, everyone paid the most attention to me. So I got all the limelight. Serves Laura #2 for jumping on the bandwagon too soon. Her glory days were over.

Anyways, eventually it all faded when Laura #1's cast was removed. Then our next obsession was tether ball and punching that thing as hard as you could. Then it was getting poison ivy. Funny how things come and go at that age.

2. I distinctly remember when I was maybe pre-school age getting a HUGE rock thrown at my head by my neighbor friend, who was about my age. I asked my mom just the other day if this really happened. Turns out it did. I wonder if that has anything to do with my issues today...

3. I seem to be focusing on injuries. Because this next one is when my sister, Sarah, broke her arm riding on roller blades. I remember her hitting a rock and flying through the air and crying out like someone cut off her limb. I also remember her having to take the bottom bunk so that she could sling her arm above her while she slept. That meant that I was on the top bunk and very vulnerable. I fell off it at one point and also had the perfect view of her creepy doll that would stare at me at night. It had brown pigtails and her eyes were like two black holes boring into my soul. I had a nightmare of it coming alive one night on that top bunk and I also dreamed that it climbed the ladder and tried to hurt me. Yeah. This time was a dark moment in my past. Thanks a lot, Sarah! NOT!

4. Going along with dolls, I remember my porcelain doll collection. I'd get one every Christmas and birthday celebration for a few years in my childhood. Eventually, I had accumulated about 7 of them. They were all very beautiful and I favored this one that was dressed all Victorian styled and had a lovely brown bun placed delicately high on her head. She also had a hat that was removable and her dress was so intricate and gorgeous. But at the same time I have no idea why I got these dolls. There were many moments where I would watch them, waiting for them to change their expressions. I knew they were alive like in "Toy Story" and I was just WAITING for them to move so that I could be like "AHA! You are alive! I knew it! Now, I'm a nice person, so please don't hurt me like I know you're capable of..." Because I knew that they would hurt me if I didn't explain it to them.

I think I convinced myself that this one particularly terrifying doll DID change expression. It went from all happy-faced to sad-faced. And that scared me. I would stare at them at night, keeping my guard up. Obviously, they never killed me but they're now located in my attic and are probably pissed about that and are plotting their revenge on me. I need to get out of Missouri...NOW.

5. Lets try for a good memory, shall we? Lets see...I remember the woods across from my parents' house (which I am currently residing in). Me and my friends would go into those woods and create forts in the trees and pick fights with the kids that we didn't let into our gang. Or we'd just sit and pretend like we were living there and had to survive from the resources around me. I was a child Bear Grylls, ya'll! I knew the right berries to eat (though I never ate them...just in case), and I knew the right places to pee and to throw rocks at squirrels. I was a smart kid.

We also infiltrated many different Disc Golf games, since the woods are actually a Disc Golf course. Many drunk guys got pissed at us, but because of their current state they could run after us in a straight line. Thank goodness for sporadically-planted trees and bushes. (We never were really at a risk with the disc golfers. Though we definitely pretended we were.)

I have a lot more, but I'll stop there. Instead, look at my rockin' bangs! I got them to go all the way across. And yes, Emily, I am obsessed with my hair. Better than being obsessed with my feet or forearms, otherwise you'd be seeing a lot of pictures of those. Ew.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010


After the random binging of blog posts, I'm now at a standstill. Not because there aren't events in my life that I wish all of you (all 3 of you, I should say) to read about, but I'm just tired. In what way? Yes. All the above. You think of a way, I am tired in that way. Don't even try and come up with a way that I possibly won't be tired, because I'll disprove you and I WILL be tired in that way. Oh, I will.

That's the only way I can describe how I'm feeling. It's much like the emotion one feels in the middle of midterms or finals, except that I haven't studied for anything like a midterm or final and I definitely am not in school at the moment. If I were, I'd have a feeling I'd actually be less tired. Strange, huh? I'm so tired right now this post is making no sense. Anyways, I'll probably try and muster motivation to do an ACTUAL blog post tonight or tomorrow...or never. Maybe in a month.

Speaking of a month, that's how long I have in Missouri. It's both a "Yay!" and a "Boo!" I'm happy because that means I'm back at BYU and *hopefully* having a blast like last year. But I'm unhappy because it means I have to learn and also give a temporary goodbye to my friends in Missouri and to my family. It also means that I have to pack up and drive 22 hours...ugh.

This post has made me even more tired. I'm done with it. I'll have a better one later. I promise. Maybe. Take my promises with a grain of salt.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

So I think I'm just gonna post these things whenever I want

My plans at having a set "day" for talking about my vanity/hair have tanked completely. I guess I just don't work well under a schedule. But I'm gonna take you through my bangs process AKA what it takes to make my bangs immaculate (this is one of my favorite words to use right now, just so you know).

First, I wash my hair.
Mmmm, cute huh? Would you still affiliate yourself with me if I went out in public like that? Anyways, I make sure that my hair isn't too dry when I start this process. That way I have a say in how I can mold it BEFORE I  pull out the heavy duty tools i.e. my curling iron.

The next stage is to blow dry my hair. I completely dry my bangs but only dry about 60% of the rest of my hair since I'm too lazy to be thorough. My hair is thick, and doing a complete drying would take about 15 minutes. Yeah. Not happening.
I guess I was excited about something. But that's what I look like after I blow dry my bangs. Good times.

Next step includes layering. I have to curl the bottom layer first and then the top. Yes, my bangs are that thick. And they wouldn't look good if I didn't do such a detail.
There it is. Pretty self-explanatory, right? They're shaping up quite well! Even the left side has decided to cooperate! For this particular layer, if I remember correctly, it took a couple of rounds with the curling iron to get it that way.

Next step is the top layer and the finishing touches to make it look the best.
Hm. I think they need a trim. But that's how it's done. That's the length I go to to make my bangs look good. But as I've said in the past, sometimes I pin them back if it seems like it's hopeless.

Anyways, I'll give you a work update: I haven't seen much of Creepy Co-worker since my rather upsetting encounter. I either run away in the opposite direction (quite literally) or I give a very brief salutation and continue on my way.

This post was picture heavy but not very text heavy. So I'll leave it at that. I'm also distracted since I'm watching "Aladdin" with my parents. Oh, Aladdin. Is it just me or is he up there in the list of most attractive "princes" in Disney? It could just be me...End ramblings.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Incompetent (adj.) When a person is unable to come up with a clever blog post title

Today, I saw a rabbit. Whilst cleaning the windows that are around the Olympic-sized pool at the Student Rec Center, a bunny hopped rather frantically from out of my view right to the edge of the bush that sits beside the window. I stopped staring at the hand print I was busy wiping off and looked at the brown blur. But it was no longer a blur. It had stopped dead in it's tracks at the bush, waiting. No, not waiting. Watching. And when I stared right into it's eye, I realized that it was watching me. 

I knew it was watching me because Coco, my lovely rabbit, has done this same exact thing many times before. He would stop what he was doing and watch me as I danced around my room singing to Coldplay or other things and would just stare. Sometimes I'd stare back and talk to him, asking what his problem was and if he knew staring was rude. But he never responded and would go back to chewing his wood shavings or thumping his back feet to prove his manliness.

But this rabbit had a different expression. It wasn't fear, nor was it the same curious expression Coco had. It was judgment. This rabbit was JUDGING me. It stopped it's frantic flight and risked it's safety in the bushes to judge ME. the judgment turned into pity and I found that I had altogether stopped cleaning, dropped my towel and watched the rabbit. I no longer cared how it was looking at me but was waiting for it to move already. Hadn't it done enough? After realizing I'd spent a good 30 seconds doing nothing, I picked up my towel and moved away from the window, the rabbit still statuesque. 

I will admit that from time to time while I'm cleaning, I feel an overwhelming sense of shame. I don't push around a cart with a mop and all the cleaning supplies so as to not draw attention to myself. The cart squeaks when it's wheeled around and it makes a loud racket. So, instead, I make several trips to the cleaning closet to pick up what I need for a particular task and mutely move about the building, trying to blend as much as possible. It's hard to blend, though, when your shirt is a bright VIVID blue and you're the only person in the entire building that's wearing jeans. Oh, and I have to have a walkie on me, so that also makes me stand out. Or I look like a crazy person who likes to listen in on other people's conversations over radio.

One particularly debilitating task that I have to endure from time to time is wearing the backpack vacuum, or as we call it in the cleaning world, Backpack Vack.

 It's very fun to say, but very ridiculous to wear. Every time I see that I have to vacuum with such a device, I groan to myself and get ready to be embarrassed beyond anything I've ever experienced. It's like you're a Ghostbuster, but less cool. I've even tried imagining the dust bunnies are rather violent poltergeists but it just doesn't feel the same.

Sometimes I'm lucky and I have to use the Backpack Vack in a secluded area. But most frequently I'm using this thing on the indoor track. So I go to the 3rd floor closet, stare down the purple cylindric suction tool (our vacuums have a purple trim. How lovely, right?), grab it and the power chord, and then make my way, rather noisily since everything is rattling around, to the closest power outlet to the mess. I then tighten all the straps as the person who uses it usually is bigger than me (MUCH bigger) and then put it on. And as I'm vacuuming, I pretend that I can hear laughter over the loud hum of the machine and I imagine myself suddenly having super powers and the ability to make people implode. And I do just that. But it's all in my head and I'm still just the cleaner lady who's vacuuming up dust and trying to get by in life.

But there are brighter moments in my working life. Like my daily encounters with the sweet old men in the "Quiet Room" (it's called the "Quiet Room" because it's a work-out area without the blaring music and you can't talk on your cell phone in there and whatnot. So it's really quiet) or when I get a thank you from someone for cleaning something. But mainly, my bright moments are when I talk to Wentworth Miller Guy (WMG).

But then there are definitely some lower moments than my bouts of shame. In particular, my encounters with Creepy Co-worker. Last week was a GREAT week. I had many conversations (short, but sweet) with WMG and also avoided Creepy Co-worker every single day except for one day when he tried talking to me, but then the manager of the actual building wanted to talk to me and so I didn't say a single word to Creepy Co-worker. 

This week, not so much. Yesterday, I ran into him accidentally on two occasions, both in a secluded setting and both times I wished I had a Siamese twin. He inquired about my 4th of July and I said it was "Fine" and then left as soon as possible. The second time, he asked me why I kept the door to the break room open. I froze. I couldn't tell him the real reason which is this: I keep the door open because I know that when he goes on break, he CLOSES the door to have privacy. It's my way of letting myself know that HE'S in there, and to NOT go inside. Handy little trick, huh? Well, now he was onto me. Here's how the conversation went.

Creepy Co-Worker: Hey, I have a question. Why do you keep the door to the break room open?

Me: Uh, I just do. I like it.

Creepy Co-Worker: Well, when you do that, people can get in and take stuff and it's not safe or secure. Keeping it closed makes sure no one does that kind of stuff. 

SIDE NOTE-The break room isn't locked. So having the door closed does nothing as far as security except it keeps people from seeing what's inside. Like that stopped any petty thief from robbing a house...

Me: Well, uh, I have chemicals on my hand and I just hate touching the handle all the time when I walk in...I'll keep it closed. It's whatever, I just..yeah...I gotta...

And I left. I screamed internally and wished that I had come up with a better reason. But I was so creeped out and so angry that he would have the AUDACITY to talk to me that I couldn't think of something better. I let it go because then I had a lovely little conversation with Wentworth Miller Guy.

Today, though, I decided to keep the door closed. And I needed something that's kept in the break room. And I saw that the light was on and heard the rumblings of a TV. I braced myself and opened the door a crack. I sneaked my hand around and grabbed the object I needed. And then he noticed me.

Creepy Co-Worker: Hey! How's it goin'?

Me: *awkward chuckle*

Creepy Co-Worker: So yesterday, I didn't quite hear why you want to keep the break room door open.

Me: *Internally wishing I had come up with a better reason in that 24 hour time* Well, I just don't like touching door handles is all. It kinda grosses me out...

Creepy Co-worker: How do you change trash and clean toilets and--

Me: It's different...just don't worry about it, I'll keep it closed. 

And at this point I try leaving.

Creepy Co-Worker: Hey! HEY!! I'm not finished yet!

Me: 0_0 *start to internally panic*

Creepy Co-Worker: You have your purse in here. Aren't you afraid of it getting stolen with the door open?

Me: Uh...not really. Nope. Not concerned.

Creepy Co-Worker: Well, alright, you can keep it open, it doesn't really matter to me. I don't care.

Me: It's...whatever. Yeah, I gotta...

And I was outta there, wishing that I had the ability to become invisible. Where's an invisibility cloak when you need it? Anyways, my handy little trick isn't so handy anymore and now I need a new way of telling if he's in the room or not. Maybe I'll just avoid it all-together.

So, work has it's ups and downs and for the most part I love the pay and the work isn't too hard. I just don't make eye-contact with people because I know they'll have pity in their eyes and I'll feel shame in the pit of my stomach. And then there are the bright moments when I see someone smile at me or witness a tender moment between a mother and her child who then decides to smear their tiny hands all over my clean glass doors and then the tender moment is now a moment of frustration as I realize I'll have to clean it. Again. *grumbles* stupid childrens.

Saturday, July 3, 2010

I think I need to learn my days of the week

What is with me and keeping a weekly commitment?! Yesterday was Friday and I wish I could say that I was doing something extraordinary like last Friday to prevent a "Bangs" post. But I didn't. I got up for work. Went to work. Hated my life for going to work, but loved the check I received. Came home. Ate. Slept. Woke up. And then there's this big blank area where I really don't remember what I did. I did spend a lot of my time moping and being angry about the Wimbledon Men's Singles Semifinals (ARGSHESSHHPFFTT!@^*$11!!1) but I don't remember what I did from about 2pm to maybe 5pm. No idea at all. Hm. Well, then I decided to run errands. I only did 1.5 of the three things I had planned: I deposited my checks and turned in my overdue books at the library. But I didn't go into said library to check out a few other books and I didn't go to Gerbes to see if they had Breyer's ice cream and if it is, indeed, ALL natural, meaning NO HFCS. so I came home, saw that Steven took my parking spot in front of the house, ate dinner, complained some more about tennis, went to my room, watched some movie trailers and planned a night out with Kelsey.

So, you see? Before 9pm, I could've easily posted my "bangs" blog. But I didn't. Instead, I saw one of the greatest movies of the year, "Winter's Bone".
For whatever reason, there isn't a movie poster for this film. I guess it's a little too independent for a movie poster. Anyways, what the image says is true, though. It won at Sundance and it DESERVED it. It's about as bleak as "Precious: Based on the novel 'Push' by Sapphire" but without Mo'Nique and definitely less ghetto-talk. Okay, in all seriousness, it was phenomenal. So many great actors and such a bittersweet film, I'd put it down as one of my top 20 films this decade. It's too early to say, though, since I still have 9.5 years to go before piecing together such a list. It's only showing at limited theatres, so you Missourians out there, come to Columbia, go to Ragtag, get yourself a cushy sofa or chair and watch this film! It takes place in Missouri as well, so in case you weren't Missouri'd out, you get to watch a film about Missouri in Missouri while feeling Missouri humidity and maybe suffering a few Missouri-mosquito bugbites. FUN! Have I mentioned Missouri enough? Hm, I thought not...

But back to the original reason for this post (like any of you read this anyways)<----yes, that was a passive-aggressive remark about the lack of comment love. Not that I need comments for self-validation as to why I keep this durned thing, but...wait, actually I do.

Okay, lets try again. Bangs. Well, nothing too crazy to report. They were relatively calm this week. Last week must've been their PMSing week. Is there such a thing as hair-midol? Maybe I'll patent it. If not for anyone else, at least myself. My bangs this week, though, were pretty well-behaved. That might be because I have started to put them up when I think they're being stupid. So a combination of no-PMS and the realization that they'll be punished for bad behavior has tamed them. Yay!
Hm. I tried looking happy...but I kinda look crazed. Or tired. Or both, since I did take this at about midnight two nights ago, when my "cold" was at its worst. But, yeah, that's my bangs on good behavior.

P.S. Just saw this. And I laughed a lot. Not that it's any kind of slant on the finale of "LOST"...but if you're a LOST fan, you'll appreciate the incredulity of it all:

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

The day I almost died

I am having the hardest time getting this post to start. I either try and do this universal introduction of the topic at hand like I do with my research papers like "In this world, there is oxygen. And oxygen is used to breathe. And that is why stupid people live." You know, you start out really broad to get the ball rolling, and then get really specific and then make an awkward jump from one thing to the other because you realize that your topic is really specific and getting to the specifics in your round-about way would take the entire length of the paper. And you know you need to revise it but you don't because you use the excuse of being edgy in the world of writing.

I tried doing that. And then I tried just typing the topic and getting into it. But then it felt like a monologue. But that's just stupid because that's all a blog is: a written monologue. So I guess I could do that now. But I feel like explaining my difficulty in introducing a topic. It's always existed. But this discussion in its full length is for another day.


There. I did it. That's what I'm gonna talk about. So, to the rest of the family that is last in knowing what the heck happened to me Tuesday (which is probably Julina, though I think she knows. Sorry if you don't, Juli! You know now!) and whatever smattering of readers I get like those Asian people who leave Asian characters as a comment and I'm forced to delete them, I had an allergic reaction Tuesday. Tuesday night, actually. At approximately 8:43 pm. I can't be sure since the clock in my car is 15 minutes fast and I have to subtract and wasn't concerned with specifics amongst all the internal commotion.

Of the many reactions I've had (4), this was the worst. I was headed from Institute to Cracker Barrel to visit Elise and buy a dessert, possibly. As I was on Broadway (not the one in New York, the street in Columbia), I noticed that my eyes and throat were particularly itchy. As always, I satisfied my throat itch by doing that weird thing at the back of your throat and it sounds like you're imitating a lion or something that roars. I get great satisfaction from doing that, but this time I didn't. After doing said technique, I started coughing. And my skin got all crawly. I checked for hives immediately and saw that there was one. Swelling right before my eyes. I redirected my path and started to head home, knowing that this was an allergic reaction. But not without enduring the worst traffic ever! Slow people were in front of me and I was screaming (which probably didn't help the reaction) at the top of my lungs "I'M DYING, STUPID PEOPLE! DO YOU WANT THE DEATH OF A 19 YEAR OLD ON YOUR CONSCIENCE?!?!?!!11!!!@@21!" (To those curious, yes, I did scream two @ signs.)

Well, that didn't do jack squat. I still dealt with traffic and finally made it home, but not without speeding about 20 over the limit the last mile or so. I park my car, get my stuff, and run inside. I immediately yell for my mom, who's at the computer watching "The Young Victoria", and tell her I'm having an allergic reaction. I grab for a towel. Get it wet. Go to the sink where my Benadryl is sitting. Take two of them. Go to the sofa. Lay the towel over my eyes. And hope to goodness that my eyes don't swell to the size of Montana. 

My mom comes to my side, not sure what to do. I told her that we could just wait it out because it'll go away after a while. Mom thinks differently. She goes down to wake up the doctor in our basement, Allen (true story. We have a doctor in our basement. Well, a resident. But who cares that much anyways?). He calmly tells me to take more drugs, ingest Flonase, and call an ambulance. Because I felt the ambulance was a bit dramatic, we decided to drive to the emergency room.

At this point, my eyes have almost completely swollen shut, my nose is leaking fluids I didn't know I had in me but is completely stuffed otherwise, my throat is so swollen no one can understand what I'm saying, and the hives are EVERYWHERE. And now I'm tired of giving a play by play of everything that happened so yada yada yada, I'm in the emergency room with monitors all over my chest, an IV in my arm (EEEEEK!), and a sore stomach from the epinephrine shot (the mark is still there).

In true Lambson fashion, my mom snaps a picture of my face after all is said and done to document how puffy it got. She shows it to friends, colleagues, and probably random people in the street (I'm only kidding, mom. I know you only talk to people in grocery stores, not the street.) So I'm put on a drip of Benadryl followed by a whole bunch of other drugs that make me have to go pee really bad. And I'm stuck in the ER for 4 hours! Bleh. And the swelling won't go away for days, which will have me be a hermit for the course of those days.

By 2 am, I'm allowed to go home and try and sleep. Because I have so much Benadryl in my system, I conk out.

Long story short ("Too late!") I almost died. I was prescribed some steroids to take to prevent a rebound reaction and was told to take Benadryl, Allegra, Zyrtec, Zantac, and Claritin for the next few days as well. So from Wednesday to about Sunday, I was in a drug-induced buzz, but not a good kind. It was very bleh. And the fact that my face was fat and puffy didn't help my overall mood.

I also have to carry around an Epi-pen, just in case I decide to puff up again.
I feel like I'm carrying a weapon of some sort, except instead of using it on others it will have to be used on me. That's actually not what MY epi-pen looks like but I'm too lazy to take a picture, get my SD card out of my camera, put it in my laptop and then download the photo and upload it onto this post. Mine has a tough plastic casing and has a set of animated instructions on how to properly jam that bad boy into your thigh. *Shudder* I'm done talking about this. Needles give me the jibblies.

Now you are all thinking: what is the cause of such a severe reaction? Well, here is my answer: I DON'T KNOW! AH! How scary is that? I have an inkling but its only that. We got a blood test after the first reaction two years ago but the results weren't very helpful. I have a mild allergy to corn as it turns out, and so that's what we've honed in on as far as the real cause. It's the only common factor since High-Fructose Corn Syrup or HFCS is in everything.
Because of such deductions, I am now on a HFCS diet. And it really is in EVERYTHING. Except fruit. And other raw/natural things. I'm slowly becoming a raw-foodist. But, as it turns out, there is no corn in Cheez-its. So my favorite food is still safe. Yay!

I'll be going to an allergist in a few weeks and they'll hopefully determine the real culprit. I'm hoping it's not HFCS or corn in general because I love corn and corn on the cob and all the unhealthy processed foods that has high levels of HFCS. I'm hoping its something like mayonnaise or needles because I hate both of those and that is easily avoidable. Or hopefully the Twilight Series because I hate that too. Can you be allergic to literature? I think I'll be allergic to it just so I have an excuse to sneeze disgustingly on any copy of the books or films. It's decided! I'm now allergic to the works of Stephenie Meyer and any by-product!

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Bangin'...TUESDAY? and misc.

Sorry for the lack of a post on Friday. I was out of town enjoying being away from my computer and having a life for once. Not that I don't have a's just very much the same thing over and over again (as seen in a previous post). This will not be as I've planned. And I decided to revise my plan. Instead of a picture for EVERY day, I will post the most eventful thing about my bangs or maybe a particularly great day with my bangs. Like a "best of" sort of thing since most of you see me daily anyways or see me enough that seeing my face on a blog post is too much of me. Get it? Also, I had an allergic reaction that greatly changed how my face looked and so there would've been half the amount of pictures anyways. That story is to come.

This was last Tuesday AKA the day I almost died. This is ACTUALLY how my hair decided to be. No exaggeration, no photoshopping skills. Perfectly normal on the right side of my head, but SKEEWONKY on the left side. Thankfully, that's the smaller portion. And I didn't force the bangs to separate at my natural part. I think that crazy left side just hates being associated with the right and so they branched off. Like my personality, my bangs have a non-conformist sect that don't just skew a little bit: they REALLY take nono-conformity seriously. I mean, really?! That's just not natural! Its at a 45 degree angle, for cripes sake!

I ended up pinning that part back and am now prone to doing that on a daily basis because that section of hair does not like to listen/feel the heat of the curling iron. What I need is a flat iron for that chunk. Maybe I'll invest in one, maybe I won't. Eh, who cares anyways?

So, now I'm on a rant. About absolutely nothing. Except that my life is the same old same old. No, wait. There is a change: so you remember CG (counter guy) from my work? Well, I think he's been promoted...or he quit or something. I don't see him as often as before. But, I think I mentioned a guy with a buzz cut, and now he's the eye-candy of the day. It's not so much a buzz cut(which sounds hideous) as the Wentworth Miller hair-do:
He looks like that...except less terrifying and more "hey, I'm friendly and totally approachable. Don't be scared of me like you're scared of that Wentworth Miller picture." I think the guys name is Charlie. Or maybe Darius. I can never sneak a look at his name-tag. I don't wear my glasses (except when I had major case of swollen face last week) usually and so I have to squint to see small print. I've tried twice to read his nametag and both times I'm pretty sure I look like I want to kill him or something. But he still smiles and asks how I'm doing. Maybe he's asking to make sure that my response isn't something like "Oh, nothing, just plotting your painful death" since that's most definitely how I look.

Long story short, he's really nice. And we've talked more than I talked to CG. And CC (creepy co-worker) is still as creepy as ever. Except maybe more so since I've been told by him and my manager that he doesn't want me to leave at the end of the summer. And I just watched "The Lovely Bones" so now I think he's a serial killer and wants to build an underground room just so he can murder me there. What's with me and MURDER?! GAH!

 Andy Roddick and Lleyton Hewitt are of Wimbledon. Argh. Andy Murray is still in as is Novak Djokovic and Federer. Of course, Djokovic is still in at the expense of Hewitt. I guess I can't have everything. But I was so hoping for an Andy final (Murray vs. Roddick). Oh well. I'm still hoping for Murray vs. Federer. Murray to take the title and win one for England.

That is all.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Tumor, part I

WARNING!!! This post is not for the weak-stomached. Vomiting will be discussed in detail.
I think I have a brain tumor (*queue family member with a butchered Arnold Schwarzenegger accent* "Eet's NOT ah Toomah!"). Most everyone I know also knows that I'm a borderline hardcore hypochondriac, so take that blunt statement with a grain of salt. A very BIG grain of salt. But to explain why I've come up with that deduction, I'll discuss, in this post, the first symptom of my self-diagnosis.

Lets start with my headaches. Actually, they're migraines. I've had two memorable migraines in the past that have induced vomiting. The first was in the middle of the night sometime during my senior year of high school. I woke up after feeling extreme pain in my head for a couple of hours. I sat up. Realized that I had nausea. And a lot of it. It was overwhelming. I tried to drink some water and take some pills for it to go away. I went to the bathroom and debated if this nausea was the throwing-up kind or the kind that just feels uncomfortable but sits there and does nothing. I leaned over the toilet bowl to test my limits. I didn't have to try too hard to get something out. I threw up instantly very violently. After I was sure it was over, I leaned over the bowl to look at my vomit (when I'm tired, I'm pretty delirious) and saw the pills that I took not too long ago. In my delirious state, I got a bobby pin and poked the pills that sat in my own vomit. Yeah. I played with my vomit. Don't judge me. I threw the bobby pin away, for those curious. Or maybe I accidentally dropped it in the toilet and flushed it down with the rest of the disgusting mess. I can't be sure on details in my half-sleep state.

My first migraine-vomiting episode was awful. I took more medication and ate something (I have no idea why I did that since if it was the stomach flu it was going to come right up). But it wasn't the stomach flu and it stayed down and I went back to sleep after an hour and half of staving off the urge to throw up again. I woke up later that day and went to school, not entirely sure if what happened last night was a really vivid dream. But I get into the bathroom and see multiple bottles of pain-killers and a wet towel and decided that it really did happen. I didn't know what to make of it at the time, so I went on with my day.

Second instance was maybe two months after that night. Me and my sister had been working at our favorite restaurant, Bob Evans (I'm joking when I say it's our favorite. It's quite delicious if you know what to get, but FAR from my favorite). We wanted to go see "Angels & Demons" but before our shift was over, we got some food with our 50% discount (I don't know why it isn't free...stupid corporations). I had the quesadillas for the first time and was quite impressed with them at the time.

We then left to go home, clean ourselves up and change out of our work clothes, and headed out to a late showing of the movie. I had started feeling a headache near the end of the shift but thought nothing of it. When we get to the theatre, it's a dull throb. And for what it's worth, I have to wear glasses when viewing movies. Otherwise I squint and look ridiculous. I don't wear them all the time because I don't like the idea of being enslaved by an inanimate object to function normally in society. That, and my eye-lashes always rub up against the lenses.

So I put on my glasses and get prepared to watch a movie with the oh-so-attractive Ewan McGregor. I get through the first third okay, but the headache starts getting worse. We're sitting close enough that I could see without the glasses...for the most part. So I take them off, thinking they're the reason why my headache was getting worse. But the nausea comes and it's now what I call a migraine. The nausea comes in waves that I have to fight. It's a mental battle. I close my eyes, concentrate really hard on swallowing and not spewing. I swallow as much spit as I can muster to keep the vomit from coming up. I also concentrate on my breathing and making sure it's stable. When I get the urge to throw up, my heart rate gets very rapid as does my breathing and succumbing to those things will most definitely end in vomiting. After I fight those urges, it goes away for about 3 minutes. And those 3 minutes are pure bliss. And then another wave comes...

 I vaguely remember, in my delirium, scenes that may or may not have occurred in the film: Tom Hanks being stuck in a vault of some kind with poisonous gas, Ewan McGregor flying, a man being burned alive, a guy with a glass eye (random detail...), A really annoying guy who doesn't die (I remember feeling pissed about that), someone being framed, and Ewan McGregor, wait, that's "Moulin Rouge!".

Sarah, at some point, asked what my problem was. I think she even had a tone like "What's your deal?!" and I told her, trying not to break my concentration, that I needed to throw up. She said that we could leave, but since we paid good money to see the movie, I didn't want to ruin it for her. She told me to go to the theatre bathroom, but I refused to throw up in a public bathroom. That's just inconsiderate to the people in the bathroom and the prospect that my face would get close to that bacteria-infested plague of a toilet bowl almost made me throw up all over again, despite all my efforts. So I sat there, half the time watching and half the time clamping my eyes shut and breathing rhythmically while swallowing my own saliva, until FINALLY the film ended. We walked out of there when I was under enough control and made it to the car.

On the way back, when I didn't have to concentrate on not yarking, I told Sarah NOT to talk to me. It breaks my concentration. But the entire time, she was asking stupid questions:
Sarah: "You need to throw up?"

Me: "Yes. I already told you. Now don't talk to me before I throw up in the car."

Sarah: "What do you want to listen to? I don't want to play something that will upset your stomach."

Me: "Shut up."

Sarah: "Don't throw up in my car, okay? Let me know so I can pull over..."

Me: "What did I say about not talking?!...Okay, a new wave of vomit is trying to come up. Now, shut up!"

Sarah:.............."Want me to pull over?"

Me: *Doesn't say anything, just sits in the fetal position, trying not to vomit*

The moment the car pulled up by the house, I grab the popcorn bag that I carried with me in case I did throw up (I remember it had a picture of the new "Star Trek" characters as a promotion for the upcoming movie) and ran into the yard and threw up in the bag. Once I was finished, I folded the top neatly and placed it in the garbage can that's kept in our garage. After I threw up, I felt LOADS better. I took some medication and then asked Sarah if she wanted to do something else that night and told her that I was hungry and wanted to eat Jimmy John's or something like that. She was concerned because I had just thrown up and she thought I was sick with some sort of bug. I was feeling so chipper after holding in vomit for 3ish hours that I think I was giggling and smiling and maybe even dancing to a song stuck in my head. My migraines make me feel a wide spectrum of emotions.

Anyways, the rest of the night was uneventful, but from that point on, I never had the desire to eat Bob Evans quesadillas. Ever. Gross.

Long story short (too late), the migraines have come back, but I know now to catch them early, or else I'll spew. I haven't vomited from a migraine since those two instances thanks to the fact I can read the signs early and catch it before it gets out of hand. In fact, I think I feel one coming on...better go take something before I throw up on my keyboard a la Strong Bad. <-----WATCH THIS. It's amazing.